The following is probably a work of FICTION. It was sent back in time in a
quantum bottle. So who really knows for sure? ...
Feel free to reprint or take credit for it (as if I could stop you), but
please don't make any changes, or I won't write anything new!
More of TooMuchTime's erotic writings can be found here ...
http://www.asstr.org/~TooMuchTime/
THE BEST CHRISTMAS GIFT EVER (m F cons busty oral)
by TooMuchTime (TooMuchTime2002@hotmail.com)
Copyright(c) 2002, TooMuchTime. All rights reserved.
The winter was particularly harsh the year I turned 15. I mainly
remember this because it most often fell on me to shovel the snow off the
hundred feet or so of sidewalks that surrounded our corner house with the
big yard. My were pretty (I'd been a bit of a conception
surprise), each with their own collection of back and joint problems, and
my and had both already left home and lived several
states away. So when it came to manual labor around our house, I was the
always the prime candidate.
That year was also memorable for another reason. Because it was the
year that my Mickey, nearing 30, had finally managed to find
himself somebody to marry. My sister, a few years younger than him, had
been happily since the year after she graduated college, but Mickey
always seemed to like his freedom a bit too much. So we were all pretty
surprised that November to get the news that he was engaged to get hitched
in April, and that he'd be bringing his fiancée, Rochelle, home with him
for a week during Christmas, so we could all get to know her.
As it turned out, that simple Christmas plan would meet with some
complications ...
* * *
When the phone rang, I was in the living room, watching television.
Specifically, I was trying to see how much skin and I could take in
on Baywatch before my finished ironing the laundry down in the
basement. It wasn't nearly as good as the Cinemax I sometimes
caught late at night, when my were sound asleep, but for a
puberty-enraged always looking for his next masturbatory fix, it wasn't
bad either. Pam Anderson in a wet bikini was always good for a
late-afternoon jerking session in the bathroom before dinner.
The phone rang again. It was 4 days until Christmas, and snow fell
steadily outside.
My yelled up from the basement. "Benji, can you get that?"
"Yeah, Mom!" Using the remote, I changed channels to the Network, just in case my happened to come back upstairs again while
I was distracted. Then I grabbed the phone, a bit annoyed. "Hello?"
"Hey, Squirt, it's me." Only one person called me Squirt -- my brother.
"Oh, hey Mickey. You still coming in tonight?"
"No, I can't. Snow's even worse here than it is down your way. They
declared a state of emergency."
"Shit, really? That sucks."
"Yeah. There's no way I can get a plane out of here. Hopefully, it'll
clear up in a day or so."
"I don't know, man. They're saying it's supposed to be this bad all
week."
"I know, that's what I'm a afraid of. Anyway, look, I need to let you
guys know that Rochelle is still heading your way."
"She is?" I asked. "Why?"
"Just shitty planning. She flew down to her parents' place a few days
ago, and she rented a car so that she could meet me at our place. The plan
was we'd drop the car off at the airport when we flew out next week. It
all made sense on paper at the time."
"Before the blizzard," I said.
"Exactly. Now she's already on the way there. If I'd known I wouldn't
be able to get a plane out, I'd have told her to sit tight at her parents'.
It's too late now, though."
"No big deal. I'm sure and Dad won't care. They're all psyched to
meet her."
"Yeah, she's a sweetheart. You will love her."
"Anything is better than Bruce, right?" We shared a hearty laugh at
this. Bruce was my sister's husband, and it was generally (and secretly)
agreed within the that he was a grade-A prime asshole. The kind of
guy who did everything he could to make the people around him feel like
shit and make himself look superior. The first time he met my parents,
over dinner, he lectured them about how irresponsible it had been to give
birth to me at such a late age, because they'd probably be dead by the time
I ever got around to getting married.
"No, she's nothing like that" Mickey said. "I'm telling you, she's a
sweetheart. Smart, beautiful, funny. Everybody loves her the second they
meet her."
"What's she doing with you then?" I asked.
"Yeah, very funny, Squirt. You just try to remember she's your future
sister-in-law, okay?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means treat her nice. And don't go telling her stupid about
me."
"I'm not making any promises," I said.
"Yeah, whatever. Look, let me talk to or Dad."
"Okay. Later." With this, I carried the cordless phone down into the
basement, handed it off to my mother, and went back to watching the
red-suited beauties on Baywatch.
Two hours later, Rochelle arrived.
* * *
As soon as Rochelle walked through the door, I understood exactly what
my had meant when he said she was beautiful. She really was. From
the second my opened the door, Rochelle simply lit up the room. She
wasn't very tall, maybe 5'5" or so -- about an inch shorter than me -- but
she seemed to carry herself much larger. And by this, I don't mean to say
she was heavy. I just mean that she had a bright smile, and that her wide
brown eyes, always alert, took in every new room she entered as if it were
the Emerald City.
"Come in, come in," my said, noticeably excited. "Get out of the
cold."
As for Rochelle's weight, it was tricky to tell at first glance. She
looked kind of husky in her big winter coat and hat ... but then so does
everybody. Clearly, she wasn't obese, but beyond that, it was hard to
tell.
"Here, let me take your coat," my said. "Benji, go get the rest
of her bags."
As she pulled off her hat, revealing a head of long, wavy brown hair,
Rochelle resisted at first. "It's okay," she said, smiling at me. "I can
go get it myself. There's only one more."
Dad bristled at this. "Nonsense. Benji's got his shoes on already."
True, I thought. But only because ten minutes earlier, I'd finished
shoveling the driveway clear in a hurry, so that Rochelle would have a
clean place to park. Still, I have to say, I didn't mind the idea of doing
something nice for her. It's funny how that is -- we all tend to like
doing things for attractive people, even when they're complete strangers.
"I'll go," I said, smiling back stupidly at her.
Rochelle obviously knew a losing battle when she saw one. She handed me
the keys.
By the time I came back inside with the bags, was putting the
finishing touches on dinner, and Dad was standing with Rochelle in front of
the fireplace in the living room. Even with the coat off, with her back to
me, I still couldn't tell much more about her body than I'd been able to
before. She wore a colorful baggy sweater that extended to mid-thigh, and
beneath that, a pair of loose jeans and boots.
My saw me coming. "Take those into Mickey's room," he said, and
I did.
