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Another Friday night, another failed blowjob.
Okay, “failed” was probably too strong, I reflected as my beautiful girlfriend knelt between my legs with my penis in her mouth. Still, this was clearly 80% handjob to 20% blowjob.
“It’s no good,” said Cat, spitting me out. “It’s just too fucking big.”
I never thought I’d get tired of hearing that but, to be honest, I was starting to get a bit frustrated.
* * * * *
Another Saturday night, another trip to the Union.
Like most students, I seemed to spend half my life here. Tonight was a bit different though, since Cat’s younger sister Pippa was up for the weekend. She’d turned eighteen earlier in the year but was still a Sixth Former and wouldn’t be coming up to university until September.
As I approached, Cat looked up and smiled. From the look in her eyes she’d started early. Her sister followed her gaze and made a neighing noise before the pair collapsed in giggles.
“What was that?” I asked with a questioning eyebrow.
“Nothing,” said Cat, elbowing her sister.
“Sorry, I’ve got a big mouth,” said Pippa. “Look!” she added brightly. And with that she shoved her whole fist into her mouth. “Eee, bwg muff!”
“Big everything,” put in Cat, poking her sister’s boob. Her finger sank into a ripe mound of springy titmeat.
Cat wasn’t kidding. Whilst you would never mistake the pair for anything other than sisters, they had very different body shapes. Where Cat was long and lithe, Pippa was shorter and rounder. There was a bit of puppy fat in her face but the extra weight was more noticeable on her upper body. Pippa was wearing a scoop-necked vest and if her arms were a bit pudgy nobody male was going to notice when so much of her plump pillows were on display. It couldn’t last – in ten years time she’d either have thinned out or chunked up – but for now her teenage curves were pretty devastating.
“Just how much have you two had?” I asked in disbelief.
“Enough that you better have some shots to catch up.”
“Yay! Shots!” half-shouted Pippa, bouncing up and down in her seat. I’m sure I wasn’t the only bloke in there whose eyes were magnetically drawn to her jiggling rack. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Cat.
“I think you’ve had enough, sis.”
Pippa gave her sister a “whatever” look and leaned forward. “Hi ,” she said, thrusting about half a foot of fat cleavage straight at me, “do you think you could be a sweetie and get me a sambuca?”
When I raised my eyes from her tits, I found myself looking straight into my girlfriend’s smirking face. “What? She makes a compelling case.”
Cat rolled her eyes. “Fine, sambucas all round.”
“Yay!” said Pippa, dropping the sober act and resuming bouncing.
“Sit down or you’ll give yourself a pair of black eyes,” I heard Cat saying as I headed to the bar.
When I got back with three shots (I’d had an extra one at the bar in a clearly doomed attempt to try and catch-up), the pair with collapsed together in hysterics. There was a pink flush on back of Cat’s neck a clear sign she’d been drinking. Or was aroused. Well, drinking always made her aroused anyway.
“Ladies,” I said, setting down my precious cargo.
“Where’s the rest?” said Pippa, squinting at the table.
I shrugged, gesturing at the drinks in front of us. Pippa snorted.
“I need a wee,” she said, unceremoniously getting up from the table.”I’ll get some more drinks on the way back,” she added, with a meaningful look at me.
Alone with Cat for the first time, I leaned over and gave her a kiss. “So, having fun?”
“Oh yeah. Great to catch-up. We’ve so much to talk about.”
Cat looked genuinely perplexed for a moment but then her drunken brain caught up and she looked unconvincingly confused. “No?”
“Nothing about animal anatomy?”
“Nooooooo…” said Cat, tilting her face away from me.
“Nothing about the relative dimensions of equine and human genitalia?”
“Maaaaaaaybe,” she said, turning to face me with a Mona Lisa smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Fuck’s sake, Cat,” I hissed, “This is the first time I’ve met your sister – your teenage sister – couldn’t you have, like, waited? Or maybe not have mentioned it at all?”
“It just sort of slipped out.”
“How!?” I asked incredulously.
“I was defending your honour. Sort of. More mine, really. Well, I was kind of just being a bitch. You know what sisters are like.”
Thankfully I didn’t.
“So you were, er, rubbing my cock in Pippa’s face? So to speak.”
Just then Pippa plunked a pint in front of me and squeezed back into her seat with two rum and cokes.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Charlie’s annoyed because I was bragging to you about his massive cock.”
“Jesus!” I exclaimed, spitting out my first mouthful of lager.
