("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
               _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
              ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
            K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
 	   _________________________________________
                            WARNING!
	   This text file contains sexually explicit
	   material. If you do not wish to read this
	   type of literature, or you are under age,
	   PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
 	   _________________________________________




		   Scroll down to view text


















-------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2014. Please
do not remove the author information nor make any 
changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you 
for your consideration.
-------------------------------------------------------

Nerds in Space
by Leonard Rubin (no address provided)

***

Snowbound NASA engineers share a love fest and its 
aftermath. The true story of the love life of the male 
and female engineers who launched the space program. 
(MF, exh, mast, oral, orgy, rom)

***

My name is Leonard Ruben. I'm an old time rocket 
scientist. It's not my real name, of course, but if you 
are reasonably familiar with the NASA lunar program, you 
can probably figure out who I am. Not that you would 
want to. The events I will describe took place half a 
century ago and most of the people involved are either 
dead or in nursing homes. But this little story is 
actually true. It is one of the more memorable nuggets 
of pleasure in my long life.

No matter what you see on TV science shows the Apollo 
space program wasn't a carefully planned NASA enterprise 
conceived and directed by forward looking senior 
scientists. Rather it was a knee jerk political response 
to the Russian success in putting a satellite in orbit. 
Sure, both countries had plans to capitalize on their 
ICBM efforts by using rockets to loft scientific 
payloads into space but the Russians succeeded while our 
Vanguard rockets blew up on the launch pad. The Russians 
also mapped the back side of the moon and put a mobile 
vehicle on the lunar surface while all we could do was 
launch a beeping radio transmitter on a Redstone 
missile. 

So the politicians declared that we would leapfrog the 
Russkies and put a man on the moon. The trouble was that 
no one had an idea if it could be done. By that time we 
had barely put a man in orbit. No senior NASA scientist 
wanted to have his reputation ruined if the project was 
a failure, although they were all ready to claim credit 
if it was a success. Thus the initial phases of the 
space program were left to untried, naive engineering 
nerds like us.

Nerds is perhaps too pejorative a term. Most of us were 
recent graduates from engineering schools, in our mid 
20's. We were just like any other bunch of horny guys 
who wanted desperately to drink beer on weekends with 
our friends, drive fast cars, and get laid. The only 
difference was that most of us carried slide rules and 
wore pocket protectors in our shirts.

I received an aeronautical engineering degree in 1956 
after service in the Korean War. For the next six years 
I was a technological migrant worker flitting from 
aerospace company to aerospace company as it gained or 
lost defense contracts. By a weird throw of the dice my 
jobs were always at the cutting edge of aerospace 
fantasy. My fingerprints were on the Atlas missile, the 
mach 2 Canadian Avro CF105 fighter, the Polaris missile 
system, the mach 3 North American B70 bomber and the 
Dynasoar space glider, the precursor of the 'Space 
Shuttle. Fortunately none of these devices was ever used 
in combat.

After working all day on methods of killing Cold War 
enemies, we chilled out on cold beer and hot girls. The 
decade from 1955 to 1965 was a sexual paradise for young 
unmarrieds. Birth control pills removed the fear of 
unwanted pregnancy, AIDS had yet to emerge as a sexually 
transmitted disease, the Haight-Asbury "Summer of Love" 
was in full flower, and women were asserting their 
rights to enjoy casual sex. More important, there were 
plenty of women in the technological workplace. Hot, 
nubile girls anxious to use their college degrees on the 
job and their bodies in bed.

I must confess that I took advantage of every 
opportunity to sleep with my feminine coworkers. It's 
not that they were gorgeous. It's just that they were 
willing. A typical evening would start with a few drinks 
at a nearby bar with a compliant female engineer, 
technician, or secretary. Of course I would drive her 
home. The dating ritual mandated that she should invite 
me in to have "one for the road." 

We had a drink, or two, kissed, and groped each other. 
Protocol required that I grab a feel of her breasts. 
She, in turn, would make a half hearted protest then 
return my kisses. We removed each other's clothes and 
tumbled to bed or the couch, whichever was closer. Sex 
was almost an anti-climax. Pleasant but expected. We 
clutched each other's bodies. I penetrated her cunt and 
sucked her boobies while she wrapped her legs around me 
and pulled me close. We moved in unison, fucking each 
other as we both rose to satisfactory climaxes. There 
was plenty of passion but little affection in these 
couplings. 

If things went really well, I would stay the night 
fucking my partner until we both fell asleep from 
exhaustion. We might get together on following nights or 
choose new partners. There was little jealousy involved. 
Free and open sex was the way of the 50's. It's hard to 
believe that we horny nerds were the guys who designed 
and engineered the high tech weaponry that was the 
bulwark of America's defenses during the Cold War.

By the early 60's it all changed for me. I was 30 years 
old, almost an old man by the standards of my peers. My 
previous five years of aerospace experience made me 
something of a veteran rocket scientist. By then I was 
working for a division of that research powerhouse, Bell 
Labs. We had a contract with NASA for systems analysis 
on the entire manned space program. My primary 
responsibility was the Gemini space capsule. I got the 
job because the designer of the capsule, a Canadian, 
asked for me. He had been the chief aerodynamics 
engineer of AVRO and we had worked well together on the 
CF105 fighter.

If you remember, the early NASA lunar manned space 
program used four types of manned capsules. First was 
the Mercury. Barely more than a sealed ashcan with a man 
inside, it was designed to orbit the Earth just to see 
if it could be done. This was the one that launched John 
Glenn to fame and was the subject of the movie "The 
Right Stuff." The largest and the most well known space 
capsule was the Apollo. It was really a truck, manned by 
three astronauts and designed to ferry the Lunar 
Excursion Module, the LEM, to the moon and then return. 
The LEM was intended only be used in space. It had no 
re-entry capability. 

The Apollo would carry the LEM to near lunar orbit, 
detach it from its storage compartment and lock up with 
it. The landing crew would transfer to the LEM, descend 
to the moon's surface, walk around and pick up a few 
rocks and board the LEM to return to the Apollo. The LEM 
would be abandoned in space and the Apollo would return 
to Earth. Except no one was sure that it could be done. 
No American had ever walked in space, linked up with 
another spacecraft, or changed orbit. All that was 
tested out on my baby, the Gemini.

Although people think of the Gemini as the precursor to 
the Apollo, it was actually designed after the Apollo. 
It was the most sophisticated space capsule of the era. 
It had hatches that could open in space and permit an 
astronaut to leave and return. It could change 
orientation, rendezvous with another space capsule and 
even change its orbit. And it had enough life support 
capability for two men to survive for several weeks. It 
was the craft that proved that all of the things that 
were proposed for the Apollo were actually possible.

The responsibility of making sure that the Gemini was 
successful matured me. I supervised a team of 12 senior 
engineers who, in turn, each supervised their own much 
larger teams. My work day was spent in coordinating the 
efforts of the work groups, reviewing and signing off on 
plans, attending meetings, and giving presentations to 
various political dignitaries. One such meeting was a 
weeklong session at the west coast offices of McDonnell 
Douglas, the primary contractor of the Gemini. It was to 
make sure that everyone was on the same page. Each 
subcontracting company sent representatives.

The person in charge of the Life Sciences aspect of the 
project was a young woman, Andrea Hendricks, 
approximately my own age or maybe a year or two younger. 
Andrea was responsible for both the details of the 
Gemini life support system and the suit that the 
astronauts would wear for space walks and the lunar 
landing. She was short, barely more than five feet tall, 
and attractive but appeared a bit heavy set. 

She wore loose fitting unfashionable clothes. In fact 
she looked like a female engineer. A nerdette, you might 
say. Still, I was impressed by her no nonsense approach 
at meetings. She was a female bulldozer and obviously 
could get things done. Our coordination session lasted a 
week and we all left for home.

Andrea and I were both going back to the Washington D.C. 
area and were booked on the same flight, a TWA 
Jetstream. The name "Jetstream" was TWA's effort to 
misguide the flying public. It was simply a gussied up 
Constellation propeller plane. All the other major 
airlines were converting to faster real jets. Still it 
was a favorite for business flyers. First Class was 
divided up into little compartments. 