A few minutes later, my announced that dinner was ready.
* * *
Over pot roast, my wasted no time in not-so-subtly finding out
everything there was to know about our guest. It turned out Rochelle grown
up only about an hour away from us, although it had taken she and Mickey
going to the same health club three states away for them to finally meet.
She had a degree in veterinary medicine, but now made a living as a
marketing coordinator for a small retail pet supply chain. She was 27
years old, had no brothers or sisters, and seemed hesitant to talk about
her for some reason.
And that's about all I remember. The truth is, I'm sure she said a lot
more, but I was a bit too preoccupied with mooning at her all through
dinner to pay complete attention. Even though I sat directly across from
her, I still couldn't quite get a reading on what she might look like under
her clothes. She didn't seem to be flat-chested, but the sweater was too
baggy and to discern much more. I'm not sure why it was so important
for me to know. I guess it was just the result of being a horny 15 year
old. Anyway, these were the kinds of thoughts going through my head when
she suddenly asked me a question.
"So Benji, how do you like school?"
I shrugged. "It's okay, I guess."
"Mickey tells me you're a bit of a genius."
This, of course, provoked a blush. "No, I'm not."
"He scores at the top of the class every time they test him," my said, proudly.
Then my chimed in. "He moved ahead so fast in grade school, they
made him skip fifth grade entirely. Just so he wouldn't get bored." One
thing I have to say for my -- they were ridiculously supportive of
me, even my father. Some I know, their fathers would be a bit
frustrated with a son who had absolutely no interest in sports, but mine,
maybe because he was older, knew that having brains was the best way to get
ahead in life.
"You must be very proud of him," Rochelle said, which brought even more
blood to my face.
"Oh, we are," my replied.
My saw an opening to rib me, and took it. "I just hope he
remembers to take his nose out of the books long enough to start dating
some pretty soon." He winked over at me, just so I'd know he was only
teasing.
Rochelle giggled. "Oh, I'm sure he'll have no trouble there. When the
time is right."
My face caught on fire at this point, and I was sure that somebody would
have to pour a bucket of water on my head to put me out. I smiled as best
I could, despite the fact that I was dying of embarrassment, then finished
my dinner and excused myself to my bedroom, leaving the rest of them behind
to talk about the weather.
* * *
I didn't have a television in my room back then, but I did have a
computer with an internet connection. So for the next couple of hours, I
entertained myself in the usual way -- surfing the Web for nude photos of
women that I could to. I did this, of course, with one ear
constantly alert to sounds coming from the hallway. There was no working
lock on the door, so if one of my decided to walk in and ask me a
question or something, as they sometimes did, I needed enough early warning
to minimize my browser.
At one point, around 9 o'clock, I thought this might happen. But it
turned out to only be my showing Rochelle to my brother's room. I'd
been half expecting this. After all, it was my parents' habit to go to
sleep by about 9:30, like clockwork, then get up at the crack of dawn. And
this didn't tend to vary even if we had company. Sure enough, a few
minutes later, my poked her head in.
"Well, we're off to bed," she said.
"Night, Mom."
"Try not to stay up too late," she warned. "There'll be more snow on
the walks in the morning."
"I know, Mom."
"And be sure not to make too much noise. Rochelle's right next door."
My room and Mickey's room were adjoined by a shared bathroom with a
thin door on either end, which we all knew tended to carry sound from one
room to the other like a length of pipe, even when both doors were closed.
"I know, Mom. I'll just be on the computer, not playing music or
anything."
"She seems nice, doesn't she?" my asked, smiling.
I nodded. "Yeah, she does. Did she go to sleep?"
"I think so. Sounds like she had a long day. Well, good night, Honey."
"Night, Mom." Relieved, I opened my browser window again, and eyed up
the hot busty redhead I'd stumbled across after doing a search for "big
tits" in Yahoo. Busty Bethany was her name, and she was amazing -- tall,
with long legs, a 34DDD chest (according to her bio), and a clear love of
lingerie. I couldn't seem to find any nude or even topless photos of her
in the free section of her site, though, and this frustrated me a bit. So
I spent the next half-hour searching around from one dead end to another,
looking for them. Eventually, I did find some on a thumbnail site, and was
glad I did. My dick had already been fairly well primed just from the
other pics. Now, it created an instant tent in my pajama bottoms at the
sight of "Busty Bethany" puckering her lips at the camera, her hands
with long fingernails cupping those huge from beneath, pushing
them together, her large nipples pointing out toward the camera.
"I'm guessing that's not homework," a voice said behind me.
I nearly had a heart attack on the spot. I turned quickly, and saw
Rochelle standing a few feet away. The bathroom door through which she'd
obviously entered stood open a few feet behind her and the light in there
was off. If it had been on, I'd have caught the reflection on my monitor.
Shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit. But all I managed to say was, "I -- I
--"
Rochelle apparently saw that she'd caused me some distress, and looked
immediately sympathetic. "I'm sorry," she said. "That wasn't nice. I
should have knocked or something." By now, I'd had time to notice that she
was a bit more casually dressed than she'd been earlier. Much more
actually. In fact, all she wore was a long blue t-shirt that extended
almost to her knees, and perhaps whatever underwear was on beneath it.
From her bare calves, I could tell that she was definitely not overweight,
and from the way the t-shirt swelled on top, I knew now that she was most
definitely not flat-chested. "I just saw your light on, and thought maybe
you were in here reading or something."
"I -- I was," I said, trying to salvage the situation. I moused up to
the bookmarks list on my browser, and pulled up an interesting site about
quantum physics that I'd run across a few days before. "I just clicked on
a link in a junk mail I got, and it took me to that other site."
"Oh, I see," she said, with a sly expression. "Yes, I get those
sometimes too."
"They suck," I said. "I just wanted to see if I could get off the
mailing list."
"And you were looking at that page for so long ..."
"Trying to find an e-mail address," I said, knowing how lame I must
sound.
Rochelle smiled. "Of course." She stepped closer, standing to the side
of me. "And did you find one?"
I shook my head. "No. Just some pictures."
"Not such terrible pictures, though," she said, her tone a bit teasing.
"No," I said, blushing. "They were okay."
"I'm sorry," she said, looking genuinely repentant. "I'm embarrassing
you."