“That’s a funny thing to be annoyed about, Charlie,” Pippa said, leaning forward. My eyes resisted plunging down into her cleavage for escort bahçelievler about a nano-second. When they flicked up again, she was grinning at me. “Besides, she wasn’t bragging, she was just educating me. She’s the big sister; it’s her job. Really, I was the one who was bragging.”
“Oh?” I managed.
“Yes,” she said, leaning closer. “You see, Charlie, I’m the deepthroat queen of Stonemere Secondary School.”
“Er, right,” I stammered, “Well done.”
Pippa smiled. “So I was being very unbecoming and bragging about just how good I am at sucking cock.” Jesus. “Everyone seems very impressed when my nose touches their tummy,” she continued, her smile getting wider and taking on a slightly demonic quality. “Of course, out of curiosity, I had to ask Cat about her technique. Sister to sister, you know? Turns out she isn’t really a one for deepthroat. Not that I have to tell you that.”
Next to her, my girlfriend was starting to give off a decidedly frosty vibe; apparently she wasn’t digging the bants any more. “I’m not a fucking circus performer.”
“And that was the education, you see? Cat helpfully informed me that some dicks are bigger than others.” At this Pippa dissolved into giggles.
“Look, I’m pleased for you. Honestly, becoming the school bike is a worthy goal,” Cat said. Pippa gave her the finger. “But making school boys jizz is not exactly rocket science. All I said was, had you had a real challenge? A real man’s cock? Well, a real man’s horse cock.”
“Okay,” I said, “It is definitely time for another round.”
* * * * *
Another Sunday morning, another hangover.
I was sleeping on the floor because we always slept on the floor; Cat only had a single in her halls and that was now occupied by Pippa. So I woke up with a stiff back and a cricked neck.
I also woke up with a splitting headache and nine inches of throbbing, rock hard manmeat. With a groan I thrust my hips forward, gently frotting against the floor. For a blessed moment, both aches disappeared but then the new ache of my overtaxed bladder asserted itself. So I gingerly got up to go to the toilet.
“Woah, you’ll have someone’s eye out with that,” came a croaky voice from Cat’s bed. Her sister was sprawled half in, half out of the covers, looking up at me with wide eyes.
Nature had called in more ways than one and morning wood had left me monumentally erect. My briefs were obscenely tented out directly towards Pippa’s face.
“Um,” I said eloquently. If I’d hoped the shock would cause me to soften then I was sadly mistaken. If anything, looking down at Pippa’s huge, smashed together cleavage straining at her vest had the opposite effect.
“I better just, er,” I trailed off, pointing towards the toilet.
“Yeah, good idea. It looks like that needs some attention,” she said, still staring straight at my bulging pants.
“No! I mean, I just, I’m just going to the toilet.” And with that stammered justification I left the room.
Of course, I quickly realised I wouldn’t actually be able to use the toilet. As I tugged my briefs down, my dick reared up to smack against my abs. It was as stiff as a board and there was absolutely no way any urine was going to successful get out of it into the bowl. I grabbed it with my left hand and dragged it down to the horizontal. Even after all these years, I still couldn’t help but savour the fact my hand only covered a third of its length. Look, I know vanity is unbecoming and I try not to have an ego but it’s hard when you’ve got a massive cock. Very hard…
I gave it a stroke. Just one. It felt good. Too good to stop. Maybe Pippa was right and I needed to give it some attention.
I gave it another stroke.
My hand had started in earnest now.
Pippa’s big, fat funbags. Were they twice the size of Cat’s breasts? Three times?
My hand was flying up and down my shaft now.
Titfucking Pippa’s massive fucking tits.
I choked off my groan just in time as I exploded all over the toilet. I’d managed to get most of what looked like a double measure of spunk into the bowl but ‘most’ still left a lot to splatter all over the seat, the rim and the wall. Another downside of being overly endowed. Yeah, I know, sorry.
As I mopped myself up and ran some bog roll round the toilet, I started to feel the inevitable post-wank guilt. First the base level shame and then the added burden of fantasising about Cat’s teenage sister. Luckily, my urge to piss came roaring back and my hangover kicked in double strength so that pushed such idle thoughts from my brain. I sat down and brushed my teeth and prayed Cat has some paracetamol.
Piss over and strength returning to my legs, I managed to stand up. She did have paracetamol – thank Christ – so I necked four before returning to the room.
When I got back, I discovered that Pippa had kicked the duvet off. Her head was hanging over the side of the bed to talk to Cat which escort balgat meant I got the rear view. And what a view. Jesus, her arse was basically her tits in bum form: smooth and round and white and huge. Her pants must have been at least a size too small because her bum cleavage was turning them into a thong. At least eighty percent of her arse cheeks had to be fully on show. Despite cleaning out the custard moments earlier, I was already half way to half mast.
