Pushing Boundaries

Apologies if this drags on a bit, but since considering sharing my own experiences I have had it in my head just to blurt out the whole affair in a kind of ‘one and done’ fashion. I’ve finally made the decision to go for it and will try and capture everything to the best of my recollection!

For context, I am now a happily married 35 year old mother of one and this went on when I was 15. My friendship with a boy a couple of years older than me had blossomed into a relationship which became very steady and loving. Our sex life developed progressively and ended up being passionate and a thoroughly enjoyable, healthy part of our relationship. I’ll get this out of the way, I was extremely blessed in the breast department. From 14 I had cruised through a 34C and a 34D, and before I was 16 I was positively pushing the limits of a 34E bra. I was quite shy and quiet as a rule, not an extrovert by any means, UK10 and curves in the right places (not anymore I might add!) but I was unapologetically proud of my boobs and my boyfriend was nothing short of infatuated with them. They inevitably played a, no pun intended, huge part in our relationship.

I spent a lot of time exploring them, looking at them in the mirror, experimenting with different bras and tops etc. so I was equally as enthusiastic about them as he was. As we both obviously still lived with our parents, remote mutual masturbation while ‘sexting’ formed a massive portion of our sex life, and being 20 years ago, the age of semi decent camera phones was upon us. On a nightly basis I would shower him with pictures of my boobs in various poses as we both masturbated in our respective homes. I think I was as aroused by showing them off as he was by looking at them.

As we came up with new ways to inject more excitement into our ‘play’ he began to suggest some very subtle forms of exhibitionism in the home. Aside from my younger brother barging in while I was dressing which resulted in an argument which had to be diffused by my mum, and once when my boob popped out on a water slide during a family holiday which made me feel nothing but mortified, this kind of thing had never even entered my mind. We began to discuss exactly what he had in mind. The first step involved my pyjamas, or namely the pyjama top, which was essentially a Lycra tank top. He liked to pull it down at the front to show more of my cleavage but being tight Lycra, it would soon return to its original form and ride back up. We discovered that by pulling the back of the top right up to my neck the front would then loosen enough to stay in position wherever I pulled it down to. Being that I’d had this top for quite a while, the next size up would probably have been preferable thanks to the size of my bust, so when pulled down considerably at the front it was quite the spectacle. It certainly drew attention to my chest and highlighted their size. We jokingly referred to this process as ‘adjusting my top’. I’m unsure why we found that phrase amusing in this context as that is exactly what we were doing! This ‘adjustment’ would take place during our messaging and when I’d informed him it was done he suggested I venture downstairs where my parents were and do something boringly normal such as getting myself a glass of water, then return to my room. It sounds so minor, and my parents weren’t particularly prude in any way whatsoever, but on the first occasion my anxiety was through the roof. Our downstairs was open plan and my parents were sat watching tv in the room which adjoined the kitchen. I strutted into the kitchen with an absurd amount of cleavage on display and poured myself an orange juice. Dad didn’t even take his eyes off the tv, mum looked over at me, her eyes dropped and scanned across my chest for a split second then back to the tv. As I walked back up the stairs I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. I didn’t know how I was going to feel but it was certainly more intense than I had anticipated! It sounds so silly now thinking back, but the whole situation in its context aroused me to despair. I stood in front of the mirror to remind myself of how I looked and quickly texted my boyfriend to inform him that I had done it and I was now masturbating. We were both as surprised as each other that I was fully onboard with this ‘kink’ and I continued to do it regularly, each time pulling the top down more and more. I found it’s limit where the neckline was actually below the bottom of my boobs and there was no material whatsoever on the side of them, my nipples were covered by the bases of the straps where they widened into the neckline and I found that if I lowered it anymore then just the straps alone were not quite wide enough to fully cover my nipples. That most extreme incarnation of the ‘adjusted top’ had several outings around the house and the excitement of doing it was just beyond description for me. I felt sexy, I loved the sensation of how they quivered and shook as I moved around, I loved how they were so close to escaping but the minuscule strips of Lycra were strong enough and tight enough to keep them captive while leaning over, jogging down the stairs, lounging on the sofa etc. There were countless looks and glances but nothing was ever said to me about these frequent and quite frankly pretty extreme displays. I never would have imagined finding that scenario arousing.

