The following is based on a true story. Only the setting, characters and events have been fictionalized.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dave Coleman. I?m a dazzling urbanite from a large midwestern city. I have an office job.

Actually, I don?t work in the office. I?m the computer guy. I get you back up and running so you can get back to the business of raking in obscene profits for corporate America. You need me. That?s not a statement fueled by ego either. It?s true!

Do you know how many good looking women I ?rescue? on a daily basis?

Do you know how many grateful hugs I receive in an eight hour shift? Or how many fulsome knockers I’ve gone chest to chest with?

Do you know how many excellent annual job performance evaluations I?ve received in my two years of employment with this firm? Well…two.

Moving on…

Women are always grateful when you fix their computers?men, not so much. They just figure that you’re doing your job. And they’re right. But I don’t really care about that, because they’re not the ones that are giving me big hugs. Well, except maybe for Steve. But I won’t get into that. He is an attractive man, though, and very stylish.

Anyway, on any given workday, there are probably two dozen or more women in the offices. There’s the women in the billing office, the women in the advertising office and the women in the executive or management office. It would not be an exaggeration to say that, along with being intelligent and charming, all of them are attractive, all of them shapely and, of course, well-endowed. I don’t think that’s merely a coincidence. This company has been the subject of scrutiny over the years for its tendency to use women as “window dressing.” I don’t know how I should feel about that. Admittedly, concern about the company’s image becomes a moot point when I’m up against a set of DDs. And, to my knowledge, there hasn’t been a single case of inappropriate behavior by any of the office guys or the male executives. Indeed, there is a strict, no-nonsense policy here regarding harassment toward women. You fuck up, you act like an asshole, you’re out. But, I’m straying from my point.

The more hugs that I get from women, the more I realize that women have different styles of hugging. Indeed, there are different levels of participation and intimacy in every embrace, depending on the situation and the woman. That’s not a complaint, just an observation.

Over the course of my two years with the company, my analysis has revealed four distinct styles of the female hug.

First: There’s the normal, friendly hug. You get full but brief body involvement from head to tits to hips. But, and this is important, you should never mistakenly assume that it’s anything more than just friendly. NEVER! I’ve made that mistaken assumption in the past and I was immediately shut down.

Second: There’s the quick, in and out hug; the one that says, “OK that’s enough, you’ve had your cheap thrill for the day.” This is another one that should never generate hope of something more. It’s merely transactional.

Third: My only gripe, the most pointless hug. This is the hug in which the woman leans in from the shoulders, hugs you around the shoulders or neck, making sure that her upper body, breasts, or any other body parts make absolutely no contact with you, which is antithetical to the whole purpose of hugging. I hate that fucking hug! It’s almost an insult. Ladies, if you can’t put any of your body into it, then don’t bother. A simple handshake will do.

Fourth: My favorite. The long hug. The hug that lasts for several soft seconds. The one, wonderful hug that the woman fully engages in and clearly enjoys; the hug that offers the subliminal message that she feels safe in your manly arms; the full embrace that gives you a good sense of what her body feels like, and the one that offers a glimmer of hope for something more profound. Once again, never assume anything! Always be aware that you may not get anything more. If there is anything more, she’ll let you know. Enjoy this warm, wonderful show of affection while it lasts, then walk away. No off-color comments, no innuendo…walk away.

Right about now you might be asking the burning question; “Dave, where is this all going?” Stay with me. It’s gonna get good.

*********

It was a typical Wednesday, with all of its mid week dullness. The office gals were busy, but I was sitting in my office playing online video poker. Then I got the call. The Billing Office needed me. The attractive, streaked blond haired Anita Benson from accounts receivable needed my services. And, selfless man that I am, if Anita needed me, I was going to be there for her. Because, as you’ve likely already surmised, fixing her computer always meant a busty, #4 style hug. Plus, lately, I’d begun to suspect that sweet Anita just might be offering something more.

Red flags of caution went up in my mind as Anita’s generous breasts nestled into my chest and her lower body told me that it was OK to press into her and hold for a few more delicious seconds. So, I did, until…

“Thanks again, Dave.” She said, releasing me from my connection to her sumptuous body.

Anita’s computer was, once again, functioning smoothly.

“My pleasure,” I replied, putting a little extra bass into my voice as I turned and headed to the office door.
“Hey Dave! Wait a minute!”

I stopped and did the smoothest pivot ever done by a man not wearing tights. Then I gave her a questioning look.

“Have you taken your lunch break yet?” Anita asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Neither have I…can I treat you to a cafeteria lunch?”

This corporate cafeteria was not typical. It didn’t serve typical bland institutional food. A legitimate chef was in charge. The food was excellent. How could I say no? Not to mention that I was about to be seen dining with a highly attractive woman.

“Absolutely!” I said, enthusiastically.

The cafeteria was not, typically, in the basement of our downtown building. The basement was reserved for employees only parking. A minor fee was deducted from our paychecks once a year for cleaning and maintenance, but parking was otherwise free.

Corporate headquarters insisted the cafeteria should be on the top floor of the building, which offered a splendid view of downtown. They also insisted that we call it the company “dining room,” but nobody paid attention to that nonsense. You picked your tray, your utensils and you moved through the line and picked out whatever you wanted to eat. It was a fucking cafeteria, but one that served excellent food thanks to a first rate chef.

On the way to the top floor, Anita and I had the elevator to ourselves. I mention this only because she packed her body next to mine as if we were two sardines packed in oil with several dozen other sardines. And I must say, the idea of being packed in oil with Anita was a tantalizing thought. At one brief point, she took hold of my right arm and snuggled it. Intimacy? The look of mild surprise on my face got a terse response.

“What? You’re uncomfortable with me snuggling with you? I just gave you a big ole bearhug.”
“Yes, yes you did.”

My normally glib tongue failed me in this unexpected circumstance. I gave her my warm smile just as the door to the top floor opened. Then, as we walked the length of the hallway, I took her hand in mine and held it firmly, just to let her know that if there was a game, I was in it. This elicited a barely perceptible sigh. HOT DAMN! I was in! But, keeping true to my motto, I wasn’t going to assume anything. Lunch would certainly be interesting.

In what seemed almost like an orchestrated set of circumstances, the dining area was occupied by maybe a half dozen folks. Anita led me to a corner window booth.

“Just so we can talk privately.” She explained.

OK folks, here’s where things get a bit heated.

We slid our asses into the corner booth, checked out the view of the city on a rainy afternoon, then turned our attention to each other.

“This is a nice Wednesday surprise,” I offered.
“What?”
“…having lunch with you, Anita.”
“Aww, you’re sweet, David.” Her response was demure.

Oh no! Did I just get assigned to the “friend zone?” I was confused.

Redemption, however, came swiftly. It arrived in the configuration of Jasmine Reyes from the executive office. Jasmine was a gorgeous dark haired Filipino woman; big eyes, full lips and, a set of jugs that made life miserable for most second and third blouse buttons. She had a mind to sit down with us. Anita stopped her just as she was about to slide her ass into our booth.

“Oh Jaz…Dave and I have a few things we need to discuss in private. It’s computer stuff, you won’t like it.”

Jasmine stopped in her tracks, looking a bit puzzled and perhaps a bit hurt. She nodded and then looked at me.

“It was nice chatting with you, Dave.” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

Then she turned to walk away. At the other side of the cafeteria, she sat down with some of the women from the executive offices.

I looked at Anita.

“That seemed kind of rude.”
“She has this annoying habit of inserting herself into situations and conversations when she hasn’t been invited to do so.”
“She just wanted to join us for lunch.” I pointed out what I thought was obvious.
“No, she wanted to know what we were talking about.”
“You hurt her feelings.”
“She’ll get over it. I’ll fix her a nice dinner tonight.”

The look on my face said it all.

“We’re roommates. I couldn’t afford my flat all by myself.”
“Ah, I see. And as roommates, how do you two get along?”
“99% of the time, just fine. She’s neat as a pin and she makes an amazing Pansit.”
“Wow! I love Pansit! What about the one percent?”
“Arguments, of course. An occasional shouting match. But we always make up.”