I managed to shift myself out of my arse trance enough to notice that their conversation had ended as I returned. Ended suspiciously quickly.
“What were you talking about?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing much,” said Cat.
“Yeah, nothing much. Just your fucking massive cock,” expanded her sister.
“Pippa!” yelled Cat, thumping her hard in the arm. “You’ve got a big fucking mouth, you know that?” I knew from bitter experience that hungover Cat was grumpy Cat.
“Could be helpful, right?” Pippa said, waggling her eyebrows lavisciously.
“Could these be helpful?” I asked, tossing her the paracetamol and trying to ignore the implications of what she’d just said.
“Ooh, my hero,” she squealed as she turned to catch them. It causes her tits to jiggle distractingly. “So you managed to take care of your little problem then?”
“I had a piss, if that’s what you mean,” I said, glancing down at Cat and suddenly conscious I was still only dressed in my pants.
“So how come there is a massive semen stain on the front of your pants?”
My hand reached down before I could stop myself. Sure enough, the front of my briefs were tacky to the touch. Stupid long penis.
“Um, that’s piss,” I lied smoothly to Pippa’s giggles.
“Oh wow, Charlie, you really are quite the catch,” my girlfriend interrupted scornfully. “Get under the covers before you embarrass yourself any more.”
“I dunno, sis; he’s dumb but he’s kinda cute.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled in despair, my face pressed into the pillow.
“And that marrow must make up for a lot of his other deficiencies.”
“I think that is quite enough talk about my boyfriend’s marrow,” said Cat primly as she secretly squeezed my bum under the duvet.
“Well, let’s talk about food then,” said Pippa. “I’m starving.”
“So,” I said, rolling onto my back, “The choices are classy brunch at some cool place in town or £4.50 all-in breakfast with hot beverage of your choice at the greasy spoon on the corner.”
“I’m not going to that vile caff,” said Cat.
“I’m skint so I’m not spending a tenner on a fancy egg,” said Pippa.
Hmm. Thinking cap on, Charlie.
“Or Wetherspoons does breakfast till noon. They even do avocados and that these days.”
Cat looked at me. “The pub?”
“Yes,” I replied innocently. “The pub. For food. It sells food.”
Cat kept looking at me.
“I like pubs,” said Pippa. “And avocados. And bacon. Christ, I could murder some bacon. Why are we still here?”
“Er, for a start because we are semi-naked and you are lying there like a fucking slattern with your cleavage pointing at my boyfriend.”
“Meow! There’s no harm in looking, eh, Charlie?”
Wisely, I said nothing.
“Fine, let’s go to the fucking pub,” said Cat.
* * * * *
It turned out that that was Cat’s best contribution to the afternoon.
When I have a hangover, I’m thirsty and horny. When Cat has a hangover, she is fucking prickly. Turns out that Pippa was in the former camp which put Cat in the latter camp squared.
So it was that Cat was still nursing her bloody Mary as we finished off our second pints. Lager for me, cider for Pippa, obvs.
Pippa was flirting with me. A lot. And I wanted to fuck. A lot. I wanted to fuck Cat but with her sister here and given the mood she was in, I had more chance of fucking the Queen. Not that I’d turn down the Queen. Anyway…
I might have been flirting back a little. A medium amount. And I might have been looking at her tits a bit. Pippa has wearing another vest and it was like an ‘all you can eat’ mammary buffet. Two pints in and my instincts for self-preservation were shrinking as my dick was lengthening.
“Those are the last drinks, right?” said Cat.
“Ah, the night is young,” replied her sister, definitely on her way to drunkeness.”
“It is barely the afternoon. You’ve got a coach to catch and I’ve got lectures tomorrow. Proper lectures on hard stuff.” This could have been aimed at her schoolgirl sister or her humanities undergrad boyfriend but either way it was a dig. “Plus I’m sick of my boyfriend staring down your fucking top.” Er, that was probably aimed at me. Oops.
“Sis, it’s not his fault. These puppies are attention hogs.”
“I’m not sure you can describe them as puppies, they are more like Great Danes,” Cat said snidely.
“Great Dane puppies! Look how friendly and frolicsome they are.” To illustrate this, she hefted each of her friendly, frolicsome funbags escort batıkent and jiggled them. I mean, ‘jiggled’ isn’t even the right word; that titquake probably registered on the Richter scale.
“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” I gasped.
