Boobs. Tits. Jugs. Mams. Stan's mind was always on the same subject. When he was younger he had noticed that certain pretty women on TV made him "tingly" and others did not. It didn't take him long to figure out that seeing that cleavage, or those twin mounds packed into a sweater was what set him off. The town swimming pool and the beach were his favorite places. But he could be anywhere and his "breast radar" would go off. He could spot a low-cut top from a mile away and position himself to get the best view without being too obvious. Waitresses, secretaries, his mom's friends, it didn't matter. Young or old, fat or skinny, it didn't matter to him. Any glimpse of breast flesh was exciting. The fact that women went so out far out of their way to expose and yet cover up those prizes drove him crazy.
Oh, he was a connoisseur of the finer points as well. He could tell if a woman was wearing a sheer bra or a more structured one. He could spot padding instantly. He even thought he could tell surgically enhanced breasts from natural ones. He liked looking at smaller ones, but he loved looking at bigger ones. Once he was old enough, he graduated from TV and movies to the internet and magazines. He had bought and hidden copies of Gent, Juggs and Bounce until his mom found them. Then he stuck to the web. He knew the names of all of his favorite "hootie queens". Christy Canyon, Candy Samples, Chessie Moore, Lotta Topp were as familiar to him as his classmates. They were the old-school big-boob stars. And Gianna Michaels, Brandy Talore, Wifey, Kelly Madison and Hitomi Tanaka were the newer ones. At 32, he was a dyed-in-the-wool "breast man".
When he got old enough to date, he went for the girls who were the most top-heavy. Often this did not work out. And although the one he eventually married was quite busty, that wasn't enough to build a lasting marriage on. So, Stan had been single for years and just dated the occasional gal. He had found that nice girls were better company than some of the ones whose breasts entered a room before they did. But still he yearned for that "hootie queen" to call his own.
Udders. Sweater Meat. Lung Lumps. Milk Cans. Erin had heard them all. She was a happily divorced mother of two grown kids. They had finally gone out on their own leaving mom to pursue her real estate sales career and try to warm up her tepid social life. At 48, she was still holding it together pretty well. She was not skinny by any means but she kept in shape with walking and the occasional group fitness class. Of course these classes presented a bit of a problem as Erin had a huge bust line. From behind she looked like a curvy, some would say voluptuous lady, with a nice shape, but once those boobs came into view, that was all you could see. Erin wore a 36DDD bra. She had three of them custom-made because she couldn't find one in a store that fit right. Erin had to "strap them down" for almost any physical activity.
Over the years her bust line had been a blessing and a curse. It did attract the some of the men she wanted, but it seemed to attract all of the ones she didn't. She had experienced the jealous cattiness of other women, the drunken pawing of total strangers and the derisive nicknames. Her boobs seemed to turn some nice guys into sex fiends. They seemed to assume that being built that way must automatically make her a nympho or a slut. And everyone assumed that her intelligence was inversely proportional to her boob size. There were times she considered having them reduced for all these reasons. But she never did because Erin liked her boobs. She loved having big boobs. They were heavy, but she was active enough that they didn't bother her back. She always wore a proper bra so gravity hadn't taken an awful toll on them. And she did enjoy getting "that look" from some men. It gave her a feeling of power and a sense of attractiveness. And that made her feel good.
Erin's husband had loved touching them in every way. He could be gentle or rough and she showed him just what she liked. He learned how to give her so much pleasure through those beauties. Erin could easily reach orgasm through breast stimulation alone. And what a feeling that was! Yes, they had had a wonderful sex life. Sadly, the rest of life wasn't so good together and they split. Erin had devoted herself to raising the kids and now was back to trying to find male companionship.
It was a bright fall morning that brought Stan and Erin to the supermarket at the same time. Fate had it that they parked right next to each other. Stan, of course, noticed the super-stacked lady get out of her car beside him. And Erin, of course, noticed the younger man ogling her, however discretely he intended to do so. When they passed each other in the coffee aisle, they smiled at each other. It was with a chuckle that they passed again in the cereal aisle. And they both laughed as they passed in the pasta aisle. They had each chosen to go up and down each aisle, but they had chosen opposite directions!
"We have to stop meeting like this," Stan said, making Erin chuckle.
"See you in front of the bread," Erin replied with a smirk.
One aisle over, they met again.
"Haven't I seen you before?" Stan offered.
"Never seen you before in my life," Erin snapped back, laughing again.
By the time they crossed paths in the produce section, they were giggling like kids. Stan waved to Erin and she waved back.
"This is too funny," Stan told her. "I feel like we are old friends. I'm Stan," he said offering his hand.
"Erin. Yes, we've met more times than some couples do." She took his hand and shook it.
"Well, since we have such a long-standing relationship, how about I get you some coffee?" Stan offered.
Erin so wanted to say yes, but she looked at the frozen food in her cart and said, "I'm going to have to straight home after I check out."
Stan's smile drooped a little until he heard Erin say, "How about dinner?"
