My breast friend gets me a birthday gift [M23/F23] [groping] [titjob] [cumshot]

"What do you mean, 'you don't mind?'"

Mandy gives me a look. "Just what I said, Josh. I'm not saying you should expect this'll become an everyday thing, but," she shrugs, "It's your birthday. If you want to grope me some, you can."

"You want me to what? Just– reach out, grab your boobs?"

"Don't pretend to be an idiot. It's just groping. It's not complicated. You know what tits are, right? The things on my chest you keep stealing glances at? So, go for it."

I furrow my brow, rub my eyes. "I'm not trying to steal glances. They're just… huge. And right there, you know? The shirt you've picked… you've got a lot of cleavage showing, and no bra? It's like they're almost falling out. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, but it's… they're like super distracting, in my face."

She shrugs again. "You dumbass, I know what I'm wearing. I picked this top because it's your birthday, Josh, and I know you're a tit guy, and I forgot to get you anything. So, you gonna claim your birthday gift?" She arches her back, pushes them out even more. They overhang her waistline by a mile, casting shadows down onto her hourglass figure.

"Am I going to … grope you?"

"Yes," she says, pushing up on the underside of her tits, wrapped in the scant, tan-colored top, "These girls, right here."

"That's fucked up."

Mandy sighs. "Fuck, Josh. Do it or don't, I really don't care, but you keep staring at them."

"You're making them bounce!" I protest.

"And this could be you," she says, tongue out like we're kids again, "Making them bounce. Use it or lose it, Josh." She squeezes her breasts, making their plumpness press out through her fingers. "You know, it's kind of funny, actually. The way you started acting around me when you first noticed I had tits. We were kids, and you used to wrestle me and roughhouse and then — bam — one day, suddenly it was like you thought I'd turned too delicate to touch. Like you were going to break me or something. Well, you won't. I've known you basically forever, and if there's one boy in this world I trust, it's you. So stop being such a wuss, Josh, and stick our your hands and grab me. If anyone's earned the right to some free groping, it's you. Just do it. It's not a big fucking deal anyway, they're just tits. It's not like I'm asking to sit on your face or something."

"Fine. Just to shut you up," I say, reaching out across the cushions of the couch, placing my hand on Mandy's large rack. "This what you wanted?"

"Who taught you to grope tits, Josh? You grope tits even worse than you drive. Get in there, grope them good."

I grit my teeth and glare at her and push my hand in, pressing the fabric of her top into the soft round flesh of her right breast.

She still looks annoyed. "Nipple, Josh. Fucking touch my nipple."

"Don't be such a tyrant," I say, reaching out with my second hand now, squeezing her tits through her shirt, thumbing her nipples. They start to stiffen. I give them a tentative little bounce, watching the smooth skin of her cleavage swell and squish. Mandy's rack overfills my palms, and I jiggle my hands to get them around her tits good, entranced by the sight of her breasts pressing out between my spread fingers.

"There you go," she grins wryly, "I knew you'd figure it out."

"I'm just doing it because you said," I mumble.

"Bullshit, Josh," she chuckles, "Look at you, getting all mesmerized. You're as easy as boiling water. You're as complicated as Saturday afternoon."

"I'm not hypnotized!" I object, staring openly at her tits as I handle them now side-to-side, exposing side-boob from her top and daring nipples closer to the hem, praying for a glimpse.

"Jesus, Josh," she says, "You can't even remember what word I said. Look at you go. Hey! No fair!"

"It's not like you put any ground rules down," I tell her, "It's not like you said, 'Hey, Josh, play with my tits, but don't tickle my nipples,' is it?"

She twitches, her tits shaking on their own. "Yeah, but I just thought you'd pinch them or whatever. Not this…" she shudders again, "Fucking tickling caress thing you're doing."

"It's my birthday," I say, fingers continuing to dance around her areolas, licking my lips at the stiff little tips jutting out into the fabric of her shirt, "And for my birthday, I want pokies."

"Fuck, Josh. If I had known what a simple man you were, I'd have stopped wearing bras around you long ago."