I shrugged. "Kind of. A little." I suddenly became aware that from
where she was standing, if Rochelle looked down, she could probably see the
tent that my raging erection was making. I tried to think of some way to
adjust myself, but there really was none. I just leaned forward a bit, and
hoped to make it a little less obvious.
"You know, it's not a crime," she said.
"What's not?" I asked, trying to act like I was reading the physics
article.
"Looking at nakedness. It's a natural enough thing."
"I know," I said, glancing over at her. "I've looked at some before."
"Well good. Never be ashamed of it."
"I'm not." I tried squirming in the chair, to see if I could make my
hard-on tuck back some against my body, but only succeeded in making my
condition even more obvious when it got caught up in the folds of the
pajama bottoms. What's worse, this seemed to draw Rochelle's attention to
it, so that as I sat up straight again, then looked over at her, I could
see that she was looking right down into my lap. At this point, the best I
could think to do was say, "Um ... sorry."
"Don't be," she said. "That's natural too."
"I know, but ..."
"Benji, I'm going to tell you something that I'd prefer you didn't share
with your and father. Mickey knows, but I'd rather not have
everybody else know yet. Can you keep a secret?"
"Uh ... sure. What is it?" I tried not to be self-conscious of my
erection, now that she knew about it and didn't seem to care. But I still
managed to feel like a big dopey pervert all the same.
"Well. My are nudists. And I was raised a nudist."
"Wow, really? That's cool. I mean ... what's that mean exactly?"
She laughed lightly at this. "It means we lived pretty much in the
nude. And we lived in a small community where everybody else did too. And
during summers, we'd go to special camps and beaches where most everybody
there was nude as well. It was just a general part of my life. For my
parents, it still is."
"Wow." That must rock, I thought, but didn't say it. "So, why did you
stop?"
"Well, it wasn't a big deal where I grew up, but once I went off to
college, it became kind of inconvenient. I still go nude at home
sometimes, though. Or when I'm at my parents'." This, of course,
immediately made Benji wonder even more than he had been already what
Rochelle looked like naked. "It threw Mickey off a bit when he visited
them for the first time, of course. Especially the first time my walked into the room."
I laughed in spite of my awkwardness. "I bet. So does he ..."
"Get naked? Mickey?" She giggled. "No. Well ... the same times
everybody else does, I guess. Showers, that kind of thing. But he won't
even sleep naked. Always wears his boxer shorts."
"Yeah, me too. Or pajama bottoms." I looked down, and saw that my dick
was still betraying me.
"Anyway," Rochelle said. "I just wanted to let you know that. I
thought it might make you feel better about ... you know. Me walking in
here and everything. Just be aware that I don't shock or offend easily."
"Um. Okay. Thanks."
"I should probably get to bed now," she said.
"Yeah. Me too."
"Well, good night then. See you in the morning." And with a final
smile, she padded quietly back to the bathroom door and disappeared. But
she didn't close it behind her.
I sat there for another fifteen minutes or so, unsure of what to do,
checking my e-mail and actually starting to read the quantum physics
article. By that point, my erection had subsided, and I realized that I
had to take a leak. So I got up out of my chair and made my way into the
bathroom, just as I had a thousand times before. Only when I got there, I
found myself in an unusual situation. Because the door into my brother's
room was wide open. Not only this, but Rochelle was sitting up in bed,
some pillows propped behind her back, no covers on her from the waist up,
reading a book. This, of course, would not have been so amazing in and of
itself ... if not for the fact that she had taken off the long t-shirt she
wore earlier, and was sitting there topless.
Now, of course, the mystery of her chest size was settled once and for
all. And the verdict was ... they were friggin huge! From my online
experiences with sizes, I concluded that she was easily a D cup.
They were perky, round, and quite frankly, the most amazing things I'd ever
seen in my life. Of course, since they were the first live I was ever
seeing, this probably had something to do with that assessment.
As I stood there, staring, Rochelle took notice of me. "Oh, hi Benji."
"Hi, I ..." I pointed down to the toilet. "Just have to go."
She giggled, then looked a bit confused. "Good luck with that," she
said, and went back to her book.
"I'm, uh ... just going to close your door, okay?"
"That's fine," she said, without looking up.
I walked over to the door, took in the sight of her amazing one
last time, then pulled it shut. Only then did I realize her crack about
needing good luck had been more appropriate than she probably thought.
Because by now, I had another raging hard-on, which made it nearly
impossible to pee. I had to bend far forward, and still some of it ended
up spraying the seat, which I had to wipe down thoroughly with tissues when
I was done. Ironically, by that time, my erection had more or less
disappeared. Then I went back to the door again, and hesitantly opened it
just far enough to poke my face through. Again, there she was ... and
there THEY were. I had to force myself to look at her face. "Um. Did you
want me to leave this open or closed?"
"I prefer open," she said. "But whatever's more comfortable for you."
I thought about this, but only for a second. After all, my own humility
and body shame aside, there wasn't really much chance of me passing up the
chance to see a topless woman in person. "I guess open is okay."
She smiled at me. "Open it is then."
I pushed the door wide, as it had been before. At this point, I
realized that I couldn't quite justify any more staring at her without it
becoming obvious. "Okay. Night then," I said.
"Good night, Benji." But before I'd had a chance to completely turn
away, Rochelle took a moment to readjust herself on the bed, as if to try
and bring her back up straighter. Of course, as they say in physics, for
every action in the universe, there is an equal and opposite reaction. And
the immediate ripple effect of this particular action was that her bobbled and bounced and jiggled as she adjusted her body. It was ...
quite a thing to see.
When she'd found a new comfort zone, Rochelle saw me still standing
there. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No. I, um ... was just trying to think of something I wanted to tell
you. But I forgot."
"I see," she said, and darted her eyes downward for a moment, then back
up again. I glanced down myself, and realized what she'd seen. My dick,
which had gone more or less soft during my piss, was suddenly at attention
again. Only this time, instead of tenting in my pajama bottoms, it had
decided to poke its head out through the hole.
"Shit." I quickly put it away again, as best I could. "Sorry, I ..."
"Benji, it's okay. Like I said before, there's no shame in it."
So then why was I blushing so much that I thought my face would explode?
