My eyes suddenly become aware of the darkness and all because the radio came alive; blasting out its tune to whoever listens but not caring whether anyone does. I don’t want to acknowledge it. I want to roll over and go back to sleep, but in so doing I bump into my partner, Melissa. I wrap my arms around her and cup her warm breasts with the softest touch, but she starts to shrug me off with groans of unwanted wakefulness.

She doesn’t have to get up and go to work, but I do. It’s early, it’s dark and it’s fucking stupid that I have to go to work at this time in the morning. 

As I push upwards off the bed with my legs hanging over the edge I become aware of them, my breasts. The sheets are crumpled in my fists as I use my arms for leverage and I stagger upright, eventually.

Every morning is the same; I feel them weigh me down as I lift off the bed. Still very groggy I head for the shower. Melissa would tell you that I have nice lovely rounded and voluptuous breasts. I love them and more importantly, Melissa does as well, when she’s not grumpy that is.

I can’t help but push my hands over them as I close my eyes. I’m not sure why I close my eyes but I do; it’s so dark I can’t see anything but the fluorescent green of the clock numbers anyway. Having squeezed my breasts together I let them fall, rise from the bed and start my walk to the shower. I flick the shower switch down and pull the light cord with a hand that’s curled around the door frame. I slip inside and block off the light from the bedroom. I know that if Melissa was half awake, she would be considering joining me, but I allow her to get some much needed sleep.

She needs it, after her performance last night. We must have relished in each other’s tits for what seemed like hours. Constantly licking and sucking leisurely on each other’s nipples and taking our time to savour the soft flesh. Melissa’s breasts are smaller but there’s enough there to be proud of.

I switch the shower on and water splashes on the floor until I push the shower head downwards. I get in the cubicle and close the door. Lifting the shower so that the water flows over me, I start to remember what happened the night before. The way she was licking my nipple one moment and then suddenly I felt her tongue slither between my other lips. She knows exactly what to do to make me horny. 

As I remember the moment so vividly, I squeeze my nipple as the hot water warms it. I pull hard and extend it as much as I can before letting it go; teasing it to its full length using the underside of my nails. I consider lifting up my breasts and sucking on the nipple but I refrain from doing so. I repeat the process with the other nipple and then both of them together.

I sigh to myself, as I desperately want Melissa to come in and suck on them right now. They are swollen and throbbing, yet I cannot cup enough boob all at the same time. I end up pushing them together and relishing in the hot water splashing onto my face at the same time. A finger on my pussy would feel nice right now but I know Melissa is dead to the world.

I think I wore her out last night with all the tribbing I made her do. I had insisted that she was going to orgasm with my clit rubbing on hers, and she did. She always loves it when I take control over her destiny.

I pour shower gel onto my hand to wash my body. My pussy tingles with all the thoughts running through my head but it’s my breasts I wash the most. I don’t know why I do this every morning. I suppose I’m a bit like a bloke; especially the ones that stroke their willy in the morning until it’s shiny and new. I just love how my breasts feel and I am so fortunate to have been blessed with ones that are big and beautiful.

At least the water wakes me up. I start to wash in earnest and finally let the water wash away the sex juices from my body. I switch the shower off and grab the towel to dry.

The night before, I laid my clothes out in the spare room, ready for this morning. After doing my teeth and applying roll on under my arms I switch the light off, open the door and head for the room next door. I watch Melissa for a few moments. She is cuddled up in the foetal position with her knees tucked into her breasts. The duvet covers her completely and there is no sign of consciousness. I leave her alone but I would love to lean over her and lick her tits and suck on her nipple. A tender smile crosses my lips. My pussy twitches and I start to think sexual thoughts which I immediately push from my mind.

I enter the spare room and it’s my knickers that are pulled on first. My breasts hang down as I bend over and they swing from side to side as I wobble on the left and then the right foot.  When I pull my knickers on I look next to my bra. It looks big. It is big, it has to be to cover me and these sizeable mammaries. I pull it on tucking first one breast and then the other into the cups and holding ‘the brazier’ in place with my elbows. I always struggle with the back but manage to do the clip up. I slip on a T-shirt and then the dark blue one-piece uniform that I have to wear with all the attachments necessary for my job.

I straighten the pink ribbon that is twisted and pinned over my left breast. I sit on the bed to pull on some tights. Not very sexy I know. But this is dressing for work, not for seducing Melissa when she least expects it.

Last night I dressed up for her. I put on a lovely blue Basque, g-string and hold up stockings. I don’t know why us girls bother. I think blokes appreciate that sort of thing more than Melissa does. It wasn’t long before the only thing remaining was my stockings. The rest were discarded in her effortless onslaught with her hands and tongue.

It makes me smile though. She’s a horny bitch when she wants to be.