I was tempted to ask if there were any hair-pulling roll-arounds, but didn’t push the issue any further. I had a feeling Anita wanted to discuss something else.

“Thanks for always coming up to fix my computer, Dave.” She said, reaching across to take my hand.
“I enjoy fixing your computer.”
“Anything else you enjoy?” A leading question for sure.
“Well, I do so love the hugs that you give me for merely doing my job.”
“You, Dave, are a great hugger.”
“Thank you!”
“I was wondering…” she was tentative.
“What?”
“What are you doing tonight…around eight?”
“No plans. What do you have in mind?” I couldn’t believe where this was going.
“Do you like slow dancing?”
“Sure, why?”
“Well, Wednesday nights at The Waterfront Hotel is couples night; half price drinks, very tasty snacks and a live dance band, usually a quartet or a trio. Lots of sexy, soft jazz music for slow dancing. It’s always a nice time.”
“I thought you were fixing a nice dinner for Jaz.”
“We’ll be done by 7PM.”
“And how do I fit into this?”
“DUH! Obviously, you’d be the male half of the couple.”
“And, since you’re familiar with couples night, I must assume that your previous other half is no longer in the picture.”

Anita nodded, then filled me in on the recent events of her life. No deep details, just the pertinent points. It seemed that six months ago she parted ways with some dude named Al. They had been together for a year or so and Al, a man of deep faith, started dropping hints and overt statements that they should tie the knot. Anita wasn’t ready to get married. When she explained her stance to Al, he told her that it was now or never. Anita didn’t like that kind of ultimatum, so she said never. In two days, Al packed his things and left her. A few weeks later, Jasmine moved in.

“I’m sorry to hear this.” I said, not knowing what else to say.

She then told me that a week or so ago she got an invitation. Al had found a new love and they were getting married. Ouch! I thought.

“So, you going?”
“No! Fuck him and his sanctimonious ass!”
“Still, despite the insult, you can’t help thinking about him. Am I correct?”

She sighed wistfully and nodded yes.

“OK Anita, here’s the deal,” I paused for dramatic effect, “if I’m going to be holding your sexy body in my arms tonight in the middle of a slow dance and you’re mind is going to be reminiscing about your past relationship with Al, then…”
“Then what?”
“…then I don’t want any part of it.”

She thought it over for a few seconds, then threw the slider instead of the curve…

“Be honest with me, Dave. What goes through your mind when we hug?”
“That’s easy, I wish the hug would go on and on. And…
“And?”
“Honestly, sometimes I wish that I could kiss you.”

She flashed me a devious smile. “Would it surprise you to know that I’ve had those same thoughts?”

I smiled at her, then we locked eyes. She clasped both of my hands in hers and whispered.

“Dave, you and only you will be my dance partner tonight. That is, if you’re still interested.”
“Anita, may I have this dance?”

She gave me a coquettish look, scanned the dining room, then leaned in and gave me a quick, soft kiss on the lips.

************

8:15 PM: I opened the passenger door of my Toyota Prius and watched the nylon stocking legs of Anita Benson swing gracefully outward. After crushing two dollars into his hand, an attendant drove off to secure my baby for the length of time Miss Benson and I would be in the hotel. We made our way through the ornate lobby. Anita scanned the various doorways.

“Let’s see…we need to find the Sunset Room.”
“There it is.” I pointed out.
“Damn! It’s been a while since I’ve been here.” She sighed.
“Six months?”
“Don’t be a smart ass, David. Let’s go.”

A hostess walked us to a window table. Before she could ask if we wanted drinks, Anita ordered a bottle of her favorite French Chardonnay. So much for the economy of half priced drinks.

“Excellent choice!” said Claire, the attractive hostess. She nodded to Anita and quickly left.
“An expensive choice, too!” I said.

Knowing a bit about wine, I knew that the bottle she selected came from the mid region of Burgundy, where the price of bottles start out way past my pay grade.

Claire returned with the wine selection. Anita inspected and approved the bottle. It was then opened and the cork was offered to the lovely woman across the table from me. She sniffed and nodded yes. Next came the small sample pour, the swirl, sniff and finally, the taste. Each step was met with my date’s validation. Both glasses were then filled with a slightly more than half pour. The remaining wine was chilled, then lovely Claire smiled and vanished.

“Wow!” I exclaimed, after my first sip. “This is great wine, Anita.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be happy to split the cost with you. This is rather pricey.”

My noble offer was politely declined.

“Thank you, David! But this is mine. You are my dance partner, my date for the evening.”
“Indeed! And, quite pleased to be in such an enviable position.”

And then things took a humorous, albeit dick-hardening turn.

“But, just so you know, if I’m picking up the tab for this evening, I expect something in return. And I think you know what I mean.”

She finished her statement of intent with a sly nod and a wink. I don’t know why she did this, but I played along. I pretended to be appalled!

“SEX!!! You’re expecting SEX?” I said, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
“Absolutely!” She matched my volume.

And then we took it to another level.

“Listen Miss Benson, I don’t know what kind of men you normally cavort with, but don’t think that you can just invite me to a dance, ply me with cheap wine, then take me home and have your way with me!”

There were multiple chuckles. All ears then tuned in on our conversation.

“No, you listen, Mr. Coleman. I fully intend to have my way with you tonight!”
“I am not some cheap slut, dear lady.”
“Oh yes you are!”
“Alright, you got me there.”
“Damn right I do!”

The band launched into a slow song. I took her hand and lead her out onto the dance floor to a round of applause from the thirty or so people in the lounge.

Anita wasted no time making her bodily intentions clear. Our bodies moved rhythmically together, almost like we were fucking.

“Oh, David…” she whispered in my ear.

Hot damn! I was actually going to get laid, on a Wednesday night no less!

One bottle of elegant French Chardonnay and one hour later, I was rolling around in bed with beautiful Anita Benson. We fucked for a couple of hours, until there was no gas left in my tank.

************

Lying in the hazy aftermath of pleasure, Anita snuggled up. She placed her head conveniently on my right shoulder, so that every time I turned to utter some nonsensical words or just look at her pretty face, I was rewarded with a luscious kiss. A smooth as silk right leg was draped across my lower body. It felt like her tits were embracing my right arm. Because I was enjoying this so much, I decided to take that one, very risky shot.

“You’re welcome to spend the night…”

But as soon as the words left my mouth, I felt that sensation of queasiness; the one you get when you realize you may have said the wrong thing, “…that is, if you’d like to.”

Anita was gracious enough to let me off easy.

“That’s a very attractive offer, Mr. Coleman…but I shouldn’t.” Anita gently declined.

I didn’t ask, but my lovely co-worker explained why she couldn’t stay.

“Jasmine will be worried.”
“So, give her a call. Let her know that you’re safe and in my manly arms.”
“NOOOOO!!!!”

I had a feeling this was about to get complicated.

“OK, I give up. Why not?”
“Because, well, Jaz kinda’ has a thing for you too.”

My mind quickly was awash in the possibilities of this scenario. I think I felt my dick stir. But I kept my cool.

“Hmm,” was all I said.
“That’s it? Hmm? Is that all you have to say?”

This was shaping up to be one of those no win situations…one where no matter what I said, it would have been the wrong thing to say. I proceeded with an abundance of caution.

“Jasmine is a beautiful woman. I’m flattered that she likes me.”
“David, you’re being evasive.”
“I am, indeed.”
“Why?”
“Because, dear Anita…being a guy and all…well, this is one of those situations guys hate to be in.”
“And why is that?”
“Because anything I say is likely to piss you off.”
“Oh, David, you’re being ridiculous!”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Of course I’m right! Why would I get angry?” She gloated.

“So, why does Jasmine find me attractive?”
“Same reason I do, I expect. She likes the way that you hug her.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I like the way she hugs, too.”

She rose to her elbows and glared at me.

“Is there something wrong with the way I hug?”
“No! I love the way you hug!”

Seemingly satisfied with my response, she slumped back down. However…seconds later…

Anita bolted upright in bed. Covers fell to the side. Her hands went to her hips. Her chest thrust forward. She huffed!

