Nerds Orgy In Space

My name is Leonard Ruben. I’m an old time rocket
scientist. It’s not my real name, of course, but if you
are reasonably familiar with the NASA lunar program, you
can probably figure out who I am. Not that you would
want to. The events I will describe took place half a
century ago and most of the people involved are either
dead or in nursing homes. But this little story is
actually true. It is one of the more memorable nuggets
of pleasure in my long life.

No matter what you see on TV science shows the Apollo
space program wasn’t a carefully planned NASA enterprise
conceived and directed by forward looking senior
scientists. Rather it was a knee jerk political response
to the Russian success in putting a satellite in orbit.
Sure, both countries had plans to capitalize on their
ICBM efforts by using rockets to loft scientific
payloads into space but the Russians succeeded while our
Vanguard rockets blew up on the launch pad. The Russians
also mapped the back side of the moon and put a mobile
vehicle on the lunar surface while all we could do was
launch a beeping radio transmitter on a Redstone
missile.

So the politicians declared that we would leapfrog the
Russkies and put a man on the moon. The trouble was that
no one had an idea if it could be done. By that time we
had barely put a man in orbit. No senior NASA scientist
wanted to have his reputation ruined if the project was
a failure, although they were all ready to claim credit
if it was a success. Thus the initial phases of the
space program were left to untried, naive engineering
nerds like us.

Nerds is perhaps too pejorative a term. Most of us were
recent graduates from engineering schools, in our mid
20’s. We were just like any other bunch of horny guys
who wanted desperately to drink beer on weekends with
our friends, drive fast cars, and get laid. The only
difference was that most of us carried slide rules and
wore pocket protectors in our shirts.

I received an aeronautical engineering degree in 1956
after service in the Korean War. For the next six years
I was a technological migrant worker flitting from
aerospace company to aerospace company as it gained or
lost defense contracts. By a weird throw of the dice my
jobs were always at the cutting edge of aerospace
fantasy. My fingerprints were on the Atlas missile, the
mach 2 Canadian Avro CF105 fighter, the Polaris missile
system, the mach 3 North American B70 bomber and the
Dynasoar space glider, the precursor of the ‘Space
Shuttle. Fortunately none of these devices was ever used
in combat.

After working all day on methods of killing Cold War
enemies, we chilled out on cold beer and hot girls. The
decade from 1955 to 1965 was a sexual paradise for young
unmarrieds. Birth control pills removed the fear of
unwanted pregnancy, AIDS had yet to emerge as a sexually
transmitted disease, the Haight-Asbury “Summer of Love”
was in full flower, and women were asserting their
rights to enjoy casual sex. More important, there were
plenty of women in the technological workplace. Hot,
nubile girls anxious to use their college degrees on the
job and their bodies in bed.

I must confess that I took advantage of every
opportunity to sleep with my feminine coworkers. It’s
not that they were gorgeous. It’s just that they were
willing. A typical evening would start with a few drinks
at a nearby bar with a compliant female engineer,
technician, or secretary. Of course I would drive her
home. The dating ritual mandated that she should invite
me in to have “one for the road.”

We had a drink, or two, kissed, and groped each other.
Protocol required that I grab a feel of her breasts.
She, in turn, would make a half hearted protest then
return my kisses. We removed each other’s clothes and
tumbled to bed or the couch, whichever was closer. Sex
was almost an anti-climax. Pleasant but expected. We
clutched each other’s bodies. I penetrated her cunt and
sucked her boobies while she wrapped her legs around me
and pulled me close. We moved in unison, fucking each
other as we both rose to satisfactory climaxes. There
was plenty of passion but little affection in these
couplings.

If things went really well, I would stay the night
fucking my partner until we both fell asleep from
exhaustion. We might get together on following nights or
choose new partners. There was little jealousy involved.
Free and open sex was the way of the 50’s. It’s hard to
believe that we horny nerds were the guys who designed
and engineered the high tech weaponry that was the
bulwark of America’s defenses during the Cold War.

By the early 60’s it all changed for me. I was 30 years
old, almost an old man by the standards of my peers. My
previous five years of aerospace experience made me
something of a veteran rocket scientist. By then I was
working for a division of that research powerhouse, Bell
Labs. We had a contract with NASA for systems analysis
on the entire manned space program. My primary
responsibility was the Gemini space capsule. I got the
job because the designer of the capsule, a Canadian,
asked for me. He had been the chief aerodynamics
engineer of AVRO and we had worked well together on the
CF105 fighter.

If you remember, the early NASA lunar manned space
program used four types of manned capsules. First was
the Mercury. Barely more than a sealed ashcan with a man
inside, it was designed to orbit the Earth just to see
if it could be done. This was the one that launched John
Glenn to fame and was the subject of the movie “The
Right Stuff.” The largest and the most well known space
capsule was the Apollo. It was really a truck, manned by
three astronauts and designed to ferry the Lunar
Excursion Module, the LEM, to the moon and then return.
The LEM was intended only be used in space. It had no
re-entry capability.

The Apollo would carry the LEM to near lunar orbit,
detach it from its storage compartment and lock up with
it. The landing crew would transfer to the LEM, descend
to the moon’s surface, walk around and pick up a few
rocks and board the LEM to return to the Apollo. The LEM
would be abandoned in space and the Apollo would return
to Earth. Except no one was sure that it could be done.
No American had ever walked in space, linked up with
another spacecraft, or changed orbit. All that was
tested out on my baby, the Gemini.

Although people think of the Gemini as the precursor to
the Apollo, it was actually designed after the Apollo.
It was the most sophisticated space capsule of the era.
It had hatches that could open in space and permit an
astronaut to leave and return. It could change
orientation, rendezvous with another space capsule and
even change its orbit. And it had enough life support
capability for two men to survive for several weeks. It
was the craft that proved that all of the things that
were proposed for the Apollo were actually possible.

The responsibility of making sure that the Gemini was
successful matured me. I supervised a team of 12 senior
engineers who, in turn, each supervised their own much
larger teams. My work day was spent in coordinating the
efforts of the work groups, reviewing and signing off on
plans, attending meetings, and giving presentations to
various political dignitaries. One such meeting was a
weeklong session at the west coast offices of McDonnell
Douglas, the primary contractor of the Gemini. It was to
make sure that everyone was on the same page. Each
subcontracting company sent representatives.

The person in charge of the Life Sciences aspect of the
project was a young woman, Andrea Hendricks,
approximately my own age or maybe a year or two younger.
Andrea was responsible for both the details of the
Gemini life support system and the suit that the
astronauts would wear for space walks and the lunar
landing. She was short, barely more than five feet tall,
and attractive but appeared a bit heavy set.

She wore loose fitting unfashionable clothes. In fact
she looked like a female engineer. A nerdette, you might
say. Still, I was impressed by her no nonsense approach
at meetings. She was a female bulldozer and obviously
could get things done. Our coordination session lasted a
week and we all left for home.

Andrea and I were both going back to the Washington D.C.
area and were booked on the same flight, a TWA
Jetstream. The name “Jetstream” was TWA’s effort to
misguide the flying public. It was simply a gussied up
Constellation propeller plane. All the other major
airlines were converting to faster real jets. Still it
was a favorite for business flyers. First Class was
divided up into little compartments.

The stewardesses served free drinks with abandon. You
could recline your seat into a fairly comfortable couch.
A businessman could leave LA, booze and snooze his way
to NYC, and arrive ready for a day’s work, albeit with a
considerable hangover. Because we knew each other on a
first name basis, Andrea and I decided to share the same
compartment.

As bad luck would have it the East coast was socked-in
by a monumental blizzard. New York, Philadelphia,
Baltimore, and Washington airports were shut down. Our
flight was terminated in Chicago and would continue the
next day. The airline arranged for stranded passengers
to get a room at the O’Hare Hilton, the Chicago airport
hotel. With all eastbound flights terminating in Chicago
the hotel was crowded to capacity.

