Chapter 1: Introduction
Bill is an prejac titsexual!
You might wonder what the fuck that means. Well, he's one of those sick, twisted bastards who jacks off from just looking at enormous tits without any need for conversation or interaction—one creepy son of a bitch. He gets off on big fucking knockers. Huge, fucking humongous jugs. Don't get me wrong, I'm no prude, but this dude's got a rare, fucked-up fetish—this dude's specialty is coming on command.
But not the odd little dribble that average joes like you and me can muster. No, he jizzes like he's a goddamn volcano! With the strength of one thousand stallions, let me tell you. You ever seen cum soar through the air like a geyser, splashing on contact, with so much force it could leave a fucking crater? Yeah, that's my man Bill!
Now imagine the scene. Bill's been stalking this old bird, who looks like Hestia herself—gray-haired and big-titted.
He's taking-in the vastness that a young grandma should never possess—her colossal, N-cup boobs bouncing softly with every step. He's hypnotized like a dog before a damn sirloin. There's something bewitching about her existence, almost mythical, making him forget himself, his inhibitions, and the 100s of shoppers around them.
His cock grows hard behind his zipper, and he feels a shock running down his spine as he stares at the glorious bulges held within, cloaked in a buttery-yellow woolen sweater.
Recalling that day, he remembers his breath hitching as his penis throbbed painfully, the beating of his pulse reverberating throughout his aching member. The surge rocketed down his stem, his balls tightening before unleashing with a mighty heave.
Bill's first volley sprayed through the fabric of his pants as he stared at those heavenly orbs. His dick punched the fabric with each burst, leaving a growing wet patch at his groin, the muffled splatters sounding like a drumroll gone rogue.
The naughty, naughty man fought to stifle his moans, exacerbating the discomfort building within his core. Serotonin and dopamine flooded his system, offering him fleeting, delicious relief.
With each pulsating spurt, he'd imagine those godly mounds quivering in response to his perversely blatant, unspoken desire.
The thick ropes of semen soaked through his trousers, the coolness slowly seeping into the fabric.
Bill barely had time to process the mess steadily worsening in his drawers when a second bout seized him. And then a third. And so on and so forth. He lost count, succumbing to the brutal, exquisite release.
When Bill realized he couldn't covertly jack off anymore, he'd beat a hasty retreat from the scene—swiftly distancing himself from the target of his unusual fetish.
Nursing a case of blue balls, he'd practically run from the mall, hightailing it to the confines of his car and speeding off, even risking a few traffic violations to ensure no one recognized the demented, drenched, and flustered mess that he was.
He fucked his dick into oblivion up against the steering wheel, grinding the heel of his palm against his aching balls.
With a groan, he let his milky load fill the car cabin. It dripped down the dashboard, drenching the car seats, creating a monstrous mess.
Bill didn't allow himself a second to rest before throwing the car into gear and bolting out of the mall parking lot. It would take several hours for the evidence of his unabashed eruption to dry, and there was no way in hell he planned to stick around in the scene of his shameful crime.
As the days went by, he couldn't get those massive breasts out of his head.
Bill kept returning to that mall, practically stalking granny and her magnificent tits. Each time, his self-restraint waned, as did his control over his premature oozing.
Today was different. The nippy winter breeze paralyzed him, causing his sack to tighten, ready to push out a mind-blowing load. Granny seemed to glow as the sun's rays illuminated her brilliant white hair—she looked like a guardian angel sent straight from heaven to punish him for his pervy thoughts.
Bill's longing intensified, and he felt his cock swell within his jeans. His hands trembled with the potent need gushing through his veins, sweat beading on his skin.
His heart thundered in his chest as a new, insatiable craving coursed through his body. Fuck it! He would no longer let shy inhibitions shackle him. It was high time he made the goddamn move.
The crowd in the mall dispersed, giving him an opportunity to pounce on the unsuspecting woman.
But as he drew closer, he found himself detained by a strangling fear, rendering him immobile.
Bill's arm pulsed with the weight of his desire. His erection bulged in his trousers, angering his loins. His hips writhed, and he squeezed the life out of the wad of paper towel concealed in his fist.
"Get a fucking grip, man!" he growled.
Adrenaline surged through him, providing the fuel he needed to approach her like a hungry predator.
Granny stood alone, only vaguely aware of the world around her as she admired the display of designer handbags in a shop window.
Bill's legs moved without his command, a slave to his painfully engorged manhood. His mouth went dry; his mind an incoherent whirl as he devoured the sight before him. Each thrusting breast strained against the delicate material of her sweater, her nipples hard as two goddamn rocks.
It was an irresistible erotic dance, her cleavage beckoning, a siren song he couldn't ignore.
Granny's cheeks glowed with warmth, seemingly unaware of the effect she had on him.
The final vestiges of his self-control vanished; it was time to surrender to the carnal carnage. He had to taste her, he thought, sweet, shameless, and desperate. Her body swayed ever so slightly towards him, as if to whisper that she might be open to his illicit advances.
His nerves sparked with the threatening promise of toxin being released from her engaging cleavage and grandmaly matriarchal arrogance.
As they stood there, the people-traffic of the mall rushed around them, unbeknownst to the fact they were two bodies torn between curiosity and madness.
The call of hormones and lust emerged victorious, and he leaned to taste her flesh, his wet lips pressing against the soft wool of her sweater.
A gasp escaped her lips, but not an entirely displeased one.