The stewardesses served free drinks with abandon. You 
could recline your seat into a fairly comfortable couch. 
A businessman could leave LA, booze and snooze his way 
to NYC, and arrive ready for a day's work, albeit with a 
considerable hangover. Because we knew each other on a 
first name basis, Andrea and I decided to share the same 
compartment.

As bad luck would have it the East coast was socked-in 
by a monumental blizzard. New York, Philadelphia, 
Baltimore, and Washington airports were shut down. Our 
flight was terminated in Chicago and would continue the 
next day. The airline arranged for stranded passengers 
to get a room at the O'Hare Hilton, the Chicago airport 
hotel. With all eastbound flights terminating in Chicago 
the hotel was crowded to capacity. 

Only our initials and last names were on the passenger 
manifest so the hotel assumed that Andrea and I were two 
businessmen traveling together and allocated only one 
room, the last one available. When we arrived to check 
in, the desk clerk was truly embarrassed and told me 
that he could arrange a bed in one of the meeting rooms 
for me for the night. Andrea took the matter in her own 
capable hands., 

"Don't worry about it." she said to the clerk, "Put us 
in the same room. We are both adults. We can handle the 
sleeping accommodations."

Andrea and I were treated to a nice meal in the hotel 
restaurant. We had a very pleasant conversation. Andrea 
talked freely over dinner. She was forthright, direct 
and said exactly what she meant. I guess it was her 
engineering approach to life's problems. Most people 
would interpret her directness as a lack of social 
graces but after a while I learned to appreciate her no 
nonsense approach. In the time that I knew her I never 
heard her equivocate about any issue. 

She told me that she was a devotee of yoga and liked 
classical music. She shared a Georgetown apartment with 
two girlfriends. She had no serious boyfriend but was 
always on the lookout. Then we adjourned to our room. We 
had only our hand luggage. Our suitcases had not been 
unloaded from the plane but the hotel furnished us with 
toothbrushes, toiletries, and terry cloth bathrobes. 

We looked forward to an evening of watching TV on the 
new color set and then an early bedtime. Both of us 
changed into our hotel provided robes. We sat side by 
side on the couch with a thermos flask of hot coffee, 
sipping from our cups while we watched the TV movie. I 
remember that it was the first James Bond film, "Dr. 
No."

Andrea and I flipped a coin to choose which one of the 
twin beds we wanted and who would take a shower first. I 
won on the shower, lost on the choice of beds. The 
shower was very refreshing after our long day. Andrea 
fussed around, doing the things that women do while 
waiting for me to finish, then, carrying a couple of 
clean towels, entered the bathroom as I exited.

In a short while Andrea stepped out of the shower with 
her terry cloth robe wrapped around her.

"Len," she said. "We have to talk about our sleeping 
arrangements. I'm a bit hesitant to say this but I 
always sleep in the nude. I've done it ever since I was 
a child. A nightgown always bunches up and the wrinkles 
irritate me."

"Don't let it bother you," I replied. "I promise I won't 
look."

"I'm not worried about that. I'm sure you've seen a 
naked woman before and I'm not embarrassed. It's my 
breasts. They may seem a little strange." She paused for 
a while as if deciding what to do, then she opened her 
robe and said, "Here, see what I mean."

Her breasts looked strange indeed. They were huge fleshy 
mounds hanging from her chest. Each one was as big as a 
5 pound sack of sugar and about as round. They looked 
like they belonged on a woman two, maybe three times 
Andrea's petite size. Unsupported, the well formed 
mammaries hung down below her belly button. When she sat 
down on the edge of the bed the ends of her breasts 
rested against her thighs. It wasn't that the breasts 
sagged. They were just very big and heavy. Very big 
indeed. There was a lot of meat packed inside them. 
Andrea's breasts were tipped with red areolas the size 
of saucers. In the center of each was a thimble sized 
nipple. In all other respects Andrea was a very 
attractive woman. She was very well toned, had an 
intelligent perky face, sparkling eyes, a narrow waist 
and great legs.

Some men are leg men, some are ass men, and some are tit 
men. I confess to being a bit all all three but I'm 
basically a leg man. Even in high school I would try to 
walk up the stairs behind a particularly attractive girl 
so I could sneak a look at her legs. Andrea's legs were 
certainly sexy. Her narrow ankles led to full and nicely 
shaped calves. Her thighs were well muscled pillars of 
flesh that terminated in a compact rounded butt. Indeed, 
I would give her legs 9 out of 10. But tonight Andreas's 
breasts were all that I could see. Now I'm of the "more 
than one mouthful is a waste" school but Andrea's 
breasts were overwhelming. Some things are impressive 
because of sheer size. The Saturn 5 booster was 
impressive. So were her breasts.

"You see my problem," Andrea said. "I have really big 
boobs. My doctor said that it was technically virginal 
breast hypertrophy. It's the reason I dress the way I 
do. I've got to hide them or most people will treat me 
as just a pair of tits and won't take me seriously. I 
had to show them to you up front because there wasn't a 
ghost of a chance that you wouldn't see them tonight. 
And I want to keep working with you. So look. Get it out 
of your system. You can even touch them if you want. I 
think of my boobies as body parts like hands or feet. I 
promise I won't be offended. It would be just like 
shaking my hand."

"Andrea, you look fine. I can't say that I'm not 
interested. What normal guy wouldn't be interested? But 
I respect your abilities and how much you have 
contributed to the program too much to let my male 
desires get in the way. Sleep nude if you want. I'll 
keep strictly to my side of the room."

"I'm glad you feel that way but I have another problem. 
I leak. I started lactating in my early 20s because of a 
hormone abnormality. The doctor called it a mild case of 
galactorrhea. She said that a lot of women have this 
problem. One day my breasts just started to drip milk. 
It was just a few drops at first, then slowly increased. 
Now it's an amount typical of a breastfeeding mother. 
And before you ask, I've never been pregnant."

"The doctor explained that the condition was due to a 
hormone excess probably related to my breast size. She 
said that it would diminish with time. It wasn't 
dangerous or anything. Just annoying. At first I tried 
simply absorbing the drips with breast pads but after a 
while the flow became too much. Now I have to milk 
myself a couple of times a day or it gets painful. Do 
you mind if I do it now? You can watch if you want. It's 
not gross or anything."

"No, I don't mind." I said. But my curiosity got the 
better of me. "In fact I would like to see you do it if 
it won't embarrass you."

I don't know what I thought she would do. Perhaps use a 
purse sized breast pump. I didn't expect what she 
actually did. Frankly, I was surprised. 

Andrea simply pushed her robe aside and raised her right 
boob. My eyes popped. I was startled by the fact that 
she did it so nonchalantly. A tiny drop of milk oozed 
out of the tip of the turgid nipple.

Andrea grasped her dripping breast with both hands and 
lifted it up. It was almost too big to hold in her small 
hands. She gazed admiringly at the swollen nipple and 
dug her fingers into the mound of breast flesh. This 
made the nipple bulge even more. She grasped her nipple 
between her fingers and massaged it vigorously. 

Her fingers pressed the bulging areola and a thin stream 
of milk emerged from the nipple. Without a moment's 
hesitation, Andrea raised the end of her breast to her 
mouth, wrapped her lips around the nipple, and started 
sucking. I could see her cheeks hollow and swell. 
Driblets of milk escaped from the corners of her mouth. 
Finally she had to stop to take a breath.

"See, " Andrea said. "It's really leaking. I may have 
waited too long to empty it. Would you like some milk in 
your coffee? I know I would." Her last remarks really 
shocked me. But, I'm sure that Andrea felt "In for a 
penny, in for a pound."

She leaned over and squeezed the end of her tittie, 
squirting a stream of mother's milk into her coffee cup. 
I'm sure I had a startled look on my face. I stopped 
Andrea before she could do my cup. 

"I like my coffee black." I paused for a while, then my 
curiosity got the better of me and I asked, "What does 
it taste like? I don't remember ever tasting human 
milk."

"Well, it tastes like..." She hesitated a moment, then 
said, "I can't describe it. Why don't you come over here 
and find out?" She sat down on the couch and patted the 
seat next to her. "Come over here."

I staggered over in a daze and sat next to her. She held 
her huge naked breast up with both hands and offered it 
to me.

"Now put my nipple in your mouth and start sucking. 
Don't bite me though." 