Only our initials and last names were on the passenger
manifest so the hotel assumed that Andrea and I were two
businessmen traveling together and allocated only one
room, the last one available. When we arrived to check
in, the desk clerk was truly embarrassed and told me
that he could arrange a bed in one of the meeting rooms
for me for the night. Andrea took the matter in her own
capable hands.,

“Don’t worry about it.” she said to the clerk, “Put us
in the same room. We are both adults. We can handle the
sleeping accommodations.”

Andrea and I were treated to a nice meal in the hotel
restaurant. We had a very pleasant conversation. Andrea
talked freely over dinner. She was forthright, direct
and said exactly what she meant. I guess it was her
engineering approach to life’s problems. Most people
would interpret her directness as a lack of social
graces but after a while I learned to appreciate her no
nonsense approach. In the time that I knew her I never
heard her equivocate about any issue.

She told me that she was a devotee of yoga and liked
classical music. She shared a Georgetown apartment with
two girlfriends. She had no serious boyfriend but was
always on the lookout. Then we adjourned to our room. We
had only our hand luggage. Our suitcases had not been
unloaded from the plane but the hotel furnished us with
toothbrushes, toiletries, and terry cloth bathrobes.

We looked forward to an evening of watching TV on the
new color set and then an early bedtime. Both of us
changed into our hotel provided robes. We sat side by
side on the couch with a thermos flask of hot coffee,
sipping from our cups while we watched the TV movie. I
remember that it was the first James Bond film, “Dr.
No.”

Andrea and I flipped a coin to choose which one of the
twin beds we wanted and who would take a shower first. I
won on the shower, lost on the choice of beds. The
shower was very refreshing after our long day. Andrea
fussed around, doing the things that women do while
waiting for me to finish, then, carrying a couple of
clean towels, entered the bathroom as I exited.

In a short while Andrea stepped out of the shower with
her terry cloth robe wrapped around her.

“Len,” she said. “We have to talk about our sleeping
arrangements. I’m a bit hesitant to say this but I
always sleep in the nude. I’ve done it ever since I was
a child. A nightgown always bunches up and the wrinkles
irritate me.”

“Don’t let it bother you,” I replied. “I promise I won’t
look.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’m sure you’ve seen a
naked woman before and I’m not embarrassed. It’s my
breasts. They may seem a little strange.” She paused for
a while as if deciding what to do, then she opened her
robe and said, “Here, see what I mean.”

Her breasts looked strange indeed. They were huge fleshy
mounds hanging from her chest. Each one was as big as a
5 pound sack of sugar and about as round. They looked
like they belonged on a woman two, maybe three times
Andrea’s petite size. Unsupported, the well formed
mammaries hung down below her belly button. When she sat
down on the edge of the bed the ends of her breasts
rested against her thighs. It wasn’t that the breasts
sagged. They were just very big and heavy. Very big
indeed. There was a lot of meat packed inside them.
Andrea’s breasts were tipped with red areolas the size
of saucers. In the center of each was a thimble sized
nipple. In all other respects Andrea was a very
attractive woman. She was very well toned, had an
intelligent perky face, sparkling eyes, a narrow waist
and great legs.

Some men are leg men, some are ass men, and some are tit
men. I confess to being a bit all all three but I’m
basically a leg man. Even in high school I would try to
walk up the stairs behind a particularly attractive girl
so I could sneak a look at her legs. Andrea’s legs were
certainly sexy. Her narrow ankles led to full and nicely
shaped calves. Her thighs were well muscled pillars of
flesh that terminated in a compact rounded butt. Indeed,
I would give her legs 9 out of 10. But tonight Andreas’s
breasts were all that I could see. Now I’m of the “more
than one mouthful is a waste” school but Andrea’s
breasts were overwhelming. Some things are impressive
because of sheer size. The Saturn 5 booster was
impressive. So were her breasts.

“You see my problem,” Andrea said. “I have really big
boobs. My doctor said that it was technically virginal
breast hypertrophy. It’s the reason I dress the way I
do. I’ve got to hide them or most people will treat me
as just a pair of tits and won’t take me seriously. I
had to show them to you up front because there wasn’t a
ghost of a chance that you wouldn’t see them tonight.
And I want to keep working with you. So look. Get it out
of your system. You can even touch them if you want. I
think of my boobies as body parts like hands or feet. I
promise I won’t be offended. It would be just like
shaking my hand.”

“Andrea, you look fine. I can’t say that I’m not
interested. What normal guy wouldn’t be interested? But
I respect your abilities and how much you have
contributed to the program too much to let my male
desires get in the way. Sleep nude if you want. I’ll
keep strictly to my side of the room.”

“I’m glad you feel that way but I have another problem.
I leak. I started lactating in my early 20s because of a
hormone abnormality. The doctor called it a mild case of
galactorrhea. She said that a lot of women have this
problem. One day my breasts just started to drip milk.
It was just a few drops at first, then slowly increased.
Now it’s an amount typical of a breastfeeding mother.
And before you ask, I’ve never been pregnant.”

“The doctor explained that the condition was due to a
hormone excess probably related to my breast size. She
said that it would diminish with time. It wasn’t
dangerous or anything. Just annoying. At first I tried
simply absorbing the drips with breast pads but after a
while the flow became too much. Now I have to milk
myself a couple of times a day or it gets painful. Do
you mind if I do it now? You can watch if you want. It’s
not gross or anything.”

“No, I don’t mind.” I said. But my curiosity got the
better of me. “In fact I would like to see you do it if
it won’t embarrass you.”

I don’t know what I thought she would do. Perhaps use a
purse sized breast pump. I didn’t expect what she
actually did. Frankly, I was surprised.

Andrea simply pushed her robe aside and raised her right
boob. My eyes popped. I was startled by the fact that
she did it so nonchalantly. A tiny drop of milk oozed
out of the tip of the turgid nipple.

Andrea grasped her dripping breast with both hands and
lifted it up. It was almost too big to hold in her small
hands. She gazed admiringly at the swollen nipple and
dug her fingers into the mound of breast flesh. This
made the nipple bulge even more. She grasped her nipple
between her fingers and massaged it vigorously.

Her fingers pressed the bulging areola and a thin stream
of milk emerged from the nipple. Without a moment’s
hesitation, Andrea raised the end of her breast to her
mouth, wrapped her lips around the nipple, and started
sucking. I could see her cheeks hollow and swell.
Driblets of milk escaped from the corners of her mouth.
Finally she had to stop to take a breath.

“See, ” Andrea said. “It’s really leaking. I may have
waited too long to empty it. Would you like some milk in
your coffee? I know I would.” Her last remarks really
shocked me. But, I’m sure that Andrea felt “In for a
penny, in for a pound.”

She leaned over and squeezed the end of her tittie,
squirting a stream of mother’s milk into her coffee cup.
I’m sure I had a startled look on my face. I stopped
Andrea before she could do my cup.

“I like my coffee black.” I paused for a while, then my
curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “What does
it taste like? I don’t remember ever tasting human
milk.”

“Well, it tastes like…” She hesitated a moment, then
said, “I can’t describe it. Why don’t you come over here
and find out?” She sat down on the couch and patted the
seat next to her. “Come over here.”

I staggered over in a daze and sat next to her. She held
her huge naked breast up with both hands and offered it
to me.

“Now put my nipple in your mouth and start sucking.
Don’t bite me though.”

The large nipple was stiff in anticipation. It was
nearly an inch long and half an inch thick. She put a
hand behind my head and placed her nipple in my gaping
mouth. I felt the rough nipple with my tongue and closed
my lips around it. I sucked like through a straw but
nothing came out.

“You have to squeeze the flesh around the nipple against
the roof of your mouth with your tongue for the milk to
start.” She coached. “That’s how the babies do it. It’s
just like milking a cow.”