As I mentioned before, outside of the bedroom I was very timid and unassuming. The adrenaline I felt during these escapades brought a whole new level of intensity to my masturbation. I started to crave it like a drug. On the outside I was still the same shrinking violet but inside I was constantly planning where I was going to achieve my next ‘fix’. My healthy and exciting sex life with my boyfriend continued but I found myself being taken over by my own urges more and more, I was masturbating at school, in department store fitting rooms, in public toilet cubicles, you name it. I loved the sensation of it being my secret life so to speak. I attribute that newfound side of myself to the sheer excitement of my shenanigans around the house. There had been several developments in my boyfriend’s suggestions including going downstairs later at night while everyone was in bed wearing nothing but a thong and run the risk of being seen topless, and leaving my bedroom door open at night and masturbating as loudly and as vocally as I could in the hope that the entire house heard me. I did both of these things many, many times. Fortunately (or unfortunately?!) nobody ever caught me parading around the house topless at night, nor was anything ever mentioned about frantic sexual moans echoing around the house in the middle of the night.

On one occasion during a beautifully warm spell in the summer, I was spending most of my spare time revising for my upcoming exams and being that the weather was so glorious I decided to do so on a sun lounger in the back garden. Dad was pottering around the house doing something or another and mum was doing some kind of gardening if I remember right. My boyfriend was at home and we were texting sporadically while I jotted revision notes and soaked up the sun. It wasn’t long before the fact that I was wearing a bikini top excited him. The fact that he knew exactly which one, along with knowing that it was indeed a bit too small for my bust excited him further. It was just one of my old bikini tops I had grabbed from the drawer to lounge around in, a baby pink string halter neck with triangular cups. I probably wouldn’t have worn it on holiday again as he was right, it was too small. I’d had it since I was barely a C cup and let’s just say side boob was not in short supply. If I arranged it to cover more at the sides then it rode up and revealed underboob and this was way before that was fashionable! The conversation escalated as usual and he made a suggestion which crossed a boundary I hadn’t flirted with before. Pull one of the cups aside as if it has slipped round and get one entire boob out. At first I told him to behave, and besides I was busy revising anyway. A short while later I decided to vacate indoors for a drink and a break from the sun. My boyfriend was still feeling freaky and the previous request was still pending so with my newfound naughty streak, I whipped a boob out and bounded into the house. As I strutted into the kitchen with one boob bouncing freely I almost collided with my mum and we both stopped abruptly. She looked down at my boob and said ‘how’s the revision going?’ I said yeah it’s ok, just gonna have a break and she said ‘your boob is out by the way’. Of course I put on the required act and gave the whole ‘OMG’ type reaction as I fumbled it back into my bikini top. She told me to be more careful with them when dad is around, this was the first occasion she or anyone else had actually mentioned my free range boobs. I felt a little embarrassed, she came across a little stern if anything. I relayed the incident to my boyfriend who of course was delighted, I told him that I felt like my mums only concern was doing stuff like that around my dad which was completely fair enough on reflection, but it all but confirmed that she didn’t necessarily have an issue with my antics even if she was unaware they were actually ‘antics’ as such. I told him I wasn’t sure what else I could do and he asked if I could think of any way or reason to just go the whole hog and outright ‘show’ her my boobs. I took control of this one and improvised. By this point she was in her bedroom folding and putting away laundry, here comes me and my bikini again! I stood directly in front of her and came out with some cliché about thinking one of my boobs was bigger than the other. Before she could even finish her sentence about ‘that’s perfectly normal’ etc. I had pulled my bikini to the side with both hands and completely revealed both breasts to her. She looked at them and calmly said ‘they look absolutely fine, you’re a very lucky girl’ before continuing with her laundry. As I packed them back into my top she continued ‘they really are big aren’t they, I’m actually jealous’. I reverted to my natural state of timidness in a heartbeat, blushed, coyly said ‘thanks’ and scarpered back off to my room to give my boyfriend the latest installment. He was beside himself with excitement, as was I although I was experiencing a bizarre combination of embarrassment and arousal. My mum didn’t seem to be phased at all and her last comment about my boobs had somewhat put me at ease. I was feeling nervous and excited, like things had gone to a new level, a new buzz. I definitely felt aroused but I wasn’t entirely sure what exactly had turned me on. It had been an eventful day for our ‘game’ and all seemingly thanks to my inadvertent selection of bikini top! I’d surprised both myself and my boyfriend with my willingness to partake in all of this.

