Uschi Returns

  Uschi Returns

  by Lesley Finch

  © 2017 Lesley Finch

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter One

  ‘Tempest Lingerie, Louise speaking, how may I support you?’

  ‘Is this the complaints line?’

  ‘Yes, um, I mean…’ Louise looked up at Roger, looming over her and listening in on the line. Roger shook his head slowly. Complaints wasn’t a word to be acknowledged or used, the training had been very clear on this point.

  ‘This is customer service, madam, I’ll do my best to help. What seems to be the prob… the matter? Sorry, could I take your name please?’ Louise looked up again at Roger with another slight cringe. Roger just shrugged and let it go.

  ‘It’s Price. Helen Price. Anyway, I purchased a bra from your website two days ago, and it’s already broken.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Price… I m-mean I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have the order number please?’

  ‘T665478.’

  ‘Just looking that up now… sorry, our systems are a little slow today…’

  ‘I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘No, Mrs Price…’

  ‘And it’s Ms Price.’

  ‘Of course, Miss, I mean Ms Price.’

  Roger sighed inwardly. Two months into the job and he was still having to lick these customer service reps into shape. The job would be unbearably frustrating, were it not for…

  ‘A 36F balconette, was it, Ms Price? A Lacy Lady In midnight blue? Front opener?’

  ‘Yes, that was it.’

  ‘And you’re certain you bought the correct size? Your order history shows various sizes in the past twelve months, there’s a 28D, a 32E, a 30G…’

  ‘Some of those were for my daughter. She’s been going through a period of accelerated breast growth.’

  ‘Takes after her mother then, does she?’

  Roger shook his head solemnly once more. Louise’s eager-to-ingratiate smile and manner swiftly dissipated.

  ‘That’s not the issue here.’ Ms Price was sounding very irritable indeed.

  Roger mouthed to Louise to find out what happened.

  ‘So, um, Ms Price, can you tell us, I mean me, what happened?’

  ‘Well yes, but it was… it was very embarrassing indeed.’

  ‘I need to know all the details, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I was at work. It was my turn to do the teas…’

  ‘The tease, Ms Price?’

  ‘No, teas, as in cups of tea. We take it in turns to get tea from the machine. It was my first day wearing the bra I had ordered from your website, and it was feeling a little tight, but I assumed that was just… anyway, as I walked to the office kitchen I could feel myself bouncing a lot more than usual.’

  ‘You have particularly bouncy breasts, Ms Price?’

  ‘Yes, very. After my daughter’s birth eighteen years ago my breasts grew to their present rather large size but stayed as firm as they had been when I had been a D-cup schoolgirl myself.’

  ‘So they stick out quite far?’

  ‘Yes, maybe a foot or so in front of me, but not when I’m wearing a bra, and your bras have always been very good at reining my breasts in. But anyhow, I was feeling myself really bounce a lot, more so even than when I’m not wearing a bra at all. It was the elasticated shoulder straps, I’m sure of it. So there I am, walking back along the corridor with a mug of tea in each hand, and my breasts are shaking furiously up and down, side to side, thumping into one another, wobbling against my arms, practically hitting me on the chin. But they’re not even bouncing together, as a unit, they’re squashing together than flying apart, in, out, in out, until the plastic hooks holding the cups together snapped open.’

  ‘Goodness,’ said Louise.

  Roger stooped a little as his penis responded to the mental image.

  ‘The cups just vanish into my armpits and my breasts leap forward. So of course I now look absurd. The shape of my bosom under my blouse goes from round to pointy in an instant. It’s like instead of two, I dunno, cantaloupe melons under there, I’m smuggling two nuclear warheads. And they’re still bouncing and jiggling like crazy because of that stupid bra. I think about stopping, but everyone’s looking at me already, and all I want to do is get back to my desk and hide, so I keep going as fast as I can in heels, and then my nipples start rubbing against the fabric of my blouse, and they rub and they rub, and they get erect. I’m sure you know what it’s like to get erect.’

  ‘Um, I couldn’t really say, Ms Price,’ said Louise. Roger knew what it was like, though.