Wait for it…

“You motherfucker! You think her tits are better than mine, don’t you?”
“Who in the fuck mentioned tits?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Mr. Coleman. What else do men think of when they hug a well endowed woman?”
“Well, sometimes I think the world would be a much nicer place if people just hugged each other more often. Other times I’m sifting through the particulars of E=MC squared.”
“Bullshit!”
“Excuse me Miss Benson, but clearly, you’re pissed off.”

She then reached down, filled her hands with her gorgeous tits, looked at me and sneered.

“These two beauties are way better than anything Jasmine’s got.”
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I rest my case!”

Anita then let her tits go and started playfully flailing at me.

“You son of a bitch! Admit it. You’d love to see Jasmine’s tits.”
“No, I swear!”

I defended myself, blocking almost everything she threw. She then came down on me, squashing her boobs on my face in a blatant attempt to smother me.

“Take this, you sleaze bag!”

But before my oxygen saturation dropped to a dangerous level, I thwarted her efforts by taking a turgid nipple into my mouth. She grunted, then we started to wrestle. It wasn’t long before the friction of body on body turned us into animals in heat and we were, once again, fucking.

Once the screaming stopped, we stretched out on our backs, gathering our breath. I figured this was as good a time as any.

“Can I ask you a few questions, Anita?”
“Sure, baby. Ask.”

An aside: I love it when a woman calls me “baby.” In my life experience, that means I am in. And by “in” I mean I’ve achieved a special status in her mind and, possibly, I’m on my way to a place in her heart. It’s a wonderful word and I love hearing it, especially, from a woman as lovely as Miss Anita Benson. I took a deep breath, then leaped into the abyss.

“Well, since the topic of the moment is hugging, I have some questions.”
“About hugging?”
“Yes, specifically about how women hug. You up for it?”
“Sure, but It seems pretty straightforward to me.”
“Meaning?”
“We wrap our arms around you, we hold you to our bodies, then we let go when the time is right.”
“Agreed, but that’s a bit of an over simplification, my dear.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve noticed that different women hug differently.”

She looked at me questioningly. I proceeded to tell her of the four different styles of hugging that I had observed. She had an odd look on her face. I couldn’t tell if it was shock, disbelief or astonishment over my brilliance.

“You’re an idiot.”

So much for my brilliance.

“I swear, Anita, I’ve noticed this on many, many occasions.”
“OK then, what am I?”
“Excuse me?”
“What number hug am I?”
“Number four, of course…the best, sexiest hug.”

A momentary pause…”And Jasmine? What number is she.”

Here’s a shovel, Dave, go ahead and dig that hole.

I then had the uncomfortable task of revealing that her roommate, Jasmine, also qualified as a number four hugger. This was met with a modest degree of rancor.

“I still think that you’re comparing my tits to Jasmine’s tits.”
“Can we stop with the tits? It’s not my intention to compare you four…I mean you two! I’m looking for answers to a phenomenon that has bothered me for years.”

One hard punch in my bicep that I knew was going to draw blood to the surface, then Anita acquiesced, offering an amazingly lucid perspective.

Hug number one: “She likes you…she’s comfortable with body contact, but that’s as far as it goes.”
Hug number two: “An obligatory hug. She will if she has to, but she’d definitely rather not.”
Hug number three: “Easy. Only daddy or husband or fiancé get any of this. YOU are not worthy.”
Hug number four: “At the very least, she likes you.”
“And the trust factor?”
“Of course she trusts you. She feels safe and comfortable in your arms. She might even be willing to fuck you.”
“Which brings me to the big question…can the man safely assume he has a chance of getting more?”
“When you fixed my computer, and I gave you a big hug, David, did you automatically assume that this would happen?”
“Absolutely not!”
“And, that’s exactly why you got laid tonight.”
“I don’t quite understand.”
“You weren’t a jerk. You made no suggestive remarks, you offered no innuendo, you were a gentleman…you are a gentleman. And a rather sexy one I might add.”
“Aw, shucks, Miss Benson.”

Thirty minutes later, I was driving her home. She had me drop her off half a block away from her flat, so as not to arouse any suspicion. I had one more hug question, but I chose not to ask. I figured she would let me know if we were a couple, or if this was a one night stand. At least for now, our romantic tryst would remain a secret, particularly from Jasmine.

************

A week passed at the job. I found myself hoping for a call to the Business office, but it never came. There was, however, an interesting call to the Executive office. Low and behold, it came from Jasmine. My underling, Sean, had been assigned to the Executive Office that day, but the request was for me. It came over my pager. So, with a bit of hesitance, I took the call and fifteen minutes later, I walked into the office.

“Hi Jaz! Computer problems?”

She moved on me with precision. Before I knew it, I was in her arms, entangled in an enthusiastic embrace.

“Wow! Thanks, I said,” breaking off the hug when the moment was right. “can I do anything for you, Jasmine?
“Yes, you can. Take me to lunch.”

Myriad possibilities of how this could be a bad idea went through my mind. However, declining the invitation did not seem a viable option. So I said OK. I wondered what she was up to.
In the elevator to the top floor, Jaz snuggled up to me, just like her roommate had done. There were three other women in the elevator with us, all on their way to the cafeteria. Jasmine was unconcerned with them.

“I like hugging you, David. Do you enjoy hugging me?” She asked in a low voice. But in the small space of the car, I was certain the other women heard the provocative question. My voice was stilted in my reply.

“Um, yeah…YES, I do.” Her smile was swathed in sarcasm. But as soon as we sat down with our food trays, her tone improved and I began to feel comfortable. Then…

“Anita tells me that you like Pansit. Is that true?”
“I love it! And, Anita told me that you make a fabulous Pansit.”
“I do, and that’s why we are here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m making it for dinner tonight. Would you like to join us for homemade Filipino Pansit?”
“Let me ask you a question first…did your mother teach you how to make it?”
“Yes, she did! How did you…”
“What time should I be there?”
“Dinner will be served at six o’clock.”

************

DAVE’S RULE OF THUMB FOR GOOD FOOD: If her mother made it, or her mother taught her how to make it, accept the invitation because you’re about to feast on great food. This has been my life experience.

************

We finished our lunch and got up to leave. After we bussed our dishes, we walked by Anita, who was sitting with another woman from Accounting. Jasmine smiled at her, nodded and winked. Anita smiled and waved casually. I don?t know why, but I had this weird feeling that something was up.

Chapter 2
PANCIT AND A TIT FIGHT

I showed up at the flat of Anita Benson and Jasmine Reys at 5:45PM.

Beforehand, I stopped at my local wine shop for wine that might pair well with Pancit. Fortunately for me, Rob, my favorite wine guy, was working. He explained that Pancit wasn’t an easy pairing. In an effort to help, I explained that it was going to be made by a lovely Filipino woman who was taught by her mother.

“So, more traditional then…”
“Exactly.”
“Follow me.”

I followed him to the French wine section.

“Burgundy?”
“Nah…”

Rob ignored me and continued to a section I had never before considered. He stopped, turned to look at me with a grin. He then waved his arm in a grand sweeping gesture at a display of long, sleek green bottles. I had to check the sign to see which section we were in and if I was in a dangerous part of the store. There had been some recent reports of gang activity, but Rob assured me it was in the jug wine section, so we were safe.

“Alsace?”
“Absolutely, brother!”
“OK…I know nothing about wine from Alsace. Amaze me.”

Rob turned to scan a few bottles and as he looked he asked “How many people?”
“Three,” and before I could stop myself, I added “me and two gorgeous women.”
“You dawwwg!”
“Naw, it ain’t like that bro…just dinner.”
“Yeah, riiiiiiight!”
“Just give me some good wine, man. And quit painting pornographic scenarios in your head.”
He laughed.
“OK, three people…two bottles should do it. Unless the three of you are planning on doing some serious drinking.”

He reached for one bottle on the rack and handed it to me. I scanned the label.

“A Riesling? No kidding!”
“Absolutely.”
“Sweet or dry?”
“Dry, but there’s no mistaking that delicious Riesling taste.”
“OK, one more bottle.”

But he didn’t give me another Riesling. He moved six feet further down the aisle, scanned the offerings, then picked another bottle and handed it to me. Again, I scrutinized the label.