"Whatever about your bra," I shake my head, "A real birthday gift would be you taking your shirt off."

She says nothing, and after a minute I realize it's because she's staring at me. I look up, meet her gaze. "What?"

"Fuck it," she shrugs, then grabs her shirt by the base and pulls it off over her head, tossing it aside.

Her two big perky breasts hang right in my face, generous mountain curves of soft pale skin topped by stiff pink nipples. They're fucking huge, full, perfect. "Oh, hell," I mutter, mouth watering.

"Well?" she glares at me, "Suck on them already. It's cold in here."

Unlike before, there's not a drip of hesitation in me, and I drop my face down with mouth open and plant my lips directly around her left nipple while my hand plays with her right. I nuzzle and lick and suck to my heart's content. And my heart isn't soon content.

Mandy watches me with lips parted but no words emerging. She watches as I slobber all over her tits, as I push them together and swing them apart, as I bounce them against my cheek and jiggle them into my nose, as I knead them with my fists and tickle them with my touch. I worship my friend's glorious tits, groping her more than my most suppressed fantasies, fondling her more than I ever dreamt of during my horniest teenage years. I have ascended into tit nirvana, twin monuments to Mandy's undeniable sexuality. It's a sexuality I thought I'd long ago come to terms with, but as I press my face into it while squeezing with both fists, I don't understand how I've ever been able to ignore it.

"Josh," she says, not that I have brainpower left to hear her. "Josh. Josh, hello? Earth to Josh!"

Big heavenly tit in each palm as I smoosh them against my head between, I look up at her, blinking myself back to reality, "Huh?"

"Fuck, Josh," she rolls her eyes, "You want to cum on them?"

"Cum?" I repeat, as if this is the most bizarre idea I've ever heard, "You're asking if I want to… jack off? On your tits?"

"Well," Mandy looks away, as if suddenly interested in the view out the window, "Yeah, I guess, if you want."

"Isn't that, like, crossing a line?"

"You idiot, you're sucking on my tits for like fifteen minutes now. If you're not hard by now, then I don't understand you at all. So what are you going to do? Go jack off in my bathroom? While dreaming of my tits? No, that's gross. And it's your birthday, anyway. It's not like I'm saying we should make a habit out of it. But I know you're not getting laid tonight, so the least I can offer is this. A little excitement, right? A little fun for my good buddy Josh."

I smirk. "For your breast friend."

"Shut the fuck up, Josh."

"So," I say, sitting back but keeping my hands on her tits, idly swirling fingertips over her smooth skin as I talk, "What should I do? Stand up in front of you, whip it out, stroke it till I pop?"

"I mean," she shrugs, perhaps a touch nervously, "That works, yeah."

I narrow my eyes. "You want to see my cock?"

She narrows her right back at me. "What's to see? Dick's dick. You think yours is special? You've see one, you've seen them all."

"I think I'm offended."

"Prove me wrong then. Show me your magical penis."

"Well," I chuckle, "If you insist." I lift my hips to shove my shorts down, underwear with them, and pull out my cock. Mandy was half-right — I'm already mostly hard — and with a showy style I pinch my cock between finger and thumb and rub myself fully erect.

She sighs, but stares at it, like she doesn't want to but can't look away. "Ok, fine," she says, "That's… nicer than I was expecting. Doesn't mean anything, though. It's not like I'm going to fall in love with you just because you've got a nice-looking cock."

"So you still want it on your tits, then? Just a casual, between friends, birthday cumshot?"

"Don't make this weird, Josh."

"Right," I say, gathering myself up, finding my balance on my feet, "I'm the one making this weird." I come around, stand in front of Mandy, cock in my hand. "Lean back," I instruct, "Can barely see your tits from this angle, you leaning forward like that."

"This better?" she frowns, resting back against the plush brown cushions, once again arching her chest out.

"Much," I say, standing over my hot friend, masturbating. Awkward as I thought this would be, my dick cares nothing for the social implications and yearns purely for her beautifully full chest. I stroke and stroke and stroke, head of my cock mere inches from her glorious rack, pointed right at them. "You know, if you want to help out any…"

"In your dreams, dweeb," she says, staring at my shaft while biting her bottom lip.