  ‘Well, my blouse is a tight fit at the best of times, even when a nice bra is smooshing my breasts in against my chest, but it’s hardly cut to accommodate my breasts when they’re all braless and sticking out a mile in front of me. And then you’ve got my areolae swelling up and adding another inch, then my nipples standing up and adding another inch on top of that. And so, my buttons start popping off.’

  ‘Your blouse buttons, Ms Price?’

  ‘First the middle one, then the one above it then the one below it. Pop, pop, pop, off they go, flying across the office. My tits are literally tearing my blouse apart, until all that’s left is my collar button. The two halves of my blouse just snap open to either side, disappearing into my armpits along with the bra cups. So there I am, standing in the middle of the office, with a mug of tea in each hand and my massive torpedo tits and swollen, erect nipples out in the open for everyone to see. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. Thankfully one of the young men in my team rushed over and held my breasts from behind, covering them as best he could and followed me like that until I got back to my desk and was able to put a sweater on.’

  ‘Your colleague covered you up from behind with his hands?’

  ‘Well, what else was he supposed to do?’

  ‘Um, he could have taken the mugs of tea from you and let you cover your nipples with your own hands?’

  ‘I, um, I didn’t think of that. That’s not the point, though. Are you going to compensate me or not? There’s not just the bra, there’s the torn blouse, there’s the humiliation of all my colleagues getting to see my enormous naked breasts…’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ms Price, the guarantee doesn’t cover situations like, like…’

  ‘Put me through to your manager, please. Now.’

  Roger gave Louise a reassuring nod and gestured to her to transfer the call over to his line. ‘Ms Price, this is Roger Addington, Support Manager.’

  ‘Support manager? Any chance of a bra that manages to support?’

  Roger gave a polite laugh. ‘Ms Price, I’m sure we can resolve the matter to your satisfaction. In fact, I’d like to visit you in person, to collect the damaged lingerie and to verify your account of the incident. I’m putting you back through to Louise, who will arrange a time that suits you.’

  ‘Oh. Well. Yes, fine. Thank-you, Mr Addington.’

  Roger transferred Ms Price back to Louise, then sat at his desk and breathed deeply until, eventually, his erection subsided.

  ‘Did I make a mess of that, Roger?’ pouted young, curly blonde Louise once she had got off the phone to the furious customer, her own large knitwear-encased breasts rising imperiously over the desk partition as she stood.

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ said Roger, who had very nearly made mess of a different kind. ‘But there’s still work to do, and across the entire team. You all need to find a way to relate to the customers whenever they call in with a complaint, to… to empathise rather than sympathise. You see?’

  Louise smiled, then shook her head.

  ‘We’ll talk about it later in the week. When’s my appointment with Ms Price?’

  ‘You’re doing the right thing going out t
o see this customer in person, Roger, but frankly I find her story rather far-fetched, don’t you?’ Nina Bridges stood at her office window and gazed out onto the industrial estate car park, then turned to face Roger, perched her tight-skirted bottom against the windowsill, tucked her sleek, red bob behind one ear and pushed her thick-rimmed glasses up her cute, shapely nose before folding her arms under her bosom and forcing a generous quantity of firm, cream cleavage up towards her chin. It was a magnificent bosom, befitting the young founder and chief executive of the lingerie brand, and the correct appraisal of her own thirty-four J measurements was one of the factors that had landed Roger the job of support manager.