Well, it’s not quite like milking a cow. I had milked
cows before on my uncle’s dairy farm in Wisconsin.
Andrea’s nipples were nothing like cow’s teats. A cow’s
teat is long and slim and the milk can be stripped out
of it by pulling and squeezing your hand. Andrea’s
nipple was red and turgid, like the cherry on top of an
ice cream sundae. I wrapped my lips around it, and
following her instructions, pressed her nipple and tit
flesh against the roof of my mouth with my tongue.

I was rewarded with a stream of milk. She pressed my
head into her breast as I sucked. Although I started
tentatively, I was really getting into it. I sucked so
strongly that I thought that I would swallow her whole
boob. That would have been a tough job.

Andrea’s milk was warm, thin, and quite sweet with a
vaguely bitter aftertaste. It tasted a bit like melted
vanilla ice cream without the vanilla. I don’t know what
I expected but I rather enjoyed her flavor. “Of course,
you idiot,” I thought to myself. “It has to taste good
so babies will like it.”

I flicked Andrea’s nipple from side to side with my
tongue. My lips opened wider and I sucked more of her
tit flesh into my mouth, still rubbing the nipple with
my tongue. I think I might have gotten most of her
areola in. As I sucked, squirts of milk splashed into my
throat and I had to swallow repeatedly.

I could feel my teeth lightly pressing against the
surface as Andrea allowed her breast to slip slowly out
of my mouth. Then I sucked it back in, my teeth closing
slightly as I started nibbling on the nipple. I had to
open my mouth a bit to swallow and catch a breath. The
wet breast slipped from my mouth until the engorged
nipple caught on my teeth and kept the breast from
sliding entirely out. My tongue kept up its motion as I
chewed. Andrea moaned in delight.

When the milk from the first breast was exhausted Andrea
substituted the other breast. The switch was almost
seamless. I was almost in a daze, my head buried in
breast meat, totally occupied with sucking and
swallowing. Andrea’s breast was full and meaty. Both of
my hands were barely enough to encircle it. I pulled the
stiff nipple tightly into my mouth.

As I nursed her I became aware that I had a raging
erection. It pushed a tent in my robe. I hoped Andrea
wouldn’t notice. No such luck. Andrea’s free hand
explored my body. I felt her fingers on my waist, my
butt, and on my robe over my penis. She fished out my
hard cock and began stroking. It was so matter of fact
that I had no time to pull back.

I was primed to explode. With a few strong strokes I
erupted, spewing cum over her hand. I’m sure she could
tell the instant I came by the way my jaw clamped down
on her tit. She held me even tighter to her chest as I
continued to suck. Finally the milk supply from both
breasts was exhausted. We both sat up, her naked
mammaries hanging obscenely out of her robe, my now limp
cock protruding from my own robe.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved,” I said. “It’s really
unlike me. I just got carried away.”

“It’s all my fault,” Andrea said as she stuffed her wet
boobs back into her robe. “I started the whole thing.
And I enjoyed your mouth on my nipple. You really do
know how to milk a cow. I liked how you did it.”

We talked for a while but we simply danced around the
topic. I knew that before the evening was over I would
fuck Andrea. She knew it too but we were bound by
convention to observe the proprieties. She took off her
robe and exposed both of her breasts in their entirety.
These were not the breasts of a nymphet but mature,
sexual boobs promising hours of erotic pleasure. She put
her hands under them, offering them to me as if she was
giving me a precious gift.

My cock was already starting to erect again. Andrea had
something more interesting in mind than having me just
nibble on her boobs. Dropping to her knees, she grabbed
my cock and jammed it into her mouth. She stroked and
sucked, giving me my first good blowjob in over a year.
And it was one of the best ones. My cock became hard as
iron.

She was going to make me cum again. But before I came, I
grasped her under the arms and pulled her up, lifting
her like a baby. I deposited her in the middle of the
bed. It was the one she had selected after winning the
coin toss. She spread her legs and raised her arms to
me, welcoming me to her body.

Andrea’s hand guided my cock to its target. It pushed
her wet pussy lips apart as I penetrated her cunt. No
hesitation. I just plunged into her. She wrapped her
legs around me and pulled me to her with her strong
calves, so far that my cock bottomed, our pubic bones
collided. Her clit was being massaged by long strokes of
my penis. I felt Andrea’s left breast start to leak. It
was the one that had not been fully emptied. She pushed
the nipple to my mouth. What a wonderful feeling,
fucking and sucking at the same time.

It had been a long time since I had fucked a woman like
this. Fucked, fucked, YES!! That was my hard cock in her
cunt. Andrea had marvelous muscle control of her pussy.
Her well lubricated vagina clutched and massaged my
penis as I thrust in and out. Much better than a hand
job. YES!!

Andrea was being royally fucked. Just as I suspect she
wanted to be. My first climax of the evening had taken
the urgency out of my passion and I was now in it for
the long haul. I tried to play it cool. It was all I
could do not to shout for joy. I knew that I was going
to ejaculate soon. My body began to respond almost
automatically.

I could feel Andrea squirming beneath me. She jammed her
breast tighter into my mouth, squeezing the end with her
hand to force the nipple deep down my throat. Her legs
wrapped around me, her beautiful calves pressed on my
back, forcing me deeper into her. “Suck me harder,” she
cried. “Harder. Suck my big titties. Don’t be gentle. My
titties love it! Bite me! Chew me! Yes, YES!!”

Andrea clutched me tighter. Her body began to shake. She
bucked. She screamed, “OH MY GOD! DO IT TO ME! FUCK ME!
FUCK ME! I’M GOING TO CUM! OH FUCK! I’M STARTING TO CUM!
FUCK, FUCK! I’M CUMMING! I’M CUMMING RIGHT NOW! YES,
YES! I’M CUUUMMMING! YES, YES!!”

So much for being cool. We both came in the mother of
all climaxes. The orgasm of a lifetime. Andrea grasped
my head between her hands and kissed me passionately.

“Thank you Len. Thank you,” she managed to gasp as she
snuggled in my arms.

Just to prove that it wasn’t a fluke, we waited a while
to catch our breath then fucked each other again. Every
scientist knows that you have to repeat an experiment to
test its validity. The results were exactly the same.
This time I anticipated Andrea’s earthquake when she
climaxed and held on tight. I concentrated on hitting
her G-spot, driving my penis against the front wall of
her vagina. Andrea screamed even louder when she
orgasmed. YES!!!

About midnight we decided we needed some refreshments.
The restaurant was closed so we raided the mini bar.
Andrea said her breasts needed emptying every four
hours. Her huge boobs forced us to improvise a sexual
position not mentioned in the Kama Sutra. To accommodate
our love making and breast milking at the same time
Andrea sat in my lap facing me, skewered on my hard
penis. She raised one of her nipples to my mouth and the
other to her own mouth.

We fucked each other gently while we cooperatively
feasted on her milk. Andrea seemed to enjoy nursing from
her mammoth tit as much as I enjoyed nursing on its
sister. I’m sure that some men, and a few women as well,
might think that drinking human milk is yucky but, as I
said, I rather liked the taste. And, of course I liked
the container that Andrea’s milk came in.

I’ve got to say that simultaneously fucking and sucking
Andrea was the single most erotic experience of my life.
Even after fondling them for half the night, I couldn’t
get over the size of Andrea’s tits. Andrea loved the
fact that I appreciated her huge breasts as well. She
said that that many of her dates were turned off by
them.

Andrea sat on her bed, her body propped against several
pillows resting against the headboard. Both of us were
nude. We had been making love for four hours and were
relaxing for a few moments. Her legs were bent, knees
elevated. I was lying with my head on her lap, in the
valley made by her stomach and her raised thighs. My
head was cushioned by her pubic mound. Her nipples swept
over my face as she moved her body. I fondled her
breasts, circling them, feeling their weight.

I managed to capture one of Andrea’s nipples in my mouth
and gently tongued the end. Andrea moved the other
nipple between my lips and asked me to suck on them both
at the same time. She said that it was stereo eroticism
and she liked the way it felt. She would do it to
herself whenever she got the chance.

