Every so often, I remembered Katie—the well-endowed hardware lady—and I would smile and wish I could relive our one-night adventure. I know that I was just another conquest for her, but I sure did enjoy being conquered. When these memories hit me hard, I would usually go on the lookout for some girl-on-girl action. Unfortunately, I was new to this game and my gaydar didn't working very well. A lot of Bear Creek girls wear cowboy shirts and tight jeans, but that doesn't mean they walk on the wild side. Mostly, they are just trying to attract manly men who like down-home girls.
Hell, I like manly men, too, but now I knew for sure that I also like to cuddle with frisky women. Call me heteroflexible.
I finally got lucky. I was sitting by my lonesome, eating a hot pastrami sandwich and drinking a cold beer at a table for two outside a mom-and-pop diner called Fill 'Er Up, when I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and a heard a friendly woman's voice, "Mind if I join you?" I smiled and said, "Sure, happy to have someone to talk to."
The warm hand belonged to a woman whose name was Sharon McKenzie but had always been called Mack—which was kind of funny because she was sort of built like a Mack truck. She was solid, the kind of woman you wouldn't want to play tackle football against.
She was wearing a pretty yellow sleeveless dress that showed off her sturdy arms and ample breasts, I noticed that her hips were thick, but I couldn't see much of her legs underneath that pretty dress. What really stood out were her two big mammas—what crass guys would call ripe melons or full jugs. They sagged a bit, but she was well past 40 and I didn't see any bra straps. If those mammas were natural and unsupported, she had something to be proud of.
Mack called the waiter over and told him that she would have what I was having. I noticed that there were lots of empty tables and I started wondering why Mack wanted to sit at my table. Yeah, I have a suspicious mind but, sometimes, my suspicions are right. She was happy to talk and I was happy to listen, seeing if I could pick up more clues about her intentions.
Every time Mack took a bite of her messy pastrami sandwich, she leaned over her plate so that she wouldn't spilling anything on her pretty yellow dress—and I got a great down-blouse peek at her tits. There was definitely no bra—just lovely plump white breasts with cute reddish brown freckles.
No matter how hard I tried (and I tried mightily), I couldn't quite see her nipples. However, just by my trying to sneak a peek, I realized how much I wanted to stick my hands down her dress and explore those beauties. I imagined that I was standing behind her and massaging her shoulders until she got good and relaxed and I could slide my hands down the front of her dress and grab two big handfuls.
I snapped out of my dream when I realized that Mack was still talking to me.
She grew up in a small never-heard-of-it town in Oregon's Hood River Valley, where her parents had a small pear orchard that they ended up selling to The Fruit Company, which is famous for the holiday gift baskets you can buy at Costco or online.
She had a pretty carefree life until she was 13 and her breasts suddenly sprouted, giving her a pair of near-perfect 34Cs—full and firm with nipples pointing slightly upward. Mack's parents had once been randy teenagers themselves, so they kept Mack on lockdown until her senior year in high school, when she was 18 and getting ready to leave home for college. They figured Mack needed to learn about horny boys before she was completely on her own.
By now, Mack's 34Cs were 34-double Ds and guys who had been salivating for years were waiting to pounce. She often stood naked in front of a full-length mirror, admiring her gorgeous body and fantasizing about what boys would say if they saw her naked. Long legs, flat tummy, and those bountiful breasts. Full and firm with light brown areolas and sweet pink nipples waiting to be pinched, nibbled, and sucked. The kind of breasts that women might pay thousands of dollars to get with plastic surgery and here she had them, all natural.
Mack decided that she would take every advantage of the considerable assets that she had been blessed with. Make the horndogs take her to movies and amusement parks and buy her food and presents, and she would let them feel her up. Fair's fair.
Guys being guys, the horndogs went along with her rules, happy to pay to play with her double Ds and hoping to get inside her pants. She let them fondle her boobs as much as they wanted, but below the waist was strictly off limits. She defended her pussy with tight jeans and firm
no
s.
