Her body was perfection, sleek as a cat, tapered thighs and muscular calves, dangerous ass curves and precipitously sloped breast mounds. Hers were the kind of long, elegant, sensuous lines that draw the eye to it, and certainly were drawing Carl's. Her physical form was a bold and even defiant statement that spoke powerfully of the mystery and promise and passion of woman. He held his brawny torso over hers and slowly drew his ten inches of solid unyielding powerful steel against the soft burning fire between her young and supple thighs.
Carl stirred on his couch, trying to adjust his erection in his pajamas. He knew if he even touched it, the damn thing might explode. He wanted to finish fucking her before he stroked himself to finally release the exquisite tension that was building inside him.
It was a tension that had been building for the past three months between he and his neighbor's cute daughter. He imagined her right now in her darkened bedroom on the bed, caressing her breasts, pinching the perfect points at the end, waiting for his big virtual cock to turn her into a quivering mass of jelly.
He wondered if it hurt at all, this kind of sex, hurt her legs, or hips.
It all started so innocently.
Shayleen was the neighbor's child. Child? She was eighteen and about as cute as cute can be at eighteen. Blonde wavy hair that always seemed on the verge of flying away from her head, lips as full and red as two ripe plums, breasts so soft yet firm and shapely they seemed to have a life of their own. Was that even possible? Could tits have personalities and agendas and motivations separate from the woman they are attached to? Because it was her breasts that seduced Carl.
Her legs and hips, however, made him wince with sympathetic pain. Shayleen survived the accident that took her lower half, but her lower half didn't. She was paralyzed from the waist down.
It had been in a moment of neighborly largess that Carl had one day volunteered to drive her to classes three days a week on his way to work. The argument between mother and daughter was a loud and strident one that he couldn't help but overhearing as he washed his truck in his driveway.
"I will drive you, Shayleen," Moira stated, "I'll just have to be a little late for work."
"Mother," Shayleen shot back, "I'll take a bus, I'll hitchhike, before I sit in a car for forty five minutes with you three days a week."
"I can take her," Carl had chirped in, looking across the short hedge dividing the two properties. "It will be no problem. I drive right by the college. And I can get to work any time I want."
That was true. He was one of the owners of the small financial consulting firm and he made his own hours. And thus, after several minutes of Moira trying to give him a chance to withdraw his offer, it was decided. Shayleen hardly said a word, just spun her wheelchair around towards Carl and thanked him shyly. She seemed to be okay with the idea.
So, that next Monday, Shayleen wheeled herself to his truck, he lifted her into the passenger seat, and that's how it all started.
The seduction of Carl Prine. By breasts. In the act of lifting her in and out of the truck three times a week he fell under the influence of the two quite excellent mounds of amazing flesh protruding from Shay's chest.
Carl couldn't help himself. Those two sweet, fine young breasts were more classic sculpture than just another pair of teenage tits. Each day, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her, he couldn't help but appreciate the fine female artistry of that pair of lovelies. Over the coming weeks he came to realize that it didn't matter what she wore, the shape and heft and presence of her two fine ladies beneath a sweater, in a jacket, peaking from the neckline of a button up shirt, or good heavens, pushing against the thin fabric of a silken t shirt, took his breath away. Her tits, Carl discovered, seemed to dominate their interactions without ever saying a word.
Shayleen was a polite, bright eyed, lovely and adorably sweet young lady. She had the kind of girl next door beauty that is approachable and inviting and relaxed.
But her legs were a mess -- thin, useless stems. And her hips felt limp and lifeless in his arms.
Carl began to look forward to the commute time he spent with Shay, and not just because he got to ogle a beautiful bosom. There are people a person will meet in their lifetime with whom talking is as easy as breathing. And despite their twenty year age difference, twenty two actually, Carl found it incredibly effortless to converse with his neighbor's very sweet, quite intelligent, daughter.
He would never have thought about fucking her, of course. Of course. She was...broken...down there. Her lower half was dead to the touch.
But somehow, Shay had kept her spirit alive. Somehow, despite the heartbreaking tragedy of it, the pain and terrible sadness of it, she was irrepressibly good-natured, funny and relentlessly curious and interested in life.
She was pretty smart, too. Her major was computer studies. Gaming was her passion. Virtual reality was her specialty. As a blind person's hearing becomes more acute, so Shayleen's avatars and computer personas, as Carl would learn, were extremely adept, highly coordinated, fast, accurate, powerful and deadly. And sexy.
It was during that second week that they discovered their shared passion for gaming. The first week they learned they could talk like old friends about any subject, school, parents, weather, politics, jokes, movies, books, anything that came to mind. It was during just such a conversation, casual, free-flowing, that Carl inserted one of his size elevens into his big mouth.
"So tell me what is your hardest class," Carl asked that fateful day that was to be one in which his whole life subtly changed direction, a day that sent him gradually, inexorably, tumbling down a path he didn't even know existed. They were stuck in traffic on the 17 because of some kind of road work up ahead where the highway wound through the forest.
"Biology," Shay responded quickly. "You know, I realize why they call them 'text' books. They're, like, full of text. Complex, dry, thick, dull text."
"Biology? Yeah, I remember that," he chuckled, "Facts and stats and complicated systems and technical terms. But, what kind of biology are you into right now?"
"Reproduction," Shay sighed.
"Sex!" Carl blurted out, then instantly regretted it. Not only was he bringing up a subject best not spoken about with your neighbor's cute daughter. It was a subject that no doubt was the source of major heartbreak for his young teenage friend.
"Sex," she said, her voice very flat.
Carl didn't know what to say. But it would be even more embarrassing to change the subject at this point. "What have you learned?" he ventured.
"That mammals have sex with external organs. And humans are the only mammals that have sex for fun." She was staring out the window and the look on her face broke his heart.
"I'm sorry, Shay," he said and he placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah," she sighed, and then, as if he wasn't torn up enough, she began to cry quietly.
"Oh, Shay, sweetie," he gushed, "Don't...don't let it get to you. You are a wonderful, funny, gorgeous and lovely young woman."
