Award Winning Boobs

In Chapter 1 of this recounting, I had just broken up with a man who broke my heart when he cheated on me, and I was drowning my sorrows with chocolate chip ice cream. Chapter 1 ended with me going out to the back yard, topless, and eating chocolate chip ice cream while reading a novel.

The only person who could have seen me that way, topless in my back yard, was my handsome neighbor Steve, and he was doubtless at work, so I was safe. I was horny, though, because my friend Jessica's boyfriend Troy had ended up seeing my boobs, and then shamelessly flirted with me, right in front of Jessica.

I went to bed horny that night, lying above the sheets due to the heat, and with only fingers to keep me company. They did a decent job, I have to admit. But I woke up still thinking I needed more than just my fingers. I'm too young to get a dildo, I thought to myself. A vibrator, sure, but not a dildo. Shit, Jane, what you really need is a nice, hard man, I told myself.

I took myself out for breakfast, to the nearby diner, down the road a piece. I sat at the counter, ordering coffee, bacon, and eggs over easy. A man moved over to sit next to me. He looked nice. "Good morning," he said. "I'm Quinn. May I buy you an orange juice?"

"Baccarelli," I said, introducing myself, and we shook hands. "Juice would be good. Thanks. Are you Quinn the Eskimo?"

Quinn did not laugh at my joke. Probably he had heard it already way too many times. "No, but my mom may have named me Quinn because of that Dylan song. Why did your mom name you Baccarelli?"

I laughed, and told him the story of the three Janes my freshman year. We got to talking, and we hit it off. I told him a wild story I made up about why my Mom gave me the name of Jane. She and my Dad were immigrants, and they had learned English by watching detective shows ad nauseam on TV. Based on that, they decided a common American name for a girl was Jane. Had I been a boy, I would have been named John Doe Baccarelli. They wanted me to fit in, so they named me Jane.

I ended up having three cups of coffee just to stay there and talk with Quinn at the diner's counter seats. I noticed Quinn checking out my legs, more than once. Counter seats tend to make a girl show a lot of leg, if said girl wears a short skirt. Mine was about as short as they come. Probably at one point Quinn got to see my panties, too. I don't cut corners when it comes to lingerie, and I am proud of my panties. Towards the end of our time at the diner, Quinn had an epiphany.

"Are you friends with Troy Sorensen?" he suddenly asked me.

"Why yes, I am. Actually, I'm friends with his girlfriend Jessica. So a fortiori, I'm friends with Troy, too." I replied.

"I think Troy mentioned you to me. Excuse me for asking this, but are you the Jane who has award-winning boobs?" Quinn said. There was a long silence. Quinn added, "I can't believe I just said that."

"Ask me out sometime, and if you get lucky, you might be able to decide for yourself," I said. Quinn looked at me, stunned. I added, "I can't believe I just said that."

We made a date for that very night. Ten minutes later I was home, on the phone with Jessica. I debated what to wear. I took a bath. Quinn showed up on time at 6pm. The first thing he said was that Troy had given him the link to the boobs contest, and that my boobs should have won first prize.

"I'm glad you like them, Quinn. That picture is over 6 years old. I'm sure they're not the same now. Shall we go?" I knew right then if Quinn got anywhere with me, he would want to see my award-winning boobs in the flesh. I also knew that even as horny, and ready for some good, rollicking sex as I was, he was not the man for me.

Quinn took me to a tittie bar. I could not believe it. I had to sit there while topless waitresses served us drinks. "No room at Hooters tonight?" I asked. Quinn was not even getting my sarcasm. How could I have ended up with such a guy?

I had to escape from this date from hell. I told Quinn I had a headache, and could he please take me home? He did. I used every possible aspect of body language to tell him the date was over, but he came inside my home with me despite it. He just pushed his way into my home.

My mother's good hostess training kicked in, and I asked him if he wanted a drink. Three Scotch whiskeys later, matched drop for drop by yours truly, he asked if he could see my medal.

"Sure you can, honey. But after you see the medal, it's time for you to go, okay? I need to go to bed and sleep off this headache," I said. My words were beginning to slur, just a little bit. I had to get rid of Quinn, fast. I become easy when I'm drunk, and one thing I did not want is sex with a man like Quinn.

"After I see the medal, and your boobs, Baccarelli, I'll be on my way," he said.

I ignored his last remark and went to get the medal. I showed it to him and walked him to the door. "Your boobs, please," Quinn said. "I want to see your award-winning boobs. I've never seen award-winning boobs before, you know."

"Yes, I imagine that's so. Okay, if I show you my boobs, you'll go, right?" I asked.

"Yes, yes of course. Boobs, a kiss, and I'll go," Quinn said.

Yes, I noticed he had added a kiss to his condition, but I figured I could throw in a kiss if I could get rid of him. So, I told him to wait. I changed into a blouse that buttoned, and I wore it without a bra. I returned to Quinn, and slowly, drawing it out to tease him, unbuttoned my blouse, one slow button at a time. By the time I was done, and my blouse was open but hanging in front of my boobs, Quinn was practically panting.

