A Breastful Evening From Karina's Point of View

I smile up at him, my eyes devouring his every nervous twitch and hesitant movement, his every tentative action revealing a truth any experienced woman could discern. Virgin. Not that I have a particular lust for the inexperienced, but any woman harbors that sordid satisfaction of being a man's First, his entry-point into the realm of adulthood, the standard by which all future partners will be judged. He shudders as his gaze roams my body, drinking in the sight of a real woman, not some pampered girl who flees the very thought of sex, but someone who is willing to give him everything. I could give him myself, but where would be the fun in that? That initial pleasure of feeling him inside me, those hesitant first thrusts... all ruined a few moments later when he loses control and plasters my folds with his first load. So boring. So banal. Better to draw things out, to make him crave release, to carve my body into his brain so deeply that this moment might never be surpassed. With a lazy smirk I position myself in front of him, "Are you ready?" I politely enquire, and he moans,
"Yes... Karina, please..."

I cannot remember his name, nor does that fact particularly bother me. It was a classy affair, lots of flash and glitter and expense. Expensive outfits, expensive jewelry, expensive escorts; that last section included me. Looking attractive is already part of my job, we idols just do it so well, that few can resist our charms. My initial partner certainly could not, which was why I left him sprawled in the handicapped bathroom with his pants around his ankles and his balls like raisins. And the part had only been going on for barely over an hour when I had sashayed out of that reeking bathroom, so I had time to kill and entertainment to find. And lo, there he was. Some ripe young man simply ogling the passing women-flesh on display, some immature girls fluttering about him, obviously childhood friends too busy bickering to claim the prize they both have been hankering after for God knows how many years. Oh well, perhaps they will learn to pluck their fruit before someone else does.

All it took was a shy smile, the most teasing of comments, the slight touch of my hand against his arm, the subtly lean of my body so that his eyes nearly fell down my cleavage. I was mildly impressed he had not tried to take me then and there. But as I stressed, this was a classy affair, so instead I idly guided him into one of those decorated nooks and crannies that seem to populate any party of sufficient stature; lust requires some privacy in polite society after all. My how his little birds had chirped as I led him away, not realizing what a favor I was doing them, virgins can be so disappointing if one does not enjoy them with the correct mindset, which they wouldn't have. The first several niches I glanced into were occupied, indeed, I had spotted my dear groupmate Ningning in one of them squirting wildly all over her partner, I had shared a glance of acknowledgement, and then I had moved on. But the fifth cubby had been empty, and even sported a chair with an assortment of pillows scattered about. Perfect.

He had wavered at the precipice, uncertainty warring with lust, no doubt his mother had sternly ordered him to beware gorgeous women offering themselves to him, fearful of him coming home with some unworthy slut with a full belly. But his mother can rest easy, I have no interest in bearing his child. I glanced over my shoulder, raising an innocent eyebrow, and cordially invited him to join me, giving him my playful face, the one that makes my fans croon. It worked. Obviously. And soon he was nervously ensconced in the seat, while I kicked some pillows in front of it, kneeling on marble is rather unpleasant after all, no doubt all sorts of ideas running through his silly little head. Then I knelt before him, flashed a winning smile, and oh so tenderly slid my hands long his legs before oh so surprisingly ending up with my fingers deftly unzipping him. It is best to be direct with virgins, otherwise nothing will get done.

And so now here I am, on my knees before some spoiled brat, his penis hardening and softening in my hand, asking with the utmost courtesy if he is prepared for what is to come. He is not, but he doesn't know that. He answers, "Yes, Karina," he stammers, pleadingly, "please..." Adorable. His eyes ravish me, my perfectly shaped face, my long luscious black hair, my bared limber legs, my weighty breasts, so skillfully displayed by my short, black dress; it was a gentle surprise I was not already dripping with his semen. No doubt he expects to spend his seven seconds of heaven inside of me, but that would be a waste. He would barely be in my pussy long enough to truly appreciate its splendor, and then he would fuck one of those indolent girls who surround him, would last several minutes in her loose cunt, and incorrectly declare her better than an idol. It was demeaning, really. So I imprint myself upon him in a more memorable manner, unlimbering my cleavage from its confines and allowing it to drape down my chest.

Ah. Now he stiffens.

I give him several heartbeats to truly appreciate my chest, leaning back and tilting my head down, giving him a playful smile to encourage him, all while my fingers delicately fondle his manhood. Already he is groaning, gawping at my tits as if he had never seen a pair of breasts before, if I had turned about and dropped my panties, no doubt my ass would be getting plastered. But that would not be fun, so instead I wait patiently until the pulsating in his cock subsides, before onehandedly popping open the bottle of oil I had pulled from my purse while he was busy drooling over my curves. I dower my breasts with a healthy helping of scented lubricating oil, not enough to remove stimulation, but enough to ensure I would not need to reapply it any time soon. I rub it into my cleavage, massaging it with both hands until it is slick and glistens in the false candlelight of the flambeaux, "Well, aren't you a little excited" I purr vivaciously, "I hope you will be able to make it between them..." and my lips curl upwards when he assures me he will. Such youthful confidence...