“Gewürztraminer? I would have never thought…”
“Oh yeah, it’s a great wine. Have the Riesling with dinner, and the Gewürztraminer after, so you can savor it,” he paused, “it has a nice background spiciness…the ladies will love it!”
“Thanks. You da man!”

At the register I swiped my card and waited for approval from some unknown entity. I signed the receipt.

“Let me know how dinner goes…especially, the after dinner part when you get those two ladies out of their clothes.” He chortled.
“Man…fuck off!” I fist bumped him and left the shop.

************

“Wow, David, wines from Alsace! I have not yet had a chance to try them,” said a very impressed Anita Benson.
“Highly recommended by my wine store guy. Are we going to have enough time to properly chill them?”
“Sure, we’re running a bit behind schedule anyway. They should be fine by the time dinner is ready. I can’t wait to taste them!”

At 6:30 we all sat down to eat. As I expected, the Pancit was fantastic! The girls also liked how well the Riesling paired up with it.

“David, this wine is delicious! And it goes so well with my masterpiece!” said Jasmine.
“Hear, hear!” Anita raised her glass to toast Jasmine’s delicious dish, and the wine. I followed suit.

Things got quiet for about fifteen minutes as we all dug in. The only sounds that were heard were oohs and aahs and the wet noises of noodle slurping. Unlike American culture, Asian culture does not look down on this. They regard slurping of noodles as true enjoyment of the food, and a compliment to the chef. The Japanese are especially into slurping. Or, so I’ve heard. How I’d love to spend some time in Japan, slurping that fantastic Ramen!

By 7:15 we were all leaning back in our chairs, emitting satisfied noises and groans.

“Damn, that was good!” I exclaimed.
“He’s right Jaz…you really outdid yourself with this batch. Best one you’ve made, so far.”
“Well, I knew we were going to have a very special guest tonight.”

Jasmine looked directly at me, smiled, and then raised her glass and swallowed the last gulp of Riesling. Anita excused herself to go to the kitchen for the second bottle of wine.

“So, David, Anita told me about your very interesting theory on hugging.”

I was a bit nonplussed by learning that Anita had shared my ground-breaking hypothesis with Jasmine. Especially since it had not yet received a formal peer review from experts at the Institute of Body Contact in Stockholm, Sweden. The Swedish IBC wasn’t my first choice, however. I had intended to submit my theory to the far more prestigious D. J. Drumph Institute in Moscow, but they were conducting important research in female genitalia fondling, or something like that.

“Oh really?” I said with hesitance in my voice. I wondered what else Anita might have told her. But what the hell, why not jump in? “What did you think of it?”
“I think is has some merit. Women can sometimes be leery when hugging men. Especially if they think a man is prone to interpret a hug the wrong way, to read into it something that’s not there.”
“Good point…have you personally experienced any men who do that; men who think you are offering something more?”
“I have, but not very often. Still, in today’s climate, a girl has to be careful.”
“Ah, yes.”

Jasmine then offered a demonstration of my four different hugs. The lovely brunette rose to her feet.

“Stand up, David.” She said this with dripping honey in her voice.

“You can skip number 3.” I said, in no uncertain terms. She chuckled and, before I knew it, her body was pressed to mine. And then, it wasn’t.

“Number one,” she said, “friendly, with body contact, but no committal, no hint of anything more.”

Then again.
“Number two.” Her body was in and gone so fast, I hardly had time to process the thought of being hugged, much less imagine how soft and full her breasts might actually be.

“How about a number three, for the purpose of this demonstration?”
“I suppose.”

Her arms wrapped around my neck and we were cheek to cheek. But the rest of her body might as well have been on the other side of town.

“Did you feel it?”
“I didn’t feel anything. That’s why I hate that hug.”
“I mean did you get the gist?”
“The gist?”
“The message, ‘you aren’t getting any of this.’”
“Yes, I did…”

I thought to myself, now comes the best part, hug number four.

Beautiful Jasmine was on me like stank on shit. Her arms were wrapped around me so tightly that it felt like our bodies had melded into one. I felt every part of her, from cheeks to knees and everything in between. It was glorious! It was dick inspiring! It was also being witnessed by miss Anita Benson.

“That definitely looks like a number four hug.”

A surprisingly unperturbed Anita said, as she casually filled all three empty wine glasses. She even flashed a sly grin at the two of us. Jasmine did not relinquish the incredible grip she had on me.

“Would anyone care for some Gewürztraminer?”
“I’d love some!” I replied.

But Jasmine wasn’t quite finished with me.

“Do you want to kiss me, David?” She asked, at a volume just loud enough for Anita to hear. I responded truthfully.

“I would love to, but it feels a bit awkward.” My reference was to Anita’s presence.

But then…

“Go ahead, David. Jaz deserves a nice, sexy kiss for the amazing job she did with the Pancit.”

For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. This HAD to be an alternate level of consciousness! But before I could do any further rationalization, Jasmine’s full lips were on mine and both of our mouths opened to each other. Her body was still pressed to mine as her lush tongue slipped past my teeth and my tongue moved to meet with it, and swirl with it.

Then, something really mind boggling happened. The grip of her mouth on mine loosened a bit. I figured that she just needed a gulp of air. Next, I felt another arm slip around my back and a fulsome breast pressed to my left arm. But then, the most amazing thing happened. A third tongue entered the mix! Anita clearly had taken a swig of Gewürztraminer before she decided to enter the fray. The three of us instinctively angled our faces so that we could chew on lips and swirl and suck tongues. Jasmine then pulled away from me. The two roommates turned into each other, then engaged in a furious kiss. They broke away from each other, locking in an intense stare, both breathing heavily.

“Good Lord, Anita! That’s delicious wine!”
“I told you two to come to the table, but noooo…” Anita teased us.

At that point, we separated and all three of us had looks and thoughts as if we were trying to absorb what had just happened. But we all knew what had just happened. Question was, what next?

Back at the table, we raised our glasses in a toast.

“Here’s to good food, good friends and good wine!” I toasted.
“Cheers!” the girls said, simultaneously. Three wine glasses clinked.

There were several lip smacks and a chorus of ooohs and aaahhs as the distinct taste of Gewürztraminer asserted itself.

“It has a hint of spice, David.” Jasmine correctly observed.
“That’s exactly what my wine guy said you would notice.”
“Spicy and delicious!” Anita added.

I had to make a reference, I just couldn’t stop myself.

“Is it better from the glass, or better from Anita’s tongue?” I asked Jasmine.

She then gave me the sexiest, dirtiest look I’ve ever seen a woman give. It was a look that made my manhood stir uncomfortably. And then she opened our evening up to what was likely going on in Rob’s mind when I told him I was going to wine and dine with two gorgeous women.

“You enjoyed that kiss, didn’t you, David?”
“What man wouldn’t enjoy kissing two hot women.”
“True, but you enjoyed it even more when Anita and I kissed each other. Am I right?”
“To be absolutely clear, I enjoyed kissing you, I enjoyed kissing both of you, and I especially enjoyed your hot girl kiss with Anita. Once again, what man wouldn’t?”

Anita them made her provocative contribution, “You know, Jaz, it occurred to me that was our first girl/girl kiss.”

My mind expressed disbelief, my mouth followed. “Ladies, somehow I doubt that. That kiss was way too hot for it to have been a first time kiss.”
“We’ve never done that before, David, honestly,” said Jasmine.
“It was really just a spur of the moment thing…or should I say, heat of the moment.” Anita added
“First three way kiss too.” Jasmine stated.
“I enjoyed that, too.”

************

~The room then got silent for several minutes because it was 7:29 AM and the writer was still working on his first cup of coffee. His brain was not yet fully functional. So, he looked out the office window into the morning sunlight in his yard and spotted a squirrel gathering his nuts, as if this might bring inspiration to a mind bereft of creative thoughts.

Then came a fond flashback to a day, not long ago, when a beautiful lady stepped out of a black SUV, entered his home and in his bed and engaged his lady friend in a woman to woman battle of breasts and bodies while he watched with childlike wonder. Inspired by this memory, he knew exactly how he had to proceed.

************

“Thanks for that hot demo of my four hug hypothesis, Jaz.”
“It was my pleasure…but may I say, your theory is lacking something.”
“Really? What?”
“It lacks any mention or serious questioning of how two women hug each other.”
“Or what two women think about when they hug each other.”