After consuming the entire contents of the mini bar we
talked to each other in a way that we would never do
when sober. Thankfully the airline was picking up the
tab.

Andrea and I must have been more than a little drunk
when she told me how much she loved playing with her
boobies. And who wouldn’t I thought. She would hold her
big breasts in her arms, gathering them close to her
body. She stroked their surfaces, kissing them, petting
them like puppies, just loving them. Body parts or not,
she enjoyed using them for her pleasure.

I had to agree. If I was a woman and had breasts like
that, I would use them myself every night. I would hug
them, caress them, rub the nipples until they got hard.
Then I would suck the nipples raw. Probably, if I were
Andrea, I would play with my cunt too until I came.

She talked freely about the problems of having outsized
breasts. She felt that there was no male parallel to
having a set of large boobs sticking out of the front of
your chest. Men just didn’t appreciate the problem. Her
titties were heavy. So heavy that she sometimes lost her
balance if she moved too quickly. She said that there
was no comfortable way to sleep with boobs as big as
hers. Lying on her stomach was difficult. She could lay
on her side and stretch a breast up to her mouth and
gently tongue the nipple.

Andrea felt that since her breasts dominated her life
she would damned well get some pleasure out of them.
After she started lactating she would nurse from her own
boobies and massage her clitoris until she came. She
found that one thing good about having such big tits is
that she could suck them easily. That was a side benefit
of her condition her doctor didn’t tell her about. She
discovered it on her own.

She talked quietly, almost a confession, telling me of
her life as a female engineer in the space program. Most
women were secretaries or assistants. A woman in the
engineering ranks was treated as an anomaly. Sort of
like a talking dog. Her life was one of quiet
frustration. Few senior engineers considered her
competent. She was never given any responsibility. She
had dates with men in the program but was largely
ignored in the work environment.

She was not used to being ignored. In order to cope with
her frustration she took matters into her own hand.
Giving herself a climax became her solution to life’s
little crises. The climaxes were roughly like hitting
the reset button on her mind. Sort of an instant dose of
tranquilizer. If she had an argument with her coworkers,
if she couldn’t solve a problem at work, if her bank
account didn’t balance, if she misplaced her car keys,
she relieved her frustration by retiring to her room or
a locked stall in the woman’s lavatory and giving
herself a quick orgasm. Andrea said that there was no
emotional involvement in her autoerotic behavior. It was
simply physical therapy.

She said that while she masturbated frequently it was
merely in response to the stresses of the job. Some of
the NASA engineers ate to excess, some drank too much.
Andrea regarded her cunt as her safety valve.

Eventually, Andrea said, she was given more and more
responsible assignments. Despite her sex she was
elevated in rank and eventually reached her present
management position. She found it useful to play down
her feminine attributes and deliberately adopt a dowdy
appearance.

Andrea continued her quiet monolog. “I developed early.
I started having my periods when I was 11. By that time
my breasts were almost C cup size. By the time I was 12
they were D cups. And they went on from there. Mom and
most of my aunts had outsized busts and told me that I
would get used to mine in time.”

She paused, then she giggled a bit at what must have
been a humorous memory. “It was a bit weird for a girl
my age to have such big tits. Mom had to shop for me in
the husky boy’s department at Sears. I could fit
ordinary girl’s jeans but I had to wear shirts made for
fat boys. When I started wearing bras Mom had to shop in
the matron’s section of the woman’s department to get me
properly fitted.”

“In high school I used to hate my boobies because I
couldn’t wear all those cute clothes that were
advertised in Seventeen. I even considered breast
reduction surgery but I hated the thought of a surgeon
taking a knife to my endowments. The surgery would
reduce the size of my boobs to normal proportions but I
would also lose a lot of erotic sensitivity.

I couldn’t accept the idea of simply chopping off the
ends of my tits. I had nightmares about the doctor
simply putting my mammoth breasts on a paper cutter and
slamming the blade down while I watched the ends of my
boobies drop into the wastebasket below. The nightmare
made me give up any thought of reduction surgery.
Besides I was learning to accommodate to my breasts.
After a while I began to enjoy them.”

“My growing boobs got me noticed by the boys. Sometimes
they went out of their way to brush against me in a
crowded hallway and grab a feel of my titties. I was
surprised that the boys liked my breasts. I liked to
touch them in bed at night and my nipples felt good when
I rubbed and squeezed them gently. But while I liked to
play with my own titties, I couldn’t figure out why the
boys liked them. They couldn’t feel what I felt.”

“By the time I was a junior in high school my breasts
had grown even bigger. I found that if I lowered my head
a bit and pulled my breast upward I could get my nipples
into my mouth. Sucking on my own nipples changed my
bedtime behavior. Licking and chewing my boobies felt
very good. My nightly ritual was to eat my tittie and
play with my pussy until I had a climax. I often went to
sleep with one of my own nipples between my lips. It was
like a baby with a pacifier.”

“After I began to have sex I began to really like my
oversized boobies. My dates would play with them and
lick the nipples. Sometimes they used them as reins when
they fucked me. My cunt was normal for a teen aged girl.
I discovered that I liked being fucked. I never saw what
the big deal about being a virgin was anyway. I thought
it was stupid to deny yourself all that pleasure just so
you could prove to your prospective husband that no
other cock had been in your cunt before. He had probably
banged dozens of other girls himself before he met you.

I liked it when boys fucked me from behind, pulling my
body back and forth with my big boobies. I even liked to
grab my nipples and pull my boobs really hard just like
the boys did. I still do. You know, my boobs are so big
that I bet that I could stretch them far enough to fuck
myself with my nipple.”

“No way,” I replied, sitting up. “I’d have to see you do
it before I would believe it. Your breasts are big but I
don’t think they are that big. You might be able to
touch your clit with your nipple but I don’t think you
could pull it down enough to actually put it in your
vagina. I’ll bet you anything you want that you can’t do
it.”

“Well,” slurred Andrea, “I’ve never tried to fuck myself
with my tittie before so it’s really an experiment. The
only way for us to find out if I can do it is for me to
try it. I’ll have fun trying.”

Andrea stood up, fluffed her hair, stretched and bent
over a few times as if to loosen herself up. When she
leaned over to touch her toes, her nipples almost
reached the floor as soon as her fingers. Her breasts
were amazing.

“Now for the big experiment.”

Andrea resumed her seat on her bed with her back against
the headboard. She raised her hips as far as she could
and leaned forward dropping her left shoulder. This put
her left nipple below the level of her now engorged
clit. It didn’t quite reach far enough to bend backward
and insert into her cunt. She could pull it down with
her hands but the moment she released it and it sprang
back. She needed both hands for what she had in mind.
What to do?

Andrea pulled the soft terry cloth belt off of her
bathrobe and looped it twice around her dangling boob.
She pulled it tight and knotted it. Binding her breast
worked just as she expected. The end bulged like a water
balloon and stretched the tit at least two more inches.
She reached down with her left hand and tugged up under
her left thigh. Her yoga practice must have kept Andrea
quite flexible and now it paid off. Her nipple was now
well below clit level. She paused for a moment, admiring
the fact that she could bend so far.

The end of her breast was between her thighs and she as
pressed them together the end bulged out still further.
Still pulling on her left thigh with her left hand she
reached her right hand beneath her legs and clutched the
end of her tit. By bending it backwards she could easily
rub her nipple on her clit.

“Oh wow! That feels good. I’ll have to remember that.”

Andrea grasped the stiff nipple of her left breast and
pulled it out as far as she could. And then she did it.
She stuffed the nipple and a bit of her areola into her
wet cunt holding it there with her fingers. Her right
middle finger penetrated her cunt and pushed the nipple
in farther. Andrea worked the nipple with her middle
finger moving it in and out slightly. The breast flesh
around her areola massaged her clitoris with its
movements.

