By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2005 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

“Thank God, it’s Friday!” Erica raised her glass.

“Here, here.” Sara described a circle, watching the deep red Merlot swirl against the clear crystal goblet, before clinking. “Tommy’s preparing a witness for Monday, so he’ll be late, but there’s Chinese warming in the oven. How hungry are you?”

“I’m more thirsty than hungry. Last week was hell. Just when I thought I was finished with the copy for a perfume launch, the client came in and informed us that she had serious reservations about the art layout. We had to start all over again: concept, graphics, copy, everything. We’ve been just about living at the office ever since.”

“You must be exhausted!”

“Not really. She signed off on that sucker at 10:15 AM and I was back at my apartment and snoozing by 11.” Erica laughed, her huge breasts, jiggling with glee. “I just got up to come here, so I’m well rested. But, how was your week? You look tired, My Sara.”

Sara looked at her friend. How many times had Erica called her ‘My Sara’ since they’d met in college fifteen years ago? Too many to count and each time the words filled Sara with feelings of love and friendship. The women sat, half-turned to each other, their arms stretched across the back of the sofa. Sara stroked Erica’s hand absently. She felt anxious. It was not unusual, on a Friday night, for Erica to visit, for the two of them to be here in the living room, enjoying a drink or two before dinner. Enjoying girl-time before Tommy got home. But what was unusual was the distance Sara had placed between them and what was crowding into that space. What was unusual was for Sara to have so much on her mind, so much that she hadn’t shared with her husband or her best friend. It was an elephant in the room and Sara decided to do something about it.

“Erica,” she began tentatively,” I had a dream last night and I can’t get it out of my head. I didn’t lay it on Tommy because it’s so insane, but I need to talk about it.”

Erica shifted to face Sara directly, crossing her legs in a relaxed yoga position, her hands in her lap. “Lay it on me.”

“Actually I had two consecutive dreams about you, me and Tommy. We both know how extreme Tommy’s fetish for large breasts is; how often we’ve teased him about drooling over yours. Well, in both dreams, Tommy is so mesmerized by your breasts that he can’t even see me. I need him. I’m calling for him, but all he can see is you.”

“Go on,” Erica said. “It’s only a dream.”

“In the first, we were here on a usual Friday night. Talk turned to sexual fantasies and you admitted that one of yours was for us – you, me and Tommy – to have a threesome. Tommy was crazy about the idea. I was intrigued, but more scared. Anyway, the two of us ended up in the bedroom talking about it.”

“Just talking? What a shame!” Erica smiled and leaned forward to tousle Sara’ cap of silky blond hair.

“Actually no,” Sara blushed,” we ended up hugging and kissing. Really kissing and then we decided to strip to our underwear and dance for Tommy. You made me wear that pink cut-out bra and panty set that I bought last Valentine’s Day and you were wearing this emerald green set that showed off your chocolate brown skin and sexy curves; never mind your gorgeous breasts. Anyway, we started dancing for Tommy and, somewhere along the way, I started to fondle and kiss your breasts. We ended up making out on the floor and at some point you said you wanted a man and called for Tommy. I told you that you couldn’t have him and opened my legs for him to come to me. He started toward me, but moved past me to you. He was on fire and the two of you went at it. I woke up screaming, in a panic. It scared Tommy to death . . .”

“Oh my,” Erica gasped, fanning herself with feigned Victorian restraint. “All I can say is that I find the idea of a threesome with you two delicious, very delicious indeed. But I’ve never considered it because neither of you want nor need anybody but each other. My Sara, not only would Tommy nor I never ever hurt you; we’d die for you and kill anyone that harmed a hair of your head.”

“That’s weird. You told me that in the dream. And I know that. We’ve been the mighty threesome ever since college and I’ve never felt anything, but love and respect from either of you. I don’t know where these feelings are coming from.”

“What about the next dream?”

