I'm a breast man, always have been. I especially love a nice pair of tits on a woman of some maturity, tits that have some experience, nipples that have suckled babies, nipples with dark areolae that swell and wrinkle to the touch. The size of the breasts are less important than the sensitivity. I love a woman who gets excited by extended breast play. I actually prefer breasts of modest size, as long as the nipples are responsive.
Diana was not particularly attractive to me. We were part of a group of teachers, most of us single, who met on Fridays at a road house just outside of town. We'd have a few drinks, hit the free appetizer bar to eat calamari and Swedish meatballs, then head for home. Sometimes there were as many as twenty of us.
I didn't know Diana well. We taught at different schools. I really hadn't noticed her until one of these Friday afternoons we ended up seated next each other by chance. We had a pleasant enough conversation. I learned she was divorced, raising a pair of teen-aged boys alone. She had married young and I guessed her age at somewhere near 45, about 15 years older than me. She had a pleasant face with a little too much makeup. She was a large woman, and when I say large, I mean her stockily built frame was topped with a massive pair of tits. They had to be 46 inches or more and I wouldn't even hazard a guess at what letter would be on her bra size. They were truly massive.
We found common ground for conversation beyond work. We were both avid listeners of classical music. I told her one of my favorite ways to spend the remainder of a Friday evening, after happy hour, was to go home, turn off the lights and lay on the floor with a set of headphones on, listening to my favorite records. She said that sounded wonderful but that her house was just too chaotic for that. She said she didn't have headphones, had never tried them. I told her there was nothing better than good headphones paired with great music. I offered to let her come by my place sometime to give it a try. I had two sets of Klipsch headphones, not the very top of their line but still expensive.
Diana excused herself to make a phone call. This was in the days before cell phones. When she returned, I was getting getting ready to leave. She said, "what about tonight? The boys are in for the night and I told them I'd stop and pay for a delivered pizza. I'm free for the evening."
"Sure," I said. "Tonight's good. Let's do it." I wrote directions out on bar napkin. She said to give her half an hour. That left me enough time to stop on my way home to pick up a bottle of Liebfraumilch, the wine she had been drinking.
I did a quick cleanup in the kitchen and had just opened the wine when I saw the lights of Diana's car in the driveway. I met her at the door and took her coat. I took her to the living room where I showed her my collection of records. "Here we are," I said. "they're sort of organized by period from left to right, Baroque on the left, contemporary on the right, romantic in the middle. Why don't you pick out a couple."
"Whats that on the turntable?" she asked.
"It's LeoΕ‘ JanΓ‘Δek, The Symfonietta. That's what I was listening to last night. Very dramatic."
"He's 20th century isn't he? I mostly know older music," Diana replied. "Can we listen to it?"
"Sure, It's a great way to demonstrate the headphones. I hope you like brass. Give me just a minute to get us some wine."
I poured the wine and put the stereo on, plugging in my second pair of headphones and handing them to Diana. "You can lie on the couch if you want. I like to lay on the floor. It feels good on my back for some reason. It also seems to make the music better, not really, but it feels that way."
"I'll try the floor," she said. "Maybe it'll be good for my back too. The way you've talked this up, I want to get the whole experience."
I got some pillows and laid them out side by side in front of the couch. I flipped off the lights. There was just enough light from the street lights for me to get us into position and start the music going. I looked at Diana laying on the floor next to me. As the opening fanfare began I watched her large bosom rise and fall. My god they are huge, I thought. I wondered what prospects there were that I'd get to see and feel them. It seemed a pretty good bet. We both closed our eyes to listen to the music.
The Andante ended with the drama of the expanded brass section reprising the opening fanfare. As I pulled my headphones off I heard Diana exclaim, "Wow. Just wow. That was incredible. About half way through I felt like I was hypnotized."
I smiled at Diana, sat up and scooted back to lean against the couch. She did the same, pulling off her headphones. "You were right," she said. "I have to get me some headphones. I just don't know with the chaos of teenagers in the house, that I'll ever be able to use them."
We talked for a few minutes about her boys and how long she's been single. Same for me. There was a lull in the conversation, so I leaned forward and kissed Diana on the lips very lightly. "I don't want to do this," she said. "I was hoping you invited me over just for the music."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I did ask you over for the music. I just thought we were hitting it off well. I won't kiss you again until you want me to, I promise." She didn't seem to take notice that I had said "until" instead of "unless".
We didn't get to listen to any more music that night. The kiss set Diana off, wanting someone to talk to. Diana, it turns out, is afraid of sex. It's why she's stayed single. She did marry young. She and Charlie were both virgins. It took them a month to even consummate the marriage. They were both beset with emotional and sexual dysfunctions. The husband turned out to be a premature ejaculator. He was usually done before he got started. There could be no foreplay. Diana was surprised she was able to get pregnant. Both times were kind of a fluke when he managed to get his penis into Diana's vagina in the nick of time. Because of Charlie's embarrassment, the couple rarely had sex. Diana, though she became a mother of two, had never experienced an orgasm from sexual intercourse, or any other kind of activity between two people. Diana believed it had been her fault. Charlie never showed much interest in her, including any interest in her massive breasts, which she is now very self-conscious about. She's convinced that's the only part of her that men can see.
I listened carefully for close to an hour. Diana apologized profusely when she finally wound down. She said she enjoyed the music, was glad I asked her over and said she was sorry if I was disappointed. She asked for her coat and she left, probably expecting she'd never hear from me again.
After she left, I felt some relief, a bullet dodged, as it were. After a day or two I thought things through. My interest Diana was stimulated by what she told me. Here was a woman in middle age that was living without having experienced any of the joys of having sex, a woman who had neither given nor received pleasure. "Shit." I could see myself as a fish on a hook. On Thursday, I phoned Diana at home. "I want to make sure you come to happy hour tomorrow like always," I said. "There's no reason not to. You have nothing you should be embarrassed about."
Diana did come. We had a good time chatting, eating and drinking with our friends. During a private moment I invited her to follow me home. "No funny stuff," I said. "I just like spending time with you.
She surprised me by saying yes.
At the house Diana was quiet. I set up the music. She picked out some Aaron Copeland. I put it on and turned off the lights. We lay on the floor as we had before. When the music ended we sat up, backs to the couch. "I think I could help if you'd let me," I said.