I backed out of the doorway. "I should, um, get to bed." Before I manage
to embarrass myself any further, I thought.
For the third time, Rochelle bid me a good night.
As I crossed the threshold into my own room, I considered whether or not
I should close the door, and on the spur of the moment, decided not to.
After all, I knew she had to go to sleep before long, and once she did,
there might be a chance that I could sneak into the bathroom and peek at
her some more. At the time, of course, the irony of me at a woman
who'd made such a pretense of not caring whether I saw her nude didn't
occur to me. I lived in a world where women hid their nakedness, and where
boys did their best to sneak around and try to see it.
Still, within minutes, the decision to leave the door open came back to
bite me in the ass. Because as I lay there in bed, my erection throbbing,
I realized that the one thing I wanted to do more than anything else in the
world was masturbate. And even though my bed was in the far corner of the
room, and therefore didn't give anybody in the bathroom a direct line of
sight, I still hesitated to do anything. After all, she'd proven that she
could move very quietly earlier. I thought about getting up to close the
door, but decided it was too late. She'd already seen me turn the light
off a few minutes before, so now it would look obvious if I closed it -- as
if I had something to hide. Which, of course, I did. But for some reason,
I didn't want her thinking that.
Before long, I saw the light in her own room go out, and realized that
my plan to sneak a peek at her while she slept had been ill-conceived as
well. After all, if it was dark in her room, there wasn't much to see. I
wrestled for a while with the possibility of using a flashlight or
something, but a few minutes into that thought process, the day full of
shoveling snow finally caught up with me, and I fell asleep.
* * *
I awoke early the next morning to the sound of running water and
somebody humming quietly. As I rolled over in bed, I pieced together the
noises and figured out that Rochelle must be taking a bath. It was a
somewhat alien sound to me, because I always took showers myself. I
continued to lay there for a while, just listening, until the water
eventually stopped running, and I heard the gentle slooshing sound of a
body lowering itself into the tub.
"Now what?" I thought, as I stared longingly over at the open door. I
suddenly regretted the decision several months ago to move my bed to where
it was now. Because if I hadn't done this, I would have had a perfect line
of sight as Rochelle stood waiting for the tub to fill -- probably naked --
and I'd probably be able see her now. Still, maybe there was some way ...
I rose out of bed, all too aware of my obligatory "morning wood", took
off my t-shirt, and walked deliberately over to my dresser, which was right
in front of the bathroom door. What I was trying my best to do was act as
if this was my normal chain of events in the morning, and that nothing
unusual -- like a naked woman in the tub -- was happening in my world. It
was just another day. Ho hum. And before I even finished pulling my
underwear drawer open, Rochelle saw me.
"Morning, Benji," she said, thereby giving me the opening I needed to
look over at her. And oh, what a site. Once again, thanks to the water in
the tub, all I could see of her was from the waist up. But this time, I
was much closer than I'd been the night before. And this time, her were wet and shiny, her large pink nipples erect. What's more, she was
smiling sleepily at me, as she casually rubbed some soap onto her arm.
"Oh. Morning. I didn't realize you were in there."
"I'm not in your way, am I?" she asked.
"No, it's okay. I don't usually shower till after I shovel the snow
once."
"I guess that makes sense. No reason to take one, then get all sweaty."
"Yeah." I knew that as long as I kept the conversation alive, I had a
built-in excuse to keep standing there, watching. "So, did you sleep okay
and everything?" I asked.
"Like a rock," she said, as she washed the back of her neck. This, of
course, made her bobble just above the water, which was a maddening
sight for me. "Well," she added. "Except for the one point, when you were
snoring so loud that you woke me up."
I blushed. "Really? I'm sorry --"
"I'm just kidding," she said, and laughed. "Mickey, he snores like a
moose, but as far as I could tell, I don't think you did at all. Then
again, I sleep pretty soundly myself. More often than not, you could play
drums in my room and I'd never even notice."
I smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. I'm like that too. Nothing wakes me up."
As I stood there, I noticed that my ever-hardening erection was getting
perilously close to the in my pajama bottoms again. I realized that
if I hitched my bottoms up and to the side, I could probably prevent
exposure, and maintain my still-obvious but less vulgar "tent". Or, I
could be bold, and go the fully vulgar route. I decided to be bold.
As I turned my body, so that it would be facing Rochelle the same way my
head already was, this brought my penis into perfect alignment with the
hole in my pajama bottoms. It found the opening and popped out with ease.
I pretended not to notice the change, but was totally aware of how it must
look -- my almost 7 inches jutting out into open air.
Rochelle's eyes found it immediately, but she said nothing, just smirked
and looked away again.
"So what are your plans today?" I asked, trying to remain cool in spite
of my condition.
"Not sure," she said, still smirking. "Build a snowman maybe?" She
reclined her arms against the sides of the tub, giving me -- intentionally
or not -- a clear view of her huge, shiny boobs.
"Well, there sure is enough snow for it," I joked. "You could build a
whole army."
"That's an idea. Do you think your would be offended if I made
them all anatomically correct?"
"Heh. I don't know. How would you do that? With carrots?"
"Maybe," she said. "Depends who the was. In your case, maybe a
cucumber." With these words, she made a point of staring directly at my
exposed erection.
"What?" I looked down at myself, as if realizing for the first time what
was going on. "Oh. I'm --"
Smiling, she said, "Please don't tell me you're sorry again. We've
discussed this already, haven't we?" Then, as I made a move as if to shift
my pajama bottoms, she said, "And please don't cover it up."
"But ..."
"Please?" she asked. "It's not as if I haven't seen it twice already."
"Okay," I said, and tried to look casual standing there, leaning against
the door jamb.
"Thank you." Her face brightened. "Really, I don't know what it's going
to take to get you to not feel so embarrassed around me all the time. I
like to think that after your and I get married, there'll be at
least ONE person in the I won't feel obligated to always be dressed
around. Your are old-fashioned, which I respect, but I thought
maybe you were enough to ... you know ... understand."
"I do," I said. "Sort of. It's just ... different for me, I guess."
Rochelle sat up straighter in the tub, and once again, her jiggled.
"I know, Benji. It's not easy when you're used to thinking of nudity as
being something dirty. I went through the same thing with Mickey at first.
He used to walk around ..." She gestured to my erection, smirking. "...
well, like you are now. At least half the time."