“That was equally unnerving. I was scuba diving. My diving mask was flooding and my mouthpiece was strapped so tight that my speech was thick and muddy. You and Tommy were in the diving boat. I was asking for help, but you ignored me. I could see up, through the water; see you laughing and see Tommy ogling your breasts with that same intense expression he had when he was making love to you in the first dream. The pressure was building and my lungs were ready to explode. I stroked and kicked madly, until I finally broke through the surface and got rid of the mask. Now this is funny. I took a deep breath and all I could smell was this spicy, very masculine scent. Something tickled my nose and I woke up to find my mouth and nose lodged determinedly in the hollow of Tommy’s armpit. My one arm was trapped underneath me and had lost all feeling. I had the other one clamped desperately around my poor husband's neck.”

A laughing Erica took both of Sara’s hands in her own. Sara felt the same safety and reconnect she’d felt when Erica had held her hands in the dream. “It’s probably just as well that you didn’t tell Tommy. Both of those dreams would worry him sick. But, tell me, what’s the biggest feeling left over from these dreams? Are you feeling insecure? What’s bugging you now?”

Sara stared at her friend. “It’s not about you and Tommy. It’s my breasts,” she said. “All I can think about is having large breasts, like yours, breasts that drive Tommy crazy.”

“I think you and your tits are absolutely perfect, but that’s not important. Had you thought about bigger tits before?”

“I’ve often thought it ironic that a man with a large breast fetish as awesome as Tommy’s should marry somebody with an A cup. But it never occurred to me to try to change myself, just to please him, as much as I love him. But in the dream and now, I want large breasts. I thought your breasts were the most magnificent looking and feeling things in the world and I wanted some of my own; not just for Tommy, but more for myself. I got up early this morning and spent two hours before going to work searching the net for info about surgeries, pills and creams, herbs and pumps, everything I could lay my hands on to do with breast enlargement. Erica, I’m obsessed and impatient. I want breasts, big breasts . . . now!”

Erica sat sipping her wine for, what Sara felt was, a long, long time. “I’m going to tell you a true story that was passed down from my great-great-grandmother,” she said finally. “Her name was Sarah, too, with an ‘h’. “I’ve never told another soul, but I want to share this with you. Apparently, the women in my family back then were totally flat-chested. They lived in a little West Indian village and everybody made fun of them; ‘boy girls’ they called them. They were shunned by the girls and mocked by the boys. As the story goes, Sarah found her way to a witch doctor and asked his help. The witch doctor told her that she didn’t need his help; all she needed was to want breasts badly enough, that if she could really see herself with large breasts, she would have them. She was sixteen at the time. He hypnotized her and then sent her home with some herbal tea that would help her to relax. He instructed her to take time every day to see herself as she wanted to be. He told her that the more clearly she saw herself, the more focused and diligent she was, the more successful she’d be. Apparently, she started to drink the tea and meditate, day and night. And her breasts started to grow. The tea ran out and she went back to the witch doctor to get some more. He told her that it wasn’t the tea; that all she had to do was keep seeing her tits the size she wanted them to be. She went home and continued to visualize. She kept up her routine until she had the biggest boobs in the village and all the men were at her feet. And that’s not all. Every generation since then has given birth to women with these monsters.”

Erica looked down at her breasts and then at Sara.

“No way,” Sara said.

“Don’t say that,” Erica remonstrated. “I’ve seen pictures. Everything I’ve told you is true.”

Sara stared at Erica’s breast for a long, long time. “I believe you,” she said. “Will you help me? Will you be my witch doctor?”

“Will you do what I tell you to do?”

“Anything!”

“Okay, then let’s get started. To the bedroom we go.”

Sara put down her wine glass and led the way.

Erica uncovered a pillow and fluffed it up, clucking like a mother hen. “Take off your clothes and make yourself comfortable.”

Sara stripped quickly. She felt vulnerable. She felt feverish in the cool of the room.

“Lie down.”

Sara lay down on the bed, her eyes staring fixedly at the richly toned Tiffany ceiling fixture.

“Close your eyes. I’m going to count backwards from 20 to 1. I want you to take a deep, slow breath in and release it even more slowly. Find a rhythm and keep the breathing going.”