Movie theaters were the boys' favorite ambush sites and Mack secretly laughed at their awkward moves. An arm casually around her shoulders, then fingers sliding down her chest, then groping her blouse-covered breast as if she was so engrossed in the movie that she didn't notice the tit massage she was getting. After a while, the guy would clumsily unbutton her blouse and then slip his eager fingers inside her bra—squeezing her tit-flesh and pinching her nipple—still acting as if she wasn't paying attention. Eventually, the guy would lift her bra over the top of her breasts, so that he could attack both of her tits.
Mack just kept watching the movie while the guy had his fun. If the guy was cute, she would get super turned on but the challenge she set for herself was to defend her pussy and she never lost that battle. If a guy's hand went below her waist, she politely pulled his arm away with a firm
no
. If a guy persisted, she said
no
real loud and the guy pulled back when other people in the movie theater turned and looked at Mr. Guilty.
One thing she learned from all the attention her breasts got was that she had VERY sensitive nipples. Her pussy flooded with juices when her nipples were pinched, pulled, and twisted. Sometimes she felt that she was on the edge of a tremendous orgasm and wanted to put one hand inside her pants to finish the job. But she always waited until she got home to take care of business—pinching a nipple with one hand and rubbing her pussy with the other hand while she fantasized about giving herself to Mr. Right.
Once she was in a mostly empty movie theater watching some supposed-to-be-scary movie with a cute guy named Mike. He had been a baseball pitcher in high school and had the casual arrogance that a lot of athletes have. Now he was an insurance salesman and he used his charm to persuade people to buy more insurance than they needed. He assumed that he could persuade Mack to go further than she planned to go.
Since Mike was undeniably cute and charming, she decided to go to the movies with no bra and an easily unbuttoned blouse, confident that she could keep Mike at second base. When he picked her up at her house, she was sure he noticed because he kept sneaking peeks at her tits. who wouldn't? She knew that, even though they were big and firm, they jiggled deliciously when she went braless.
They found an empty row in the movie theater and Mike sat on her left side, "accidentally" rubbing his shoulder on hers while he talked about some blah-blah and snuck some more peeks at her tits. She stared straight ahead, pretending not to notice the shoulder rubbing. After the movie started, he waited about 20 minutes before he started the usual routine: right arm casually over her shoulder, then hand sliding down to her right breast. Several minutes of outside-the-blouse touching, fondling, and nipple flicking, then over to the easily unbuttoned buttons.
He was surely pleased, but not surprised, to find no bra interfering with his access to her double-Ds. Her blouse was wide open and her beautiful tits jutted out in full display, though there was no one but Mike sitting close enough to see them. He held her right tit with his right arm and went to work on her left tit with his left hand. He squeezed softly. He grabbed roughly. He lifted her breast from underneath, squeezed it like a ripe orange, and then let it fall back down to her chest. He rubbed her nipple with the palm of his hand, twisted her nipple with his fingers, and stretched her nipple by using it to lift her heavy breast. When he got bored with mauling one of her tits, he went to work to the other one.
Sometimes he had both hands working simultaneously on her right boob, squeezing the flesh with his right hand while he pinched and twisted her nipple with his left hand
All the while, Mack stared straight ahead, pretending to be interested in a not-very-interesting movie, and trying to ignore her very wet pussy.
At one point, she caved a little bit. She didn't usually let guys kiss her, but Mike was so cute and she was so turned on that she not only let him kiss her, she let him get his tongue inside her mouth and French-kiss the crap out of her while his hands kept up the assault on her breasts,
She might have been ready to unbutton her jeans, but they were interrupted by a stranger who plopped himself down in the empty seat on her right. They broke their kiss and stared at this guy: nicely dressed, maybe in his late-20s, handsome face, nice full head of hair, big smile. She and Mike leaned back in their chairs and pretended to watch the movie again, thinking about what had just happened and wondering what might have happened next if this moron hadn't shown up.
Mike was thinking that he had been real close to third base. Mack was thinking the same thing. She was also thinking that the new guy must have noticed them making out and moved closer so that he could get a better look at the action. Then Mack realized that her blouse was still wide open with her double-Ds on full display. She quickly closed her blouse and held it shut with both hands while she wondered how much the new guy had seen.