The large nipple was stiff in anticipation. It was 
nearly an inch long and half an inch thick. She put a 
hand behind my head and placed her nipple in my gaping 
mouth. I felt the rough nipple with my tongue and closed 
my lips around it. I sucked like through a straw but 
nothing came out. 

"You have to squeeze the flesh around the nipple against 
the roof of your mouth with your tongue for the milk to 
start." She coached. "That's how the babies do it. It's 
just like milking a cow." 

Well, it's not quite like milking a cow. I had milked 
cows before on my uncle's dairy farm in Wisconsin. 
Andrea's nipples were nothing like cow's teats. A cow's 
teat is long and slim and the milk can be stripped out 
of it by pulling and squeezing your hand. Andrea's 
nipple was red and turgid, like the cherry on top of an 
ice cream sundae. I wrapped my lips around it, and 
following her instructions, pressed her nipple and tit 
flesh against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. 

I was rewarded with a stream of milk. She pressed my 
head into her breast as I sucked. Although I started 
tentatively, I was really getting into it. I sucked so 
strongly that I thought that I would swallow her whole 
boob. That would have been a tough job.

Andrea's milk was warm, thin, and quite sweet with a 
vaguely bitter aftertaste. It tasted a bit like melted 
vanilla ice cream without the vanilla. I don't know what 
I expected but I rather enjoyed her flavor. "Of course, 
you idiot," I thought to myself. "It has to taste good 
so babies will like it."

I flicked Andrea's nipple from side to side with my 
tongue. My lips opened wider and I sucked more of her 
tit flesh into my mouth, still rubbing the nipple with 
my tongue. I think I might have gotten most of her 
areola in. As I sucked, squirts of milk splashed into my 
throat and I had to swallow repeatedly. 

I could feel my teeth lightly pressing against the 
surface as Andrea allowed her breast to slip slowly out 
of my mouth. Then I sucked it back in, my teeth closing 
slightly as I started nibbling on the nipple. I had to 
open my mouth a bit to swallow and catch a breath. The 
wet breast slipped from my mouth until the engorged 
nipple caught on my teeth and kept the breast from 
sliding entirely out. My tongue kept up its motion as I 
chewed. Andrea moaned in delight.

When the milk from the first breast was exhausted Andrea 
substituted the other breast. The switch was almost 
seamless. I was almost in a daze, my head buried in 
breast meat, totally occupied with sucking and 
swallowing. Andrea's breast was full and meaty. Both of 
my hands were barely enough to encircle it. I pulled the 
stiff nipple tightly into my mouth.

As I nursed her I became aware that I had a raging 
erection. It pushed a tent in my robe. I hoped Andrea 
wouldn't notice. No such luck. Andrea's free hand 
explored my body. I felt her fingers on my waist, my 
butt, and on my robe over my penis. She fished out my 
hard cock and began stroking. It was so matter of fact 
that I had no time to pull back. 

I was primed to explode. With a few strong strokes I 
erupted, spewing cum over her hand. I'm sure she could 
tell the instant I came by the way my jaw clamped down 
on her tit. She held me even tighter to her chest as I 
continued to suck. Finally the milk supply from both 
breasts was exhausted. We both sat up, her naked 
mammaries hanging obscenely out of her robe, my now limp 
cock protruding from my own robe.

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved," I said. "It's really 
unlike me. I just got carried away."

"It's all my fault," Andrea said as she stuffed her wet 
boobs back into her robe. "I started the whole thing. 
And I enjoyed your mouth on my nipple. You really do 
know how to milk a cow. I liked how you did it."

We talked for a while but we simply danced around the 
topic. I knew that before the evening was over I would 
fuck Andrea. She knew it too but we were bound by 
convention to observe the proprieties. She took off her 
robe and exposed both of her breasts in their entirety. 
These were not the breasts of a nymphet but mature, 
sexual boobs promising hours of erotic pleasure. She put 
her hands under them, offering them to me as if she was 
giving me a precious gift.

My cock was already starting to erect again. Andrea had 
something more interesting in mind than having me just 
nibble on her boobs. Dropping to her knees, she grabbed 
my cock and jammed it into her mouth. She stroked and 
sucked, giving me my first good blowjob in over a year. 
And it was one of the best ones. My cock became hard as 
iron. 

She was going to make me cum again. But before I came, I 
grasped her under the arms and pulled her up, lifting 
her like a baby. I deposited her in the middle of the 
bed. It was the one she had selected after winning the 
coin toss. She spread her legs and raised her arms to 
me, welcoming me to her body.

Andrea's hand guided my cock to its target. It pushed 
her wet pussy lips apart as I penetrated her cunt. No 
hesitation. I just plunged into her. She wrapped her 
legs around me and pulled me to her with her strong 
calves, so far that my cock bottomed, our pubic bones 
collided. Her clit was being massaged by long strokes of 
my penis. I felt Andrea's left breast start to leak. It 
was the one that had not been fully emptied. She pushed 
the nipple to my mouth. What a wonderful feeling, 
fucking and sucking at the same time. 

It had been a long time since I had fucked a woman like 
this. Fucked, fucked, YES!! That was my hard cock in her 
cunt. Andrea had marvelous muscle control of her pussy. 
Her well lubricated vagina clutched and massaged my 
penis as I thrust in and out. Much better than a hand 
job. YES!!

Andrea was being royally fucked. Just as I suspect she 
wanted to be. My first climax of the evening had taken 
the urgency out of my passion and I was now in it for 
the long haul. I tried to play it cool. It was all I 
could do not to shout for joy. I knew that I was going 
to ejaculate soon. My body began to respond almost 
automatically.

I could feel Andrea squirming beneath me. She jammed her 
breast tighter into my mouth, squeezing the end with her 
hand to force the nipple deep down my throat. Her legs 
wrapped around me, her beautiful calves pressed on my 
back, forcing me deeper into her. "Suck me harder," she 
cried. "Harder. Suck my big titties. Don't be gentle. My 
titties love it! Bite me! Chew me! Yes, YES!!"

Andrea clutched me tighter. Her body began to shake. She 
bucked. She screamed, "OH MY GOD! DO IT TO ME! FUCK ME! 
FUCK ME! I'M GOING TO CUM! OH FUCK! I'M STARTING TO CUM! 
FUCK, FUCK! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING RIGHT NOW! YES, 
YES! I'M CUUUMMMING! YES, YES!!"

So much for being cool. We both came in the mother of 
all climaxes. The orgasm of a lifetime. Andrea grasped 
my head between her hands and kissed me passionately.

"Thank you Len. Thank you," she managed to gasp as she 
snuggled in my arms.

Just to prove that it wasn't a fluke, we waited a while 
to catch our breath then fucked each other again. Every 
scientist knows that you have to repeat an experiment to 
test its validity. The results were exactly the same. 
This time I anticipated Andrea's earthquake when she 
climaxed and held on tight. I concentrated on hitting 
her G-spot, driving my penis against the front wall of 
her vagina. Andrea screamed even louder when she 
orgasmed. YES!!! 

About midnight we decided we needed some refreshments. 
The restaurant was closed so we raided the mini bar. 
Andrea said her breasts needed emptying every four 
hours. Her huge boobs forced us to improvise a sexual 
position not mentioned in the Kama Sutra. To accommodate 
our love making and breast milking at the same time 
Andrea sat in my lap facing me, skewered on my hard 
penis. She raised one of her nipples to my mouth and the 
other to her own mouth. 

We fucked each other gently while we cooperatively 
feasted on her milk. Andrea seemed to enjoy nursing from 
her mammoth tit as much as I enjoyed nursing on its 
sister. I'm sure that some men, and a few women as well, 
might think that drinking human milk is yucky but, as I 
said, I rather liked the taste. And, of course I liked 
the container that Andrea's milk came in. 

I've got to say that simultaneously fucking and sucking 
Andrea was the single most erotic experience of my life. 
Even after fondling them for half the night, I couldn't 
get over the size of Andrea's tits. Andrea loved the 
fact that I appreciated her huge breasts as well. She 
said that that many of her dates were turned off by 
them.

Andrea sat on her bed, her body propped against several 
pillows resting against the headboard. Both of us were 
nude. We had been making love for four hours and were 
relaxing for a few moments. Her legs were bent, knees 
elevated. I was lying with my head on her lap, in the 
valley made by her stomach and her raised thighs. My 
head was cushioned by her pubic mound. Her nipples swept 
over my face as she moved her body. I fondled her 
breasts, circling them, feeling their weight. 