Sara breathed deeply, conscious of the hissing air as it passed through her nasal passages. She released the air in a long sigh. She could hear Erica going through her CD collection. A click and Debussy’s orchestrated version of Satie’s Gymnopédies (3) filled the air and Sara’s in and exhalations fell into sync with their gentle strains.

20: “You’re moving away from a busy street. A long rocky stairway leads down to a quiet beach. The air is salty, the sea breeze cool. The closer you get to the sandy beach, the more peaceful you become, the more relaxed. All thoughts of the day, of your conscious life are drifting away. Even the sound of my voice seems far away, as in a dream.
19: You lie down on the sand. It welcomes you; its grains are so soft and fine that you feel like you’re drifting on a cloud.
18: The sun shines onto your body, melting your bones, soothing your muscles into complete calm. The sun stirs the cells of your breasts. You can feel them growing. You can feel them multiplying. Your breasts are getting bigger, much bigger. You’re going to have to buy bigger bras, new clothes.
17: Tommy is with you on the beach, looking at you, looking at your breasts. He is beaming, his cock is hard. He touches your skin, fondles your breasts. His hands feel like magnets, drawing every fat cell in your body into your breasts. You feel pleasure. They’re getting bigger. Tommy weighs them in his hands. His face is flushed with desire. He looks like he wants to eat you, fuck you.
16: . . . ”

Tommy’s gaze is full of heat. Sara feels it on her breasts. Sara feels his lust moving across her belly, down to her pussy, penetrating her pussy. Her heart is pounding, her breasts are charged with erotic currents. Tommy begins to kiss her breasts, suckle them. Her nipples grow long and hard in his mouth. Her clit is tingling, reaching out, needing to be touched. She touches herself. She is more aroused that she’s ever been in her life. She teeters on the brink of orgasm, but she wants more, more Tommy, more breasts. “Kiss me,” she moans to Tommy. His lips are soft and prying. She’s falling into him, as she thrusts her tongue inside his mouth. She’s fucking his mouth. Her tongue is demanding, a demanding cock. He pulls away from her kiss, pulls her away from her orgasm. She breathes into the silence and then . . .

“9: Alone in the shower, you lift your large tits up to the shower’s spray. Liquid needles prick, stimulating their growth. Swift liquid currents course along their length. You feel proud of them. You feel female.

The shower is hot and stings her flesh, distends her breasts and nipples. Sara soaps them, massages them. Sara rinses them, lets them flop against her slim rib cage. They hang low and Sara’s knees buckle with the pleasure that fills her belly. Everything is wet: her hair, her body, her pussy. She strokes her wet pussy. She feels it in her breasts. She tugs at her nipples. She feels it in her pussy. She opens her legs and her fingers find the spot. She feels the pressure building in her belly. Her cunt muscles begin to contract.
Horny moans escape on the wings of her breath . . .

“I’m going to count from 1 to 5. When we get to 5, you will be wide awake, alert and feeling great. While you are going about your daily chores, your breasts will continue to grow. You might feel a gentle throbbing, a slight itchiness, but it will be pleasant because your subconscious will understand that these are the symptoms of your enhancements. I-2-3-4-5 . . .

Sara stretched, but kept her eyes closed. She felt beautiful. Her breasts felt full and large and she could feel their presence almost down to her belly button. She knew that the image couldn’t possibly be real, but she didn’t want to destroy the illusion.

“How do you feel?” Sara opened her eyes. Erica was smiling down at her. “It’s going to work for you. You descended nicely.”

“I’m glad I did it nicely, but what does it mean?”

“It means that you relaxed completely, let go of conscious thought so that your subconscious could do its good deeds. Both of them.” Erica laughed. “We’ll do this again soon and I’ll teach you how to visualize on your own. Now, you’d better get dressed. Tommy should be along soon.”