She turned her face to me, obviously proud of what she
could do. She tried to smile but there was a look of
barely controlled sexual tension in her eyes. She was
obviously trying to hold back an orgasm.

Her finger motions became more and more aggressive, her
nipple harder and harder. The nipple was now well into
her cunt and the little bumps of her areola were rubbing
against her engorged clit. Between Andrea’s gasps of
pleasure I could hear the squishy noises that the nipple
made moving in and out of the vagina. The turgid nipple
was making love to her receptive clitoris.

Andrea pulled herself down further with her left hand
and shoved more and more of her areola into her cunt.
Everything was well lubricated from her natural moisture
and the few drops of milk streaming from her tortured
tit. The fingers of her right hand beat a tattoo on both
her breast and the swollen vaginal lips.

“I’m really doing it,” she managed to say. “I’m fucking
myself with my own tit.” She continued to work the
nipple in and out. Then she turned to me and talked
quietly, almost in a whisper, “Oh, it feels so good!. My
titty and clitty are kissing each other. Fucking each
other. I love it!. It’s from both ends of me. I can’t
believe I can actually fuck myself with my own tit. What
a turn on!”

The signs of a coming climax were all over her body,
slow at first because of her awkward position, then
becoming more and more intense. I could see the
vibrations of her legs on the end of the tit captured
between her thighs. Her calves tensed, pointing her
toes.

She tried to prolong the moment but her fingers kept
moving out of her control. Faster and harder. Faster and
harder. Thighs squeezing her breast. Waves of breast
flesh rippled over her extended boob. Nipple rubbed
against clitoris. Andrea made a noise like a cat
whimpering. It looked like she could barely stand the
pleasure. She would cum in just a few more seconds. Then
Andrea’s legs spasmed and she exploded in a massive
climax, uncoiling from her cramped position like a
released spring.

“I did it!” Andrea shouted as she lay splayed out on the
bed. She had a bit of a finger bruise on her thigh from
the tightness of her grip. After a short rest she sat up
she brought her abused nipple to her mouth and savored
the combined taste of milk and pussy juices. Andrea shut
her eyes and breathed deeply. Then she turned to me and
held out her arms.

“It’s your turn now, big boy. I won the bet. You said
you would do anything I asked. Pay off by fucking me so
hard I can’t stand.”

Andrea’s sex show had made my cock as hard as it had
ever been. In retrospect, I know that she had intended
to seduce me but I was certainly a willing victim. I’ll
never know if it was a maneuver to ingratiate herself
with her boss or to amuse herself during the hours of
snowbound delay. Clearly I had fallen for one of the
standard plots of porn fiction. You know the one, the
lactating woman on a trip who finds her breasts swelling
so badly that she has to find some accommodating man who
will suck the milk out of her titties. I was that man.

But all that was irrelevant. No matter what her original
intent, Andrea got caught in her own trap. Our sexual
pleasure was so intense that the original purpose for
the seduction was forgotten. We made love to each other
in an almost manic fashion, each pulling orgasms out of
the other’s body when we should have been totally
exhausted. We were two animals in heat. I ate her cunt.
She sucked my cock. We fucked again and again, literally
quivering in repeated ecstacy. It was a marathon of sex.
The best ever for both of us. We never used my bed at
all.

Our night long orgy was interrupted by a wakeup call the
next morning. It wasn’t truly a wakeup call since we
hadn’t slept at all the entire night. It informed us
that the runways at National Airport in Washington had
been cleared and our flight would take off in two hours.
Just in time to dress, have breakfast and make the
plane. The flight back was uneventful. After we landed
Andrea and I went our separate ways. Her only
acknowledgment of our shared adventure was a peck on the
cheek and a whisper in my ear, “Thank you SO much for
last night.”

The funny thing about our brief affair was that before
being grounded in Chicago I never thought about Andrea
in a sexual way. I respected her as a professional and
that was it. After we got back to Washington we met in
meetings but neither of us contacted the other for a
repeat performance. I guess it was always on the table.
We exchanged knowing glances from time to time. But
nothing ever happened. Still I’m sure Andrea and I will
both remember that snowbound night forever.

After my return to DC I received an offer from a New
York university to head up a newly formed engineering
department. I would be appointed a tenured professor
with a significant research budget. It was an offer that
was too good to pass up. I left NASA for New York. The
Gemini project was just about completed anyway.

And that’s how the voyage to the moon was launched.

TWO YEARS LATER:

A couple of years after I accepted the professorship in
New York I was invited to give the keynote lecture at a
conference on space exploration. To my great surprise
Andrea was one of the conference organizers. After I
gave my speech I was invited to a small cocktail party
given by the organizing committee. I shook everyone’s
hand, including Andrea’s. She looked almost the same as
she did two years ago. Attractive, proper and dressed in
unfashionable clothes. I realized that I was only one of
the few people in the room that knew what was under
those clothes.

Andrea knew, of course, and perhaps one or two men that
she had favored with her voluptuous body. I felt twinge
of jealousy. I hoped that there were not too many. It
was a little difficult to talk to Andrea at the party. I
had no classes the next day and Andrea’s portion of the
conference was over. Since she had to remain in town
until the wrap up at the end of the week she had a
couple of free days. She told me that she intended to
spend them shopping and perhaps catch a Broadway show. I
took the hint and invited her to lunch.

The first few minutes of our lunch were awkward. We had
a bit of catching up to do, tracing all our mutual
friends who had left NASA. What made it more difficult
for me was that I couldn’t take my eyes off Andrea’s
bodice. I wished for Superman’s x-ray vision to catch a
view of her massive mammaries. Andrea couldn’t help but
notice.

“Len,” she said, with a bit of annoyance in her voice,
“I’m up here. Not down there. Look me in the face when
you talk to me.”

I was properly chastised. I tried to carry on my end of
the conversation but after that rebuke I couldn’t think
of anything to say that wouldn’t sound sexist. Finally
Andrea took pity on me.

“This isn’t like you. You seem so uptight. I know that
you were thinking of my boobs when I scolded you. They
are just the same as they ever were. Big and dripping.
You know all about them. And to answer the question that
you obviously want to ask, I’ve let a few other men use
them over the last two years. You didn’t put your brand
on them, you know. Just a few tooth marks.”

Her last words made my stomach sink. I experienced a
mixture of intense jealousy and a bit of relief. I hated
the guts of the guys who played with her tits after I
moved to New York. How dare they touch Andrea’s tits. On
the other hand I was relieved that she had just a few
lovers. In the same period I had been intimate with a
number of women. Still, I had developed the unreasonable
belief that everything connected to Andrea was mine.

Andrea continued, “Now why don’t you relax for a while
and stop thinking about my breasts. They are just big
blobs of meat. But they belong to me. I can do what I
want with them. Have a drink or two, and meet me about
eight tonight for a late night snack in my hotel room.
We can talk then. I’m at the Regency, room 766. In the
meantime I’ll go shopping.” We said goodbye and went our
separate ways.

I dithered around all the remainder of the afternoon. It
was the Spring break and we had no classes that week. I
didn’t really want to see Andrea and restart what would
eventually result in a frustrating situation. She and I
were two different people, each with our own career
agenda. No good could come of it. On the other hand I
was obsessed with her boobs. I had to experience their
magnificence again just to make sure that my memories of
two years ago were not an alcohol fueled fantasy. One
look and perhaps a touch wouldn’t hurt. She would be
returning to Washington in a couple of days.

So that night I headed for Andrea’s hotel room carrying
a bottle of good Scotch, a brand I remembered she liked.
Andrea was dressed casually in jeans and a loose man’s
shirt. I handed her the bottle and she went to the
fridge to get ice cubes and a splash of seltzer. Room
service knocked on the door five minutes after I arrived
carrying a tray with a couple of steak sandwiches and
trimmings. I tried to pay the bill but the porter told
me that NASA had already paid for it. I tipped him
generously.

