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Let me share a boob job success story. One of my best friends is an anesthesiologist who is married to a former Victoria’s Secret catalogue model, one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen–a 105-lb., 5’5″ blonde with a 34-22-32 natural figure. I had seen her naked on the beach before she had children, and I can attest that she had “perfect” breasts, as was the rest of her figure.
Since she was so petite and had such a narrow waste and hips, mouth-watering little apple bottom, and super slender legs, her 34Ds appeared extraordinarily large on her frame. And, as I’ve always said, it’s not size but shape that really makes a pair of tits appealing.
Hers projected out, then slightly down to make a crease, then swooped up with perma-hard nipples a bit north of center surrounded by dark, Kennedy-half-dollar-size areolas. You could tell by the way they bounced and swayed that they had the ideal balance between firm and pliable. Again, her breasts were just perfect. She wore a plunging V-neck wedding dress, and I’ll never forget the minister staring down at her boobs, even as he pronounced them man and wife!
Of particular note was that she had always been highly opposed to breast augmentation, regarding it as “cheating.” She was proud of her boobs, and did not think it right that women could purchase what God had given her.
After her third child and in her early 30s, she felt that her boobs were saggy and it bothered her, so she made a complete about-face and began to consider a boob job. Her husband thought her tits were great, but supported whatever she wanted to do. I did not myself see her naked after the 3rd child, so I cannot speak definitively as to what her breasts looked like, but I did see her in bikinis and once, bra-less, in a semi-transparent nightgown.
They certainly appeared to remain excellent ta-tas to my eyes, perhaps with a slight bit more drape, but far from saggy. My buddy thought likewise, but she’d made her mind up. Being an anesthesiologist, he had been in the operating room with numerous breast enhancement docs, and so knew the best surgeon from first hand experience.
A few of the women with breast enhancements were acquaintances that were nurses or wives of other docs, so my buddy and his wife were able to talk with them personally about the outcomes, look at pre-and post-surgery photos. A couple of the women even displayed the bare-breasted results.
Well, she proceeded with the surgery, with the goal of making them look the way they did before having her 3 breast-fed boys, and in her case, the doc put the saline implants in through a small incision along the bottom edge of each areola. Since she had been a strong and vocal opponent of boob jobs, I was frankly astonished that she made a 180-degree turn and had the procedure herself. Since she just wanted to restore her tits to their pre-breast-feeding state, she was able, at least in her mind, to make the about-face and justify the surgery. You know, it’s always different when it’s your body.
She was initially disappointed with the results because the breasts were too high with the accompanying problem of the nipples being too low. The doc, however, had told her from the get-go, as had some of the former patients, to expect them to look that way for up to 6 months, then they would settle in and look natural for many years to come.
Well, when you go through the pain and trauma of having your tits cut and stuffed and bruised, you want them to look perfect as soon as the bandages come off, and she was no exception and wanted those immediate results.
Well, this doc knew what he was doing and, sure enough, between 3 and 6 months after the surgery, they gradually settled to look completely natural, and she was just delighted with the results.
I lived in another city from them at the time all this occurred, so kept up with the developments by phone, and I finally saw these friends about a year after her operation. One night at their house after the kids were in bed, she and he were telling the whole story again, filling me in with details I may have missed by telephone. She was sitting there between my buddy and me on the couch in a tee-shirt and cutoffs, and–good friends that they were–I was not even trying to be discreet as I stared at her bust line.
In cases where the patient wants to restore her tits to a former state, it’s extremely helpful for docs to see photos of the boobs as they once were. Although he said he’d taken many nude pics of his beautiful bride, my buddy said the photos taken before they were married when they accompanied me and my then-wife to Florida were the most valuable. Valuable, because not only was she just 22 and in her prime—when she was the Victoria’s Secret catalogue model—but also because most of the pics were un-posed, “action” shots that I took with his superb Nikon 35 mm SLR.
He left for a moment and returned with a box full of those prints, passing them casino oyna around. He said that what made them valuable to the boob doc was that they were candid and showed her in a myriad of body positions that gave him a very good idea of what her tits looked like from a variety of angles and so better enabled him to do the surgery—incision type, the size of the implants, the amount of saline solution to put in, how to situate them, etc.
