Jenny looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn't unattractive so why was it she couldn't get a man. She was big, granted, tall, and wore glasses, but seriously, there's got to be at least one man out there who's willing to take a chance on her.
She started to strip down out of her work gear, an above the knee skirt and shirt which seemed to fit a bit tighter than she'd remembered. It hadn't helped that the button maintaining her modesty had popped off on the tube and whilst no-one actually saw the incident she had noticed a few of the guys couldn't bring themselves to look away from her gaping cleavage. At 44GG her breasts complimented her size well, but they were obvious and she was used to guys taking a sneaky peek, although sneaky often didn't describe the blatant luring. She didn't mind, or at least she wouldn't if any of them actually had the balls to come up to her and find out what more she had to offer.
She'd had a few encounters with guys, usually after a night in the bar, and usually they were drunk. She'd taken them home and they'd been right into her, or at least her tits. They couldn't get enough of them. And when it came down to it she had found most men just didn't fufill her in the way that she needed them to. They'd fumble their way between her legs, grasping at her ample flesh for purchase, slide in, and she'd be left wanting. Almost without fail they'd give up and find their way to her chest, sliding their average cocks between her huge mammaries and pounding her chest until they burst, drenching her in warm salty juice. She wouldn't have minded that even but they couldn't even reach her mouth to give her a gullet full of the thick tasty semen she was hungry to swallow if only given the chance.
So here she was, on a Wednesday night feeling a little horny after all those beady eyes mentally ripping her shirt to pieces. It was cold and dark outside but she decided that her little battery-operated friend could have a night off. She'd try her luck in the bar.
...
Sat at the end of the bar surveying the room she began to realise that a Wednesday night was maybe not the best night to go out with sordid intentions. The few men in the bar were either in for the football or were old soaks who probably never left. The barman, a stocky, tall and quite attractive guy, had on-off been chatting to her and she'd found out his name was John. He was probably about the same height as her, about 6ft, and she was enjoying chatting to him. He occasionally went to serve someone but he had made a habit of coming back to her, which she was happy with. And she'd noticed that he kept on sneaking his own peek at her cleavage. At least this time it wasn't due to some accident, she wanted to show off what she had, and it was having the desired effect.