When she knocked on the door I had just gotten out of the shower and was still dripping wet. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and ran to answer the door. I yanked the door open and was met with the sight of a young woman probably a couple of years older that myself. She had a large friendly smile on her lips and in her hand she was holding what appeared to be a chocolate cake.
I looked her up and down, and then I said, ”Hi.”
She was blonde, probably five foot five or six, with large breasts and what looked to be a very nice ass. She was wearing a maternity smock so I figured that she was probably pregnant, although if she was, she was not too far along. “Very nice!” I thought to myself.
She said, “Hi yourself. My name is Carol and I figured that I would welcome you to the neighborhood.” And she thrust the cake at me.
I took the cake from her hands and said, “Thanks, I’m Mickey.” Not knowing exactly what to do I just stand there like a wooden Indian for a moment before asking, “Ya want to come in?”
She said, “Sure, but just for a minute.” She brushed past me into the house and walked briskly into the dinning room where she sat down in one of the chairs.
I followed her into the dining room, and deposited the cake on the table. I stood there awkwardly for a minute or more taking in her appearance. It wasn’t every day that I was yanked out of the shower by an attractive young woman.
Carol’s blonde hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. Her face was girlishly round with large soft eyes, a pug nose covered in freckles and pouting lips that were covered with bright red lipstick. As I looked at her a small smile formed on her lips, her whole face seemed to light up and she said conversationally, “Nice place you have here.”
The sound of her voice startled me from my reverie. I felt somewhat embarrassed at being caught staring. I quickly looked away from her and replied lowly, “Thanks.” Then trying to be a good host I asked, “Would you like something to drink?”
She responded, “Sure, what do you have?”
I told her that I had some coffee but it was cold and I would have to heat it up. Or I had some coke in the fridge.
She responded with an innocent smile and a chuckle, “Do you have anything stronger?”
Taken aback, I stood there for a second before replying, “Sure, we have some beer in the fridge. Or I think that my parents have some hard stuff in the cabinet. Bourbon or vodka I think.”
“A bourbon and coke would taste nice.” She said. “Unless you don’t want to fix me one.” She continued, her lips forming a small pout.
I said, “No, it’s no problem. Bourbon and coke it is.” And I got up and walked to the kitchen.
The bourbon was in the cabinet and so was the vodka. I grabbed a coffee cup out of the cabinet and filled it about half full of a combination of the two liquors then topped it off from a bottle of coke from the fridge. I poured a little bit of booze in a cup for myself and filled that cup up with coke too. Popping in a couple of ice cubes from the fridge I deemed the drinks ready.
I carried the drinks into the dining room and handed one to Carol. She took a sip, grimaced slightly and said, “Whew, that’s kind of strong. Are you trying to get me drunk?”
I stammered in reply, “No, I’m just not too good at mixing drinks. If it’s too strong for you I can dump some of it out and put some more coke in it.”
She giggled softly and then responded, “No, that’s alright. I’ll just sip it slow.” She took a long sip from the drink, sat the cup down and said, “Now sit down and tell me about yourself. Do you always answer the door dripping water on the floor and with your pants unzipped?”
“No,” I responded embarrassed and reached down to zip up my pants.
“That’s alright.” She said, “I’ve seen dicks before. I’ve got a couple of kids and another in the oven.” And she patted her slightly protruding belly before continuing, “I guess you already figured that out.”
Slightly flustered by the turn of the conversation I responded with, “Yeah I thought you might be pregnant.”
Carol said, “Yeah, thirteen weeks along and fat as a tick.” She giggled lightly, took another healthy slug of booze and launched into a diatribe on what it was like to be pregnant, before segueing into the trials and tribulations of being a wife. She must have been starved for conversation because the only time she stopped talking was when she paused occasionally to take a drink from her cup.