  Roger shifted in the chair to allow his erection to find its way out of his trouser leg and under the wallet in his left pocket, where it would hopefully remain inconspicuous. No-one could know of his crippling breast fetish, especially not Nina. The days spent in constant discussion of bras and the breasts within them left Roger in a permanent state of advanced sexual arousal. Once upon a time, in his last managerial job, he had been content to let idle workplace bra-size speculation feed his fantasies and slowly build up to private masturbatory release at the end of the day in the privacy of his own home. But here his colleagues’ vital statistics were a matter of frank everyday discussion. The women here talked about little other than bras, breasts, and nipples, their own, each other’s, the customers’, celebrities’, anyone’s. For Roger, whose mind was equally breast-obsessed, this was as though his inner dialogue had been made real, a private fantasy come to life in his presence on a daily, salaried basis. He was now being teased far beyond what he was used to, and his fantasies had evolved correspondingly. He didn’t sit around guessing bra sizes. He sat around picturing his dick entering his co-workers’ cleavages, thrusting in and out until their beautiful tits bounced free of their bras and tops, jiggling around his throbbing member until his pent-up load exploded forth, messily decorating them in thick, translucent cum. And although he hadn’t actually seen any of their breasts or nipples naked, he didn’t have to, as he had overheard them described aloud in vivid detail so many times in workplace conversation that his erotic fantasies came ready-illustrated in his mind’s eye.

  Nina studied the print-out of Helen Price’s customer profile and order history again, then picked up the phone and dialled an extension. ‘Lorraine, it’s Nina, would you send up a couple of Lacy Ladies, front fasteners, one in a thirty-four J and another in a… thirty-six F. Thank-you.’

  Roger stole a glimpse of Nina’s tight, wobbling cleavage as it hung heavily over her desk, and felt dangerously close to creaming his underpants as he imagined those dense, soft jugs massaging his desperate erection. He had missed the opportunity for his mid-morning wank, so essential to keeping his involuntary emissions under control, and the last thing his libido needed was the sight of Nina’s opulent Zeppelin bosom straining to escape from a tight, low-cut top.

  ‘I need to test this for myself, Roger,’ Nina explained, looking up. Roger’s gaze switched to met hers just in time. ‘If there’s genuinely some flaw in the construction then I might have to recall the whole line, and I really don’t want to have to do that.’

  ‘Certainly not, Nina,’ said Roger.

  ‘The Lacy Lady is a bold design. Front-fastening bras for larger cup sizes are rare for good reason. But I was confident we had solved the engineering issues. And we put it through all the usual stress tests. Before your time, Roger, but we had models running, jumping, jiggling… you can imagine.’

  Roger tried unsuccessfully to avoid picturing the scene, and his cock twitched so violently beneath his trouser pocket that he worried Nina might have seen.

  ‘But even the biggest, bounciest breasts stayed contained. The bra never burst open, no nipple escaped, not even the edge of an areola. Except in one girl’s case, but her nipples were so high up on her boobs they never made it into the cups in the first place.’

  ‘Hmm,’ nodded Roger, counting in his head to retain his composure.

  The door knocked.

  ‘Come!’ said Nina. If only that had been an instruction to Roger, who would have complied gladly.

  A buxom young blonde in a lab coat walked in carrying to flat boxes. ‘The bras you asked for, Nina.’

  ‘Thank-you, Lorraine,’ said Nina, and shrugged off her black blazer, draping it over the back of her office chair.

  Roger was sitting closer to the door and leaned over to take the boxes without standing. If he had stood then his erection would at best be unignorably conspicuous, and at worst pump its load into his trousers as it rubbed against his wallet. He placed the boxes on his throbbing lap.

  Nina dismissed Lorraine and walked over to where Roger sat, peeling off her tight grey top as she walked. Her grandiose bust, immaculately encased in a perfectly-fitting pink bra of pointy retro-vintage design, jutted over her flat stomach. ‘I’ll start with the thirty-four J,’ she said, and threw the top onto the couch.

  ‘Should I, um, wait outside?’ said Roger, flustered.

  ‘Oh Roger, such a gentleman,’ chuckled Nina affectionately. ‘It’s okay, I’ll face the other way while I change.’ Nina opened the top box on Roger’s lap, then turned her back and, reaching a delicate hand around, undid the six hooks holding the pink bra’s back strap together and whipped the undergarment from her body in one graceful move. Roger gaped in heart-pounding awe as the ballooning sides of Nina’s bare breasts swung heavily into view either side of a slender back that seemed incapable of supporting so huge and firm a bosom. This was the closest Roger had come to seeing his new boss topless, and he was poorly prepared for the unexpected pleasure, wishing he had masturbated and spent his horny, boob-fiend load many times over before the meeting. Instead he was sitting there watching a breathtaking private striptease while nursing testicles bloated to bursting point with simmering spunk that was going to pump forth sooner or later whether he liked it or not.