In the beginning it was subtle acts to excite him, now it was escalating and becoming a massive turn on for me. I’d taken to doing small things on my own accord without my boyfriend’s knowledge, only small things like leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar while showering or attempting small subtle nip slips around the house. I was actually quite taken aback by how much this stuff was turning me on. To add another dimension to the dynamics, just prior to my summer of revision my parents had gifted me a new laptop for my school work. Our evening communication had shifted to MSN messenger, as you did back then, and as my new laptop had an integrated webcam it soon became a nightly ritual for me to switch it on as we chatted, sometimes masturbating but generally flaunting my boobs for an hour or so before we both went to bed. Couple this with a long-standing tradition of my mum religiously bringing a cup of tea up to my room on her way to bed every single night and inevitably on three or four occasions she had walked into my room and narrowly missed witnessing me fondling my boobs in front of my webcam or actually masturbating. Miraculously I always seemed to manage to pull my top down or pull the bed covers up or some kind of half baked combination of the two so she was unaware of my activities. She would place my tea on my bedside table, perch on the edge of my bed and lovingly ask me how I was, how my day had been etc. (this is bringing a tear to my eye, she is genuinely such an incredible mum!) unbeknown to her I would often be naked from the waist down, my whole body tingling just desperate to touch myself. Of course I would flip my laptop round so she couldn’t see our x rated conversation on screen. Trying to have a normal interaction with my mum as I was close to orgasm levels of sensitivity, while knowing my boyfriend was masturbating as he stared at my bedroom wall and listened to mine and mum’s inane conversation about my day at school was so intense. As soon as she left the room I would bring myself to climax almost instantly every single time. My boyfriend was so wildly turned on by this whole scenario that he wanted to up the ante a bit. The following night he suggested removing my top completely and making no attempt to cover my boobs up when my mum inevitably walked in with my cup of tea and see what unfolds. I eagerly took him up on it and removed my pyjama top. I anxiously awaited the creak of the door handle and eventually it came, she walked in and saw me sat half upright in bed, leaning on my pillows with the bed covers down to my waist. I feigned unawareness of her arrival for as long as I could until she eventually said my name. I looked up and saw her staring at my boobs before saying ‘Oh….’. I chickened out and said ‘Oh sorry!’ and scrambled to pull the covers up over my boobs. She smiled and told me not to worry so I gingerly abandoned the cover up mission halfway through and ended up sat there with the duvet balancing precariously on my boobs with a good portion of one of my nipples still exposed. We continued our standard nightly chat for a couple of minutes and I embarked on my 30 second climax the second she left the room. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she had told me not to worry about covering up. I had to try again and not be such a chicken, so I did exactly that the very next night. Again the top came off, again I eagerly awaited the movement of the door handle, again she walked in and saw me nude from the waist up only this time she just gave me a kind smile, I gave her one back and just sat there with my boobs out. We talked about the normal stuff and I was super conscious of my boobs. I was fighting the urge to pull the covers up again but I didn’t. We talked for a little longer than normal and I could see her eyes continuously wandering to my chest and I could tell she was desperate to say something. She eventually gave in and said ‘so you’re sleeping topless now?’ Luckily we were still experiencing beautiful weather and she readily accepted my reasoning based on the balmy evenings we’d been having. I felt a lot more comfortable by this point as I could sense how relaxed she was. My boyfriend had previously suggested trying to get her to touch my boobs. I had laughed it off as the thought was insane at the time, but right there in that moment my mind began to race trying to think of something to say to her which would result in her touching them. I can remember feeling as if they were swelling right there and then, maybe it was me rolling my shoulders back in some vain attempt to ‘present’ them to her, I just recall this overwhelming urge for my boobs to be closer to her. It felt like some part of my consciousness violently shoved me over the edge and I caved in and started up a direct conversation about them. I asked her if she thought they were going to grow much more, who else in our family was busty I.e where did they come from as they genuinely were considerably bigger than hers and various other breast related questions that nonsensically spewed out of my mouth in a desperate attempt to remain in the moment. The next move came as a result of her own question to me, she asked if they ever caused me any discomfort to which I replied ‘not really’, to which she asked ‘do they feel heavy?’