Anita chimed in, although she was uncertain of where Jasmine was going with this thought.

“You’ve ignored an entire area of scientific exploration; an important one, too.”

I was mind-blown by her spot on observation. Why hadn’t I considered this aspect of the hug conundrum? Having overlooked such an important issue, how could I call myself a man of science? How could I NOT have considered the sensations and complexities of what goes on when four breasts come together in a tight embrace? I felt great shame. But, right then and there, I promised them to do a separate study about how women hug each other.

“Perhaps Anita and I can help you with this, David.”

I glanced at Anita, who seemed perplexed. At a moment when I suspected a scheme concocted by both women, it began to look like Jasmine was the sole conspirator.

“Stand up, baby girl. Let’s see what happens. It’ll be good for David’s upcoming research.”

Anita was tentative, but I just knew she wouldn’t decline such a sexy invitation. After all, minutes ago their tongues were down each other’s throats. Why turn down such a sexy enticement?

At Jasmine’s prompting, we moved into the living room. I was told to take a seat on the couch and remain quiet. I believe the wording they used was “sit down and shut the fuck up.”
Like the manly man I am, I acquiesced.

Then, finally, after such a lengthy buildup, Anita Benson and Jasmine Reyes turned to face each other. Arms hanging down, the two women clasped their hands. They were close enough to meet boob to boob. Both women were wearing those shiny blouses that were made of some glossy fabric. It wasn’t silk, but it was a material that, when pressed together lightly, made a soft hissing sound as their breasts made contact and they rubbed against each other. Both women were pleasantly surprised by how quickly and easily their nipples hardened in this initial contact.

“Ready?” asked Jasmine.
“Oh, I’m ready!” Anita breathlessly responded. It seemed she was no longer hesitant.

Their arms encircled each other and they met in a tight, full body hug.

“Ugghh!” Anita groaned.
“Mmmm…” Jasmine softly moaned.

They were now cheek to cheek. There was a slight increase in upper body movement, but it was focused and tight. Clearly, the emphasis was on their extravagant breasts. I concluded that, if my top level hug was rated a four, this hug could have been a 5.5 on the Richter Scale. I could now hear intermittent grunts coming from both of them. What was next? But the fantastic tease ended when they abruptly separated. Jasmine and Anita, roommates for just about seven months, looked at each other with uncertainty.

Anita spoke first. “Damn, Jaz, I mean…I never realized…”
“Me neither…” Jasmine finished her thought. “Do you want to tell him?”

They now seemed to both be on the same wave length.

“Naw, go ahead.”
“OK, David, here’s one possible answer…”
“Answer?”
“…to the question ‘what do two women think about when they hug?’”
“Uh…I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming, but please, elaborate.”
“Well, I’m not sure it happens every time, David, but in this particular instance, Anita and I were comparing our tits.”
“And, may I add, we were both quite pleasantly surprised by what we discovered.”
“What, that you’re both large, full and evenly matched? I could have told you that!”
“You total sleaze bag! I knew you were comparing our tits!” Anita lashed out at me.

She was right, of course. Despite my vehement denials of one week ago, an occasional boob comparison would float through my mind whenever Jasmine gave me one of those hugs, or Anita gave me one of those hugs. Indeed, how could I not compare them? Jasmine never held back her chest when her arms were around me, on the pretense of thanking me for fixing her computer. Neither did Anita. My silence was all the corroboration she needed. Then it happened. And when I say it, I mean IT HAPPENED.

Lovely Jasmine Reyes offered her sexy roommate, Anita Benson, an opportunity to find out what they both wanted to know. Her delicate hands moved up. Anita’s eyes widened as the dark haired beauty deftly unbuttoned her blouse. Her breathing became more animated. The off-white blouse was tossed. It landed next to me on the couch. She was wearing one of those wireless bras that fit so well it looked like it was painted on. The color was a light beige which contrasted beautifully with her medium tan skin tone. When I managed to tear my eyes away from her tits, I noticed that she had a smooth, toned tummy. What a gorgeous woman! Her hands went to her hips. She locked eyes with her roommate. Anita shook her head. But I was unable to gauge whether this response was grounded in admiration or disbelief. Her tongue appeared and made a quick stroke of her upper lip. The tension was almost unbearable! What would Anita do? How would she respond to a challenge of this nature? All speculation dissipated when I watched her pretty hands move to the top blouse button. In seconds, all buttons were undone and Anita’s blouse opened. She then removed it and tossed it in my direction, just as Jasmine had done. But she was wearing a traditional bra. It was a lacy material and was solid black. She looked amazing in it! I noted the swell of her cleavage and was reminded of that night, a little over a week ago when those massive tits attempted to murder yours truly in fleshy softness. The bra had the traditional metal fasteners in back.

“Humph.” Jasmine huffed. Clearly, she was ready for the next step.

She then eased the straps of her tittie-restraining device past her shoulders and removed her arms. Next she slipped her fingers under the bra and lifted it over her head. And oh my hell! Out bounced, joyously, two of the most perfect breasts I’ve ever seen! Good gracious! Then her hands went to her hips, once again. Anita’s eyes widened at the site of what her two beauties would soon be up against. I had to wonder what was going through her mind. Then, she looked at me.

“David, would you be a darling and unhook my brassiere for me.”

I was on my feet in fractions of a second. I couldn’t see it from behind, but Anita flashed a smug grin at Jasmine.

“Bitch!” was Jasmine’s terse response.

Anita waited for me to return to my seat before she unveiled her two beautiful tits, revealing their splendor to her roommate for the first time. Jasmine gasped in awe. Then she decided to take it to the next level…to the most logical level…to the level dreams of a deviant like me are made of. She stepped out of her slacks. Now it was Anita’s turn to gasp as the oh so hot brunette stood naked, except for the skimpiest of thongs. I could not keep my eyes from fixating on the alluring V of her thighs and the tight material that revealed a succulent cameltoe.

The deep sigh that came from Anita seemed to ask “what the fuck is going on here?”

“Jasmine!!! What the hell? I thought this was just going to be a breast embrace?”

Jaz moved to Anita and, with perfect aim, flicked her nipples across Anita’s stiff nubs then pulled back. But that was all it took.

“You don’t have to take off your slacks, baby. But it would be so much nicer if you do.”

Jeesh!!! If a woman said that to me, my pants would be down at my ankles before she finished the sentence…jockey shorts too.

Jasmine reached in and popped the top button on her roommate’s slacks. Anita did the rest. She slipped her thumbs carefully under the waistband so as not to inadvertently peel off her thong as well. Although, I don’t know what the point of embarrassment would have been as her thong was as meager as the one Jasmine had on. And, I’m pleased to note that those sweet labia that one week ago lovingly caressed my cock were as engorged and excited as the sweet lips between Jasmine’s thighs. In a moment of pure depravity, I tried to imagine a succulent cunt kiss.

But, that’s another dinner for three, at my place, and possibly another chapter. I had to survive this night first. Right now, right in front of my enamored eyes two thong clad, otherwise completely naked women were going to meet in a full body embrace. The four most perfect and perfectly matched breasts I had ever seen were going to engage in a fleshy duel…all for the sake of scientific research.

I decided it was time for me to delineate the proper rules of engagement of this flesh on flesh analysis. I stood up and moved to them, lovingly placing a hand on each of their shoulders. My goodness, Jasmine’s skin was as smooth as silk! And, I don’t know if it was just me, but Anita’s skin felt like satin. Anyway…

“Remember ladies, this embrace should be far in excess of my number four standard hug. Both of you are expected to give it your all. No hesitation, no holding back. Every inch of your bodies must be fully committed, fully engaged with the other woman’s body. You must be…dare I say it…inosculate…” I felt power surging through my loins as that glorious word rolled off my tongue. They responded appropriately.

“David, will you please sit down and shut the fuck up!”
“Jasmine and I understand the scientific method.”
“Besides, you’ve kept the readers waiting FAR too long for this.”
“Let’s do this, sweetie.” Anita’s breasts tingled with anticipation.
“Nobody ever spoke to Einstein like that!” I groused as my ass plopped down on the couch. Then it began.