Erica left and Sara lay, staring up at the ceiling. She became gradually aware of the cool air on her naked body and climbed off the bed. She felt calm, rested and energized. She was hungry and was looking forward to dinner with her husband and best friend. She glanced at the pants suit she had been wearing earlier, but its casual comfort had lost its appeal. She opened her lingerie drawer and pulled out the push-up bra and panty set she’d bought a few weeks ago. She slipped it around her waist and fastened it up. She looked at her breasts. They looked bigger. She twisted and pulled the bra into place. Her breasts were bigger. The bra‘s fit was completely different. Her breasts bulged over the top, at least two cups larger than they had been. She climbed into the panties and then rushed to her closet and pulled out an emerald slinky knit dress with a plunging neckline. She pulled it over her head and studied herself in her full length mirror. Instead of the elfin ingénue of the past, a slim sexy woman stared back at her. She pursed her lips before outlining them with a shiny red lipstick. She could see the outline of her panties under the clinging skirt, so she removed them and smiled at the wet heat that immediately kissed her pussy. Sara felt dizzy with a new and energizing power. She returned to her closet and stepped into a pair of high-heeled Italian mules. She circled her palms over her hardening nipples. She moistened her lips. She studied herself again, her blue eyes smoky with horniness. She walked out of the room, her breasts and hips swaying provocatively side to side.

Erica was sitting on the couch browsing through a National Geographic magazine when Sara walked in one door and Tommy came through the other. It was as if time stood still. Tommy stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Sara. Erica let out a long, low whistle, staring at Sara. And Sara stood in the doorway feeling sexier and happier and more powerful than she ever had before.

“You look fantastic,” Tommy said finally, dropping his briefcase and coat on a chair and running to take Sara in his arms. “Hi Erica,” he said, holding Sara at arm’s length and gazing at her. “What have you done to yourself? You look great,” he babbled.

“I’m suddenly feeling like three’s a crowd,” Erica said, getting up from the couch.

“Absolutely not,” Sara said, breaking away from Tommy and standing in Erica’s path.

“Walk me out.” Erica slipped her arm around Sara’s waist and headed for the hall leading to the foyer. “Good night Tommy, see you next week.”

“Night, Erica.” There was no disappointment in Tommy’s voice.

“Your man wants you all to himself.”

At the door, Erica put on her coat and turned to Sara. She placed one hand over Sara’s breast and squeezed it playfully. “It’s working already. How do you feel?”

“Great! I can’t wait for our next session.”

“Why don’t you come over to my place on Wednesday? I’ll set a routine for you then. But for now, you’d better go and feed that husband of yours.”

“You’re right.”

Sara hugged her friend, locked the door and went back to Tommy.

He had poured himself a glass of wine and was sitting on the couch. His eyes followed Sara as she walked through the door, crossed the room to the entertainment center and injected a CD into the player. As the strains of the Urban Knight’s, ‘Come Dance With Me,’ drifted out of the speakers, Sara began to sway. She spread her arms and legs wide, transferring her weight, lifting her hips seductively from one side to the other. She pressed her breasts together, exaggerating her new-found cleavage. She felt so horny. She could feel a liquid wanting begin to drip out of her pussy and down her leg. She bent over, giving Tommy a perfect view of her swaying breasts as she stroked her own hips, moved to her inner thighs and then stroked her pussy. She moved over to the couch and straddled Tommy, grinding her pussy over his fully engorged and lurching cock, just as she had in the dream. When she felt his wet pre-cum seeping through his trousers, wetting her leg, she climbed off and lay on the floor, spreading her legs wide; just as she had done in the dream. She watched Tommy struggle out of his pants, his cock longer and thicker than she’d ever seen it. He charged toward her, his horny face flushed. And as he knelt over her, his cock poised to take her, a fire blazed from his eyes and he fucked her. How he fucked her! And when he came, shooting his cum deep inside her, Sara wept at the sight of his face. It spoke of naked love, a helpless, relentless love that they shared deep into the night.

They ate well after midnight. The rice was hard and dry from too much heat. They thought it was the best Chinese food they’d ever eaten. For dessert, they licked and nibbled and drank each other. When they were done, Tommy fell asleep. Sara closed her eyes and began the walk down a long rocky stairway to a quiet beach. The air was salty, the sea breeze cool.