With my tights up to my thighs, I stand up and pull them over my knickers and bum. I slip on my black shoes, pick up my bag and make a move for the front door.

I hesitate. I walk back to the master bedroom and look in on Melissa. I am hoping she is awake so that I can kiss her goodbye. She is still fast asleep, but I can’t help myself. I lean over the bed and plant a soft kiss on her forehead. She stirs but not enough to wake up and realise that I am there and dressed in her favourite uniform.

I leave the room smiling, adjusting my sensible knickers before heading out of the door and into the car. The seat belt is forced between my tits and it settles down to a life of confinement for the entire journey. I am soon on my way to work.

Parking is always a bitch where I work. All the normal car spaces are reserved for members of the public. We have some reserved parking but you have to get there early. I am lucky today, there is one space left. I grab it quickly and soon find myself smiling at colleagues, nodding my head and strutting to my normal place of work; surrounded by high tech equipment, all of it in pristine condition and bug free.

I place my bag next to the table that contains the computer. The machine I normally operate is a tall slender device with a central column and horizontal platforms about half way up. Everything is computer controlled.

When I first saw the machine it looked comical, almost like a glorified drinks dispenser or a very sad robot looking at its feet and sulking.

I wouldn’t change my job for all the money in the world. What I do is important and vital to every patient that passes through my doors. I love it.

But not every patient loves what I do. They are usually afraid. Scared. Frightened. Terrified. I don’t blame them. If I had a need to be in their shoes then I would be in the same state. Fortunately for me, I have Melissa. She checks me over every night, the horny little devil.

The first hour of the day is making sure everything works. Routine tests are performed, equipment is checked for cleanliness and I make sure all the accessories that I need are available before the first patient arrives.

I look at the notes on the computer screen and I have four jobs to complete before midday and three afterwards. I find myself, strangely, looking forward to the final one of the afternoon. It will be the first time that I will use the 3D Tomosynthesis machine in the room next door.

I notice that two patients have already checked in and with a little trepidation, I call for the first one.

“Mrs. Jones…” I shout and then look around the room for a pensive person that has just stood up. Eye contact is important. I see a lady, in her fifties, rise up from a chair and walk slowly towards me. All her confidence has been sapped from her soul with the procedure that she is about to go through. Her face looks like I am either the harbinger of doom or angel of mercy. I hope it’s the latter.

I close the door as she enters the room and I offer her a seat and describe the process that we will be going through today. I explain what I will be doing and what happens next. I often find the patients look at my breasts at some time during the explanation. I wonder whether it is because they are jealous of my size, of the fact that they are free from disease or whether they actually fancy them. It has been known to occur.

Before long Mrs. Jones is naked from the waist up and I look at her beautiful breasts and with my heart in my throat I hope that nothing abnormal will be found today. I often find myself closing my eyes and praying to whoever is listening. I don’t think anyone is listening though.

We chat for a while and I find myself on first name terms with Alicia. I ask her to place her breast on the base plate and with gloved hands I arrange it so that it is as flat as possible. The upper plate is lowered and I sneak out and let the X-Ray Mammogram do its job.

She will feel nothing. They never do. It’s always the aftermath of knowing they have breast cancer that triggers the crying and the anxiousness and the fear, when they fucking think that their husbands will love them less when they are half the woman they once were.

I keep the chatter very up-beat and cheerful. I can see from her demeanour that she wants to ask me whether there is anything to be seen as picture after picture is taken and the breasts are swapped over and repositioned. But it is not for me to diagnose. I just do the work. Take the pictures. Gather the evidence. I don’t know if you know this, but it takes about 270 million cells to even register breast cancer with a mammogram, that’s seven years of waiting, while a Thermogram is much more sensitive and can detect cancer in about 2 years. But we persist with tried and tested equipment.

I feel confident for Mrs. Jones, but I’m no expert and I have had to learn to give nothing away.  I’m good at that now.

During the day, my tits precede me wherever I go. They have to. But every time I move I am aware of them; aware of my nipples brushing against the silk of my bra, aware of the jiggling movement and occasionally, aware of them sexually. Sometimes, I just can’t help it. At least once during the day I feel them send signals to my pussy. They have become aroused and are communicating in their own way with my dampening sex.

I remember, about ten years ago now, I was performing the same procedure to a woman with a very pensive and wary attitude, scared almost. I can picture myself smiling at her, trying to make her at ease. When she smiled back at me there was an instant recognition between us.  I remember putting her breasts on the plates, like I always do, but an unprofessional rush came over me and I caressed them flat, without any gloves, and without a second thought. I shouldn’t have done that and I know it was wrong. But when her hand rested on top of mine and held it there for a brief moment, I felt I was given approval. The woman smiled at me in a way that caused me to shiver inside. Calmness descended on me and in my heart, I just knew that everything would be alright.