. I just knew the moment had arrived, the line had already been crossed in my mind and I felt as though I barely had control of myself. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind in a flicker of a moment, the thought of my boyfriend listening to this and how aroused he must be, the little doubts in my mind, what was I doing?! The anticipation that my super sensitive boobs were seconds away from feeling the touch of someone else’s hand, my heightened state of arousal just crashed through all my other feelings in that moment and I sat up slightly, pushed my shoulders back, thrust my chest towards her and just blurted out ‘Feel’. Without hesitation she reached out with both hands and cupped them. She gave them a couple of gentle squeezes, rotated her hands slightly and gave them a deep, uplifting squeeze then placed her finger tips underneath them and gave them both a couple of little bounces. It lasted probably less than 5 seconds but it felt like an eternity. I asked her what she thought, she stood up from my bed and said ‘beautiful’ with a smile before giving me a peck on the forehead and leaving the room. I felt like my soul had left my body. I came within seconds of touching myself, my boyfriend was ecstatic. I laid awake for some time that night with a tennis match of emotions bouncing back and forth in my head. There was no doubt in my mind that not one solitary nanosecond of this whole situation had been sexual for my mum. She is such a soft, caring and loving person and always so calm in every eventuality. Her aura just puts me completely at ease and she never over-questions me about anything or puts any pressure on me. These thoughts filled my head and I continued to replay the 5 second boob fondle over and over. I was at peace with it. I thought of nothing else for the entirety of the following day. My friends at school were constantly asking me if I was ok as I was just miles away in my thoughts. I felt horny again, I was kinda gutted that after all this build up over weeks and weeks of my teasing and flaunting, it had peaked. The journey had been so exciting and intense that I felt like I needed more from the destination. I went and masturbated in the school toilets which took me all of about 3 minutes. It did level me out a bit though, and I was more myself for the remainder of the school day. That was a Friday and my boyfriend had plans with his friends that evening so our normal nightly session wasn’t on the cards. As the night wore on I’d gone back to obsessing over the previous night. I didn’t have a plan, I had no idea what I thought I was going to do or what would happen. I was turned on, I had no boyfriend available to chat to and I just felt like I was on another planet, it’s difficult to explain but I remember the feeling vividly. In an almost zombie like state I removed my pyjama top and my underwear and just sat anxiously awaiting the arrival of my cup of tea. The door handle creaked and in came my mum with another loving smile. She sat on the bed and we began our daily conversation. Again, it was a longer conversation than normal but it didn’t go in the direction of boobs. There somehow didn’t feel like a natural moment to bring them up, despite me sat there with them out in all their glory just like the previous night. As she got up to say goodnight and leave the room  I gave in to my desperation and called her back. She start back on the bed and looked at me inquisitively, my mouth was dry and I was trembling by this point. I asked ‘you know what you did last night?’ She smiled and replied with a long and knowing ‘yeeees’, I went on to tell her that it felt really relaxing and helped me get off to sleep (little did she know at that time how literal that statement was!) after her reply of ‘and you want me to do it again?’ came, my heart sank. As I said ‘would you?’ I was convinced her response would be a resounding no. Any remaining moisture in my mouth disappeared instantaneously when she replied with ‘do you still have any of that lavender oil left?’ I did indeed have some left, she bought it for me as a relaxant to help me with my upcoming exams. I would put a couple of drops on my pillow every now and then and my boyfriend had given me a thoroughly enjoyable massage with it several weeks prior. I leapt out of bed and retrieved it from my drawer, still dumbfounded at what was potentially happening. I passed it to her and climbed back into bed. My heart sank yet again as I remembered I was completely naked but she didn’t seem to bat an eyelid. She gave the small bottle a gentle shake and gave me her signature warm smile as she splashed some on her hands and softly rubbed her palms together. In what felt like super slow motion, her hands floated towards my boobs and landed so gently I barely noticed her touch. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her as I was nervous about how it might make me feel, instead I just looked down and watched her hands softly caressing my now shining breasts. I recall every second of this encounter as if it was yesterday. She held both of my boobs underneath, pressed a little firmer with her thumbs and slid them both across my nipples. I involuntarily threw my head back and let out a little sigh. As she continued to massage them I discreetly pulled the bed covers up a little further onto my stomach and rested my hand in between my legs. I made no conscious decision to masturbate but the moment was more powerful than my will. I could feel an out of the ordinary amount of wetness down there. My hand started slowly gliding around between my legs until it found a slow rhythm in an up and down motion, each movement glancing across my clitoris. Mum was engrossed in the massage process and I was experiencing feelings I had never been anywhere close to. My boobs had never felt that sensitive and I felt like I was floating away on some kind of high. In my mind my fingers were barely moving down below, but as I continued to rub I obviously got more and more enthusiastic. My eyes were closed and I was momentarily unaware of myself. It felt like my entire world had fallen out from beneath when out of nowhere my mum abruptly pulled her hands from my boobs and exclaimed in total shock ‘Are you masturbating?!’ I was mortified, I felt like I’d gone too far in this fantasy and reality had struck. My head dropped and I couldn’t look at her, I said the first defensive thing that came into my mind ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t even realise I was doing it’. I looked up and there was that loving smile again. She said in an almost whisper ‘don’t worry, we all have needs. It just took me by surprise’ before reaching for my boobs again and slowly continuing her massage. After a few seconds she stopped, hands still resting on my boobs. I looked up at her and she raised her eyebrows and looked back at my lower body area. I looked at her confused and she gestured with her head, again towards my lower body. Surely she wasn’t insinuating that I continue? I kept the confused look on my face and very slowly reached down between my legs yet again. She smiled and continued kneading my boobs. My mind was blank, my whole body was overcome with sensations that were brand new to me. I closed my eyes again and began actively masturbating. After I fussed with the covers a couple of times she paused her massage and gently lifted them off me and folded them at the bottom of my bed before topping her hands up with lavender oil. I laid completely naked just frozen in awe as I watched her re-apply the oil to her hands before returning them to my boobs. I immediately began to masturbate again, this time a bit more intensely. As I started panting loudly she caressed my boobs harder which is exactly what my body was crying out for. I squeezed my arms in at the top and kind of rolled them under my boobs, pushing them together. They seemed to almost double in size and it created cleavage a mile deep. I gazed at her after doing this, almost as though seeking approval. She took her hands away, sat back from me a little, looked at them with a smile and just said ‘Wow’. That tipped me over the edge, I felt my bum lift off the bed and I just masturbated as furiously as I physically could. My mind was completely irrational at this moment. I reached up and put my hand on the back of her head while just about mustering the words ‘use your mouth’, her demeanour stiffened slightly and she said my name (which I’m not mentioning for obvious reasons!) in an almost disapproving tone. I was so close to the end my inhibitions had gone, I moaned ‘pleeease’ and without a second of hesitation she leaned down and pulled my left nipple up between her lips. She let it spring free, then grabbed my breast with her hand and shoved it back towards her mouth. She pressed her tongue into my boob and ran it around and across my nipple before taking it between her lips again and pulling it gently. It was that exact moment I cascaded