  Nina slipped her arms into the blue Lacy Lady and turned around to face Roger again just as she pulled the cups over her nipples. Naked cleavage stretched from collarbone to lower ribcage as she drew the front-loading plastic hooks inward and fastened them together with a quiet snap.

  ‘Doesn’t do much for my natural shape,’ said Nina, looking down at her newly globular breasts. ‘But I don’t feel like I’m about to pop out of it. What do you think, Roger?’

  ‘They, um, they look quite well-contained,’ gulped Roger. There was an alarming amount of bare skin on display. ‘But it was the walking that did it. That’s what the customer said. She seemed to think the elasticated shoulder straps were adding extra bounce to her breasts. And she was in heels.’

  Nina walked over to her desk and slid her feet into the black high heels she had parked beneath it. The shoes added a couple of inches to her legs and an elevated pertness to her rear that rendered her even more sexually formidable a presence than usual. Thus attired, Nina crossed the room in steps as strident as her tight skirt would permit. Her bosom leapt, descended, and performed a brisk double-bounce with each step, but there was no sign of the kind of erratic autonomous behaviour that Helen Price had reported. Nina continued to walk the length of her office, back and forth, twice more, but the bra did its job admirably.

  ‘I can see her point about the elasticated shoulder straps,’ Nina murmured, hopping up and down on the spot a little to send her chest into trampoline-like vertical undulations. ‘But surely that’s part of the fun. A bit of bounce and jiggle is sexy to look at, and the elastic in the straps means it happens without any pain or discomfort to the ligaments in the breast.’

  ‘But that’s a perfectly-fitting bra, Nina,’ Roger pointed out. ‘P-perhaps,’ he cleared his throat a little too nervously as his mouth dried up, ‘Perhaps you should try the 36F?’

  ‘Of course, that’s why I asked for it to be brought up, too,’ said Nina. ‘Not only will it be too small for me, in the cups at least, it’s the exact same model the customer had the issue with.’<
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  Roger nodded. ‘Perhaps that particular design in that particular size incurs some fluke structural weakness,’ he pondered aloud.

  ‘Who knows,’ shrugged Nina. She reached into the base of her cleavage with fingers and thumbs and fumbled until the front-fasteners opened. Freed of the bra’s constricting influence, her bosom relaxed and expanded, forwards and to either side. But even though they spread out past her arms, Roger was astonished to note that there was still so much tit that her cleavage didn’t open up, and instead there remained a crevasse between her breasts deep and tight enough to… Nina was absent-mindedly on the brink of peeling the lace and silk cups from the pointed tips of her bosom, and Roger’s dick lurched so violently in expectation that the box on his lap jumped briefly into the air.

  ‘N-Nina…’ Roger raised a hand in alarm. He could feel pre-cum trickle steadily from his bulbous cockhead down his left hip.

  ‘Oh yes, silly me,’ laughed Nina, keeping the cups in place with her hands. ‘It’s just that bosoms are such a banal necessity of everyday life here, it’s very easy to forget how inappropriate it would be for me to bare mine in front of a male colleague! We’re not really used to men working here, at least not straight men. I’m assuming you’re…?’ Nina stopped herself. ‘Sorry, being inappropriate yet again, really none of my business, I apologise, Roger.’

  Roger waved the faux pas away with a smile that, he hoped, did not betray the dangerous pre-orgasmic sensation at large within his body. ‘We’re both professionals,’ he said.

  Nina fastened the thirty-four J again and leaned over to take the thirty-six F from the tissue-lined box in Roger’s lap. Roger was now not only confronted with the heaving twin mountains of Nina’s chest wobbling and swaying before him in the sexy blue bra, he now also had to contend with the feeling of the buxom young chief executive’s hand sliding around on the fat base of his throbbing shaft with only a thin layer of cardboard and his suit trousers separating them. He was practically getting a handjob off his boss. If she could feel the stiffness and twitching of his groin, she wasn’t letting on.