Martin gazed at his wife's tits. Christ that was the reason he had married her. Her tits were huge-much bigger than Connie s.
Each titty looked like a football. And now that she was on her back, the footballs looked like they were two one-eyed heads that she had her arm cuddled around. But when Gladys Seaman stood erect, they looked like footballs, big footballs.
Why hadn't he tried to fuck her between the tits? Her boobs had turned him on when he was a spry youth of nineteen newly married to Gladys. And now, they still turned him on.
Quietly he unbuttoned her moth-eaten pajama top. There wasn't much cleavage now, because her massive tits were nestling on her elbows as they sagged away from her chest.
He lifted, yes lifted, her right boob. God, at least ten pounds of fleshy tit was in his hand. He looked at the nipple; it was bigger around than a short-stack pancake and it was very pinkish. Her nipples looked peaceful, just like her fat, serene face.
He rubbed his thumb over the nipple. The fat nodule seemed to awaken. He rubbed faster. The nipple was budding out of the dark circle of her areola. It was filling with blood and becoming hard. Very hard. Like his, cock was now.
His palms were sweaty as he tried to maneuver her monstrous tit towards his face. His moist mouth settled over the nipple, licked it, teased it. Oh, shit, he sure loved Gladys' tits!
He tried to wrestle her other jug into position as he got on top of her stomach, his weight resting on his knees.
Gladys grunted.
Martin stopped fucking around with her tits.
She snored.
Martin went back to fucking around with her tits. He was fondling both footballs now, both palms starting at the base of her tits and moving towards the nipples. Christ, he would have to have Paul Bunyuan's hands to cover all that titty-flesh.
His prick bounced against her navel as Martin leaned forward, thrusting his face between her pressed-together tits.
He licked her left boob, bringing the nipple to erection. Then his tongue dipped into the narrow valley of her cleavage, moved up the mountain of her right tit.
The nipple was still wet, still erect, and this time Martin tried to shove his tongue hard against Gladys' right nipple, tried to force it back into all that mass of tit-meat. The nipple fought him hard, refused to retract, refused to budge against his pressing tongue.
Cum oil leaked from his cock-head, filled her navel.
Martin grunted.
Gladys wake up, confused. Then she saw Martin's crewcut between her enormous tits, watched in bewilderment as his tongue raced back and forth between her two tits, licking and teasing one nipple, then the other.
Gladys' head moved back and forth, watching Martin's butch head moving like a windshield wiper over her titties. "Martin, what are you doing?" Martin grunted. "Martin! What are you doing!?"
Martin didn't want to talk now. His lips were too busy on her tits. His tongue was too tired from the constant whiplashes he gave each nipple.
Gladys moaned. Whatever Martin was doing to her was feeling good. "Oh, Martin, I know what you're doing. You're sucking my tits. Keep sucking!"
Martin's lips pressed down hard around her nipple, then moved with lightning speed to the other nipple. Why did Gladys have to have two tits? Or maybe Martin should have asked herself, why didn't he have two mouths?
Martin got up, just a little way because he didn't want to be too far away from those gigantic jugs. His forearms tensed as his hands bulldozed her tits towards the center of her chest. The nipples were now no farther than an inch apart, and they looked like two piggish eyes.
Martin devoured both nipples at the same time.
Gladys grunted, and her ass heaved high.
Martin was almost thrown, off, but the pressure he was exerting on her tits helped to maintain his balance and he redoubled his tit-sucking efforts.
Both nipples were at least an inch long now, filling his cheeks as his arms ached from the constant pressure he had to exert to keep her knockers in place.
"Oh, Martin, you've got to fuck me. My tits are burning up!"
What Gladys meant to say was "Oh, Martin, you've got to fuck me in the cunt because you really have me aroused."
But Martin interpreted it as "Oh, Martin, you've got to fuck my tits."
Martin let go of her fits, and the two ten-pound footballs fumbled from his grasp and slid back against Gladys' arms.
He scooted up her body until his prick lay flat against her cleavage. He hoisted her tits back into position his favorite titty-fucking position.
"Oh, yes, Martin! Bring your cock up here so I can suck on it."
Gladys' red lips were only inches away from his hot prick. She closed her eyes, waiting for Martin to stick his cock into her yawning cavern of a mouth.
Martin didn't move; well, he did move back and forth, back and forth, his prick sliding wetly through the valley of her boobs.
Several titty-fucking moments passed before Gladys realized that Martin's prick wasn't filling her mouth. His cock was just fucking back and forth between her huge jugs.
"I want to suck your cock, Martin. Give me your cock!"
Martin grinned, kept moving his prick through the delicious warmth of her caved-in cleavage. The thrills, the ecstasy that surged through his balls and cock were unbelievable, indescribable.
"Martin! Did you hear me? Give me your cock! I wanna suck it!"
Martin's ears shut off every sound except the noise that his cock made as it fucked faster and faster between Gladys' huge tits. He could feel that whizzing sensation whirling in his balls, that jizzy dizzy feeling in his loins.
But Gladys didn't have any similar feelings. She felt as if her tits were being ravaged, Martin held them so hard. There wasn't any passionate fervor racking her cunt. There wasn't any heady lust in her brain. There was just that raw feeling of Martin's cock as it fucked back and forth between her hand held tits.
She tried to glance down past her double chin to see.
She couldn't see, because the first white-hot spatter of sperm hit her square across the eyes.
"Eeaaggghhhh!! Martin! You're coming all 0ver me!"
Yes sire, Martin was coming all over her face, all over her chin, but most of all, all over her fat titties.
The mountains of her book seemed to earthquake in his hands as Gladys squirmed her huge body, trying to avoid all those rainfall shots of jism that drenched her face.
Martin screamed: "Aaiieeee!!"
Then he let go of her tits, and they bounced against the bed on both sides of Gladys' fleshy body.
He was in the midst of rolling over, grabbing for his pillow, listening to Gladys say "Martin, that was disgusting!" when he thought about Connie Ryan's reason for no titty-fucking.
Sunbathing in the nude and her nipples were raw said she couldn't titty-fuck because her jugs were sunburned in the middle of October in South Dakota? Hell, it was colder than a witch's tit; which was what Gladys had become as she grabbed a broomstick from the nearby pantry and starting to whale all over his ass.
"You mother-fucker, Martin! Don't you ever fuck my titties again. That's perverted!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fucked-up burgs like Weedville always have their ups and downs. People on the outside expected fucked-up, one-tank towns to be up and down; whereas people on the inside didn't even know their up and down because their assho1e lives were like a roller-coaster trying to go both directions at once.
Reverend Jordan Worthington was up because he had just performed his yearly task of fucking, pardon the expression, mating with his wife. Yet, he was down, because now he had to wait another year before he got his wife's pussy again. To get him on an even keel, he needed a steady cunt Connie Ryan.
Coach Crowley was an in betweener. His prick was always up because he had his peephole for pleasure. It was his balls that were down because what he saw he couldn't fuck namely Marcia Moresby. He needed a piece of ass Connie Ryan.