I chuckled. "Really?"
"Yup. I mean, it was no big deal. Again, it's natural enough. But I
wasn't really used to it."
"Why not?" I asked. "I mean ... aren't that way all the time? At
the nudist things I mean?"
"Actually, not that often. I guess nudity becomes less exciting to when they see often enough."
"Yeah, maybe," I said.
Rochelle laughed. "You sound skeptical."
I smiled. "A little. But then ..."
"Then what?"
"Well, before you, I hadn't seen any nude at all."
"Oh, I see," she said, grinning. "I was your first, eh?"
I nodded. "Pretty much."
"And what about the redhead on the computer?"
"Um ... I meant in person. That's just pictures."
"Still," she said. "She seemed to do quite a good job of getting you
..." Again, all she had to do was gesture at my condition for me to get the
point.
"Well ... yeah. Of course. Because she's ... you know."
"She's what?" Rochelle seemed genuinely amused at this point.
"You know. Big."
"Because her are big, you mean?"
"Well ... yeah."
"And is that what you always look for on the Web? with big
boobs?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
"Why is that?" she asked.
"Um. I don't know. Because they get me the most ... you know." This
time, it was my turn to glance down at the hard-on that was still poking
proudly out of my pajama bottoms.
"I see," she said. "And is that why it's so ... you know ... now?
Because my are so ... you know?"
I could tell she was poking fun at me a bit by repeating "you know" so
much, and I chuckled. "I don't know," I said. "Maybe." She stared me
straight in the eye, saying nothing, her eyebrows arched. "Probably," I
added. Still, she said nothing, and just waited me out. "Okay, yes. I
noticed yours are big, if that's what you're asking."
Rochelle giggled at this. "There, was that so hard?" She glanced down
at my erection again. "Hm. Poor choice of words, considering. I mean,
was that such a difficult thing to say?"
"No. I guess not." I blushed hotly.
"And is that why?" she asked.
"Why what?" But as I glanced down, I realized what she meant. "Oh.
Right. Well ... yeah."
"When it popped out last night too?" she asked. "Or were you still
thinking of the redhead then?"
"No," I said, too quickly. "I mean, no to the redhead. It was ...
you."
She smiled. "You know, that's very sweet, in its own way. Kind of
flattering."
All I could think to do was shrug in reply.
"Although I do wish you felt comfortable enough around me to maybe not
have one every time you see me naked."
"I can't imagine that happening," I said.
Rochelle looked at me sideways. "Oh. Now you're just being slick."
"No, I mean it. You're like ... beautiful."
"Thank you, Benji. That's a very nice thing for any woman to hear."
"Um. You're welcome."
"So ... does that thing have Duracell batteries in it or something?"
she joked, looking again at my erection.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, at this point, I'm just wondering it ever goes down."
"It does," I said, blushing again. "But usually not till after ... you
know."
"After what?" she asked.
"You know ... after I ... take care of it." I couldn't bring myself to
say the words.
"Ohhh, I see." She grinned. "Is that part of your morning ritual?"
"Sometimes. Or in the afternoon. Or at night. Or whenever."
"Or all three?" she asked, laughing.
I shrugged. "Sometimes."
This time, it was her turn to blush. "Oh. I was just kidding.
Really?"
"Well ... yeah."
"Wow, I had no idea teen were so ... active. And did you ...
last night?"
I shook my head. "I was going to, but then ..."
Rochelle's face got momentarily serious. "But then ... I walked in the
room?"
I nodded sheepishly.
"The redhead?" she asked. "You were going to ..."
I nodded again, more vigorously.
"Oh, Benji, I'm sorry. I really am. I guess I didn't think about it."
"It's okay," I said. "No big deal."
"And then later, after you saw me ..."
I shook my head again. "I wasn't sure if you'd walk in."
She looked crestfallen. "Oh jeez, now I feel like shit. I'm really
sorry."
I tried to laugh, but it sounded awkward. "It's not like I'm dying or
something."
"Yeah, but ... still. This is your private area, and you should be
able to do what you want to. And here I am, a stranger, walking in and
interrupting your ... needs and everything."
"Really," I said. "It's okay. I'll live."
"Benji, will you do me a favor?" she asked.
"Um. Sure. What?"
"Will you please just sit down there on the and go ahead and do
whatever it is you need to do?"
Was she crazy? "What??? I -- I -- no!"
"Please. I feel terrible. Look at you. You obviously need to do
something."
"Yeah, but --"
"I'll close my eyes if you want, if that's what you're worried about.
You can just look at me, at my or whatever, do what you have to do,
and then we never have to mention it again."
"Are you serious?" I asked.
"Of course." Sure enough, there wasn't a hint of a smile on her face.
"Please, Benji. It would make me feel so much better about things. And
you can't tell me it wouldn't make you feel better too."
"Well ... sure. But you're Mickey's --"
"This has nothing to do with Mickey. It's about you and me and our
future relationship. And I don't want that relationship to start with you
thinking of me as a ... you know, a dick tease."
"Rochelle, I don't think of you that way. I never would."
"No, offense, but your erection tells a different story," she joked.
"Yeah, but it's always --"
"Benji, please. What will it take?" She took the bar of soap, sudsed up
her hands, then began -- to my great delight -- to run those hands across
her slick tits, teasing and squeezing and groping them. I got especially
turned on by the contrast of her red-painted fingernails against her pale
breasts. "There," she said. "Does that help?"
"Rochelle, I --"
"Please?" Her eyes were big and sad, and finally broke me down.
"Fine. Okay." I shook my head. "I can't believe a naked woman just had
to convince me to ... you know."
She giggled. "So you'll do it?"
"Yes. I guess. If that's what you really want." I started toward the
toilet.
"I do. I really do. It would go a long way toward clearing my
conscience."
I sat down on the cool seat, unsure of how to begin, even though
it was something I'd done hundreds of times before. "Um. Okay."
"How do you usually do it?" Rochelle asked.
"Well. I usually take my bottoms off all the way." I did this as I said
it, sliding them down and off, and leaving them in a small pile on the
bathroom floor. This left me completely naked, my hard-on completely
revealed. "Um. Then I get some hand lotion." I reached over to the sink,
and grabbed the bottle of Jergen's there.
