- Ch. 01
by Ghostwalker
(with Input by TheIrishLass)
The simple fact is I love big breasts. I don't mean ones that hang down to a woman's navel when she takes off her bra but a nice set of D, DD, or even E. It doesn't even matter if they're natural or enhanced just so long as they're soft to the touch and ride high on the woman's chest.
I also love women with red hair. Now don't get me wrong ... blondes are nice, and brunettes are a bit better because many of them high-light their hair with a touch of auburn, but there's just something about a red-head that stirs something deep inside me and instantly gets me hard.
And finally, I love pregnant women. Yeah, I know it may sound crazy and my therapist says all these things are probably part of a complex related to my mother. You see, my mom was killed in an auto accident when I was 13 years old ... just old enough for me to start seeing her as a woman and not just as mom.
I was the eldest of three kids; me, my sister, and a baby on the way, when the accident took place. I don't remember much about it, just that mom had been complaining about stomach cramps all day and we were on the way to the hospital when it happened. Dad was away, as usual, either 'out with the boys' or 'working late' both of which I learned later in life were ways of saying he was off 'sowing his oats' while mom was unavailable due to her pregnancy.
Mom, my sister, and the baby died in the accident. I lived but not without my own reminders of that day. The left side of my face is scared, from glass and burns, and I lost my eye so now I wear an eye patch giving my a rakish look.
After that things were never the same between dad and I. To be perfectly honest, I hated him and felt it was his fault that the rest of the family had died.
We tolerated each other while I was going through therapy and various surgeries and then 'POOF' I was sent to a boarding school on the West coast. I lasted one semester before being expelled for fighting with another student who was teasing me about my patch.
I lasted a full year at the next school and 2 weeks at the last school. The counselors told my father I was suffering from 'Bouts of Physical Aggression due to Clinical Depression' and needed more help than they could give me. That's when he had the great idea of shipping me off to southern France to a specialty school. Yep, the land of beautiful women, bronzed tans, and countless topless and nude beaches. I was in heaven!
Once there, I finally settled down and made it through school and the University where I'd mastered in Cyber Forensics. It was the Summer after I graduated that I found myself sitting on one of those marvelous beaches 'girl watching' when the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen approached me.
"Excuse me."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I've noticed that you seemed to be staring at me several times today. Do we know each other?"
Realizing that there was no way I could deny it, I replied, "Yes, ma'am, I have. And no ma'am, we don't. But I just couldn't help myself since you're probably the most beautiful woman on this beach."
She blushed. "Really now," she stated, the hint of an Irish brogue in the tone. "I'm sure there are far more beautiful young ladies of your age here on the beach today."
"Hmmmm, maybe ... but as you said they're YOUNG ladies."
"Ahhhh. Should I take that to mean your prefer older woman?"
"Lets just say that certain women have assets that most younger ladies don't," I said as my eyes dropped from her face to her breasts.
"Ohhhh, you mean these?" She teased as she took a breast in each hand and lifted them as if offering them to me.
"Yeah, that's part of it."
"Ohh, and what else, may I ask?"
"Certain women feel far more comfortable about their sexuality and their sexual needs."
"And how would you know that?"
"Because most 'young ladies', as you call them, wouldn't have done what you just did with your breasts," I replied with an impish grin on my face.
She laughed as she stretched out her hand, "Hi, I'm Jennifer."
"I'm Pete," I said as I took her hand and gently kissed the back of it.
"Ohhhhhh, such a flirt."
"Can't blame a guy for trying."
"Trying?"
"To hook up with a beautiful woman."
"So you think I'm beautiful?"
"Absolutely!"
"Too bad my husband doesn't seem to think so. He's constantly off to some business meeting or other. And if it's not that, he's working late in the office or having dinner with a client."
"I've heard that before."
"Can I ask you a question?" she said while staring at my eye patch.
"Childhood accident."
"Serious?"
"Nothing I haven't learned to live with."
"You look like a pirate."
"Be careful, I may try to steal something from you," I teased.
"Like what?" she replied, placing her hands on her hips defiantly.
"Your body," I whispered with as much bravado as I could muster.
Her face turned a deep red as she stuttered looking for the right words to reply. "I ... ahhhh ... I think I better get going. I need to meet my husband for a dinner engagement in an hour."
"It's been my pleasure," I said, light-heartedly. "I hope to see you again."
With that she spun on her heels and waved over her shoulder as she quickly walked away.
Fortunately, for me, that evening was warm with a light breeze off the ocean, so I decided to eat at a small restaurant along the beach. I was just finishing when I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder.
"Hello, handsome."
"Hello, gorgeous," I replied as I turned and looked up at Jennifer's gorgeous face. "I thought you had a dinner engagement?"