Charlotte inched back the driver's seat until her chest was hardly in contact with the wheel of the big sedan. Unfortunately this forced her to scoot her butt forward to reach the pedals and made her lean far back. Now instead of being squished by the steering wheel, her breasts were pressed from above by her outstretched arms. She let out a frustrated growl. There was no finding relief. And there was no room for her swollen chest, uncomfortably close to unchecked release.
Arg! Concentrate on something else! Over an expanse of gray wool and white silk she peered at the slow moving traffic in front of her. She tried to read bumper stickers and license plates, but her brain unerringly returned to the fullness in front of her. Pretty soon she was going to have an emergency.
Thankfully the traffic let up after passing a three car accident. She gunned the motor and flew down her exit ramp, then screeched into her condo's underground parking ramp, barely clearing the opening garage door. Her parking job was sloppily diagonal, but there was no time to correct it. She slammed the door of her car and ran towards the elevator.
Her heels and the violent bouncing of her chest slowed her to a quick walk in short order. Charlotte was breathing fast now, looking at her mirror image in the burnished brass of the elevator. There were twin wet spots spreading across the front of her blazer. Damn! She tried holding her briefcase in front of her to hide them, but it wasn't wide enough to disguise both simultaneously. Luckily nobody got on to witness this or impede her upwards progress. The numbers kept spiraling higher until they reached thirty six.
The door opened and Charlotte was off like a stocking-footed rocket, shoes in hand and pain in her chest temporarily ignored. Once inside her place, she began hurriedly shedding clothing. The skirt and blazer came away easily, but the blouse had a million tiny buttons. By the time she was free of it, the front of her bra was sopping wet. It saddened her to see milk go to waste. She'd put a stop to that. The bra was off and she was cradling her right breast, her arms strained to bring the nipple within reach of her hungry lips. The pain of fullness was overwritten by concentric shooting waves of pleasure as she suckled on herself.
Hot milk rushed down her throat. It was so creamy. So rich. And probably terrible for her. Her mattress springs creaked in protest as the big girl rocked back and forth. She licked her lips, knowing the experience was too heavenly to worry over a few thousand extra calories.
Wow. I think i just damaged my pants. Amazingzingzingzingzingzing. Times a bajillion. How'd she maintain the arms, them being so skinny in comparison to...well.... yeah... *hypnotised*
Her amazing hormonal imbalance still doesn't get in the way of her being a career woman.
Perhaps that could get her both handicapped parking and allowances for a breastpump at her cubicle. Which would then of course be a pleasantly negotiated office with a door.
Arg! Concentrate on something else! Over an expanse of gray wool and white silk she peered at the slow moving traffic in front of her. She tried to read bumper stickers and license plates, but her brain unerringly returned to the fullness in front of her. Pretty soon she was going to have an emergency.
Thankfully the traffic let up after passing a three car accident. She gunned the motor and flew down her exit ramp, then screeched into her condo's underground parking ramp, barely clearing the opening garage door. Her parking job was sloppily diagonal, but there was no time to correct it. She slammed the door of her car and ran towards the elevator.
Her heels and the violent bouncing of her chest slowed her to a quick walk in short order. Charlotte was breathing fast now, looking at her mirror image in the burnished brass of the elevator. There were twin wet spots spreading across the front of her blazer. Damn! She tried holding her briefcase in front of her to hide them, but it wasn't wide enough to disguise both simultaneously. Luckily nobody got on to witness this or impede her upwards progress. The numbers kept spiraling higher until they reached thirty six.
The door opened and Charlotte was off like a stocking-footed rocket, shoes in hand and pain in her chest temporarily ignored. Once inside her place, she began hurriedly shedding clothing. The skirt and blazer came away easily, but the blouse had a million tiny buttons. By the time she was free of it, the front of her bra was sopping wet. It saddened her to see milk go to waste. She'd put a stop to that. The bra was off and she was cradling her right breast, her arms strained to bring the nipple within reach of her hungry lips. The pain of fullness was overwritten by concentric shooting waves of pleasure as she suckled on herself.
Hot milk rushed down her throat. It was so creamy. So rich. And probably terrible for her. Her mattress springs creaked in protest as the big girl rocked back and forth. She licked her lips, knowing the experience was too heavenly to worry over a few thousand extra calories.