Later that evening, when I was packing up to go home, I noticed a scrap of paper in my bag with just a phone number on it. I smiled to myself and I knew – I just knew who had left it behind.

At night, I would fondle my breasts and tweak my nipples, often remembering the smile that she thrust in my direction. I caressed my own breasts to the thought of her hand on mine and I would often mimic the movement with both hands.

It took me two days to phone that number. When I did, I hesitated. What if it wasn’t her? What if it was someone else that had left the note? I was about to put the phone down when she answered. An uncertain “hello?” echoed down the phone but no name was provided. I had to speak first.

“Hello, its Stephanie Evans here, I think we saw each other last Thursday…”

I was nervous. My hands were shaking, my lips quivering and my breasts heaving in tune to the anticipation of talking with her.

She finally said her name. A flood of relief flowed over me, sending a tingling sensation through my body. It was her, after all.

It wasn’t long before we were having a normal conversation and it was moments after that when she said that she told me what fantastic breasts I had. I was about to tell her what great breasts she had but, under the circumstances, I stopped myself from blurting it out.

If anything, the woman was direct. I had deliberately left a sufficient time before phoning her to give her time to come to terms with whatever the doctor had told her. She was up-beat, and eventually I got it out of her. She was clear.

I remember feeling desperately relieved at the time. Relieved that there would be no mental challenge to what I hoped was the start of our relationship. Ten years on and Melissa and I are still going strong.  Now that can’t be bad.

Mrs. Jones, Alicia, had to wait for her results the same day. She dressed and walked back to the waiting room.

As she left I did a little exploration myself. She seemed clear and I was glad of that. At least, if anything was present then it would be treatable without operation.

I walked to the door, opened it, “Mrs. Stephens please.”

I saw the same uncertainty on the next woman’s face as I always see. I entered the same routine many times, over and over; with the same enthusiasm every time.

At lunchtime my breasts were getting excited. I’m not normal. I classify myself as a lesbian, yet even when my breasts rub up against a bloke’s arm I start to get aroused. Occasionally I wonder what if…

Doctor Reese was handsome, even I had to admit that, and I found myself standing next to him while in the lunch queue.  I made a point of ‘accidently’ rubbing my right nipple against his elbow while stretching for a raspberry soufflé. Every time he turned around he would find a smirk on my face as I looked at the food that was on offer in the canteen. I’m sure he would fancy his chances if I were alone. Hell, I even fancied his chances every now and then.

I always feel horny when I approach Cheryl. She operates the tills. She is smart, sexy and always has a smile for everyone. Her red lips and minimal makeup oozes sexuality. I could easily take her to one side and slip my hand down her jeans while breathing heavily against the soft unblemished skin of her neck.

“Coffee or tea with that?”

The question woke me with a start from my daydream.

“Coffee, please,” I hurriedly replied; pulling the money out of my bag and offering Cheryl a tenner.

I took the coffee and told my M&M’s to calm down; that’s my nickname for my titties, Melissa’s Mammaries for short. I couldn’t help but stare at Cheryl’s tits while I waited for my change, but I was old enough to be her mother.

With lunch over, the afternoon went swiftly and before I knew it I had to use the new machine. I love the technology I work with but I also know that when it speaks it does so with a forked tongue. Those that get off lightly rejoice. The others leave a kind of tension in the air, quickly followed by sadness and despair.

Even though I was tired, it seemed like the day had disappeared so quickly. It was raining when I left the hospital. I ran for my car and I was looking forward to getting this bra off and relaxing at home. I started the engine. Not once, not twice. On the third attempt it started and I drove home.

I was in the house a maximum of nine minutes when my phone buzzed. ‘Dress up for me! I’m horny.’

I smiled at the text and shook my head. I was about to de-bra my lovely breasts and throw the bra in the washing pile. I lay on the bed for a while, soaking up Melissa’s text. I pondered on what to wear. I bit my lip when I remembered an item that I had not worn for ages. 

I slipped on the Nell Gwynn like balcony bra. I had certainly put on a little weight since I bought it; probably due, in part, to Melissa’s wonderful cooking. I choose the matching red knickers and a long dressing gown. My breasts balanced on top of the bra with the application of a little magic.

I heard the key in the door and rushed to the corridor discarding my silk dressing gown in the process. With one hand poised on my hip and the other against the doorframe I pouted at my beautiful partner, Melissa.

She struggled through the door with the groceries. I let her struggle. She dropped the bags on the floor when she saw me standing there. I shimmied and smiled; secretly I was hoping my full cleavage would stay on top and just shake and on this occasion I was lucky.

Melissa slowly walked towards me. She kissed me on the lips and then cupped my right breast; lifting it up off the bra in order to plant a kiss on my nipple before sucking it into her mouth. The exquisite touches of her body on mine shot through me; first her cold hands brushing my nipples, and then her hot mouth.

