“Damn!” Megan muttered to herself when she first noticed the little bump
showing through her blouse. She’d been banging a report into her desk
computer when a stray motion of her arm had set of the Itch.

She tried to ignore it, but ever since her hormone treatments had
started, she’d been pestered by the Itch. And once her implants had
eliminated the need for artificial bra fillers, the Itch had become her
master, and she the slave.

Anything could set the Itch off: a chance gesture, a cough, or even a
stray erotic thought. She’d tried to prevent its onset by wearing heavy
cotton bras, soft tricot bras, and today, even the bold experiment of no
bra at all, but it was no use.

Her hyper-sensitive nipples started swelling. As they grew, they became
more and more tender. Megan knew that her large brown aureoles were
visibly darkening as the juices flowed into them. She held her breath,
hoping to keep the tiny motions of her slick white blouse from
stimulating her breasts further, but her very heartbeat was enough to
thrill them!

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” she sighed, and placed her two hands
carefully atop the swell of her heavy mounds. All ten of her inch-long
red and black enameled nails pointed inward, almost meeting over the
chasm between her silky lapels.

She waited a moment for her slender fingers to absorb the warmth of her
bosom, then watched and felt them descending slowly, inexorably towards
her prominent, fleshy nubbins. Her breasts were afire with need, and
Megan relished the anticipation of filling that need almost as much as
the act itself!

With her fingertips, she caressed the bumpy surface of her aureoles
through the soft material, allowing the long, sharp tips of her nails to
flick lightly against her distended nipples. She forced herself to draw
in a long, shaky breath before succumbing to temptation and rolling the
sweet sprites gently between her fingers and thumbs.

She’d have closed her eyes in ecstasy, but she couldn’t tear them away
from the sight! For years, she had dreamt of moments like these, and
now that they were a reality, she intended to enjoy them to the fullest!

Inevitably, the Itch did not confine itself to her breasts. Her entire
body was becoming aroused. While one hand continued to tickle her
wonderful globes, the other stole towards the hem of her short skirt.

The phone speaker rudely curtailed her activities. “Megan, could I
speak to you, a minute?” It was always pleasant to hear Donna’s voice,
but Megan did not welcome the interruption.

“Certainly, Donna,” she replied, and followed that with a “shit!” the
instant the red light winked out. Megan stood inside her office door,
unsure whether to wait to calm down, or to hope that her excitement
would subside before reaching Donna’s room.

It was too sudden to avoid! Donna had turned to speak to another woman
just as she threw open Megan’s door, and walked headlong into her
friend.

“Ssssss!” Megan sucked in her breath. For a brief moment, her entire
being was focused upon the tender, swollen tips of her white-hot
breasts. She closed her eyes while the tide of erotic sensation swept
over her.

They remained motionless for less than two seconds, but it seemed like
minutes to Megan. Her extraordinarily sensitive nipples were pressed
tightly against Donna’s lush breasts. She could almost count the
stitches in Donna’s lace bra through their silky blouses.

Donna’s “Oh, my!” caused Megan’s blue-shadowed eyelids to flutter open.
Megan felt the warm red glow spreading upward from her snowy cleavage,
and witnessed the same flush underlaying Donna’s adroitly painted face.

“Excuse me,” “I’m sorry!” the ladies exclaimed simultaneously. As they
separated, Donna’s lace cups raked Megan’s raw nerve tips like
sandpaper.

Donna was equally startled by their accidental collision. She was
thankful that her report had fluttered to the floor as they had met;
gathering the scattered sheets enabled her to collect her rattled wits.
She had never imagined being sexually aroused by a chance contact with
another woman! She tried desperately not to dwell on the sensation of
Megan’s stiff nipples mashed tightly against her own ripe melons.

“I’m sorry, Donna,” Megan began, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky
to Donna as it did to herself. “You startled me, and I …”

Megan stopped in mid sentence. She was completely flustered by the
sight of her finger-sized nipples showing so obviously through her
simple white blouse. She wanted to run away and hide, afraid of what
Donna might think!

“No, no, Megan, it was my fault,” Donna replied. “I was looking over my
shoulder when I came in, instead of looking where I was going. I didn’t
even knock.” She stood. “I was just bringing …”

Both women were suddenly very quiet. Megan’s heart pounded furiously,
and her eyes widened. She had not felt Donna’s nipples during their
contact. She was quiet sure of that. Yet there they were, standing to
attention under her shimmering red and black blouse, every bit as erect
as Megan’s own, defying her bra!

“Here’s the report” Donna suddenly blurted, thrusting the clump of
papers at Megan. She turned and hurried back to her office, closing the
door behind her.

Megan was startled to realize that, in her elevated emotional state, she
had been positively thrilled at the sight of Donna’s firm round fanny
swiveling beneath her slender leather skirt as she had run off. She
tried to get back to work, but the memory of Donna’s lace bra sliding
over her breasts were too strong to suppress.

Donna, in her office, just sat down and shook. She was hotter than she
had been in months, and she couldn’t fathom why! How could accidentally
bumping into her friend possibly have turned her on, so? She was no
lesbian! Certainly, she’d been happy to see the changes in Megan over
the last few months. She had watched her shy, diffident character
steadily expanding. Megan had become more confident, more alive. But,
Donna had never thought about her in an explicitly sexual context!

The more they thought, the more confused the women each became. Both
would have been shocked to know what the other was thinking.

Two pairs of panty-clad cheeks wiggled in two chairs as two skirts slid
higher. The girls were lucky. No one interrupted them.

–