They both looked tentative at first. Maybe this really was a first for them. But then, they did what came naturally. Arms encircled each other at waist and shoulders as Jasmine’s silken, tan body met fully with Anita’s creamy satin body. I’ve never seen such pristine symmetry, especially at the tit to tit level. Their foreheads pressed together, eyes locked. Tips of noses touched and both sexy mouths were slightly open, as if ready for a heated kiss.

They proceeded slowly, backing off so that they could square their nipples. Even their nipples were a perfect match. It was then I noted that Jasmine’s areola were a deep reddish brown, lovely and pebbled from scraping ever so gently with Anita’s pinkish, pebbled areolae. The simmering square off ever so slowly began to intensify. The girls began to move in circular motions, the purpose of which seemed to be more areola to areola decadence. They pressed and held the enervated tissue together. Next came the anticipated, by me, side to side rubbing, designed to flick and bend their aching nipples. Their heads both tilted back and their eyes closed. They groaned and gasped as sensitive nerve endings began to tingle in a mix of pain and excruciating pleasure; pleasure that pulsed through each full breast.

“Awww, fuck!” Anita cried out.
“Oh, those sweet titties!” Jasmine responded.

Content with a nipple duel, the two beauties continued to square areolae for several more sexy minutes. The side to side rubbing continued. They seemed to be getting the hang of how to fight their nipples in the most intimate way. I was fascinated by the sight of how they seemed to stick together and then snap as they separated. Then, speaking to each other with their eyes, Jasmine and Anita backed off about a foot, keeping their lower bodies connected. Next came the sound I’d been waiting to hear since the realization hit me that they were indeed going to lock tits.

The softest, yet most distinctive “splat” sound filled the otherwise silent room. It was the sweet sound of one pair of tits aggressively engaging another pair of tits. I hadn’t heard that sound since Carolyn Monroe, in defending the honor of the USA, smacked tits with KGB agent Lacy Legends, and for sixty breast to breast battling minutes the Cold War became a hot war. This was in NVP 323, “The Bust Soviet.” Ah…memories!

Since this was kind of a confrontation, it carried with it an underlying quest for dominance. You could see it in the way they looked at each other after the first delicious tit smack. What followed next was an exquisite, boner inducing pattern of smash, press and hold, smash, press and hold, again and again. They must have smashed their fabulous knockers a dozen times, trying to gain some sort of advantage. After each splat of tit meat, the girls would involuntarily emit those sexy, girlish groans and grunts. I hadn’t seen boob bashing like this since Jasmine Aloha matched boobs with Stephanie Rage in “Blonde Conquest,” NVP 225. That title seems rather appropriate for this occasion, doesn’t it?

They took a brief respite from this pattern of slow-building anger to lock in their second incendiary kiss. My guess was that the repetitive smacking had caused a bit of soreness. It was so hot to see them kiss while almost completely naked. But you’d think they would have had the common decency to tear off those damn thongs by now. I would have loved to monitor their reactions as those two shaved, swollen twats slowly worked their way to each other, ultimately meeting and sharing juices, lips to lips. Hey, I guy can dream, can’t he?

They separated once again. I noticed that bashing tits with her roommate had caused some redness on Anita’s luscious tits. Indeed, Jasmine’s sweet boobs even seemed a bit reddened. Neither woman seemed distressed or uncomfortable, however. Rather, they seemed eager to continue.

But first, a few words from the sanitation department:

Jasmine: You think your tits are better than mine, don’t you?
Anita: I know my tits are better than yours.
Jasmine: It’s pretty clear that my tits are beating your tits, Anita.
Anita: In what universe? Certainly, not this one.

This intriguing remark got me to thinking on a cosmic level. What if, at this exact moment in space/time, in a parallel universe, two busty women were locked in the same tit fight? That would be really cool! And in that parallel universe, was there another version of me, sitting on the couch with a hard-on? Food for deep thought. Back to the action…

Jasmine: I guess we’ll just have to settle this.
Anita: I guess we will.

SPLAT! The clash of the tits continued, even more vigorously. Smash, press and hold now brought forth occasional whimpers of discomfort. I admired the staunch efforts of these two tit warriors so much that I took it upon myself to intervene…kind of.

“Bathroom?” I loudly asked.
“Down that hall…first door.” Anita’s response was clearly laced with discomfort.

I bolted to la salle de bain, but not to piss. A far more important matter was afoot. Once there, I looked around with purpose. I pulled back the shower curtain…nothing. Then it hit me; medicine cabinet! I pulled back the mirrored door and there it was! EUREKA!

Clear plastic bottle in hand, I rushed back to the living room. Anita and Jasmine had stopped the tit bashing and were now engaged in a tight bear hug, grunting and cursing. From my perspective I saw Jasmine’s left tit flesh-locked with Anita’s right breast. They were pressed so tightly, they looked like two portabella mushrooms having a fight.

“Ow! That hurts, you bitch!” Anita squealed.
“What’s the matter? Can’t you take it?” Jasmine said with disdain.
“I can take it. How about you?”

Anita pulled back then pushed her sore beauties hard into Jasmine’s once again. Now Jasmine winced and squealed.

“Ow! Goddammit!”
“Now who can’t take it?”

They snarled at each other, then began once again to slam their boobs into each other quite rapidly this time. Each Woman hoping to dominate. I decided that before any damage was done to offer them a graceful way out.

I held up a bottle of baby oil and suggested this might be a good thing. They both looked at me but said nothing. I saw this as a tacit stamp of approval. I popped the cap on the oil and raised it a couple of feet above the four fused breasts. Then, I allowed two to three drops of oil to slip between each pairing, right to where they were connected. The sensation cause both women to softly moan. Instinctively, they began slowly rubbing their tits against each other in a circular motion. This allowed an even distribution of slick coating. I looked down to see that all four nipples and their areolae were now glistening. Both women then looked at me and thanked me with their eyes. Then I decided a little more oil would be a good thing. Neither of the girls objected as I released enough oil to completely coat the four beauties. Again, no hands were used. Jasmine and Anita used their bountiful breast to spread oil over each others breasts. Once again, the thought hit me.

“You two have done this before. I’m certain of it.”
“No, we haven’t!” Anita replied.
“Why do you say that?” asked Jasmine.
“Because what you two just did, how you used your tits to spread the oil on each other’s breasts…”
“What about it?” Anita wanted to know.
“…that’s EXACTLY how Dominique and Leanna Foxxx did it in NVP 150, “Duel Of The Show Mates.”
“We appreciate your efforts, David. Now, will you please sit down and shut the fuck up?”

I shook my head. Once again, I acquiesced. But I didn’t mind. I had an oily battle of tits to observe.

The application of baby oil seemed to reignite both women’s enthusiasm. As their perfect breasts began to once again roll and smack and squish, I realize I had done a good deed. It must also be noted that the new dimension of sensuality that the oil added to this equation caused a corresponding increase in the sexual tension between the two women. But in all honesty, I suspected that from that first nipple to nipple provocation by Jasmine, the level of sexual desire could eventually eclipse the original need to find out which of them had the best tits, which of them was the “better woman.” In my mind, this was just as much about discovering newfound pleasures of the flesh as it was about my research into the human practice of hugging. Either way, these two glorious women were clearly becoming more and more enamored with each other and how amazing it felt to be with each other like this.

The amazing tit tussle continued. But with the complimentary oil, it took on a much different dimension. The aforementioned smack, press and hold now became press, hold and roll as both women sought to get maximum gratification from their oleaginous breasts.

But, for all intents and purposes, what had started out as two women wanting to have a duel of breasts to see which perfect pair was better, had now devolved into a match to see which one could inflict the most pleasure. I wondered if such an affair of honor could bring either or both of them to a legitimate orgasm.

I could see that the oil was starting to be absorbed. Evidently, a second application was needed. So, I leapt to my feet, baby oil in hand, and did what a man had to do. All the two women could focus on was the slick mating of their soft globes. But it was clear that they appreciated my efforts as their fused breasts began to slip and slide sensuously once again and sensations of imminent orgasms began to escalate in their loins.