I managed to capture one of Andrea's nipples in my mouth 
and gently tongued the end. Andrea moved the other 
nipple between my lips and asked me to suck on them both 
at the same time. She said that it was stereo eroticism 
and she liked the way it felt. She would do it to 
herself whenever she got the chance. 

After consuming the entire contents of the mini bar we 
talked to each other in a way that we would never do 
when sober. Thankfully the airline was picking up the 
tab.

Andrea and I must have been more than a little drunk 
when she told me how much she loved playing with her 
boobies. And who wouldn't I thought. She would hold her 
big breasts in her arms, gathering them close to her 
body. She stroked their surfaces, kissing them, petting 
them like puppies, just loving them. Body parts or not, 
she enjoyed using them for her pleasure. 

I had to agree. If I was a woman and had breasts like 
that, I would use them myself every night. I would hug 
them, caress them, rub the nipples until they got hard. 
Then I would suck the nipples raw. Probably, if I were 
Andrea, I would play with my cunt too until I came. 

She talked freely about the problems of having outsized 
breasts. She felt that there was no male parallel to 
having a set of large boobs sticking out of the front of 
your chest. Men just didn't appreciate the problem. Her 
titties were heavy. So heavy that she sometimes lost her 
balance if she moved too quickly. She said that there 
was no comfortable way to sleep with boobs as big as 
hers. Lying on her stomach was difficult. She could lay 
on her side and stretch a breast up to her mouth and 
gently tongue the nipple.

Andrea felt that since her breasts dominated her life 
she would damned well get some pleasure out of them. 
After she started lactating she would nurse from her own 
boobies and massage her clitoris until she came. She 
found that one thing good about having such big tits is 
that she could suck them easily. That was a side benefit 
of her condition her doctor didn't tell her about. She 
discovered it on her own. 

She talked quietly, almost a confession, telling me of 
her life as a female engineer in the space program. Most 
women were secretaries or assistants. A woman in the 
engineering ranks was treated as an anomaly. Sort of 
like a talking dog. Her life was one of quiet 
frustration. Few senior engineers considered her 
competent. She was never given any responsibility. She 
had dates with men in the program but was largely 
ignored in the work environment.

She was not used to being ignored. In order to cope with 
her frustration she took matters into her own hand. 
Giving herself a climax became her solution to life's 
little crises. The climaxes were roughly like hitting 
the reset button on her mind. Sort of an instant dose of 
tranquilizer. If she had an argument with her coworkers, 
if she couldn't solve a problem at work, if her bank 
account didn't balance, if she misplaced her car keys, 
she relieved her frustration by retiring to her room or 
a locked stall in the woman's lavatory and giving 
herself a quick orgasm. Andrea said that there was no 
emotional involvement in her autoerotic behavior. It was 
simply physical therapy. 

She said that while she masturbated frequently it was 
merely in response to the stresses of the job. Some of 
the NASA engineers ate to excess, some drank too much. 
Andrea regarded her cunt as her safety valve.

Eventually, Andrea said, she was given more and more 
responsible assignments. Despite her sex she was 
elevated in rank and eventually reached her present 
management position. She found it useful to play down 
her feminine attributes and deliberately adopt a dowdy 
appearance.
 
Andrea continued her quiet monolog. "I developed early. 
I started having my periods when I was 11. By that time 
my breasts were almost C cup size. By the time I was 12 
they were D cups. And they went on from there. Mom and 
most of my aunts had outsized busts and told me that I 
would get used to mine in time."

She paused, then she giggled a bit at what must have 
been a humorous memory. "It was a bit weird for a girl 
my age to have such big tits. Mom had to shop for me in 
the husky boy's department at Sears. I could fit 
ordinary girl's jeans but I had to wear shirts made for 
fat boys. When I started wearing bras Mom had to shop in 
the matron's section of the woman's department to get me 
properly fitted."

"In high school I used to hate my boobies because I 
couldn't wear all those cute clothes that were 
advertised in Seventeen. I even considered breast 
reduction surgery but I hated the thought of a surgeon 
taking a knife to my endowments. The surgery would 
reduce the size of my boobs to normal proportions but I 
would also lose a lot of erotic sensitivity. 

I couldn't accept the idea of simply chopping off the 
ends of my tits. I had nightmares about the doctor 
simply putting my mammoth breasts on a paper cutter and 
slamming the blade down while I watched the ends of my 
boobies drop into the wastebasket below. The nightmare 
made me give up any thought of reduction surgery. 
Besides I was learning to accommodate to my breasts. 
After a while I began to enjoy them."

"My growing boobs got me noticed by the boys. Sometimes 
they went out of their way to brush against me in a 
crowded hallway and grab a feel of my titties. I was 
surprised that the boys liked my breasts. I liked to 
touch them in bed at night and my nipples felt good when 
I rubbed and squeezed them gently. But while I liked to 
play with my own titties, I couldn't figure out why the 
boys liked them. They couldn't feel what I felt."

"By the time I was a junior in high school my breasts 
had grown even bigger. I found that if I lowered my head 
a bit and pulled my breast upward I could get my nipples 
into my mouth. Sucking on my own nipples changed my 
bedtime behavior. Licking and chewing my boobies felt 
very good. My nightly ritual was to eat my tittie and 
play with my pussy until I had a climax. I often went to 
sleep with one of my own nipples between my lips. It was 
like a baby with a pacifier."

"After I began to have sex I began to really like my 
oversized boobies. My dates would play with them and 
lick the nipples. Sometimes they used them as reins when 
they fucked me. My cunt was normal for a teen aged girl. 
I discovered that I liked being fucked. I never saw what 
the big deal about being a virgin was anyway. I thought 
it was stupid to deny yourself all that pleasure just so 
you could prove to your prospective husband that no 
other cock had been in your cunt before. He had probably 
banged dozens of other girls himself before he met you. 

I liked it when boys fucked me from behind, pulling my 
body back and forth with my big boobies. I even liked to 
grab my nipples and pull my boobs really hard just like 
the boys did. I still do. You know, my boobs are so big 
that I bet that I could stretch them far enough to fuck 
myself with my nipple."

"No way," I replied, sitting up. "I'd have to see you do 
it before I would believe it. Your breasts are big but I 
don't think they are that big. You might be able to 
touch your clit with your nipple but I don't think you 
could pull it down enough to actually put it in your 
vagina. I'll bet you anything you want that you can't do 
it."

"Well," slurred Andrea, "I've never tried to fuck myself 
with my tittie before so it's really an experiment. The 
only way for us to find out if I can do it is for me to 
try it. I'll have fun trying."

Andrea stood up, fluffed her hair, stretched and bent 
over a few times as if to loosen herself up. When she 
leaned over to touch her toes, her nipples almost 
reached the floor as soon as her fingers. Her breasts 
were amazing. 

"Now for the big experiment." 

Andrea resumed her seat on her bed with her back against 
the headboard. She raised her hips as far as she could 
and leaned forward dropping her left shoulder. This put 
her left nipple below the level of her now engorged 
clit. It didn't quite reach far enough to bend backward 
and insert into her cunt. She could pull it down with 
her hands but the moment she released it and it sprang 
back. She needed both hands for what she had in mind. 
What to do? 

Andrea pulled the soft terry cloth belt off of her 
bathrobe and looped it twice around her dangling boob. 
She pulled it tight and knotted it. Binding her breast 
worked just as she expected. The end bulged like a water 
balloon and stretched the tit at least two more inches. 
She reached down with her left hand and tugged up under 
her left thigh. Her yoga practice must have kept Andrea 
quite flexible and now it paid off. Her nipple was now 
well below clit level. She paused for a moment, admiring 
the fact that she could bend so far.

The end of her breast was between her thighs and she as 
pressed them together the end bulged out still further. 
Still pulling on her left thigh with her left hand she 
reached her right hand beneath her legs and clutched the 
end of her tit. By bending it backwards she could easily 
rub her nipple on her clit. 

"Oh wow! That feels good. I'll have to remember that." 

Andrea grasped the stiff nipple of her left breast and 
pulled it out as far as she could. And then she did it. 
She stuffed the nipple and a bit of her areola into her 
wet cunt holding it there with her fingers. Her right 
middle finger penetrated her cunt and pushed the nipple 
in farther. Andrea worked the nipple with her middle 
finger moving it in and out slightly. The breast flesh 
around her areola massaged her clitoris with its 
movements. 