"Hand lotion, really? Why is that?" She seemed genuinely interested.
"Well, to make it more ... slippery. Otherwise, there's too much
friction and it gets sore."
She nodded. "Oh. I didn't realize. Makes sense, though."
"Then I just ..." I squeezed a generous bit of lotion into my hand and,
all-too-fully aware that Rochelle was watching me do it, I wrapped my
fingers around my steel cock. The sensation was more intense than any
other time I'd ever touched it. "... just ... you know." As I began to
stroke myself slowly, I instinctively closed my eyes, as always, and leaned
back on the seat, my legs gradually spreading open.
"Benji?"
I opened my eyes again, staying my hand. "Yes?"
"Wouldn't you rather look at me than use your imagination?" she asked.
"Oh. Um, yeah. Duh." I smiled awkwardly, then did as I was told,
lowering my line of sight to look down once more at her amazing chest -- at
a side view of those sweet, round, huge just a few feet in front of me
-- and started my hand moving again. Oh my god. What had I done to
deserve this, I wondered?
"I'm not really at a good angle here, am I?" Rochelle said. "You're
looking at me sideways. Here ..." With this, she rose up out of the water,
then sat again, this time on the back edge of the tub, so that her calves
and feet were still submerged in the water but she was facing me. This, of
course, brought her into view for the first time. Well-trimmed, but
by no means bald, it glistened wetly like the rest of her. Still, I have
to say that in spite of my curiosity about what lies between a woman's
legs, I've always been primarily a tit-man, so it only took me a few
seconds to return my attention to her still-bobbling chest. "There," she
said. "Is that better?"
"Y-yes," I stammered. "Much. Very much."
She smiled, as if proud of herself, "Good," as she continued to watch me
stroke my now throbbing member. "Oh wait, I said I'd close my eyes didn't
I? I can, if you want me to."
"It's okay," I said. "You can watch. I don't mind."
A wide grin stretched across her face upon hearing this. "Really?
Thank you. Is there ... anything else I can do? To make it better
somehow, I mean? While you're watching?"
"Um. I don't know," I said, totally getting into how much more amazing
my own hand felt at the moment than it normally did. "Maybe some of what
you were doing before? Touching them?"
"Touching my boobs? Sure, I can do that." She ran her fingers slowly up
her belly, then brought them to rest on the bottoms of her breasts. Her
red-painted fingernails teased upward, from the undersides, over her large,
perky nipples, to the top, and then she slid her palms down the same path
again. She scooped both as if they were melons -- which they almost
were -- and gave them a good squeeze, then lifted them up and pushed them
together, squeezing a little more. "Is that what you had in mind?" she
asked.
But I almost wasn't listening at this point. Intent on the sight in
front of me, my hand was moving feverishly, stroking and sliding over my
engorged cock. I knew I wouldn't hold out much longer.
"Okay, I'll take that a yes," she giggled. "How about this?" Still
holding her tits, she began to jiggle them up and down with her hands. The
fluid motion of each was mesmerizing, like nothing I'd ever seen before.
Then, with the thumb and forefinger of each hand, she took hold of her
nipples and pinched, pulling them out and away from her body. This, as it
turned out, was the last straw ...
The first shot of blasted out of me so hard that it hit me on the
cheek. The rest painted my neck and chest and belly, one blast after the
other. The sensation of the orgasm was more intense than any other I'd
ever had, and it got to the point where I could actually feel my balls
emptying -- so much so that I wouldn't have been surprised to look at them
later and find that they were gone entirely. I used the itself as
lubrication after a point, and relished the new-found added pleasure my own
hand was giving me. And all the while, I continued to watch Rochelle tease
and manipulate her own tits, giving me the best and only such show I'd ever
had.
As my own hand eventually slowed itself, though, I noticed that her
hands did not. I looked up at her face, and saw that as she groped
herself, she was intent on my gradually dwindling but still-hard cock.
"Rochelle, are you okay?"
"Mm-hmm," she said, more a guttural noise than a word. Her expression
was far-off. Then one of her hands began to move down her body again, over
her belly ... and between her legs! Holy shit, I thought, and had to
wonder if this was no longer a show meant for my benefit, but maybe for her
own? After all, I'd just finished what I had to do. Anyway, as I watched,
the one hand continued to grope her tits, while the other reached down and
cupped her glistening bush. With little fanfare, her middle finger
suddenly disappeared, and the change in her expression was instantaneous.
Her mouth formed an O, and her eyes nearly rolled back in their sockets,
leaving me to wonder if I had looked THIS euphoric as I was pleasuring
myself a few minutes before.
And like myself, Rochelle's own orgasm didn't take long. Her legs
spread a bit wider, she started to buck her hips against her hand, then let
out a small moaning sound which seemed to last as long as a minute.
"Ohhhh," she said. "Oh god." For myself, I was almost numb from the
display. I just continued to sit there, slowly fondling my cock, which
seemed to be borrowing just a bit more "hard time" from the expanded show
that I was now getting.
Gradually, Rochelle's eyes became more alert again. As she slid her
finger out of herself, her legs twitched once, as if an aftershock had
struck her. Smiling, she lowered herself shakily down into the tub of
water. "Oh my," was all she said at first. "My oh my. I wasn't expecting
that."
"Yeah," I responded, still just sitting there. "Me either."
"I guess you weren't the only one who needed to take care of themself
this morning," she said, laughing.
"Heh. I guess not."
"Benji, you're, um ... kind of messy there."
I looked down at myself. "Oh. Yeah." I grabbed some paper and
started mopping up the worst of the that was decorating my chest and
belly, all of it dripping slowly downwards. Three big wads of paper
later, though, Rochelle interrupted me ...
"If you don't mind me saying, that looks like a losing battle. Why
don't you just come over here and use the water in the tub to clean
yourself off?"
"Um ... okay." I stood and took the two steps to the tub. "Now what?"
"Here, get closer," Rochelle said, and leaned over the edge of the tub
to meet me halfway. This put my semi-erect unit more or less right in her
face. Holy shit, I thought, as all of the obvious fantasies raced through
my mind. "I'll just do it," she said. "Is that okay with you?"
I gulped hard. "If you ... want to."