And there we were, Andrea and I sitting on the large
sofa. I spoke first. “Andrea, I would like to apologize
for my rude behavior this afternoon. I acted like a
college sophomore, maybe even like a college freshman. I
hope you will forgive me.”

“No problem, Len. Look – I know you wanted to see my
boobs. I’m used to it by now. If I wear anything the
least bit revealing when I walk down the street, men
will follow me for blocks just to see my titties bounce.
If I go to the beach in an ordinary bathing suit, a
cluster of dirty minded men will hang around hoping I
have a wardrobe malfunction. So what you did was hardly
out of the ordinary. I just over reacted. Now let’s eat
our sandwiches and relax with each other.” Andrea was
being her very direct self. She simply said what she
meant.

Surprisingly enough we did relax. The steak sandwiches
were excellent and a couple of Scotch and sodas washed
them down well. Andrea and I sat next to each on the
sofa and talked over old times. The Gemini, the space
craft we both worked on was a great success and the
Apollo was flying around the Moon.

Many of the engineers that worked with us had gone off
to much higher paying defense jobs. My direct boss had
even become Assistant Secretary of Defense. Sometime
during the middle of our conversation Andrea moved
closer to me. We kept talking but the distance between
us was shrinking. Finally we were sitting shoulder to
shoulder. I rose to refresh our drinks.

As I handed Andrea her glass she turned to me and said,
“You know, Len, I wish you had put your brand on my
tits. I told you that I let a few guys use them after
our snowbound night. That much is true, but I said it
mostly to make you jealous.

I like having sex but few of my dates had the slightest
idea of how to make love to me. They didn’t know what to
do with breasts like mine. They had no imagination. All
they wanted to do was stick their cocks in me. Most of
the time I had to keep my bra on when I let guys fuck
me. My tits just freak most men out.”

“The wonderful thing is that even though you and I only
spent one night together we figured out right away what
turned the other on. It never happened to me like that
before.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say after that soliloquy
so I took Andrea in my arms and kissed her. The kiss
might have been a spur of the moment inspiration for me
but Andrea took advantage of it right away. She put her
arms around me and kissed me back. One of my hands found
her ass and pulled her close. Except I couldn’t stand as
close to her as would have liked. Andrea’s breasts
formed a barrier as formidable as the Maginot Line.
Which as I recall wasn’t that formidable after all.

I finally managed to say, “Andrea, you said something
about me putting my brand on your breasts. I’m not sure
how I would go about it but I’d like to try. What do I
do?”

She paused or a while, thinking. “Before you answer,
Andrea, I think I need another drink. Can I get you one
too?” She nodded.

We started on our fourth drink of the evening and I was
beginng to feel a bit woozy. I remembered that Andrea
became more uninhibited the more she drank

“Len, for a bright college professor you are really a
dummy. I’ll spell it out for you. You have to get your
hands on my tits before you can do anything. I’m not
sure I’m going to let you do that. I’m still pretty
angry at you. But if I let you touch me you will have to
rub my big breasts all over and get my nipples hard.
Then you will have to suck all the milk out of my
boobies.

“Yes, Len. I’m still lactating. After that you will have
to take me to bed and fuck me so hard that I’ll forget
that you haven’t called me for two years. Think you can
handle all that? When we finish we can discuss branding
my tits.”

Could I handle it? Probably not. So I did the only thing
I could think of. I kissed her again. This time slowly
and passionately. And, to my surprise, I absolutely
meant it. I had grown more than a little fond of Andrea
in the years that I had known her. I just had to
convince her.

“Before we can even think of starting, I have to get out
of this shirt. It itches but it hides my boobies. And
while I’m doing that, I think you should get out of your
street clothes. Branding my breasts might get messy.”

She stood up and unbuttoned the plaid shirt and shrugged
it off her shoulders. Her bra was the next obstacle. It
was a real piece of engineering. I used to think that
rocket scientists were clever but bra designers are at
the top of the heap. Andrea’s mammaries stressed the
fabric in all directions. Support lines woven into the
material contained the flesh yet didn’t restrain her
movements. At least not too much. It was a Brooklyn
Bridge of a bra. Andrea saw my appreciative gaze. She
smiled as only another engineer would.

“Do you like my breast bucket, Len? I did the stress
analysis myself. It’s a real job isn’t it? I have to get
the bras specially made.”

Andrea fumbled a bit with the snaps and her breasts
swung free, astounded to be in the open air. They were
as huge as I remembered. Magnificent but huge. My mind
had not played tricks on me. She stood tall letting her
breasts hang to their full length. Unsupported her
nipples reached below her belly button. As I watched, a
little drop of milk collected at the end of one of the
nipples. Andrea’s breasts were a wonder of the world. At
least of my world.

“Now let’s see if you remember how to use these
titties.”

She sat on the sofa next to me, still wearing her jeans.
I ran my hands hands down the length of her breasts
marveling at the texture. My hands could barely reach
around one. Her boobs were heavy, so heavy that Andrea
could do damage swinging them from side to side. I
wouldn’t be surprised if they were prehensile. Sort of
like an elephant’s trunk. I think I must be getting a
little drunk.

But drunk or not, I knew that Andrea had to be nursed or
her tits would soon spew milk. I raised the end of
Andrea’s breast to my mouth. It was the one I saw
leaking. Her tittie rewarded me with the taste of
mother’s milk, although technically it was just Andrea’s
milk since she hadn’t been a mother yet. I nibbled
around the turgid nipple to start the flow. Andrea put
her arm around my head and hugged me close.

“Thank you so much, Len. I really need to be emptied.
You haven’t lost your touch. Yes, milk me. Drain me.”

I swallowed a mouthful, then in the middle of a suck I
had a better idea. I dropped her bountiful breast and
sat up.

“Andrea,” I asked, “can you milk yourself?”

“Of course, why do you ask?”

I reached over to the coffee table and retrieved our two
empty drink glasses. They were ordinary 8 ounce glass
tumblers. The kind found in every motel and hotel in the
country.

“Andrea, what I would like you to do is empty your
breasts into these glasses. Try to get the same amount
in each. I’ll help. I’ll do one while you do the other.
I think we will need each glass half full. That’s about
half a pint total. Do you think your breasts can give
that much?”

She thought for a while. “I never measured how much
could give but I think half a pint sounds reasonable. My
lactation doesn’t seem to be slowing down. I’ll probably
keep dripping for another ten years. At least until
menopause. I’ve got tits like a cow.”

I put a drinking glass under one nipple and, using the
technique I learned on my uncle’s Wisconsin farm,
started stripping Andrea’s bountiful boob. I wrapped
both hands around the end of her breast and started
compressing my fingers down towards the nipple. A thin
stream of milk emerged to be collected in the drinking
glass. She did the other. We sat side beside on the
sofa.

Andrea leaned a bit forward so that her nipples were
centered over the collection glasses. Both of us
assiduously milked her breasts. It was not an erotic
moment. More like a bovine one. But I had accomplished
my psychological objective. I had turned the situation
from one in which I was a lovelorn swain pleading for a
touch of her body into an engineering problem of how to
drain her breasts efficiently.

Regardless of the fact that they were her tits, Andrea
was enough of an engineer that such a challenge could
not be ignored. We were cooperating on achieving the
same objective and were on an equal status again. But I
also had my hands on her tits. I took every opportunity
to caress them gently and lovingly. My fingers lingered
on her nipple. To put it bluntly I was feeling her up.
At least feeling her boob up.

“OK, Len. I think we’ve got it all. Now what?” Both
glasses were half filled. Her boobies had indeed
produced a half pint of milk. I’m sure we could have
gotten more if we had waited a while but we had enough.

“Andrea, stand up. I’m going to take off your jeans. Or
you can do it yourself. I’ll be back in a few seconds.”

I picked up the two glasses and carried them off to the
little kitchenette. There was ice in the freezer
compartment. I added three cubes to each glass and then
filled them to the brim with the last of the Scotch. A
quick stir and I carried them back to the coffee table.