She turned her face to me, obviously proud of what she 
could do. She tried to smile but there was a look of 
barely controlled sexual tension in her eyes. She was 
obviously trying to hold back an orgasm.

Her finger motions became more and more aggressive, her 
nipple harder and harder. The nipple was now well into 
her cunt and the little bumps of her areola were rubbing 
against her engorged clit. Between Andrea's gasps of 
pleasure I could hear the squishy noises that the nipple 
made moving in and out of the vagina. The turgid nipple 
was making love to her receptive clitoris. 

Andrea pulled herself down further with her left hand 
and shoved more and more of her areola into her cunt. 
Everything was well lubricated from her natural moisture 
and the few drops of milk streaming from her tortured 
tit. The fingers of her right hand beat a tattoo on both 
her breast and the swollen vaginal lips. 

"I'm really doing it," she managed to say. "I'm fucking 
myself with my own tit." She continued to work the 
nipple in and out. Then she turned to me and talked 
quietly, almost in a whisper, "Oh, it feels so good!. My 
titty and clitty are kissing each other. Fucking each 
other. I love it!. It's from both ends of me. I can't 
believe I can actually fuck myself with my own tit. What 
a turn on!" 

The signs of a coming climax were all over her body, 
slow at first because of her awkward position, then 
becoming more and more intense. I could see the 
vibrations of her legs on the end of the tit captured 
between her thighs. Her calves tensed, pointing her 
toes. 

She tried to prolong the moment but her fingers kept 
moving out of her control. Faster and harder. Faster and 
harder. Thighs squeezing her breast. Waves of breast 
flesh rippled over her extended boob. Nipple rubbed 
against clitoris. Andrea made a noise like a cat 
whimpering. It looked like she could barely stand the 
pleasure. She would cum in just a few more seconds. Then 
Andrea's legs spasmed and she exploded in a massive 
climax, uncoiling from her cramped position like a 
released spring.

"I did it!" Andrea shouted as she lay splayed out on the 
bed. She had a bit of a finger bruise on her thigh from 
the tightness of her grip. After a short rest she sat up 
she brought her abused nipple to her mouth and savored 
the combined taste of milk and pussy juices. Andrea shut 
her eyes and breathed deeply. Then she turned to me and 
held out her arms.

"It's your turn now, big boy. I won the bet. You said 
you would do anything I asked. Pay off by fucking me so 
hard I can't stand."

Andrea's sex show had made my cock as hard as it had 
ever been. In retrospect, I know that she had intended 
to seduce me but I was certainly a willing victim. I'll 
never know if it was a maneuver to ingratiate herself 
with her boss or to amuse herself during the hours of 
snowbound delay. Clearly I had fallen for one of the 
standard plots of porn fiction. You know the one, the 
lactating woman on a trip who finds her breasts swelling 
so badly that she has to find some accommodating man who 
will suck the milk out of her titties. I was that man.

But all that was irrelevant. No matter what her original 
intent, Andrea got caught in her own trap. Our sexual 
pleasure was so intense that the original purpose for 
the seduction was forgotten. We made love to each other 
in an almost manic fashion, each pulling orgasms out of 
the other's body when we should have been totally 
exhausted. We were two animals in heat. I ate her cunt. 
She sucked my cock. We fucked again and again, literally 
quivering in repeated ecstacy. It was a marathon of sex. 
The best ever for both of us. We never used my bed at 
all.

Our night long orgy was interrupted by a wakeup call the 
next morning. It wasn't truly a wakeup call since we 
hadn't slept at all the entire night. It informed us 
that the runways at National Airport in Washington had 
been cleared and our flight would take off in two hours. 
Just in time to dress, have breakfast and make the 
plane. The flight back was uneventful. After we landed 
Andrea and I went our separate ways. Her only 
acknowledgment of our shared adventure was a peck on the 
cheek and a whisper in my ear, "Thank you SO much for 
last night." 

The funny thing about our brief affair was that before 
being grounded in Chicago I never thought about Andrea 
in a sexual way. I respected her as a professional and 
that was it. After we got back to Washington we met in 
meetings but neither of us contacted the other for a 
repeat performance. I guess it was always on the table. 
We exchanged knowing glances from time to time. But 
nothing ever happened. Still I'm sure Andrea and I will 
both remember that snowbound night forever.

After my return to DC I received an offer from a New 
York university to head up a newly formed engineering 
department. I would be appointed a tenured professor 
with a significant research budget. It was an offer that 
was too good to pass up. I left NASA for New York. The 
Gemini project was just about completed anyway. 

And that's how the voyage to the moon was launched.

TWO YEARS LATER:

A couple of years after I accepted the professorship in 
New York I was invited to give the keynote lecture at a 
conference on space exploration. To my great surprise 
Andrea was one of the conference organizers. After I 
gave my speech I was invited to a small cocktail party 
given by the organizing committee. I shook everyone's 
hand, including Andrea's. She looked almost the same as 
she did two years ago. Attractive, proper and dressed in 
unfashionable clothes. I realized that I was only one of 
the few people in the room that knew what was under 
those clothes. 

Andrea knew, of course, and perhaps one or two men that 
she had favored with her voluptuous body. I felt twinge 
of jealousy. I hoped that there were not too many. It 
was a little difficult to talk to Andrea at the party. I 
had no classes the next day and Andrea's portion of the 
conference was over. Since she had to remain in town 
until the wrap up at the end of the week she had a 
couple of free days. She told me that she intended to 
spend them shopping and perhaps catch a Broadway show. I 
took the hint and invited her to lunch.

The first few minutes of our lunch were awkward. We had 
a bit of catching up to do, tracing all our mutual 
friends who had left NASA. What made it more difficult 
for me was that I couldn't take my eyes off Andrea's 
bodice. I wished for Superman's x-ray vision to catch a 
view of her massive mammaries. Andrea couldn't help but 
notice. 

"Len," she said, with a bit of annoyance in her voice, 
"I'm up here. Not down there. Look me in the face when 
you talk to me."

I was properly chastised. I tried to carry on my end of 
the conversation but after that rebuke I couldn't think 
of anything to say that wouldn't sound sexist. Finally 
Andrea took pity on me.

"This isn't like you. You seem so uptight. I know that 
you were thinking of my boobs when I scolded you. They 
are just the same as they ever were. Big and dripping. 
You know all about them. And to answer the question that 
you obviously want to ask, I've let a few other men use 
them over the last two years. You didn't put your brand 
on them, you know. Just a few tooth marks." 

Her last words made my stomach sink. I experienced a 
mixture of intense jealousy and a bit of relief. I hated 
the guts of the guys who played with her tits after I 
moved to New York. How dare they touch Andrea's tits. On 
the other hand I was relieved that she had just a few 
lovers. In the same period I had been intimate with a 
number of women. Still, I had developed the unreasonable 
belief that everything connected to Andrea was mine. 

Andrea continued, "Now why don't you relax for a while 
and stop thinking about my breasts. They are just big 
blobs of meat. But they belong to me. I can do what I 
want with them. Have a drink or two, and meet me about 
eight tonight for a late night snack in my hotel room. 
We can talk then. I'm at the Regency, room 766. In the 
meantime I'll go shopping." We said goodbye and went our 
separate ways.

I dithered around all the remainder of the afternoon. It 
was the Spring break and we had no classes that week. I 
didn't really want to see Andrea and restart what would 
eventually result in a frustrating situation. She and I 
were two different people, each with our own career 
agenda. No good could come of it. On the other hand I 
was obsessed with her boobs. I had to experience their 
magnificence again just to make sure that my memories of 
two years ago were not an alcohol fueled fantasy. One 
look and perhaps a touch wouldn't hurt. She would be 
returning to Washington in a couple of days.

So that night I headed for Andrea's hotel room carrying 
a bottle of good Scotch, a brand I remembered she liked. 
Andrea was dressed casually in jeans and a loose man's 
shirt. I handed her the bottle and she went to the 
fridge to get ice cubes and a splash of seltzer. Room 
service knocked on the door five minutes after I arrived 
carrying a tray with a couple of steak sandwiches and 
trimmings. I tried to pay the bill but the porter told 
me that NASA had already paid for it. I tipped him 
generously. 