Anita’s breasts seemed to have an ever so slight advantage, but it was difficult to be sure. Jasmine was not backing away from full engagement. The four beauties smacked and squished and pressed repeatedly in this hedonistic fray. In the ruckus, they lost their balance and tumbled to the living room floor. The fight for top position was immediate and fervent. Anita prevailed. Jasmine cursed and groaned, but the thrill of her roommate’s body on hers was too overpowering. Anita sensed that she now had the added advantage of body weight.

“Slut!” Jasmine screamed.
“Fuck you, Jasmine. You KNOW my body feels fantastic.”

Grabbing Jasmine’s wrists and holding them above her head, Anita managed to position herself in a way that made it difficult for the brunette to roll her. All she could manage was to twist and squirm and writhe beneath her blonde flat mate. But every twist and squirm only served to heighten the exquisite thrill of their bodies thrashing against each other.

“Stop struggling bitch! Enjoy the moment. Feel my fabulous tits all over yours.” Anita was basking in her dominance. But that wouldn’t last long.

“FUCK YOU! I’ll get out of this. I’ll think of something,” vowed Jasmine.

And, she was right. You see, oil is a strange entity. Sure, you can put it on your boobs and it will stay there for a while. But, if your tits are wrestling with another set of tits, eventually the oil is going to do what oil always does…spread out. It’s going to go wherever it wants to go. Jaz understood this.

At some point during the stand up struggle, their hands came into contact with baby oil. That’s why she was able to easily free her wrists from Anita’s grasp. The inevitable body roll happened.

“You devious bitch!” the busty blonde cried out.
“I told you I would get out of it.”

I was in such awe of their upper body clash, I didn’t notice that their legs had become entwined. And there had been a slight shift in their lower bodies which brought their womanly mounds into perfect alignment. I didn’t notice the ever so subtle bump of their thong clad crotches because the two nearly naked brawlers chose not to make it obvious. Unbeknownst to me, an understated agreement had been reached. They spent the next few minutes chewing on each other’s mouths and sucking each other’s tongues in the most passionate kissing I’d ever seen in my life. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like this memorable evening was winding down. Hell, the woman to woman action was so sexy that I never bothered to check my wrist watch. It was now 10:15 PM.

They untangled themselves and got up. As they faced each other, I could see that they were weary.

“I’m exhausted!” said Anita.
“Me too!”
“Draw?”
“Agree. Draw,” said Jasmine.

Anita then surprised me, “Are you OK with that, David?”
I sighed, “No, actually. I’m not.”

They looked at me, quizzically.

“What do you propose?” Jasmine asked.
“How about a five minute, sudden death overtime period; an all out, hands behind your backs, tits against tits battle?”
“Just tits?” Anita asked.
“Just tits,”
“What do you think, Jaz?”
Jasmine thought for a second, “OK…I’m down with that.”

They moved to each other, stopping at nipple to nipple, where it all began, a little over two hours ago. Hands behind their backs, they were just about to start when I interrupted.

“Wait!…Before we begin, would m’ladies care for another smidge of oil?”
“Yes, please,” they chimed and giggled.
“There is a caveat, however.”
“And that is?” Jasmine wanted to know, for both of them.
“David Coleman, procurer of fine wines and all around nice guy, gets to apply the final coating of oil to these four magnificent breasts. I stand firm on this proviso.”
“You’ve been ‘standing firm’ for at least an hour, David,” Anita quipped. Jasmine laughed out loud, “but I’ll agree to that.” She looked at her roommate, “Jasmine?”
The brunette shrugged her shoulders, “Sure, why not?”

YESSSS!!!! I suppose my caveat could have been considered a bit sexist, but neither of them felt that it was demeaning in any way.

“Ladies, if you would both turn and face me. Good, now move in close together. Excellent! Now, Jasmine, if you would put your arm around Anita’s waist…Anita, please place your arm around Jasmine’s shoulder.”

Before I decided to study computers, I had a brief dalliance as a professional photographer. The income was inconsistent. And with the advent of the new “do everything for you” digital cameras, except for special circumstances, the need for pro shooters greatly diminished. But if I took anything away from that experience, it was the knack of recognizing a potentially great photo. This arrangement had the desired effect. Right before my eyes, four large and luscious tits were lined up in a row. I whipped out my iPhone and fired off six rapid fire close up shots. They turned out perfectly!

“What the hell?”
“Wait, before you get mad, have a look at the beauty I’ve just captured.”

I wasn’t kidding. All six shots came out great. Jaz took my iPhone from me and scanned all six pictures. Anita had some anger simmering, but Jasmine was able to assuage her. She held the phone and swiped through all the photos for Anita to see.

“Look how beautiful they are!”

Anita reluctantly agreed. “I hate to say it, but I agree. Look at those four fabulous tits!”

But then, she offered a blatant threat. “But these shots better not show up on the internet, David, or I’ll send a hit man to your house.”
“No ma’am…no way, no how…I promise.”

Back to the finale:

After using all of my sensual skills in order to apply the final coat of oil to the four most beautiful breasts I’d ever seen, the girls turned into each other for the final showdown. Hands behind their backs, they stuck their chests out in order to lead with their breasts. The full frontal smash and squish was astounding! Best one of the night! It was like these four beauties were desperate to be together once again. With so much oil, I don’t know how they did it, but Jasmine and Anita managed to fuse four mountains of tit flesh so perfectly to each other. This was WAY better that any of those bashing boobs at NVP! I wondered if either one of these two glorious women would ever prevail. Which set of tits would carry the day?

Now seven minutes and thirty-five seconds into the five minute overtime period, the two women couldn’t take it any longer. They wrapped their arms tightly around each other and, pressing their bodies tightly to each other, began to kiss with unfettered sexual desire. Jasmine then dropped her hands and squeezed Anita’s butt cheeks. Anita responded in kind. They repositioned their pelvises, then pushed hard into each other. I was absolutely certain that their engorged love mounds were now in a tight crush. Anita’s head then violently whipped back. She let out a scream as Jasmine’s thick pussy invaded her privacy. She then looked at me and spoke.

“It has to be five minutes by now, David.”
“Umm…eight minutes and forty seconds, to be accurate.”
“Why didn’t you stop us?” she demanded to know.
“No man in his right mind would have tried to break you two up.”

The two women’s chests were heaving mightily into each other.

“Well, Jaz and I are worn out. We need to go to bed. So, if you don’t mind…”

“I understand.” I said, but was cognizant of her wording. She said they needed to “go to bed,” not go to sleep.

“Wait,” Jasmine spoke up, “he’s been so sweet and he brought us such lovely wine. Don’t you think that’s worth a little reward?”

Anita read her mind. “You’re right Jaz, he deserve a sweet sendoff.”
“It shouldn’t take long…a matter of seconds.”
“Then you and I can go to bed.” Anita agreed.

The next thing I knew, my pants and my shorts were down to my ankles and two luscious mouths were entertaining my cock. Both of them were studied in the art of the blow job. Jasmine was right. I erupted in less than sixty seconds. Understandable, since I’d been holding that climax in for several hours.

At the door, I thanked them for the Pancit, the tit fight and the blow job.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening, ladies. It will be forever etched in my hard drive.”

They giggled, blew me kisses and closed the door behind me. I drove off into the night, reasonably certain that Anita Benson and Jasmine Reyes were going to spend the rest of the night between each other’s thighs.

Methinks a study of what happens when two women bump crotches during an enthusiastic hug is indicated…\

Chapter 3
Jasmine and Anita — The Denouement

Anita Benson stood face to face with her flatmate, Jasmine Reyes. The two busty roommates stood naked, immersed in the long suppressed desires that had been stirred by a frolicking tit tussle for the benefit of David Coleman. A lengthy session of breast bashing and crushing was all it took to get them so overheated that it was necessary to send him on his way so that they could follow this evening’s playfulness to its logical conclusion. It was now quite clear that they had both fantasized about sex with each other since the day that Jasmine moved into Anita’s flat. Now, here they stood, eye to eye and nipple to nipple.