Andrea had doffed her jeans and was standing with her
legs slightly apart, clad only in her panties. I had
almost forgotten how lovely her legs were. Pure columns
of perfection. If it wasn’t for her humongous breasts
she could have been a leg model. But her tits
overshadowed all her other attributes. No one noticed
her perky intelligent face, twinkling eyes, or her tight
torso except me. I loved her legs.

Offering her a glass, I said “This is a special drink.
It is an Andrea’s milk punch. It is inspired by New York
politico Adam Clayton Powell. He drinks his Scotch in a
glass of milk to sooth his ulcers. It tastes delicious
too. Just like you. Sip it slowly. It has a special
kick.”

Andrea sat down on the sofa, took a sip, smiled, and
patted the seat next to her. I sat down and sipped my
drink. It was delicious indeed. Scotch and Andrea’s
milk. What a delightful combination.

We sat side by side, slowly sipping our cocktails. I had
my arm around her and she leaned heavily on me. I gently
massaged her back while she made appreciative sounds.
She shifted her position a bit so that I could fondle
her boobs. Despite her claim that they were just body
parts, she loved to have them caressed. The saucer sized
areolae that covered the end of each breast seemed to
have darkened a bit but the nipples were just as
prominent. She rubbed one of her own nipples and it got
even stiffer.

“Look at my nipple. See how big it is getting. I love my
nipples. I could suck and chew on them all day. It’s a
wonder that I can get anything done. I know you like
them too. I see how you look at them and touch them. My
doctor says that I have feeding nipples. Most women with
breasts as big as mine have flat nipples. But my nipples
seem to have a good internal structure. Perfect for a
baby’s mouth.

“I would like to have babies some day. I want babies
hanging off my tits like grapes on a vine. I’ve had just
about enough of shooting things off into space. I want
things shot into me. I want your sperm in me. I want
your babies. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for
the last two years. Why didn’t I make you fuck me when
you were in Washington? Why didn’t you call me?”

The conversation was getting stickier than I intended. I
didn’t know if Andrea was chastising me, propositioning
me, or proposing to me. Our drinks were half empty. I
took advantage of a brief pause to arise and say I
needed more ice. Which I actually did. I took my glass
and Andrea’s and went to the kitchenette to add a couple
of ice cubes to each.

When I returned Andrea had taken off her panties and was
lying full length on the sofa like a Vegas odalisque.
She resembled the Naked Maja painting but had bigger
tits. She held out her arms to me. This was the vision
that had haunted my memory for the last couple of years.
I respected Andrea intellectually but my body simply
lusted for her physically. I put down the half filled
glasses and buried my face between her legs. I worked my
way up her shapely calves, past her strong thighs, to
her vulva.

Nipples be damned. I wanted her cunt. In less time than
it takes to tell my tongue was in her vagina lapping up
her juices. She closed her thighs around my head and
held me tight. She squirmed under me. She shuddered. Her
legs got stiff. I couldn’t hear very well because my
head was buried in her flesh but I thought I heard her
shouting YES, YES!

The next few minutes were rather hazy but somehow we
ended up on Andrea’s bed in the 69 position. My teeth
were nibbling gently on her clitoris and she was giving
me a blow job. I still don’t remember how we got there.
I might have carried her. Except for her huge tits she
was a tiny thing.

The rest of the evening was a repeat of our marathon
orgy of two years ago except that we weren’t nearly as
drunk. We fucked and sucked and fucked some more. We
orgasmed repeatedly, Andrea screaming her passion every
time she climaxed. She didn’t have to repeat her
demonstration of fucking herself with her nipple.

I knew she could do it and I didn’t need another
performance. After making love for nearly an hour we sat
next to each other in bed – each of us was waiting for
the answer to the unspoken question. “Now what?”

Andrea spoke first. “Len, I enjoyed that a lot, but was
that it? Was it just for old time’s sake or do you want
to fuck me more? Do we just go our separate ways now?”

I thought a long time before answering. “Andrea, I’ve
known you for more than five years. I’ve respected you
and cherished your advice as a colleague. We are
intellectually compatible. But our intimacy has been
life changing for me. I’ve never met anyone like you. I
need you. I don’t know if we love each other yet but I
don’t want to be without you. Now how do we solve that
problem?”

“We don’t. We just move in together and fuck each
other’s brains out. The problem will solve itself in
time. I had a very wise old aunt that explained all
about love to me. It was when I never thought that I
would ever find a love like in the romance novels and
movies. I mean who would ever love me, a wise ass
munchkin engineer with freakish tits.

My aunt said, “What do you think love is? It’s not rose
petals and perfume. It’s not walking on air and hearing
bells when you kiss. It’s simply two people who tolerate
each other’s company enough to live together for the
rest of their lives without killing each other.
Everything else is frosting on the cake. Take it from
me. I’ve been married four times and I know!”

Andrea left for a few moments to go and wash up. She
came back holding what remained of our glasses of milk
punch. The ice had melted the ice and the liquid was at
room temperature. She took a sip.

“You know, that’s not half bad. It tastes like an
alcoholic version of me. I sort of dig the taste. The
temperature is right too. It’s a cooler than the milk
from my tit and warmer than milk from the refrigerator.
What do you think, Len?”

“Well, if you really must know, this tastes pretty good.
I like the milk directly from your breast better but
it’s certainly less alcoholic. But before we talk about
the quality of your tit milk, I think we should discuss
our future. Me, I can’t go back to Washington. I have a
tenured professorship and a long term contract. Dozens
of people depend on me. I don’t want a remote
relationship.

“I want to feel you next to me in bed every night. I’m
afraid that I would get really paranoid if I couldn’t
see you every day. I never thought that I would be the
jealous type but the thought that you let some guys put
their hands on your boobs makes me furious. Use your
brilliant mind to find a solution to our dilemma.”

Andrea kissed me. “Thank you for being jealous. I love
it. But we might as well get everything out in the open.
I don’t want any secrets between us. We are both adults.
We lived for many years before we met. I’m sure that
both of us did a lot of things that we are not
particularly proud of. It’s a long story and I think you
should know all the details.”

“I know you had a lot of girls before me. I’ve heard
that you fucked almost every skirt in the agency. The
women at NASA gossip a lot. And I didn’t exactly keep my
legs crossed either. This has been a test drive for both
of us. I am the way I am and you are the way you are. I
don’t expect that we will make any changes in each
other. What we see is what we will get. If anything
bothers you, now is the time to talk about it.”

“As for my boobs, I once told you that I used to think
of them just as body parts like a foot or a hand. You
wouldn’t mind me shaking hands with someone, would you?
When men used my breasts I treated them as body parts
too. I never got aroused when they handled them. I
recall that when I first showed them to you, I offered
you the chance to touch them. I have to do that when I
first meet a new man otherwise my tits might overwhelm
him. But I never let another man suckle my milk. That’s
strictly between the two of us.”

“But Len, you better get your priorities straight.
You’ve told me that you don’t like other people playing
with my boobs. Are having climaxes with other people off
limits too? Should I let guys give me orgasms as long as
they keep their hands off my tits? My vagina is not just
a body part. It’s the erotic center of my being. You
freaked out just because some guys touched my tits. But
you never called me from New York. I was lonely so I let
a few guys grope my tits. I let them fuck me too.”

“Most fucked me more than once. It was the first olive
out of the bottle theory. Once you get that first olive
out the rest come easy. It just saved time. I didn’t
want to go through the first date hassle with all that
flirting and being nice just to end up in bed at the end
of the evening. I knew it was inevitable. It was what
both of us wanted. I just cut right to the chase and
eliminated the middle stuff.

“If the guy and I were compatible I let him fuck me
whenever he and I dated. We would go out, maybe have a
few drinks, and come back to my apartment and make love.
No, that sounds too romantic. We just fucked like
bunnies. It saved a lot of energy. I could get a decent
climax and then make it to work the next morning on
time. A good engineering solution. The orgasms were
pretty good, some even great. I screamed a lot. They
weren’t as good as those we had together but they
sufficed.”