I looked at each one closely: There were a few nudes of all of us, but most of the girls’ were either topless or in little bikinis. Why are girls so fond of snapping pics of their guy’s pissing? Anyway, he pointed out the pics of his girl that had been especially helpful to the surgeon: She leaning over to pick up the Frisbee, breasts hanging down. Nice! A series of shots of her running up the beach towards me, freezing her boobs at the upmost and downmost bounce, and all points in between. Nice! She with both arms high over her head trying to catch the Frisbee, tits pulled up high on her rib cage. Nice! A close-up he shot from between her knees when she was lying face-up sunning, the perfect focus and glistening oil highlighting the minutest details of her nipples, ta-tas, taught tanned skin, and the tiny blonde hairs that covered it. Nice! And so forth and so on.
My by-then-ex-wife was topless in lots of the pics, too, not surprising, since I was the one taking most of the photos. A hottie herself, she may not have been the 10 my buddy’s gal was, but she was a solid 9 on her worst day, a 5’6″ 135-lb. brown-eyed brunette with a dark tan on her 36C-25-35 body. I had not seen any of these pics since shortly after that vacation over ten years ago. The most intriguing thing was that my wife looked actually better—in her late 30s and early 40s after she had our two children—than she did in these photos when she was about 30.
I never thought she’d needed to lose weight, but after our second child was born, it was so easy for her to lose the preggo pounds that she dropped down to around 125 and stayed there. Also, after breast-feeding both our kids for a year, her boobs never shrunk back to their former size, remaining a bit larger forevermore. Plus, her already scrumptious, always-hard nipples perked out another quarter-inch and stayed that way, as well as turning several shades darker, along with her pussy lips. Childbearing and breast-feeding had improved her appearance, but my wife’s buddy thought it had compromised her great looks to the point of having a boob job.
But I digress. Perhaps the best boob pic, if not the best pic, period, was one of both my buddy’s girl and my wife on our 22nd-floor balcony that faced the Gulf of Mexico. We had been out on the beach all day drinking and smoking, came back up to our top-floor condo, and immediately proceeded to fuck the shit out of our respective women in our own bedrooms for at least an hour. The reason I know is because there was an adjoining bathroom between, and we could hear them, as, I’m sure, they could hear us, too. That was a major turn-on. I hadn’t fucked since that morning, and after fooling around on the beach all day with my often-naked girl and fantasizing about his, I had a full day’s worth of cum that I finally blew into my wife’s pussy.
It was only then that we realized that all the towels and washcloths direly needed for clean-up were hanging out on the balcony handrail to dry. Ours was the front bedroom that opened into the den, so my wife made her way through it and on out to the balcony for the towels. I noticed that it was now as quiet in their bedroom as ours.
I heard giggling, and walked into the den to see what all the fun was about. With a clear, unobstructed view through the sliding glass door that was all the way open, I saw the two girls, buck-naked pointing at each other and cracking up with laughter on the balcony. The balcony extended from their Gulf-front bedroom across to the den, so, also needing towels, his girl had gone through that door only to encounter my wife, who had gone out there by way of the den door. I took a few more steps forward and realized what was so funny: Rivers of cum were streaming down their thighs. We had finished fucking our gals at almost the exact same time—talk about being on the same wavelength—but actually I think it was listening to each other screw that got us on the same pace.
Hearing the laughter, my buddy sauntered into the den and stood beside me, looking at the girls, as well. They were by then busy sopping up the semen, and I picked up his camera from the coffee table to see that one photo was left, framed them with a waste-up shot, and focused. They wrapped the towels around their hips and turned around at the same time, standing very close together due to being hemmed in by the awkwardly arrangement of the heavy lawn furniture. I just happened to click the shudder at the very moment they saw our half-hard, sperm-drenched cocks, generating a genuinely wicked canlı casino smile from both of them.