into a long, deep, guttural orgasm. I grabbed the back of her head and pushed my boob into her face as my body continued to spasm. I thrust two fingers as deeply inside me as I could and my hips started involuntarily thrusting. I can’t even recall the noises I was making but the orgasm seemed to just keep going and going. Again involuntarily, I flipped myself onto my side and threw my leg around her back. I could feel the softness of the side of her thigh and bum as I thrust against it uncontrollably. I have no recollection of her actual reaction during this time as I was orgasming so intensely I was in delirium. I eventually came to a rest and rolled onto my back as though I was unconscious. I feel like I was close to being so. The following few moments after that are somewhat of a blur, time stood still, or rushed by, I’m not sure which. She eventually took me by the hands and helped me back to a sitting position where she leaned in and gave me a tight, lingering hug. My mind was still blank, I felt exhausted and incapable of experiencing emotions. I was overwhelmed by the physical intensity. I had never had an orgasm like that in my life, and that remains true to this day. She gave me her usual kiss on the forehead and left without saying a word. In fact not another single word was said about it to this day. I ventured downstairs the following morning in some kind of alternate reality, not entirely convinced it had actually happened. I felt coy, nervous, embarrassed and entirely unsure about how to about approach her, what to do, what to say. The kettle was boiling, mum was eating a bowl of cereal and greeted me with her usual ‘morning’ accompanied by her ever loving smile. I smiled back with my heart racing and felt that oh so familiar sensation of being at total ease around her. It genuinely was as if it never happened. It never happened again, not even the breast massage, and I was ok with that. I spent nights struggling to sleep thinking about whether I had gone too far. She had just got caught up in it all after all. Regardless of what I was thinking or feeling about it emotionally, I spent months on end relentlessly masturbating while reliving that night. I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t too much, it was just enough. I felt so much satisfaction from it that I didn’t feel compelled to try and do anything like that again, despite getting endless sexual pleasure from the thought of it. It might sound bizarre now, but never once did I feel like I had any kind of sexual attraction to my mum. If she had participated more in any way I’m one hundred percent positive that I would have indulged in making love to her that night, but I’m glad it didn’t go that way. I don’t think she ever would have gone that far. She’s a beautiful woman inside and out but that was never a desire of mine even in the most heated moments throughout that situation. Ironically, I have often wondered if she was inclined to masturbate when she left my room that night but I’ve never asked her. Maybe I will one day if it ever arises but in hindsight I think we were both content with what happened and with how we moved forward. I love my mum more than anything on earth and vice versa and after coming to terms with it, it became nothing more than an extremely pleasant memory. Even more ironically, I never actually told my boyfriend about what happened that night. I don’t know why, it just felt private and I’ve always kept it that way until now!

I continued to partake in the little exhibitionist activities, every now and then receiving an admiring glance and a wry smile from my mum when I was flaunting my boobs around the house. The relationship with my boyfriend eventually ran its course when I went away to university and our lives naturally grew apart. I haven’t spoke with him for many years but we remain friends on social media so we both have a rough idea of how each other’s lives have panned out. Both of us in loving relationships with families of our own. My husband is unaware of any of this and I’m just fine with that, it was a part of another life. As the years rolled by I thought about it less and less and it was actually reading this site which brought all the memories flooding back. It took me a long time to follow through on my desire to share this after all this time, and as you might imagine, almost as long to write it all down! I have however thoroughly enjoyed reliving these experiences and yes, I have masturbated about them again! I don’t masturbate as much as I used to but it’s still something I fully immerse myself in when I get the opportunity, and yes, I am still very fond of my boobs which incidentally are considerably bigger now! 

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my ramblings!