Cat rolled her eyes. “Yes, very nice. I think you’ve had enough. And I definitely have. Let’s go.”
The writing was on the wall and I knew when to fall into line. There was just one small problem. Well, not so small. “Sure, yeah, let’s just finish these and then we’ll go.”
“What do you mean finish them? You’ve got about a centimetre in there. Just fucking down it.”
“Um, I can’t quite yet.”
Cat looked at me. I looked back at me. She did the fucking girlfriend trick of reading my mind.
“Oh, you better be joking, you fucking peadophile,” she said, stretching her hand under the table. Her hand quickly discovered that I was not joking and I was rewarded with a painful squeeze. Unfortunately my body was too stupid to understand the situation and the touch of my gorgeous, furious girlfriend’s hand caused the blood flow to my dick to double.
To make matters worse, Pippa was equally quick on the uptake. “Ooooh! Has someone got a bit of a downstairs problem? I hope I didn’t do that,” she said, with staggering insincerity.
“I just want to drink my drink at a normal speed and let my breakfast digest.” For some reason, neither of them seemed convinced. I sipped slowly at my drink and willed myself to go flacid.
Then a hand wrapped round my jean-clad shaft again and this time it wasn’t Cat.
“Jesus, what are you digesting? A battered sausage?”
“Get your fucking hand off him,” Cat said, shooting daggers. Pippa obviously hadn’t learnt that night before Cat and day after Cat were two very different beasts.
“Don’t be pouty. A good girlfriend would take care of her man. Her real man.” Pippa hiccuped and giggled simultaneously. “Her horse man.”
“What are you suggesting? I’m not wanking my boyfriend off under a table in Weatherspoons because, unlike you, I’m not massive slag. Besides we haven’t got time,” Cat finished, distractedly.
“Maybe you aren’t doing it right. Bet he wouldn’t last five minutes in my tits.”
Fuck, things were escalating quickly.
“Okay, fine,” Cat said, slamming down her empty glass.
Pippa looked confused.
“What? Was your big fat mouth writing cheques your big fat body can’t cash again?” seethed Cat.
“You fucking bitch!”
“Er, what’s happening? I asked. They both glared at me.
“We’re going home, said Cat with icy finality.
* * *
The pair argued in hushed tones the whole walk home whilst I hung safely behind.
The sisters were so absorbed in their hissed argument that when we got back to Cat’s room, she let the door slam in my face, seemingly forgetting I was even there. She ignored my murmured, “Hey”, so I sat on the bed and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.
“You wouldn’t have the guts.”
Pippa scoffed. “You wouldn’t have the guts. You’d be too worried I’d show you up.”
Cat went very still. Then she smiled. It was terrible to behold.
“Well, Charlie,” she said, her eyes boring into me. “Today is your lucky day.”
“Er, good?” No, I swiftly realised from her expression, not good.
“It appears that young Philippa here invented sex and is the best at sex and considers it her civic duty to education poor ignorant fools like us.” She’d started pacing as she said this and Pippa, quite rightly, was tracking her movements nervously.
“So she’s going to give us a lesson. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say she’s going to give me a lesson via you.” She stabbed her finger at me for emphasis and I swear I almost felt it.
“And the name of today’s lesson is how to make someone come from a titwank in five minutes or less.”
“You can’t be serious,” cried Pippa. I very conspicuously said nothing.
“I said you didn’t have the guts,” Cat smirked.
“Oh, I’ve got the guts. And the tits.” Pippa was pulling her top over her head as she said this.
“Excellent,” Cat said thinly.
“You are going to regret this, bitch,” said Pippa as she continued to strip, her hand going behind her back to undo her bra. And then out they came.
I’ll be honest, I’d thought they’d be the sort of tits that looked better in a bra than out of one. You know, a bit of gravity assist. But no, through a combination of youth and genetics they remained mouthwateringly aloft even whilst unencumbered. Even Cat looked grudgingly impressed.
“That’s right, bitches,” said Pippa proudly, her hands on her hips and her rack dominating the room. “Suck on these.”
“Sucking wasn’t part of the bet,” said Cat dryly. The frost was definitely thawing; the surreal situation cooling the girls’ temperature even as it raised mine. “They are pretty impressive though. Have they got bigger since the last time I saw them?”
“Yep!” Pippa gave them a quick honk for emphasis. I’d imagined that her nipples would be big and brown but they were almost dainty which just made the sheer size of her mounds even more dramatic.
“Let’s have a feel.” Apparently big tits are good for defusing tension as well as creating it. Cat hefted them speculatively. “You really do have quite a pair of knockers.”
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