That may be the best erotic photo I ever took, and it was not talent but pure luck: The early evening August sun, blue Gulf water in the background, two beautiful topless tan women with awesome boobs, a freshly fucked glow, and an expressive smile only gazing at dangling man-meat could explain. I didn’t realize until I saw the developed print that my wife’s right boob was actually touching his sweeetie’s left boob. That gave a hint of some girl-girl action, but they were in fact 100% dick-loving heterosexuals.
Looking at all the photos of two fabulous, naked or nearly so women and recalling the memories of that sex-filled vacation, combined with the fact that I had not gotten exactly a lot of pussy since my divorce, had me terribly horny.
Next thing I hear from his wife is, “Do you wanna see? I mean, I don’t mind showing them to you, ’cause they are just like they were before the kids. You’ve seen me naked plenty of times before at the beach.”
Like I was going to say ‘no’! I’ve always thought it interesting that women who’ve had boob jobs often want to show off the results. Obviously proud, she pulled off the shirt, unhooked her sexy red “front-loading” bra, and jutted them out on full display–positively glorious!!! They looked just as they had years before when we vacationed together. Physicians say the number one predictor of post-surgery breast appearance is what they looked like before, and so that would certainly explain why they were truly fabulous.
As she is smiling ear to ear, my buddy takes them in his hands and proceeds to describe in detail what the surgeon did, she chiming in with her own comments and occasional tit rubs. I could barely detect the sub-areolar incision line, and then only when the skin was pulled taughtly away in both directions, but there was no other clue that they were enhanced.
I had a hundred questions, of course, and she said her nipples were just as sensitive as they had always been, and I asked what they felt like. What I meant was what did they feel like to HER, but my buddy answered, “Great!” arranging them in various shapes, then burying his face between them, slapping his jaws back and forth, complete with sound effects. Funny. And sexy.
Naturally, I was extremely curious what they felt like, so, screwing up my courage and remembering rubbing sun tan lotion on them many years before on our vacation, I made a squeezing gesture with my hand and said, “May I, purely in the interested of medical inquiry?”
Of course, that wasn’t entirely true, but, without hesitation, she answered, “Go ahead, I don’t mind.” So my old buddy handed over the “duties” to me, whereupon I proceeded to eagerly check them out.
Damn!!! Fake or not, these were the finest set of mammaries I’d ever laid my hands on. Soft and pliable yet firm, I could not tell that they were implants. Her nipples were already hard from my buddy’s stimulation, so I tweaked them a bit more as they both just smiled. Well, like any red-blooded American heterosexual male, Mr. Johnson had come to life, visibly erect through my baggy khaki shorts. I must say, though I was having a grand time, I was more than a little embarrassed, for here I was playing with my best friend’s wife’s tits as he sat there watching me. So, to hide my prodigious bulge, I knelt down on the carpet between her splayed legs and continued the boob play.
This position put my face much closer to those magnificent orbs and, mouth literally watering, I threw caution to the wind and took a nipple into my mouth, licking and sucking it up even longer. Delicious! Hearing her say, “Looks like something’s popped up here,” I at first thought she was referring to me only to realize that she was massaging my buddy’s hard cock through his tight jeans as he sat there on the couch right beside her grinning bigger than ever.
I was slurping all over her tits now, squeezing them together to get both nips in my mouth at the same time. Deftly, she unzipped his jeans with one hand, pried his dick out, and began softly stroking it. My own raging erection had wormed its way down and out the leg of both my boxer shorts and shorts to just expose its head to the air. Horny as the devil, I had at that point no reservation about wiggling it out a bit further and rubbing it against her soft calf. She responded by rubbing the calf gently up and down. Now this was getting interesting!!!
Then, my buddy stood up, took his jeans and underwear off, straddled the back of the couch, and pointed his meat in the general direction of her face. Right on cue, she turned her head sideways, kissed it, licked it up and down and all around it, and began to suck it while she tickled his balls with her long red nails. Un-fucking-believable!!! She’s giving him a dynamite BJ not a foot away from where I was sucking and licking her boobs like a man possessed. Not only kaçak casino did this look great with her beautiful face, moist lips, and concave cheeks bobbing up and down, but it sounded great, too. Slurp, slurp, slurp.