"Just saying. You're looking a little hungry there."

"I'm just doing you a birthday favor here, Josh. I haven't lost my mind."

"Uh-huh," I nod, "Right." And truthfully, her tits are fucking gorgeous. Staring at them — being invited to stare at them — bared and fondled and so well played with, is filling me with a dangerous lust. It doesn't help that Mandy's suddenly interested in my cock, watching it as I jerk it off. With my fist tight around my shaft, I stroke myself, watching her watch me. Part of me still finds this a little weird, but not so weird that I'm not really doing it, that I'm not pleasuring myself in front of her, using the sight of her magnificent tits as my fuel.

She squints. "You always drip so much?"

"I guess." I shrug, but the gesture is lost in the pumping of my arm. "You always get turned on watching guys jerk themselves?"

"I'm not–"

"Liar," I cut her off, "You think I can't tell? Look at you, at your cheeks. You're blushing, and you never blush. And you keep grinding your legs together, too."

"Go fuck yourself, Josh."

"I thought that's what I was doing," I laugh.

She laughs too.

Another minute passes in relative silence, just the sounds of my quickened breathing and the steady slick-slick-slick of my hand stroking shaft.

"Fuck," Mandy grunts, "Why haven't you cum yet? What's taking you so long?"

"Never done it with an audience before."

"Well, fucking cum already."

I grin. "Thirsty for it, are you? You know, if you lent me a hand, maybe…"

"Fuck, you're needy," Mandy shakes her head. Then she sits up, stiff and upright. "Here," she says, cupping her tits in her hands, pulling them apart, "Put your cock in my cleavage."

"You serious?"

She glares up at me.

So I put my cock in her cleavage. And she pinches her tits together, bringing that glorious excess of big natural breasts to so gently envelope my thick shaft, to wrap around it like the softest pillows as she starts working up a rolling cadence, making my dick slide up and down the length of her chest. Precum smears a sticky glistening trail as her tits rub against my glans, and I whimper and shudder with pleasure as I watch the fat swollen head of my dick emerge from between her boobs.

"Fuck," she mutters, "You're really liking this, aren't you?"

All I can do is nod, my voice catching and breath coming fast as my shaft robs my mind of all coherent thought, pumping fuller and harder than I've ever before seen it. "Mandy," I squeak out, not even a moan.

She laughs at me, pumping away. "God, you're easy."

"Mandy," I say again, mouthing her name more than making the sound,

"That's right, Josh. Say my name when you cum. Say my name, bitch!"

"Mandy!" I grunt, whole body arresting stiff, jaw hanging slack, eyes going wide. Her tits– my cock– it's more than I can take. Far more. And just as the intense animal pleasure surges through my every sinew, I can feel the cum rushing through me on its route to blast free in a thick, white jet, spraying Mandy in the chin, splattering against her hair. I jolt, and another load joins the first as it begins dripping down, gooey rivulets oozing over her tits, running past her nipples. "Mandy," I whimper again, twitching when pleasure plucks my nerves, cock launching yet more cum at her, the accomplishment of load after load of semen accompanied by the blissful release of orgasm.

"Fuck, Josh," she whistles, "You're like a one-man bukake." I thought she'd be mad about the mess on her chin, in her hair, but she just seems to think it's funny, wiping it off with her hand, holding her fingers up to see the cum for herself.

I fight for breath. "Just really like your tits, is all."

"Apparently you do," she says, "You been saving that up for me or something?"

I stumble backwards, tripping on the coffee table and sitting down on it abruptly. My dick sways, still stiff. "No." I stare at her rack, now eye-level with me, and completely covered with white evidence of my lust. It drips down, smears onto her shorts, not that she seems to care about that, either. In fact, she wears it like a trophy, like she's proud of what she's done.

"Well," she looks down at her chest, bounces side-to-side her cum-covered tits, and giggles, "Do you think we crossed a line?"

"Next birthday," I pant, "On your face."

"You're not really going to make me wait a year, are you?"