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I reached for the alarm clock in the darkness. When I hit what I thought was the snooze button, the radio came on full blast. A moment of sleepy haze, and suddenly I was aware that I wasn't hearing the alarm clock at all. That was the buzzer to my apartment! Who'd be visiting at this hour?

When I got the clock radio in focus, I saw that it was 8:30 on Saturday morning. I struggled out of the hide-a-bed I used in my studio apartment and walked naked to the 'talkback' box on the buzzer.

"Yeah? Who is it?"

"It's Stephanie! Who were you expecting?" came a crackling feminine voice.

What was my girlfriend doing here so early on a Saturday? Thank Christ I hadn't picked up another woman last night or I'd be in deep shit right now. "Gimme a second, Steph! I'm naked," I hollered into the gadget.

"That sounds good to me!" she replied. Wise-ass, I thought, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater. As soon as I was decent, I buzzed her in.

Stephanie bustled in, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase and a suitcase. "I'm leaving. On a business trip. I wanted to let you know."

I blinked. "Weren't we going out tonight?" I asked.

"Yes. I feel bad, and that's why I came to tell you," she continued, opening her briefcase and fishing out a gift package. "This is for you."

I was surprised. I didn't figure this occasion warranted a gift, but I wasn't about to argue. "Thanks, Steph."

"It's something to remember me by until I get back." She leaned over to kiss me, and then she whispered in my ear.

"Hey."

"What?" I whispered back.

"Don't let the underwires stab you in the balls."

With a smile, she was off.

I forgot to tell you a little bit about Stephanie. How we met. How much we have in common. How well-suited we are to each other. I didn't tell you any of that because it would be bullshit. None of it is true. We don't get along in many ways. We argue. We don't like the same things. There's only one thing that keeps us together.

Two things, actually.

Her right tit and her left.

Stephanie was a shapely brunette with two of the most massive fun bags I've seen in years of being a tit man. She's got 'em, and she knows it, and she uses 'em to keep me around. And fuck — I let her. There's nothing I like better than sucking them hard enough to make her think I'm trying to draw milk. Nibbling on her nipples as if they were Wrigley Spearmint. Jamming my face between them and waggling my head from side to side, cut off from civilization. And dropping my rock-hard prick between them and sawing away until I spew.

And she's OK with that. So she puts up with my lack of ambition, and I put up with her jealous nature. Oh, yeah. She hates me scoping other girls. It makes it tough because all of her girlfriends have knockers like hers. Have you ever noticed that? Even in high school. There's the Big Cans Clique over here, and the Itty Bitty Titty Committee over there. Girls always seeem to hang out with girls with the same size boobs. But that means I can't even talk to any of Stephanie's friends without her thinking I'm boffing them. So I'm careful. When I stray, I stray far away from her peer group. Not that I go after girls with small tits — I'm incapable of that. Huge and heavy makes me hard, so that's what I go after. I just have do it carefully. Discreetly, you know?

I looked down at the package. I unwrapped the tissue paper. It was a big black silky underwire bra. I smiled. I know what she meant. She wanted me to jerk off into that bra instead of going out in search of new big tit. Well, hell, I'll try anything once.

I looked closer... and I smelled closer. Smart. She didn't give me a new bra... this was an old one, so it reeked of Stephanie. Her perfume... her sweat... even her juices. I was starting to get excited already. I peeked at the tag. I knew Stephanie's size — but I had to look.

34EEE/G

That did it. My jeans were on the floorand the big black cups were draped over my manhood.