After a quick, shared shower to remove all oily residue from their bodies, they toweled each other off. The ritual only served to add sparks to the embers. Next, came a traditional post shower application of lotion for the sole purpose of moistening and softening their skin. This was good. It made sense as the two women would soon be in an epidermal engagement…soft skin would soon be engaged with soft skin.

Anita watched as Jasmine took the time to work in a light coating of her best lotion to the slightly swollen lips of her pudenda. The few soft strokes required to accomplish this task were all that was needed to bring her sizable clitoris to a state of attention. A fascinated Anita looked on as Jasmine turned her pussy into an edible, fit for licking, sucking and a whole lot more.

“Oh my,” Anita mused, “I never thought of that.”

“Perhaps you should. A girl should keep her pussy lips soft and silky, don’t you agree?”

Anita nodded, “I agree!”

Then Jasmine passed the expensive, all natural skin lotion to her roommate.

Anita took the lotion, administered a few drops to the middle and index fingers of her right hand, then softly applied it to her plump pussy lips. Jasmine watched, enraptured, her twat tingling as an excess of saliva formed in her mouth.

“To eat or to fuck? That is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to devour the lushness of such tasty flesh, or to take an opposing position ‘tween the thighs of such wonder and, by opposing them, ejaculate them?”…Shakespeare, Othello.

“That’s Hamlet, not Othello!” Anita corrected.

“Oops! Sorry, just trying to add a little class to the story.”

“Well, we are talking about A. Penman here. Adding a touch of class might be a lost cause.”

“I suppose you’re right, the man’s a charlatan.”

They both chuckled.

Anita smiled, “Shall we adjourn to the bedroom?”

Jasmine eagerly agreed.

Alongside Anita’s queen sized bed, they stood hand in hand, eyes locked in expressions of newfound desires they had never expected. Anita made the first move, but Jasmine responded almost instantly.

The initial scrape of nipple on nipple was electrifying, just like it was earlier that evening. Only now, they were alone. No play-acting, no pretense, just two roommates discovering each other.

“How is it we’ve never done this before?” Anita wondered out loud.

“I don’t know…I suppose we were both caught up in conventional thinking.”

“About what?”

“About what’s proper between two beautiful women with fantastic breasts.”

Anita nodded her agreement. And then, the fury of repressed longings washed over them like a Tsunami. Six months…six months of clandestine desires that had been sublimated to the back of their minds now exploded in the meeting of two bodies.

They grunted and groaned as they tumbled into bed, each woman scrambling to renew the body connection that had been partly lost in the fall. Their lips locked. Effusive amounts of saliva escaped the corners of their mouths, saturating the pillowcase. Through the heavy breathing and torrid kissing, Anita blurted out a silly question.

“How much foreplay do we need here?”

Jasmine shook her head in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? We’ve been engaged in foreplay for the last three and a half hours! We need to just go at it and fuck the living shit out of each other! Fuck until we’re exhausted! Fuck until we can’t fuck anymore!”

The blond then rolled the brunette and mounted her.

“Now what?”

“Oh come on, Anita, you went to college, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“In college, every girl ‘experiments’ with lesbian sex. It’s the law.”

“That was just one time…and we used our fingers…oh, and a dildo.”

“Crude, but effective, I suppose. But tonight, it’s just going to be two hot naked pussies.”

“Is that why you bumped your mound into mine?”

“Exactly!” Jasmine grinned.

“Wow, that subtle crotch bump sent waves of lust through my entire body.”

“That was the whole idea, sweetie. We battled with our tits. Now it’s time for our girls to grind.”

Anita took a second to carefully realign her tits fully with Jasmine’s soft beauties. Once again, the two women gasped at the sensual pleasure of this boob on boob tryst. Then she gave her stunning roommate exactly what she wanted as she situated her pussy directly above Jasmine’s twat. Their pelvises began to slowly rock together. They made the adjustments needed to bring their lady lips into a loving caress. Jasmine emitted a sound from her chest she never knew resided in her. Anita’s technique seemed to improve with each stroke.

“We didn’t do this in college. Am I doing it right?”

“You’re doing just fine, baby girl. Unggh!!!”

Anita noted the ever increasing wetness of Jasmine’s pussy. She figured she was doing nicely. But her mind was completely blown when she felt her girly cock slip past Jasmine’s outer labia to swim in her abundant juices. But as if that wasn’t enough, Jasmine shifted a millimeter to the left and established a full on clit to clit assignation.

“Oh my gawd!!!” Anita wailed.

Jasmine bucked beneath her. Anita thrust downward, her clit pressing hard to Jasmine’s.

“Fuuuccckkk!!!” screamed Jasmine.

Then came the explosions of cum that had been slowly simmering deep in their loins for the last three hours. The two women oozed and gushed ejaculate into each other. One last thrust of hips, keeping their slotted cunts together, and Anita collapsed. Jasmine held her tightly, kissing her neck and sucking her earlobes.

“That was incredible!” said a physically spent Anita.

Then, without breaking their body connection, Jasmine rolled Anita onto her back, looked her squarely and sincerely in the eyes, then asked the question of the night.

“Wanna scissor fuck?”

Anita thought about it, ran the anatomical logistics through her head, got a clear mental image and then gasped loudly, becoming visibly turned on at the idea.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Jasmine teased.

She smiled, disentangled herself. Moving her body artfully, she arranged her sexy legs with Anita’s in the classic position for such and encounter.

Anita raised herself to her elbows in order to look down at her fate. This was the first good look she got at Jasmine’s sweet meat and it made her shiver. They looked longingly into each other’s eyes, then back at each other’s trickling twats. Anita then returned William Shakespeare to the discourse.

“To fuck, or not to fuck? That is the question.”

Jasmine responded with a forward thrust that shook Anita to her foundation.

“To fuck! Oh my god…TO FUCK!” The blonde cried out as the brunette meticulously folded their lush labia into a squirming mass of locked woman flesh.

“Oh fuck, Jaz, where did you learn how to do this?”

“You dummy, this is how my college lesbian lover did it to me…how we did it to each other. We liked it so much, we ended up doing it a couple of times a week. But it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Just this way? No dildos? Ever?”

“Dildos? We didn’t need no stinking dildos! We had our hard, horny clits and we loved to stick them into each other…we loved to grind them and fence with them.”

“You sexy slut!” said an impressed Anita.

“This sexy slut is going to fuck that pussy of yours real good.”

Thrilled by the potential of what was to come, Anita instinctively grabbed Jasmine’s leg and forced their cunts even tighter.

“Attagirl, give it to me!” came Jasmine’s throaty response.

“Give it back, woman.”

“Oh, I’m gonna give it back. Imma fuck your pussy ’til you squeal with delight. Imma fuck your pussy ’til the dawn’s early light.”

“Well then, God bless the USA!”

With a firm grip on each other’s right leg, the ladies instinctively began to rotate their pelvises in opposing, tight left to right circles. This not only created a goose bump raising friction between the thick outer lips, it also had the added benefit of opening them up to each other. Soon they could feel a sinfully delicious contact of their inner-most, more sensitive flesh. Both women now anticipated what was next. Anita was the first to engage. She kept her rotation tight and slowly dragged her clitoris across the length of Jasmine’s shaft. Jasmine’s entire body convulsed then relaxed. Now it was her turn. Her clit found its throbbing sister shaft and stroked it, length to length. Anita couldn’t hold back an agonized yowl. What followed next was the natural progression of a pussy to pussy skirmish. Despite being buried deep in female secretions, the women somehow managed to maintain an excruciating, mind-expanding contact between the two sex horns. Stroke after delectable stroke seemed to levitate them to another level, an etherial plane where the rest of their bodies became spiritual essence and the only physical sensation was the deep labia lock between their thighs. It was…transcendence.

There was no way of knowing how many times each of them had climaxed. Mostly they convulsed in orgasms that were mutual, but each of them had gone off a number of times individually. There had been so much ejaculate that escaped the thick lipped connection, a large wet spot had formed on the bed sheet. This didn’t matter to either of them, as long as their pussies continued to fuck.

Around three forty-five AM the two energy depleted lovers drifted off to sleep with their thighs still locked.

At work the next day, Dave Coleman noted a dead-tired Anita Benson and a fatigued Jasmine Reyes. He smiled to himself, knowingly.

The End

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