Showing considerable coordination, she now had my cock between her big and long toes, massaging it gently with her soft and lovely little foot. With her leg splayed even wider to do this, I could see just the edge of her left pussy lip peeking out from the soaked crotch of the shiny red panties beneath the skimpy cut-offs. Now when I see pussy, I automatically want to pleasure it, so I instinctively slid the pad of my forefinger along the edge of that half-exposed labia. Her legs shut together like a bear trap. OK, I got the message—that’s off limits. Well, shit, all good things must come to an end.
However, in the next moment, she took her free hand to grab my shirt and guide me upwards. I wasn’t sure what she was up to until she popped her mouth off my buddy’s dick just long enough to say, “Titty-fuck me.”
Well, that sounded like an excellent idea! But I needed more maneuvering room, so I got off her, removed my shorts and polo shirt, and took a good look at this gorgeous woman sucking my buddy before rejoining the fray.
As I positioned myself, I quite accidentally touched her feet again. The titty-fuck could wait. I wanted a fabulous foot-fuck first. Try saying that 5 times fast. Better yet, just do it. So I sucked her slim little toes, got both feet real wet with saliva, and slid my shaft slowly back and forth between her velvety soft soles. Now this was much better than good, and in so doing the foot-fuck, I noticed that each time I rocked her spread legs towards her body, a little bit more of the labia appeared on each side of the thin strip of denim running down through her crotch, until finally I could clearly see her meaty, swollen pussy lips. Hell, if I couldn’t touch ’em, I was sure gonna look at ’em!
The view of her tits and pussy lips and sucking by buddy, combined with the foot-fuck almost made me cum, but this whole episode commenced with breasts and it was only appropriate that it end there, as well.
I sucked her nips up to points again, slurped the bagos real wet in between, and she pushed them together from the sides, never missing a stroke on hubby’s shaft. And so began the titty-fuck as I slid up and down between them, occasionally re-wetting the goods and rubbing the underside of my cock on her prominent nipples.
We were all at this so long that it gradually became so comfortable that my buddy and I would talk about the finer points of her world-class blow job and she would comment as well, taking care to keep a hand job active on him. “I just love sperm, everything about it: the way it comes spewing out liked a fountain, the wonderful odor and taste, the slipperiness. I know he likes me to swallow, and I do about half the time, but it’s gone so soon that way. The other half of the time, I just want to play with it, you know, blow bubbles, rub it all over my face and boobs and the rest of my body. That’s what I want to do next. Aren’t you guys ready to cum yet?”
Now when a beautiful woman asks such a thing so nicely, how could we refuse? I had but one request, so I spoke up. “Since you like cum all over your body, wouldn’t it be a good idea to take off your shorts and panties?” She jumped up, wiggled them off, and kicked them across the room. Now completely nude, she struck one of those Victoria’s Secret poses, turned around slowly, then said, “How’s that?”
I wanted to shoot back with how’s about I eat your pussy, but I was already the second luckiest man on the planet that evening, so I kept my mouth shut. But her husband did answer with a snappy how’s about a couple cold Buds for the boys while you’re up?
“I’m thirsty, too,” she said as she strode across the large den to the kitchen to go get the brews.
Now, to see an attractive woman walking while nude is, in my book, the best single view. Again, she was simply perfect: lovely face and smile, delicate shoulders, those bouncing boobs, that tiny waist, the teeny-weeny heart-shaped ass, those slender legs culminating in the see-through-to-the-other-side space that revealed her big pussy lips, the sexy little feet and hands. And all in motion as she walked to and from the den. Well, when she returned with a six-pack of longnecks, we each downed one in five gulps and then intentionally burped, laughing at our uncouth selves.
I got a good two-handed squeeze on her buns for a moment while she bent over to rearrange the couch pillows and an excellent though brief look at her unfettered pussy before she got back into the same position as before and to the business of sucking her husband (I wanted a BJ soooooo bad, but she hadn’t volunteered, and I wasn’t about to blow it by asking) and I resumed the titty-fuck, coordinating my thrusting with the gradually increasing pace of her sucking.
I wasn’t sure at first what she was up to when she let go her hands from the sides of her boobs until she pressed them together with the insides of her arms and reached down and started to play with her pussy.
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