A few seconds later, she reached up with a warm wet washrag in one hand
and began to clean my belly. "Lean over a bit more, so I can get your
chest too. That's it." And before I knew it, my torso was no longer
sticky. But something else still was. "So ... should I wash everything?"
she asked, her hand pausing just in front of my cock.
"I -- I guess."
"Okay then. I just wanted to give you fair warning." With this, she
giggled, wet the rag again, then gently wrapped it around my shaft ...
which, as the warm wetness of the cloth in her hand enveloped it, suddenly
reversed its diminishing course and began to grow again. Whether Rochelle
noticed it getting bigger or not, I couldn't be sure. She just slowly and
deliberately ran the rag up and down the length of my cock a few times ...
then a few times more, keeping her eye on it the entire time. "There we
go," she said. "Should be clean as a whistle now."
I chuckled nervously. "Want to blow it and see for sure?" I joked.
"Benji!" she said, as if shocked, then smiled, releasing my erection.
"You're a bad boy."
I just shrugged. "It was worth a try."
"Well, it would probably be more than a bit ... inappropriate, don't
you think?"
"Yeah, probably," I conceded.
"So when does it go down?" she asked.
"Um ... it was. Before. After I finished."
"No way," she said, incredulous. "That's as soft as it gets?"
"Well, no. But then you ... you know, touched it."
"Seriously? It can just go back up again without ever really going
down?
I scratched the back of my head. "I guess so. It never did it before."
"Well that's a first for me," she giggled. "No offense to the few I've ... been with ... but most of them were barely able to get it up
once a day. And the ones who could do it more than once had to take a
breather in between."
"Even Mickey?" I asked, regretting the words almost as they left my
mouth.
Rochelle laughed uncomfortably. "I walked right into that, didn't I?"
"Kind of."
"Benji, can you keep a secret?"
"Jeez, I hope so. Considering ..."
She rolled her eyes. "True enough. I think it's safe to say nobody
would understand what just happened here." With a flourish, she gestured to
my erection, her body, and the tub in one big arcing motion. "Anyway, what
I was going to say is ... even though your is twice your age ...
you kind of wouldn't know by looking at the ... um ... equipment."
"Are you saying he and I are ... hung the same?"
Rochelle shook her head vehemently. "No. No, actually what I'm saying
is that you're much ..." She put her hands out, and spread them apart from
each other slowly.
"Bigger?" I asked.
"Much," she said.
"How much?" I asked, again regretting the question.
She laughed at this. "A few inches. And some width."
"Cool," I said, unsure if I should be proud of this or not. "I think."
"And as for getting it up ... I can safely say he'd never still be
standing there with a ... you know ..." She gazed longingly over at my
erection, which was still less than a foot from her face. "... the way
you are now. Certainly not after he ... finished himself. Sometimes, he
can't even keep it up long enough once."
I began to feel embarrassed for my on some primal level.
Rochelle seemed to check herself. "Jeez, I shouldn't have just said all
that."
"It's okay," I said. "I won't ever tell anybody else."
"He's a wonderful and everything, and I love him. And the fact is,
I really don't care about any of this all that much. I mean, he does an
excellent job of ... taking care of me ... in the bedroom, in other ways.
Which is fine with me. But then sometimes he just gets so down on himself
over it."
"Why?" I asked. "I mean, if you're happy, what's it matter, right?"
"That's what I tell him. I guess it's because he feels like he can't do
what he thinks is ... normal or something. I think maybe he watched too
many porn in college, and doesn't know what normal is any more." She
smirked at this, to make it clear that she wasn't quite being serious.
"Can that really happen?" I asked, smiling back.
"Maybe. I don't know. He's got a high set of expectations in his head,
that's for sure. Sometimes, it seems like he's got an erection for half
the day, but then when we actual start ... getting down to business ...
then he has a problem keeping it up. I'm convinced it's just in his head."
All I had to say to this was, "Hm."
"Unlike you," Rochelle said, and giggled. "Mister Energizer Bunny." She
lifted her hand, and ran her fingers gently along the underside of my cock,
sending a shiver through me. Then she blushed. "Sorry. I'm doing it
again, aren't I?"
"Wh-what?" I asked.
"Being a dick tease. Literally. Here the plan was to help you lose
that thing, and now it looks worse than ever."
"What? It looks bad?"
"No, that's not what I meant. Not at all ... trust me." She stared
longingly at my erection for a few seconds, then seemed to catch herself.
"It looks ... fine. I just mean, it seems like it's even harder now than
it was before. And here I am, washing it and petting it, which can't
possibly help."
"It's okay," I said. "I don't mind."
She laughed heartily at this. "No, I bet you probably don't."
"I don't," I repeated. "You can do whatever you want."
"Oh, I see. And what is it YOU want, Benji?"
"Huh?"
"Well, clearly, just letting you ... take care of yourself, wasn't
enough. Which means that my karma is just as bad now as when we started.
So what will it take to level things out again?"
"I -- I don't know."
"Oh, I'm sure you've got some ideas. What are they?"
"Um."
"The blow comment," she said, smirking. "Is that it? Did you want your
whistle blown?"
"Well, you said that was ... inappropriate."
"I did, didn't I?" She stopped and thought. "Still though. If we both
understood that it would be just this once ... would that make things
right between us? Could we put all this behind us, and go on to just be
good friends? You know, future brother- and sister-in-law and all that?"
"I, um ... " A voice in my head screamed that this was wrong, and that
I should NOT be accepting a from the woman who would be my
brother's in a few months. But I wanted it SO badly, and had never
had one, and so another voice screamed that I was crazy if I declined. The
second voice won. "I think so."
Rochelle brought her face closer to my erection. "Are you sure?"
"Y-yes," I stammered. "Very sure."
"Okay then," she said, and already, I could feel her breath on the tip
of my cock. "Here we go." A moment later, I found myself in heaven, as her
warm mouth wrapped itself around the top third of my throbbing member and
began, gently, to suckle on it. One hand, meanwhile, reached up to grip it
lightly by the base.
I could already feel myself becoming weak in the knees, and held on to
the wall for support. I didn't have any past experience to compare to, but
I was pretty sure I wasn't the first guy she'd ever off before.