I didn’t really think that she looked that pregnant. She may have had just a slight pooch to her stomach, but that wasn’t even noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. All in all she was a very delectable dish with soft sweet skin and boobs that could raise the desire of even the most jaded of observers. My eyes traveled over her body taking in the obvious wonders of her physique finally coming to rest on her cute face. Looking into her eyes I could sense a mischievous twinkle and then a small wink. The wink somehow embarrassed me and I looked away, looking down at the half empty drink in my hand. I tried desperately to keep my attention on my cup and folded hands. I never quite succeeded though as my attention was continually recaptured by the vivacity of her conversation and the arm movements she habitually used
Carol did most of the talking, which seemed to be something that she was very comfortable doing. For my part I was quite comfortable sitting there quietly watching her animated conversation. Taking in the way her arms moved when she made a point and the way her jugs jiggled when she swung her arms. My only contribution to the conversation other than ogling her was responding with a “Yeah” or “sure” when it seemed appropriate. The rest of the time I was content to gaze spellbound at her big tits and wonder what they must feel like.
The time was either passing very quickly or Carol was sipping her drink very fast because it wasn’t too long before she waved her hand across my field of vision and asked, “Hey there, yoo-hoo, can I have another drink?”
“Huh? Yeah sure, whatever you want. I’ll get you one right now.” I responded and rose from my seat. I walked around the table and when I leaned over to pick up Carol’s cup she leaned toward me slightly and I got a good view down her smock. The top couple of buttons appeared to have come undone while we talked and exposed a few inches of her creamy cleavage to my wandering gaze.
“Just make me another of the same.” She said, smiling at me disarmingly.
Yeah, no problem.” I replied as I tore my eyes away from her heaving mounds.
In the kitchen I pulled out the booze and splashed a liberal dollop of both liquors into her cup before topping the concoction off with coke. I began to daydream of the lovely velvet skin of her tits, but I was quickly brought out of my reverie by the sound of a voice directly behind me. “How old are you?” the voice inquired.
Startled, I turned to find carol standing close behind me. “Nineteen” I replied before continuing, “Why do you ask? How old are you?”
“Just curious. And you should never ask a woman her age, but for your information I’m twenty five.” She said, and then continued with, “I hope you don’t mind if I stand for a while. Sitting for a long time is uncomfortable on this old fat belly of mine.” She patted her stomach and then continued, “But anything is uncomfortable these days. Sitting, standing, laying down, it all hurts. My stomach is fat and my tits are so swollen that I have to buy new bras almost every week.”
I handed her the fresh drink and she took a sip from her it before continuing, “This bra has seen its better days and I just got it a couple of weeks ago. Right now I feel like it is cutting off the blood to my brain.” She chuckled and took another long drink.
“You’re not fat.” I said.
“Sure I am.” She said before continuing, “Just look.” She sat her drink down on the kitchen table, turned toward me and pulled up her smock exposing a large expanse of slightly protruding stomach before rushing on, “I have to keep my pants unbuttoned all the time. I don’t want to buy pregnant pants yet, but I can’t button these jeans any more either.”
She raised the smock a little more, exposing some of her very impressive jugs. “See?” She asked. “See how the bra cuts into my breasts. It gets really uncomfortable after a few hours of wearing this thing. It’s like a torture machine.”
Not knowing why, I responded with, “Well why don’t you just loosen it up? Or just take it off?”
“Naw can’t do it. My tits would sag too much.” She replied with a wink before retrieving her drink and taking a healthy pull.
“I don’t think that they’d sag that much.” I responded. I reached my hand out and appreciatively weighed her exposed boob in my hand before continuing, “Yep, they feel pretty firm to me.”
I didn’t know if she was going to belt me or not. I didn’t really care either, the groping of her full and lovely boob had been worth the risk.
“You’re an ass hole. You know that?” She queried. She took another sip from her drink all the while gazing challengingly at me over the rim of her cup.
“Yep, you’re right, I’m an ass hole. Just call me ass hole from now on.” I replied.
She sputtered and I thought she was going to choke, but then a smile crept across her face and she said, “I’ll just do that. I think that we’re going to get along just fine.” She put her drink down again, turned around, raised her smock up and said, ”Now unhook me ass hole.”
I clumsily undid the clasp on her bra and released it to let it fall away. Carol dropped the smock down and raised her hands to rub her tortured breasts.
“That feels much better.” She purred.