And there we were, Andrea and I sitting on the large 
sofa. I spoke first. "Andrea, I would like to apologize 
for my rude behavior this afternoon. I acted like a 
college sophomore, maybe even like a college freshman. I 
hope you will forgive me."

"No problem, Len. Look - I know you wanted to see my 
boobs. I'm used to it by now. If I wear anything the 
least bit revealing when I walk down the street, men 
will follow me for blocks just to see my titties bounce. 
If I go to the beach in an ordinary bathing suit, a 
cluster of dirty minded men will hang around hoping I 
have a wardrobe malfunction. So what you did was hardly 
out of the ordinary. I just over reacted. Now let's eat 
our sandwiches and relax with each other." Andrea was 
being her very direct self. She simply said what she 
meant.

Surprisingly enough we did relax. The steak sandwiches 
were excellent and a couple of Scotch and sodas washed 
them down well. Andrea and I sat next to each on the 
sofa and talked over old times. The Gemini, the space 
craft we both worked on was a great success and the 
Apollo was flying around the Moon. 

Many of the engineers that worked with us had gone off 
to much higher paying defense jobs. My direct boss had 
even become Assistant Secretary of Defense. Sometime 
during the middle of our conversation Andrea moved 
closer to me. We kept talking but the distance between 
us was shrinking. Finally we were sitting shoulder to 
shoulder. I rose to refresh our drinks. 

As I handed Andrea her glass she turned to me and said, 
"You know, Len, I wish you had put your brand on my 
tits. I told you that I let a few guys use them after 
our snowbound night. That much is true, but I said it 
mostly to make you jealous. 

I like having sex but few of my dates had the slightest 
idea of how to make love to me. They didn't know what to 
do with breasts like mine. They had no imagination. All 
they wanted to do was stick their cocks in me. Most of 
the time I had to keep my bra on when I let guys fuck 
me. My tits just freak most men out."

"The wonderful thing is that even though you and I only 
spent one night together we figured out right away what 
turned the other on. It never happened to me like that 
before."

I couldn't think of anything to say after that soliloquy 
so I took Andrea in my arms and kissed her. The kiss 
might have been a spur of the moment inspiration for me 
but Andrea took advantage of it right away. She put her 
arms around me and kissed me back. One of my hands found 
her ass and pulled her close. Except I couldn't stand as 
close to her as would have liked. Andrea's breasts 
formed a barrier as formidable as the Maginot Line. 
Which as I recall wasn't that formidable after all.

I finally managed to say, "Andrea, you said something 
about me putting my brand on your breasts. I'm not sure 
how I would go about it but I'd like to try. What do I 
do?"

She paused or a while, thinking. "Before you answer, 
Andrea, I think I need another drink. Can I get you one 
too?" She nodded.

We started on our fourth drink of the evening and I was 
beginng to feel a bit woozy. I remembered that Andrea 
became more uninhibited the more she drank

"Len, for a bright college professor you are really a 
dummy. I'll spell it out for you. You have to get your 
hands on my tits before you can do anything. I'm not 
sure I'm going to let you do that. I'm still pretty 
angry at you. But if I let you touch me you will have to 
rub my big breasts all over and get my nipples hard. 
Then you will have to suck all the milk out of my 
boobies. 

"Yes, Len. I'm still lactating. After that you will have 
to take me to bed and fuck me so hard that I'll forget 
that you haven't called me for two years. Think you can 
handle all that? When we finish we can discuss branding 
my tits."

Could I handle it? Probably not. So I did the only thing 
I could think of. I kissed her again. This time slowly 
and passionately. And, to my surprise, I absolutely 
meant it. I had grown more than a little fond of Andrea 
in the years that I had known her. I just had to 
convince her.

"Before we can even think of starting, I have to get out 
of this shirt. It itches but it hides my boobies. And 
while I'm doing that, I think you should get out of your 
street clothes. Branding my breasts might get messy."

She stood up and unbuttoned the plaid shirt and shrugged 
it off her shoulders. Her bra was the next obstacle. It 
was a real piece of engineering. I used to think that 
rocket scientists were clever but bra designers are at 
the top of the heap. Andrea's mammaries stressed the 
fabric in all directions. Support lines woven into the 
material contained the flesh yet didn't restrain her 
movements. At least not too much. It was a Brooklyn 
Bridge of a bra. Andrea saw my appreciative gaze. She 
smiled as only another engineer would.

"Do you like my breast bucket, Len? I did the stress 
analysis myself. It's a real job isn't it? I have to get 
the bras specially made."

Andrea fumbled a bit with the snaps and her breasts 
swung free, astounded to be in the open air. They were 
as huge as I remembered. Magnificent but huge. My mind 
had not played tricks on me. She stood tall letting her 
breasts hang to their full length. Unsupported her 
nipples reached below her belly button. As I watched, a 
little drop of milk collected at the end of one of the 
nipples. Andrea's breasts were a wonder of the world. At 
least of my world.

"Now let's see if you remember how to use these 
titties."

She sat on the sofa next to me, still wearing her jeans. 
I ran my hands hands down the length of her breasts 
marveling at the texture. My hands could barely reach 
around one. Her boobs were heavy, so heavy that Andrea 
could do damage swinging them from side to side. I 
wouldn't be surprised if they were prehensile. Sort of 
like an elephant's trunk. I think I must be getting a 
little drunk.

But drunk or not, I knew that Andrea had to be nursed or 
her tits would soon spew milk. I raised the end of 
Andrea's breast to my mouth. It was the one I saw 
leaking. Her tittie rewarded me with the taste of 
mother's milk, although technically it was just Andrea's 
milk since she hadn't been a mother yet. I nibbled 
around the turgid nipple to start the flow. Andrea put 
her arm around my head and hugged me close. 

"Thank you so much, Len. I really need to be emptied. 
You haven't lost your touch. Yes, milk me. Drain me."

I swallowed a mouthful, then in the middle of a suck I 
had a better idea. I dropped her bountiful breast and 
sat up. 

"Andrea," I asked, "can you milk yourself?"

"Of course, why do you ask?"

I reached over to the coffee table and retrieved our two 
empty drink glasses. They were ordinary 8 ounce glass 
tumblers. The kind found in every motel and hotel in the 
country.

"Andrea, what I would like you to do is empty your 
breasts into these glasses. Try to get the same amount 
in each. I'll help. I'll do one while you do the other. 
I think we will need each glass half full. That's about 
half a pint total. Do you think your breasts can give 
that much?"

She thought for a while. "I never measured how much 
could give but I think half a pint sounds reasonable. My 
lactation doesn't seem to be slowing down. I'll probably 
keep dripping for another ten years. At least until 
menopause. I've got tits like a cow."

I put a drinking glass under one nipple and, using the 
technique I learned on my uncle's Wisconsin farm, 
started stripping Andrea's bountiful boob. I wrapped 
both hands around the end of her breast and started 
compressing my fingers down towards the nipple. A thin 
stream of milk emerged to be collected in the drinking 
glass. She did the other. We sat side beside on the 
sofa. 

Andrea leaned a bit forward so that her nipples were 
centered over the collection glasses. Both of us 
assiduously milked her breasts. It was not an erotic 
moment. More like a bovine one. But I had accomplished 
my psychological objective. I had turned the situation 
from one in which I was a lovelorn swain pleading for a 
touch of her body into an engineering problem of how to 
drain her breasts efficiently. 

Regardless of the fact that they were her tits, Andrea 
was enough of an engineer that such a challenge could 
not be ignored. We were cooperating on achieving the 
same objective and were on an equal status again. But I 
also had my hands on her tits. I took every opportunity 
to caress them gently and lovingly. My fingers lingered 
on her nipple. To put it bluntly I was feeling her up. 
At least feeling her boob up.

"OK, Len. I think we've got it all. Now what?" Both 
glasses were half filled. Her boobies had indeed 
produced a half pint of milk. I'm sure we could have 
gotten more if we had waited a while but we had enough.

"Andrea, stand up. I'm going to take off your jeans. Or 
you can do it yourself. I'll be back in a few seconds."

I picked up the two glasses and carried them off to the 
little kitchenette. There was ice in the freezer 
compartment. I added three cubes to each glass and then 
filled them to the brim with the last of the Scotch. A 
quick stir and I carried them back to the coffee table. 

