Roxanne’s two mums were lesbians and fierce feminists. They held that there was nothing embarrassing or inappropriate about a women’s breasts, and kept theirs bare around the house at all times.
They had conceded the point that neither Roxanne’s schooling or employers would let her go bare-titted in public, but they insisted that she keep her mammaries exposed around the house.
Unfortunately Roxanne had spent much of her childhood in her father’s custody, who had much more conventional ideas about clothing, and Roxanne felt an almost overwhelming burning shame going about bare-titted – particularly seeing as her mothers *insisted* that she invite male friends over to the house in order to do her part in socialising them to the normality of exposed tits.
These visits were always uncomfortable. They happened in Roxanne’s bedroom – which her mothers insisted on decorating in feminine pink – and the boys would do little but stare lustfully at Roxanne’s bare fuckbags while Roxanne blushed silently and grew more and more awkward. Her sense of humiliation would grow until she wanted to die – and at the same time she would have a growing awareness that her cunt was getting wetter and wetter the longer her tits were stared at. Then it would be time for the boy to leave, and she would give him an awkward hug, pressing her bare sex-melons against his chest, feeling his rock-hard cock press the front of her jeans into her dripping-wet cunt. Sometimes she would moan sluttily. Sometimes he would kiss her, and she would let him, afterwards just blushing awkwardly as he left.
She got a reputation at school, of course. The nicest name for her was “Roxanne the Rack” but she was more commonly “Roxanne the Rapetoy”, when they used her name at all. They didn’t often – one girl at school heard about her home environment, and immediately nicknamed her “Melons McTitrape”, and the name caught on. People called her “Melons” so often that new teachers often thought it was her name and started calling her it too. She was too embarrassed to correct them.
Occasionally her male guests would fuck her. Sometimes this was in the realm of rape, as they started to grope her bare tits before forcing her to her knees and shoving their cocks into her mouth. More often Roxanne was so wet-cunted with humiliation that she submissively accepted their advances, blushingly stripping off her jeans on command and spreading her pussy for their cock to violate. These encounters always made her feel like a whore – more so when she orgasmed, as she so often did – and she never told her mothers, knowing the giant drama they would raise if they thought their daughter had been raped.
Her mothers got their way, of course. Once she had a thorough reputation for being slutty, submissive, and baring her big fuckbags, people expected her to go bare-titted everywhere. They would tell her to show off her tits, or just pull up her shirts without asking, and she would blush and let them. More and more often she would be bare-titted at parties, at nightclubs, in the schoolyard at lunch, walking down the street.
It never became normalised, of course. The more she did it, the more she understood she was a sex object, nothing but a pair of tits to be squeezed and stared at and fucked, and the more she understood that, the more submissive she became, the more continuously she was wet, and the more she allowed herself to be used as a fucktoy by everyone who knew her…
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