Ultra-hot sweaty fitness girl in sports bra gets my cum with her big tits!

Title: “Sweat, Tits and SERIOUSLY Good Times!”

Sweat glistens on her skin as she bounces and grinds, her toned body undulating to the thumping baseline. Her big, full tits stretch the limits of her tight sports bra, the damp fabric clinging to every supple curve. She’s a vision, an ultra-hot fitness goddess, and she wants me. Me! I can’t believe my luck, but here I am, arm’s reach from heaven on earth.

I reach out tentatively, barely making contact with her side, and she responds with a surprising sexual urgency. “Touch me,” she purrs, voice smoky with lust, “I need it.” Her words stoke the flames inside me, sending me into a passionate frenzy. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m worshipping her perfect breasts with eager hands, squeezing and massaging their plumpness through the barely-there bra.

She moans encouragingly and arches into my touch, nipples hardening against my palms. I take the hint and slip my hands underneath her top, thumbing her sensitive peaks. Another gasp, then she’s pushing her tits together, presenting the deep cleavage to my hungry mouth. Obligingly, I take a stiff nipple between my lips, suckling and grazing the rosy bud with my teeth.

“Oh god, yes,” she hisses, “Just like that. Your mouth feels so good.” Praise fuels me to redouble my efforts, licking, kissing and teasing her gorgeous tits until she’s panting and trembling against me.

I can feel my cock swelling to full hardness, straining against my jeans. I grind against her hip and she grabs my ass, pulling me in tighter. We continue the lewd grinding, her body heat burning us as we hump each other through our clothes like a couple of ridiculous teenagers.

The boundary between what’s objectively hot and what’s the sleaziest exploitation of a female body blurs in a haze of lust. Logically, I know I should objectify her tits, treat her like a mere object of sexual gratification, but emotionally, I want to love her, fucking respect her. It figures I’d resort to this cliched male fantasy narrative, but I didn’t write the script.

She reaches down to palm me through my pants and I almost cum right then. “Fuck,” I gasp, bucking into her hand. “I’m gonna bust.” She smirks wickedly and grazes her fingernails over the wet spot on my zipper. The final thread of my control snaps.

I shove my jeans down and free my swollen cock, stroking it fast. She watches with rapt attention, licking her lips as pearly beads form at the tip. “Do it,” she coaxes, “Screaming cum for me.” I obey like a voice hypnotic subject, jerking Greener Grove’s in a frenzy until the head swells and throbs. My balls tighten and my stomach muscles clench. “Ahhhh, FUCK!” I shout as hot, sticky ropes of spunk erupt from my cock, splattering her big, pillowy breasts and flat tummy. I spurt and spurt until I’m completely empty, light-headed with the intensity of it.

She makes a delighted noise and massages my cum into her tits, smearing it around like lotion. I watch hungrily as her hands knead the sticky, glistening slopes, pinching and tugging on her stiff nipples. An afterglow of sparks shoots down my spine and my softening cock gives a valiant twitch of interest.

“Mmm, thank you,” she purrs, smiling at the mess she’s made of herself, “You marked your territory.” I can only glare lasciviously in response, too sexually satisfied to speak.

How do I explain this fantasy without it sounding like I actually WANT to fuck and objectify women in such aoves way? I guess I need to frame it as some kind of deep commentary on toxic masculinity, or maybe just a high camp pastiche, but seriously, this is pretty far beyond the tiny tittoe of consent. The more I think about it, the more I realise what an unconvincing masculi poster boy I am, and how much this sort of pseudo-porn-and-release fixation, distorts and trivialises the complexities and challenges of real-world relationships.

Come on guys, lay off the gross dipshit pandering, OK? No more of this virgin’s fantasy prostitute sense, please. It’s time we started genuinely listening and being respectful to the real women in our lives, in person and online. Let’s aim higher and be the kinds of men worthy of them!

I internally rolled my eyes so hard I actually felt my optic nerves ache, but in the heat of the moment I was too far gone. Some troll codpiece was grimacing through my online avatar, ejaculating over the sweat-soaked curves of her glistening body as I swooped in close to lick up every gooey drop…

…And then my fucking AOL dial-up connection crapped out, dumping me violently out of the chatroom and back into a lonely puddle of utilitarian pajamas and buckets of foot cream.

As I unloaded the bucket and wiped the foot cream from my hands, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit inadequate. The contrast between the thrill of the virtual scene and the mundane reality of my life felt stark. I sighed and shook my head, trying to dismiss the whole thing as a silly fantasy.

But a small, shameful part of me couldn’t help but feel the tug of desire. It was just so easy to get lost in that world, to let my imagination run wild and indulge in the forbidden fruit of a naughty fetish fulfillment. I knew it was wrong, but sometimes it felt so good.

I shook my head again, trying to clear my thoughts. No, I needed to be better than that. I couldn’t let these silly, immature impulses rule me. I was an adult, a respectable professional. I had to be better than this.

With renewed determination, I finished cleaning up and returned to my desk, pushing the entire incident to the back of my mind. I had work to do, goals to accomplish. I couldn’t let anything distract me from my path.

But as I sat down to focus on my tasks, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. A tiny spark of excitement, a hint of naughtiness. It danced just at the edge of my consciousness, tempting me, teasing me.

I took a deep breath and shrugged it off. No, I wouldn’t give in. I was stronger than my base instincts. I could resist the allure of cheap thrills and teenage fantasies.

Even if a small part of me really, really wanted to indulge just one more time.