Wearing a beatifical smile, I wrap my breasts around his upraised member, relishing in his sigh of pleasure as my soft flesh enfolds him, trapping his cock in my pillowy prison. Precum beads at his tip, and I give him a shocked expression, "Cumming so soon?" I gasp teasingly, before descending into giggles, making his face flush an even deeper red. He stammers excuses, but I shush with a laugh, "Oh don't worry dear, I'll be sure to make this last..." and he nods eagerly, no doubt interpreting this as a few minutes, as if that would be enough to satisfy me. Feeling his balls uncurl from his groin, I start to move, dragging my chest up his length, before hauling my breasts back down it, a simple, yet effective technique. He shudders while I pleasure him, my breasts softer than anything he could have fantasized, a constant, pampering pressure has emptied many a lover. His groans fill our secluded alcove as I languidly stimulate his cock, my cleavage having claimed his virginity, it was superior to most pussies after all, so it might as well count.

Barely a minute has gone by before his hips start to flinch, his manhood palpitated between my tits, his breaths increasing rapidly, "Oh fuck, Karina!" He moans, "Don't stop!" Already pathetically eager to reach his climax and leave me with a chestful of thick semen. How cute. So I relax, my breasts denuding his cock of the pressure that stimulates it so, stifling his rising orgasm, even as he desperately starts to hump my chest. I ride it out, carefully maneuvering my cleavage to ensure the only thing leaving his swollen dick was a runnel of precum that pools against my skin, leaving him blubbering, "Oh not yet dear," I croon, "I am hardly satisfied with just this. I want all of it," as if I truly care about his worthless seed, journey before destination, after all, "I want your first load to be magnificent," I lie cheerfully, "I want you begging for release," which was far more truthful. Hearing cherry boys whimpering was just so... delicious. It excites that primal part of me, that motherly urge to dominate the lesser the sex. And boys think girls need a fat cock in them to feel satisfied!

So I continue, once I am sure the risk of premature ejaculation has fallen, having already learned his rhythms. Cocks are such simple brutes, so easy to conquer if one takes the time to learn their weaknesses. Now I add a little more pressure to the proceedings, squishing my chest a touch tighter to keep his dick's attention fully on me, penises do so love to sulk after being edged. But my efforts are enough revive his manhood's interest, already sensitive from having come so close to finishing, and soon he is gasping once more. My breasts squelch along his shaft, his fluids adding an endearing sloppiness to the proceedings, as do his desperate whines and muttered entreaties to his absent mother, "Don't worry dear, Mommy is right here," I purr hungrily, tightening my fleshy embrace in emphasis, "Just let Mommy take care of everything..." And a fresh surge of precum shows his enthusiastic agreement with that sentiment. How endearing.

He moans for me, moaning for his Mommy, moaning for release, his words slurring as his mind melts under the tender caress of my breasts. I encourage him, urging him to hold on for Mommy, all while pampering his cock with ever greater vigor, I want him to finish before his climax wanes from heavenly to simple relief. He begs, oh how he begs. His balls clenching painfully, his shaft spasming from the sheer size of the load getting exquisitely pushed through it, doing his best to hold back even as it cataclysmically approaches. How sublime. So I urge him to let go, "Let it all out for Mommy," I sigh lovingly while I bury his manhood in my chest, "There you go, good boy. Goooood booooy," he practically sobs with pleasure while his seed erupts into my cleavage, his entire body writhing with every spurt, clutching weakly at me for support as he doubles over from the force of his orgasm. Drool trickles down onto my head as he gurgles plaintively, his brain unable to comprehend anything but the fountain of stimulation coursing from his cock, and still he continues to unload.

By the time he finishes, it looks as if a glass of yogurt had been dumped over my tits, a truly impressive quantity of semen baptizing the site of his lost virginity. I leave him there, head lolling, giving him a faint kiss upon his forehead to show my appreciation of his efforts, sliding my breasts back into the tight confines of my dress. One does not wander around topless at such a cultured party after all, though I proudly display his load upon my pushed up chest. My sudden exit disturbs the roost of girls who had been spying upon us while I ravished their purported amour, the pair of them glaring furiously at me for claiming their crush. I noticed their outraged observations from the start, not that I minded of course, what was the point of an affair if others could not watch? I have a wicked thought to turn about then and there and claim his virginity with my pussy, to spite the little lovebirds, but I resist the thought. No doubt by tomorrow morning he will be balls deep in one of them, his mind filled with disappointment that her hole does not measure up to the pure bliss of my breasts. So instead I hush them each with a finger, smearing his cum across their lips as I breeze by. One of them looks thoughtful, the other disgusted.

Feeling rather pleased with myself, I rejoin the main event, preening as eyes linger upon my curvaceous form, and the bountiful offering spread across them. It is not long before a group of suitors petition me, their wives and paramours feigning jealousy behind them, and I gladly join them in a nearby alcove. Within a minute I am on my knees, after five I am being penetrated in every hole, before fifteen have passed, the ladies join in the fun.

What can i say? Despoiling virgins excites me greatly...