Andrea had doffed her jeans and was standing with her 
legs slightly apart, clad only in her panties. I had 
almost forgotten how lovely her legs were. Pure columns 
of perfection. If it wasn't for her humongous breasts 
she could have been a leg model. But her tits 
overshadowed all her other attributes. No one noticed 
her perky intelligent face, twinkling eyes, or her tight 
torso except me. I loved her legs. 

Offering her a glass, I said "This is a special drink. 
It is an Andrea's milk punch. It is inspired by New York 
politico Adam Clayton Powell. He drinks his Scotch in a 
glass of milk to sooth his ulcers. It tastes delicious 
too. Just like you. Sip it slowly. It has a special 
kick."

Andrea sat down on the sofa, took a sip, smiled, and 
patted the seat next to her. I sat down and sipped my 
drink. It was delicious indeed. Scotch and Andrea's 
milk. What a delightful combination.

We sat side by side, slowly sipping our cocktails. I had 
my arm around her and she leaned heavily on me. I gently 
massaged her back while she made appreciative sounds. 
She shifted her position a bit so that I could fondle 
her boobs. Despite her claim that they were just body 
parts, she loved to have them caressed. The saucer sized 
areolae that covered the end of each breast seemed to 
have darkened a bit but the nipples were just as 
prominent. She rubbed one of her own nipples and it got 
even stiffer.

"Look at my nipple. See how big it is getting. I love my 
nipples. I could suck and chew on them all day. It's a 
wonder that I can get anything done. I know you like 
them too. I see how you look at them and touch them. My 
doctor says that I have feeding nipples. Most women with 
breasts as big as mine have flat nipples. But my nipples 
seem to have a good internal structure. Perfect for a 
baby's mouth. 

"I would like to have babies some day. I want babies 
hanging off my tits like grapes on a vine. I've had just 
about enough of shooting things off into space. I want 
things shot into me. I want your sperm in me. I want 
your babies. It's all I've been able to think about for 
the last two years. Why didn't I make you fuck me when 
you were in Washington? Why didn't you call me?"

The conversation was getting stickier than I intended. I 
didn't know if Andrea was chastising me, propositioning 
me, or proposing to me. Our drinks were half empty. I 
took advantage of a brief pause to arise and say I 
needed more ice. Which I actually did. I took my glass 
and Andrea's and went to the kitchenette to add a couple 
of ice cubes to each.

When I returned Andrea had taken off her panties and was 
lying full length on the sofa like a Vegas odalisque. 
She resembled the Naked Maja painting but had bigger 
tits. She held out her arms to me. This was the vision 
that had haunted my memory for the last couple of years. 
I respected Andrea intellectually but my body simply 
lusted for her physically. I put down the half filled 
glasses and buried my face between her legs. I worked my 
way up her shapely calves, past her strong thighs, to 
her vulva. 

Nipples be damned. I wanted her cunt. In less time than 
it takes to tell my tongue was in her vagina lapping up 
her juices. She closed her thighs around my head and 
held me tight. She squirmed under me. She shuddered. Her 
legs got stiff. I couldn't hear very well because my 
head was buried in her flesh but I thought I heard her 
shouting YES, YES!

The next few minutes were rather hazy but somehow we 
ended up on Andrea's bed in the 69 position. My teeth 
were nibbling gently on her clitoris and she was giving 
me a blow job. I still don't remember how we got there. 
I might have carried her. Except for her huge tits she 
was a tiny thing.

The rest of the evening was a repeat of our marathon 
orgy of two years ago except that we weren't nearly as 
drunk. We fucked and sucked and fucked some more. We 
orgasmed repeatedly, Andrea screaming her passion every 
time she climaxed. She didn't have to repeat her 
demonstration of fucking herself with her nipple. 

I knew she could do it and I didn't need another 
performance. After making love for nearly an hour we sat 
next to each other in bed - each of us was waiting for 
the answer to the unspoken question. "Now what?"

Andrea spoke first. "Len, I enjoyed that a lot, but was 
that it? Was it just for old time's sake or do you want 
to fuck me more? Do we just go our separate ways now?"

I thought a long time before answering. "Andrea, I've 
known you for more than five years. I've respected you 
and cherished your advice as a colleague. We are 
intellectually compatible. But our intimacy has been 
life changing for me. I've never met anyone like you. I 
need you. I don't know if we love each other yet but I 
don't want to be without you. Now how do we solve that 
problem?"

"We don't. We just move in together and fuck each 
other's brains out. The problem will solve itself in 
time. I had a very wise old aunt that explained all 
about love to me. It was when I never thought that I 
would ever find a love like in the romance novels and 
movies. I mean who would ever love me, a wise ass 
munchkin engineer with freakish tits. 

My aunt said, "What do you think love is? It's not rose 
petals and perfume. It's not walking on air and hearing 
bells when you kiss. It's simply two people who tolerate 
each other's company enough to live together for the 
rest of their lives without killing each other. 
Everything else is frosting on the cake. Take it from 
me. I've been married four times and I know!"

Andrea left for a few moments to go and wash up. She 
came back holding what remained of our glasses of milk 
punch. The ice had melted the ice and the liquid was at 
room temperature. She took a sip.

"You know, that's not half bad. It tastes like an 
alcoholic version of me. I sort of dig the taste. The 
temperature is right too. It's a cooler than the milk 
from my tit and warmer than milk from the refrigerator. 
What do you think, Len?"

"Well, if you really must know, this tastes pretty good. 
I like the milk directly from your breast better but 
it's certainly less alcoholic. But before we talk about 
the quality of your tit milk, I think we should discuss 
our future. Me, I can't go back to Washington. I have a 
tenured professorship and a long term contract. Dozens 
of people depend on me. I don't want a remote 
relationship. 

"I want to feel you next to me in bed every night. I'm 
afraid that I would get really paranoid if I couldn't 
see you every day. I never thought that I would be the 
jealous type but the thought that you let some guys put 
their hands on your boobs makes me furious. Use your 
brilliant mind to find a solution to our dilemma."

Andrea kissed me. "Thank you for being jealous. I love 
it. But we might as well get everything out in the open. 
I don't want any secrets between us. We are both adults. 
We lived for many years before we met. I'm sure that 
both of us did a lot of things that we are not 
particularly proud of. It's a long story and I think you 
should know all the details."

"I know you had a lot of girls before me. I've heard 
that you fucked almost every skirt in the agency. The 
women at NASA gossip a lot. And I didn't exactly keep my 
legs crossed either. This has been a test drive for both 
of us. I am the way I am and you are the way you are. I 
don't expect that we will make any changes in each 
other. What we see is what we will get. If anything 
bothers you, now is the time to talk about it."

"As for my boobs, I once told you that I used to think 
of them just as body parts like a foot or a hand. You 
wouldn't mind me shaking hands with someone, would you? 
When men used my breasts I treated them as body parts 
too. I never got aroused when they handled them. I 
recall that when I first showed them to you, I offered 
you the chance to touch them. I have to do that when I 
first meet a new man otherwise my tits might overwhelm 
him. But I never let another man suckle my milk. That's 
strictly between the two of us."

"But Len, you better get your priorities straight. 
You've told me that you don't like other people playing 
with my boobs. Are having climaxes with other people off 
limits too? Should I let guys give me orgasms as long as 
they keep their hands off my tits? My vagina is not just 
a body part. It's the erotic center of my being. You 
freaked out just because some guys touched my tits. But 
you never called me from New York. I was lonely so I let 
a few guys grope my tits. I let them fuck me too."

"Most fucked me more than once. It was the first olive 
out of the bottle theory. Once you get that first olive 
out the rest come easy. It just saved time. I didn't 
want to go through the first date hassle with all that 
flirting and being nice just to end up in bed at the end 
of the evening. I knew it was inevitable. It was what 
both of us wanted. I just cut right to the chase and 
eliminated the middle stuff. 

"If the guy and I were compatible I let him fuck me 
whenever he and I dated. We would go out, maybe have a 
few drinks, and come back to my apartment and make love. 
No, that sounds too romantic. We just fucked like 
bunnies. It saved a lot of energy. I could get a decent 
climax and then make it to work the next morning on 
time. A good engineering solution. The orgasms were 
pretty good, some even great. I screamed a lot. They 
weren't as good as those we had together but they 
sufficed." 

