âItâs beginning to look a lot like Titmas.
Everywhere you go.
Take a look at the ladiesâ bras,
jiggling near and far
With candy canes and little lights that glow.
âItâs beginning to look a lot like Titmas,
Toys for every breast.
But the loveliest one of all is the tit-brained, horny fool
Clasped in my own chest.
ââA pair of bouncy-big boobs and a cleavage that soothes
Is the wish of Barney and Ben
Slaves thatâll hump and can take a few lumps
Is the hope of Janice and Jen
Soon Ben and Barnâ canât help but moan to be set free again.
âCarmen? What are youâŚ?â
ââItâs beginning to look a lot like Titmas,
Everywhere you go.
There are couples at Grand Hotel,
Some in the park as well,
Theyâll keep tithumping never mind the snow.
âIt's beginning to look a lot like Titmas.
Soon the bells will rock.
And the thing thatâll make âem shake
Is the carol that you make
Thrusting with your cock.
âItâs beginning to look a lot likeâhm? What is it? Youâre looking at me funny. Is it the song? You donât like it? I did kind of spring it on you, but I wanted to surpriseââ
ââNo, no,⌠no, itâs. Well, the song, but when did you⌠how did you getâŚ?â Tim gestured at his girlfriendâs two new, big Titmas decorations wobbling within their velvet and ribbon cage.
âOh the outfit?â she asked. âI picked it up earlier.â Carmen twirled in a circle, her snowball earrings swinging outwards, matching the spinning trajectory of the breasts gliding past Timâs face. He kept his eyes safely locked on the two pirouetting snowballs to stop his gaze from trailing down the curve of her neck, down into the deep softness of her chest.
âYou like?â With one final, jiggling shimmy, Carmen dropped her hands down to her hips. Her chest, fur-lined, proud, and inexplicably big, jutted out towards her boyfriend like a threat. âI kept thinking I didnât have anything really Titmassy to wear at this time of year. AndâI know, I knowâI always say how much I hate Titmas; with the whole breast obsession, and the sex, and all the humiliation you guys have to put up with and everything, butâI donât know whyâthis year Iâm just overflowing with Titmas cheer.â Her eyes caught the lights glowing from the tree, flashing with unrestrained glee.
âYes,â Tim said, slowly. âThe outfit I get. The song I get. But your breasts, the blessing. What triggered the growtâŚ?â
An easy smile appeared on Carmenâs cherry-painted lips as she reached forwards, sliding a hand around the back of Timâs head. Her eyes, green and piercing, peered into his, and she caressed his hair with her fingers, leaning in close. For a moment he thought she might kiss him. Then came the sharp tug forward. Then came the crashing down, Christmas lights burning glowing trails across his vision as the huge breasts rose up to meet him. Soft flesh smashing into his cheeks, forcing a gasp of air out of his lungs as he collided into winter cold skin.
Carmen kept her hand firmly clamped against the back of his head, and began to grind his face into her breasts. Leaving him muffled, gasping and struggling between a pair of fat tits which had barely even been there this morning.
He was dazed. Not just by the sudden slap of soft boobs against his face, not only by his girlfriendâs new madness and strength, but by the nutmeg scent burrowing into his brain. Even her boobs smelled like Titmas now. Lovely, enticing pheromone scents, turned malicious, summoning up memories of Titmases past: paraded around naked for the girlâs to laugh at, suffering the whims of boobsex-starved women as they demanded tribute and presents. One Titmas he remembered vividly, stuck on the couch all evening, pressed underneath the unwanted boobs of a maiden aunt. And every year, that false promise that all of the pain and madness would endâif only he would slip his cock between a heavy pair, jostling with Titmas spirit.
That time of year again. The time for the ritual punishment of naughty boys who hadnât found their proper places yet. Titmas, Merry Titmas. The cruellest time of the year.
âMmnn I can tell youâre excited.â Carmenâs voice, just a whisper, brought him back to a room still droning with Titmas music. He could see little but the veined skin of her boobs, only able to snatch half glimpses of twinkling lights out of the corners of his eyes. âIâm excited too.â she said, holding him so close. âWeâre going to have so much fun together this year.â
And he couldnât help but laugh. The gasping sound bursting from his throat immediately swallowed by Carmenâs breasts, making the huge udders shake with the force of it. He wondered whether perhaps the mad spirit of Titmas was getting to him too: the music, the lights, the grinding Titmas tits shoved up against his face, sending pheromones zapping through his brain, all making his synapses spark with holiday cheer.
But most of all, in that moment, still pulling and struggling, writhing and choking against her tits, it had seemed somehow incredibly funny to him that Carmen had picked the wrong song:
Soon enough it would be Titmas every day.