Melissa lifted her head. “So, how many tits did you get to handle today?”

“Enough,” I replied saucily.

“Any as good as these, or mine?” she asked, wiggling my breasts with her hands and shaking hers with her shoulders.

“A few!”

She bent her head to lick at my nipple some more. She finally touched my cheek and kissed me once on the lips.

“Dinner?” she announced.

Her lascivious grin informed me that she really didn’t want to move away. The hunger pains must have been really bad.

Melissa cooked and I ensured my breasts teased her every time I tried to help out. At one point I started to chop the red and green peppers, but I honestly couldn’t see them with the way my breasts were bulging out of the balcony bra.

At least it caused a laugh.

Melissa’s laughter was music to my ears as she smiled and smacked my arse. I took the glass of wine and leaned against the table; teasing her by just watching her cook as I sipped wine and rocked my body to entice her.

The food was wonderful, and I sat and ate in just my bra and panties while her eyes roamed all over my body. She would have mentally undressed me if I was wearing any clothes to speak of.

After the meal Melissa packed the dishes into the dishwasher and turned to me. I was in pout mode once more.

“How you feeling?” she asked.

Melissa knows that sometimes my job upsets me; it could easily have been her that had been informed of the bad news all those years ago. Luckily it wasn’t. But it affects me nevertheless. Each piece of bad news takes a little out of you, your heart sinks, as if the bad news is meant for you.

“All Okay today, I believe, everyone had the thumbs up,” I smiled.

Melissa nodded.

“In that case,” one hand pushed itself down my knickers.  “Something else is going up tonight.”

Her eyes lit up as she stared at me. Her lips moistened. Her fingers sought my hardening bud. Finally, a finger and thumb trapped my nipple between them and squeezed hard.

“Follow me,” she winked, pulling me towards the bedroom with my nipple held between her finger and thumb. Melissa relinquished control to slip out of her clothes and to slip on our favourite toy.

My pussy dripped as I watched her put it on. I placed my hand on her arse and stroked it before curling my hand around the cock like protrusion that swung from her groin.

It’s funny, but Melissa introduced me to the benefit of a strap-on. Before I met her, I would not have considered them at all. I loathed men and their appendages. But I have mellowed a lot since I met Melissa. Her strap-on is different though. She uses it with such eroticism but at other times she could the roughness of her fucking mimics that of a bloke. But I love it. I love the fact that I don’t know which direction she will go in. Will it be nice or nasty? I love the anticipation.

We spend a little time kissing and fondling each other. She spends so much time on my breasts that I am aching to be fucked. She finally pushes me onto the bed and we slip between the sheets. My body is pushed on its side and my breasts roll over each other. Her hand comes around me and she cups them and squeezes them. Her other hand feeds the cock into me.

I am so wet it disappears without much effort and I groan out loud. Her other hand eventually forces its way under me and is brought up onto my other breast that is pushed onto the bed. Melissa grabs both of them and starts to fuck her cock into me.

I know this is going to be an inbetweeny; not nice but not nasty. Like I said, I love the way she can go either way.

Before long my nipples are fully extended as she alternates between pulling on them with her fingers and thumbs and squashing them in the palm of her hands. Her hips fuck the cock into me with some speed. I know she is feeling the same as me. I know she will come too.

It’s not just the feeling of the strap-on pushing on her clit as she fucks me; it’s all in her mind. That’s what makes her come, and believe me, Melissa has a fucking dirty mind, especially when she is fucking me from behind.

I asked her once what she thought of when she fucks like that, and she told me that I wouldn’t want to know. I left the conversation where it was and just enjoyed the feelings.

I am enjoying it now. I hear her moan and groan and I know she is close. She tweaks my nipples and I start to come. I tell her not to stop. I don’t know why, I know she has no intention of stopping. She fucks into me until I explode.

My legs shake. My body convulses. My breasts ache because they are so hard and my nipples are raw and extended. My skin turns read across my chest and eventually surrounds my neck. I try and speak and tell Melissa how it was for me, how nice it was, but no words come out.

After I come, she slows down considerably and lets her cock fuck into me sensuously.

My hand reaches behind. I satisfy myself with the simple touch of her hip and I stroke her lovingly. I love the way she pleasures me without wanting anything for herself.

All too soon I start to fall asleep. In this position, I feel my body rest heavily on my breasts. Melissa is tucked up behind me; her strap-on, slowly slipping out. I drift off to sleep, sated and with a smile on my face.

The last thing I feel is Melissa planting kisses on my shoulder. I love her to bits and know that Doc Reese has no real chance at all.

The throes of sleepiness provide my last and final memory of my tits. Until the morning, that is!