"I even let a few women use me too. You didn't think 
that my Georgetown roommates were straight, did you? Tit 
sucking is not just a male obsession. You would be 
surprised how many women like to play around with big 
boobies. I didn't mind a woman handling my tits. They 
are just body parts, remember." 

"I always hoped that you and I would get together while 
you were still at NASA. After you left I simply let my 
roommates do whatever they wanted to me. I'm not a 
lesbian, just a horny bitch. I let them suck my tits and 
eat my cunt. I didn't give a damn any more. One or the 
other came to my bed almost every night that I didn't 
have a date with some guy. Sometimes both made love to 
me at the same time. 

"Those girls were very imaginative. They masturbated 
their clits with my nipples, fingered and licked my 
cunt, finger fucked me and did me in every way they 
could think of. And I did the same to them. We couldn't 
get pregnant and we could give each other good 
climaxes." 

"As far as work goes, how do you think I got as far as I 
did at NASA? Who would give a tiny woman with tits like 
mine any supervisory responsibility? I worked hard at 
being a good engineer but it didn't help much. So I 
simply fucked my way up the management ladder. After I 
got each new job I showed I was competent. I would never 
have made it otherwise. I didn't have to do it with you 
but I did with my first bosses. You know I'm not 
basically a nymphomaniac but there were times that I 
behaved like a real slut. Do you still want me now that 
you know the truth?"

"Andrea, you always make sense even when I don't want to 
hear it. I'm glad you are so honest. The gossips at NASA 
were right. I screwed every woman I had a chance to just 
like most of my buddies. And I fucked a few in New York 
too. The real reason I never called you was that you 
overwhelmed me. I couldn't supervise you anymore. I 
would have done almost anything to get you back into my 
bed. It's not a good position for a supervisor to be 
in."

"I didn't mention your sleeping with people because I 
was caught up in thinking about your breasts. But I hate 
the idea that other cocks were in your cunt too and I 
really hate that they gave you orgasms. I'm not going to 
blame you for it. We had no commitment to each other. It 
is your body and you can do what you want with it. 

"Don't get me wrong. I'm happy that you had orgasms. I 
just regret that I wasn't the one to give them to you. 
So yes. I still want you. I'm not a plaster saint and 
neither are you. I guess we are two of a kind except 
that you have bigger tits than me. We are well matched. 
We deserve each other." 

Andrea kissed me, "Len, I propose that we set the ground 
rules so that we forget anything we did in the past. I 
can promise you that if we get together I will be all 
yours. I don't intend to be with anyone else as long we 
live together. I don't want anyone else playing around 
with your cock either. We can even brand my tits if you 
like. As far as I'm concerned our life begins the moment 
we decide to live with each other."

"OK Andrea, I agree. And no more girls for you either 
unless you bring them to bed with us. I like 
threesomes."

"Not a chance! You belong to me now."

She kissed me again. A long passionate kiss. It was as 
if we decided to be together without a word being said. 
When Andrea broke for air she said, "I think I love you. 
Let's seal our pact by making love again before anyone 
changes their mind. It's the best spur of the moment 
contract binder that I can think of. "

So we did. 

This time our sex was not gentle intercourse or benign 
love making. It was out and out lusty carnal fucking. I 
drove into her cunt, bottoming my cock on her cervix. 
Her clitoris was massaged and crushed between our pubic 
bones. I bit her titties. She squeezed my balls. We 
fucked until we were totally exhausted. That night 
Andrea screamed her pleasure so loud that the entire 
hotel floor knew the instant she came. Our orgasms were 
intense and lasted seemingly forever. We clutched each 
other and held each other tightly until we caught our 
breath. 

Finally Andrea sat up and said, "OK, our pact is sealed. 
It's the first day of our new life. If you want we can 
start looking for a place to live together. I just don't 
want you to stop loving me. I suppose we should get even 
get married before we have any babies. Just for social 
tradition."

When I first penetrated Andrea's cunt two years ago, I 
thought heaven's gates had opened. And she confessed 
that she felt the same way about me. As a Life Sciences 
engineer she had probably deduced that each of us 
emitted a pheromone that irresistibly attracted us to 
the other. It was the glue that held us together. I 
don't know if that is the correct explanation but it is 
a good working theory.

As I write these words I am reminded of the 1962 Nixon-
Kennedy presidential debate. That was the first debate 
that was simultaneously broadcast on radio and 
television. Everyone who heard only the words on the 
radio was sure that Nixon had won but everyone who saw 
the two of them together on television was sure that 
Kennedy was the victor. Actions spoke louder than words. 
Kennedy won the election.

That's the way it seemed to be between Andrea and me. 
Suppose a TV camera had filmed our entire day. If you 
just listened to the sound you would have heard Andrea 
and me exchange a tepid morning greeting and then spend 
the rest of the day arguing. I was boorish, she was 
criticizing, both of us were judgmental. Obviously we 
disliked each other. But if you watched only the video 
you would have seen that we were drawn together by an 
inexorable attraction, ultimately ending in bed in each 
other's arms. Which was the truth? They both were.

This was 43 years ago. Men walked on the Moon in 1969. 
The Space Shuttle was built, launched, and ultimately 
retired. I taught at my university for 35 more years. As 
for Andrea, she moved in to my apartment, then we bought 
a house together. We fucked and argued, fought, made up, 
and loved again. Sometimes both at the same time. Many 
times that Andrea and I argued in the middle of a 
passionate fuck, pausing only to climax and renew our 
argument. Often it was about politics. We were on the 
opposite sides of many social issues. 

One evening I was driving my erect penis in and out of 
her vagina while she was feeding me her dripping tit. We 
were shivering in ecstasy while at the same time she was 
telling me that I had the political values of a 
Neanderthal. We climaxed simultaneously but neither of 
us changed our mind. I've heard that "make up" sex is 
often the best kind. That's what much of ours was. No 
wonder we enjoyed loving each other so much.

We were both strong minded, opinionated people. Our 
arguments were often about stupid things but each of us 
would defend our position adamantly. Usually they 
occurred after we had gone to bed or we were in close 
proximity. But as we fought, our hands were caressing 
each other's body. Finally when the physical tension 
rose to the point where it intruded on what we were 
saying to each other, either Andrea or I would say, 
"Let's do it." 

Andrea would wrap her sensuous body around mine and her 
hand or mouth would find my penis. I delighted in 
clutching Andrea's big breasts in my arms and chewing 
her fleshy nipples while she developed a real taste for 
the exudations that flowed profusely from my cock. We 
never did anything half heartedly. We gave our all to 
each other. When we fucked, we really fucked, moving, 
plunging, gasping, writhing to mutual climaxes. 

We would stop only when we were out of breath, 
exhausted. It was like a 100 yard dash rather than a 
marathon. We loved, fucked, sucked and fondled each 
other until we each climaxed a couple of times. And when 
we caught our breath, we continued our argument where we 
left off. It was like people who live near an airport. 
When a plane flies overhead, all conversation stops, 
only to pick up when it is again silent.

And that's the way it was. We fought and we made love, 
often both at the same time. We had two lovely children. 
And yes, we got married along the way. Andrea surprised 
me on our wedding night by unveiling her beautiful 
breasts. "Hold each boob up and look closely" Andrea 
said. On each breast, just above the areola, was a small 
carefully tattooed ring of letters reading "Leonard 
Ruben - private property - no trespassing." I kissed 
Andrea passionately and then I kissed each nipple. I had 
my brand on her tits.

I often wondered what the tattoo artist must have 
thought when he was inscribing the lettering on Andrea's 
breasts. It might have been considered an odd request 
but he probably was used to it. I've seen all sorts of 
weird tattoos on unusual parts of human bodies.

Andrea's breasts kept lactating after menopause, well 
into her 60s. After our kids were weaned I enjoyed every 
drop as much as she enjoyed suckling me. We used each 
other's bodies in our declining years just as we did in 
that memorable snowbound night in Chicago. I feel 
confident in saying that Andrea and I never strayed 
during our time together. We completely filled each 
other's needs. 

Regretfully Andrea passed away a couple of years ago 
leaving me with only my memories. She was a truly a 
singular woman and the love of my life.

The End

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex
with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it
isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people
other than a trusted partner. 4-million people around
the world contract HIV every year. You only have one
body per lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 81