While sliding my shaft further and further into her mouth, Rochelle let
her hand wander down to my balls, which she began to tease expertly with
her nails and the tips of her fingers. Unbelievable, I thought, as I felt
the head of my cock hit the back of her throat. When her lips kissed the
tops of my balls, she eased me back out again, applying strong suction and
tongue action the entire way. As I watched, she slid me in and out of her
mouth like this a few more times, then pulled it out and looked up at me,
her eyes wide and innocent. "Am I doing okay?" she asked.
My throat was too dry to speak, so I just nodded.
She kissed and fondled and cooed over my now-steel erection a bit more,
then went back to work. Hungrily, she took me in, then out, at least
another half dozen times, groaning slowly louder each time. I glanced
around her head, and saw that her free hand was under the water, moving
vigorously. Clearly, she'd decided to "take care" of herself again too.
This just turned me on all the more, and the knowledge of it tripped a
switch inside my head. Or heads, as it were. Because just about then, my
balls contracted, my legs went a bit numb, and I began to explode.
Rochelle seemed all too happy about this, and as she hummed and moaned
at how good her own hand felt under the water, she pulled my cock out of
her mouth and proceeded to stroke it. The jetted out of me in hot
sticky strings. Some of it she directed into her mouth, and the rest she
let fall across her face. This round didn't last quite as long as the
first one had, though, and as it died down, she took me back into her mouth
again to lick and suck me clean. Then she sank back into the hot water of
the tub, her face dripping with my ooze, and her hand still moving
rhythmically between her legs. Gradually, even that motion stopped, and
she just lay there with a bemused smile on her face.
For my own part, I found I had to sit back on the again to regain
my strength.
Rochelle reached up and felt the on her cheek, then brought her
fingers to her mouth. "Looks like I'm the one who's a mess this time," she
said, and without any warning, submerged her entire head under the water,
wiping her face clean in the process. When she rose again, her face wet,
she looked over at me. "Better?" she asked.
"You didn't look bad the other way," I said, smiling.
"Very funny. I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Not really, no. I mean ... there haven't been any."
"I was your first?" she asked. "Well well. I feel honored. Sort of."
"I know I do," I joked. "That was amazing."
She laughed while blushing. "Thanks. I had a lot to work with."
Just then, I heard a knock on one of the bedroom doors. I couldn't tell
which one at first, until my mother's voice called out, "Benji? You know,
those walks aren't going to shovel themselves."
I stood quickly, and walked to the middle of my room. "I know, Ma. I
just ... overslept. I'll be out in a few."
"Don't take too long. You know how your is -- he'll try to do it
himself and throw out his back."
"I know. I won't." I stood there naked for a few moments more, and
waited for the sound of my walking away from my door. Once I heard
that, I padded back over to the bathroom.
Rochelle was already out of the tub, drying herself off with a towel.
Again, her jiggled and bounced, and again I was mesmerized by the
sight. But by this point, my dick was too tired to rise to the occasion,
and she noticed it. "Oh look," she said, smirking. "It finally went to
sleep."
"Yeah. Talking to my will have that effect," I said, and
Rochelle laughed. "But if I stand here watching you for too long, I think
all bets will be off."
"Well then maybe you'd better get dressed and go shovel some sidewalks,
young man."
I sighed, "Yeah I guess," then took one last longing look at Rochelle's
amazing body, trying to preserve the image of it in my mind forever --
every curve and peak and valley, all of it imported directly from my
fantasies.
"So ... Benji?" she said, tentatively.
"Yeah?"
"Are we agreed about all of this? About ... you know. How nobody
needs to know?"
"Yeah, I understand."
"I really don't even think it's a good idea that Mickey finds out I told
you about the nudist thing."
"Okay," I said. "I won't tell."
"Maybe someday ... but not yet."
I just nodded.
"Good," she said, smiling. "It was nice, though, don't you think?"
"It was ... tremendous. Amazing. Outstanding. Beyond belief ..."
"Okay okay, I get the idea." She giggled. "Thanks." And with that, she
dropped the towel, took a few steps toward me, gave me a full body hug --
pressing her considerable chest against mine -- and kissed me once,
quickly, on the mouth. "Thanks for everything," she said, then pulled away
again, and sauntered over to her room. She paused to turn back and blow
one more kiss at me, then swung the door shut behind her.
* * *
Later that day, Mickey arrived. Somehow, he'd finagled one of the first
flights home. We were all happy to see him, and nobody moreso than
Rochelle. The rest of that week, I kept expecting things to be awkward
between she and I, but they really weren't. She was just one of those
great people who seems to effortlessly be able to put people at ease. I'll
be honest, part of me kept hoping that Mickey would maybe leave the house
for while at some point, so maybe I could corner Rochelle in the bedroom
for a repeat performance ... but there was never an opening. And it was
probably just as well. Once I'd seen her and Mickey kissing all over the
house, it made me feel guilty about what had happened. So I doubt I'd have
been able to justify doing anything more than I already had.
In hindsight, though, maybe I should have. Because about two months
later, we received the news from Mickey that he and Rochelle had split, and
that the wedding was off. We never pressed him about the reason why, and
he never offered much. He just said something about the chemistry falling
apart. I wondered if it had something to do with either her free-wheeling
spirit or his insecurities in the bedroom, but there was no way to know for
sure. I considered once or twice contriving a reason to ask Mickey if he
had some kind of forwarding address or phone number for Rochelle, but I
always talked myself out of it. Maybe that was a mistake too. I guess
I'll never know.
I also don't know why Rochelle told me she was a nudist. Because not
too long ago, when Mickey and I got drunk during a visit, the
subject of nudism came up, and I made a sly comment to him about Rochelle,
mometarily forgetting that I wasn't supposed to know about it. And
Mickey's response was pretty clear on the subject -- not only was Rochelle
NOT a nudist as far as he knew, but her was a minister and her
mother a Bible-thumper. What's more, he said that although she sometimes
slept nude during the summer, she almost never walked around that way in
their apartment. He questioned where I would get such an idea, but I
managed to change the subject quickly.
So everything considered, there are a lot of things I don't understand
and never will about that cold and snowy day in December. All I do know
is, no matter how harsh that winter might have been, because of it I got
the best possible Christmas present that a 15 year-old could ever hope
to receive.
And let me tell you -- it was almost enough to make this believe in
Santa Claus again.
FINI
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