“I even let a few women use me too. You didn’t think
that my Georgetown roommates were straight, did you? Tit
sucking is not just a male obsession. You would be
surprised how many women like to play around with big
boobies. I didn’t mind a woman handling my tits. They
are just body parts, remember.”

“I always hoped that you and I would get together while
you were still at NASA. After you left I simply let my
roommates do whatever they wanted to me. I’m not a
lesbian, just a horny bitch. I let them suck my tits and
eat my cunt. I didn’t give a damn any more. One or the
other came to my bed almost every night that I didn’t
have a date with some guy. Sometimes both made love to
me at the same time.

“Those girls were very imaginative. They masturbated
their clits with my nipples, fingered and licked my
cunt, finger fucked me and did me in every way they
could think of. And I did the same to them. We couldn’t
get pregnant and we could give each other good
climaxes.”

“As far as work goes, how do you think I got as far as I
did at NASA? Who would give a tiny woman with tits like
mine any supervisory responsibility? I worked hard at
being a good engineer but it didn’t help much. So I
simply fucked my way up the management ladder. After I
got each new job I showed I was competent. I would never
have made it otherwise. I didn’t have to do it with you
but I did with my first bosses. You know I’m not
basically a nymphomaniac but there were times that I
behaved like a real slut. Do you still want me now that
you know the truth?”

“Andrea, you always make sense even when I don’t want to
hear it. I’m glad you are so honest. The gossips at NASA
were right. I screwed every woman I had a chance to just
like most of my buddies. And I fucked a few in New York
too. The real reason I never called you was that you
overwhelmed me. I couldn’t supervise you anymore. I
would have done almost anything to get you back into my
bed. It’s not a good position for a supervisor to be
in.”

“I didn’t mention your sleeping with people because I
was caught up in thinking about your breasts. But I hate
the idea that other cocks were in your cunt too and I
really hate that they gave you orgasms. I’m not going to
blame you for it. We had no commitment to each other. It
is your body and you can do what you want with it.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy that you had orgasms. I
just regret that I wasn’t the one to give them to you.
So yes. I still want you. I’m not a plaster saint and
neither are you. I guess we are two of a kind except
that you have bigger tits than me. We are well matched.
We deserve each other.”

Andrea kissed me, “Len, I propose that we set the ground
rules so that we forget anything we did in the past. I
can promise you that if we get together I will be all
yours. I don’t intend to be with anyone else as long we
live together. I don’t want anyone else playing around
with your cock either. We can even brand my tits if you
like. As far as I’m concerned our life begins the moment
we decide to live with each other.”

“OK Andrea, I agree. And no more girls for you either
unless you bring them to bed with us. I like
threesomes.”

“Not a chance! You belong to me now.”

She kissed me again. A long passionate kiss. It was as
if we decided to be together without a word being said.
When Andrea broke for air she said, “I think I love you.
Let’s seal our pact by making love again before anyone
changes their mind. It’s the best spur of the moment
contract binder that I can think of. ”

So we did.

This time our sex was not gentle intercourse or benign
love making. It was out and out lusty carnal fucking. I
drove into her cunt, bottoming my cock on her cervix.
Her clitoris was massaged and crushed between our pubic
bones. I bit her titties. She squeezed my balls. We
fucked until we were totally exhausted. That night
Andrea screamed her pleasure so loud that the entire
hotel floor knew the instant she came. Our orgasms were
intense and lasted seemingly forever. We clutched each
other and held each other tightly until we caught our
breath.

Finally Andrea sat up and said, “OK, our pact is sealed.
It’s the first day of our new life. If you want we can
start looking for a place to live together. I just don’t
want you to stop loving me. I suppose we should get even
get married before we have any babies. Just for social
tradition.”

When I first penetrated Andrea’s cunt two years ago, I
thought heaven’s gates had opened. And she confessed
that she felt the same way about me. As a Life Sciences
engineer she had probably deduced that each of us
emitted a pheromone that irresistibly attracted us to
the other. It was the glue that held us together. I
don’t know if that is the correct explanation but it is
a good working theory.

As I write these words I am reminded of the 1962 Nixon-
Kennedy presidential debate. That was the first debate
that was simultaneously broadcast on radio and
television. Everyone who heard only the words on the
radio was sure that Nixon had won but everyone who saw
the two of them together on television was sure that
Kennedy was the victor. Actions spoke louder than words.
Kennedy won the election.

That’s the way it seemed to be between Andrea and me.
Suppose a TV camera had filmed our entire day. If you
just listened to the sound you would have heard Andrea
and me exchange a tepid morning greeting and then spend
the rest of the day arguing. I was boorish, she was
criticizing, both of us were judgmental. Obviously we
disliked each other. But if you watched only the video
you would have seen that we were drawn together by an
inexorable attraction, ultimately ending in bed in each
other’s arms. Which was the truth? They both were.

This was 43 years ago. Men walked on the Moon in 1969.
The Space Shuttle was built, launched, and ultimately
retired. I taught at my university for 35 more years. As
for Andrea, she moved in to my apartment, then we bought
a house together. We fucked and argued, fought, made up,
and loved again. Sometimes both at the same time. Many
times that Andrea and I argued in the middle of a
passionate fuck, pausing only to climax and renew our
argument. Often it was about politics. We were on the
opposite sides of many social issues.

One evening I was driving my erect penis in and out of
her vagina while she was feeding me her dripping tit. We
were shivering in ecstasy while at the same time she was
telling me that I had the political values of a
Neanderthal. We climaxed simultaneously but neither of
us changed our mind. I’ve heard that “make up” sex is
often the best kind. That’s what much of ours was. No
wonder we enjoyed loving each other so much.

We were both strong minded, opinionated people. Our
arguments were often about stupid things but each of us
would defend our position adamantly. Usually they
occurred after we had gone to bed or we were in close
proximity. But as we fought, our hands were caressing
each other’s body. Finally when the physical tension
rose to the point where it intruded on what we were
saying to each other, either Andrea or I would say,
“Let’s do it.”

Andrea would wrap her sensuous body around mine and her
hand or mouth would find my penis. I delighted in
clutching Andrea’s big breasts in my arms and chewing
her fleshy nipples while she developed a real taste for
the exudations that flowed profusely from my cock. We
never did anything half heartedly. We gave our all to
each other. When we fucked, we really fucked, moving,
plunging, gasping, writhing to mutual climaxes.

We would stop only when we were out of breath,
exhausted. It was like a 100 yard dash rather than a
marathon. We loved, fucked, sucked and fondled each
other until we each climaxed a couple of times. And when
we caught our breath, we continued our argument where we
left off. It was like people who live near an airport.
When a plane flies overhead, all conversation stops,
only to pick up when it is again silent.

And that’s the way it was. We fought and we made love,
often both at the same time. We had two lovely children.
And yes, we got married along the way. Andrea surprised
me on our wedding night by unveiling her beautiful
breasts. “Hold each boob up and look closely” Andrea
said. On each breast, just above the areola, was a small
carefully tattooed ring of letters reading “Leonard
Ruben – private property – no trespassing.” I kissed
Andrea passionately and then I kissed each nipple. I had
my brand on her tits.

I often wondered what the tattoo artist must have
thought when he was inscribing the lettering on Andrea’s
breasts. It might have been considered an odd request
but he probably was used to it. I’ve seen all sorts of
weird tattoos on unusual parts of human bodies.

Andrea’s breasts kept lactating after menopause, well
into her 60s. After our kids were weaned I enjoyed every
drop as much as she enjoyed suckling me. We used each
other’s bodies in our declining years just as we did in
that memorable snowbound night in Chicago. I feel
confident in saying that Andrea and I never strayed
during our time together. We completely filled each
other’s needs.

Regretfully Andrea passed away a couple of years ago
leaving me with only my memories. She was a truly a
singular woman and the love of my life.