"Okay, Quinn. Here comes the grand revealing of my award-winning boobs, but remember: You see them, then you leave," I said. Quinn sat there, panting. I slowly parted my blouse, then shrugged it off my shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Quinn just stared, as if he were mesmerized.

"May I touch them, please?" Quinn asked.

"Since you said please, yes you may," I replied. "Then you leave." I was beginning to sound like a broken record.

Quinn approached me. He reached out and gently touched my boobs as if they were the treasures of the Sierra Madre. He put his arms around my waist, pulled me to him, and kissed me. It was a wonderful kiss. It radiated right down to the parts of me in desperate need of some male attention.

Quinn continued to kiss me and to molest my boobs. I did not even notice when he unzipped my skirt, that is until I felt it being pushed over my hips and off. This alarmed me, of course, but I felt I could handle it. Now he was kissing me and I was wearing only my panties.

I was not wearing only my panties for long, however, as Quinn, still kissing me, managed to push them down and off as well. At this point, I obviously had to do something.

I broke the kiss. "Quinn, what are you doing? It's my boobs that won the award, not my naked body," I said, giggling nervously. "Now come on," I continued, taking his hand and pulling him to the door. I pushed him out, and he pulled me out after him, even though I was naked.

"Walk me to the car, Baccarelli," Quinn said. "For a goodnight kiss."

"Quinn, I'm quite naked. I have to go back inside before the neighbors see me."

"Okay, okay. Kiss me right here on your stoop, then," he said, and he pulled me into him.

We had a good long "kiss goodnight." First Quinn fondled my boobs as we kissed, but soon his right hand moved down my body, finding my pussy, and quite quickly I became too aroused for my own good. I pulled away, saying, "Goodnight, Quinn. Drive home safely."

I ran back to the door and found I was locked out. My front door automatically locks when it closes. I walked around the house looking for a way inside, and found none. I looked where I always hide the spare key and it was not there. I remembered I had used it last time this happened, and it was still inside the house. Damn! I was truly locked out.

My neighbor Steve has a key, so I felt I had no choice. It might be hard to explain, but Steve was okay. He was all right. Maybe even he would not ask questions? I remembered Adam and Eve and jumped up to pick a maple leaf from the maple tree in my front garden. I know that naked girls with serious boobs look ridiculous when they jump, but I was out of options. Jumping is why God gave us sports bras! I grabbed the largest maple leaf I could reach, and I held it over my private area. I tried to balance maple leaves on my boobs, too, but that was hopeless.

I walked over to Steve's house, and trembling a bit, rang his bell. I was wearing a maple leaf, held there with my left hand. I realized this was not a normal situation to have a naked woman ring a man's doorbell late at night, but seriously, what else could I do?

Steve came to the door in his pajamas. He was a prince. All he said was, "Good evening, Baccarelli. Would you like to come in?"

I practically ran inside his house, glad no longer to be exposed, naked, to the neighborhood. I realized of course I was thereby exposing myself in totality to my neighbor Steve, but I did not see as I had a choice. Besides, I knew Steve, and he had always been a gentleman, Steadfast, and correct.

As I stood there, trembling in my nudity with Steve's voracious eyes taking in every detail of my body but focusing (of course) on my breasts, I felt tremendous relief when he offered to get me something with which to cover myself.

Steve returned with a T-shirt and some gym shorts. I dropped the maple leaf, briefly flashing Steve with my naked pussy, and I put on the T-shirt first. Since it was a man's T-shirt it covered me all the way down to just past my privates. The gym shorts barely clung to my hips, even cinched with the drawstring, but at least I looked decent, if also, perhaps, hopelessly sexy.

My boobs poked suggestively at the T-shirt and I verified later that Steve had chosen his one T-shirt for me that one could almost see through in the correct lighting.

To my surprise, Steve then engaged me in banal conversation, not addressing the elephant in the room which is why I came to his door wearing only a maple leaf, asking for a house key. Finally, I asked him why he had been so nice, not to bring it up.

"Well, I guess it's obvious, isn't it? You had a date gone wrong. I'm glad you're alright. It's not my place to say anything, Baccarelli, but a woman with a body like yours should be careful with her romantic partner choices," Steve said.

I nodded, "Wise advice. Wise advice, indeed. Quinn was a little weird," I said.

"Quinn?" Steve asked. "I know of only one Quinn in these parts. Was it Quinn Samuelson?"

"Yes," I said, wondering where this was going. I knew Steve worked for the DA in town.

"He's on the sex offenders registry, Baccarelli. You sure you're okay?" Steve said. Genuine concern was in his voice.

"If you don't count my being embarrassed showing up at your place nude, I'm fine," I said.

"You may be embarrassed, and probably I should not say this, but I am a man after all," Steve began.

"It's okay, Steve. Whatever you want to say, please say it. I deserve it and I can handle it," I said.

"No, no, it's not like that. I just wanted to say, which is inappropriate because you're my neighbor and all, and sex with neighbors is ill advised, but shit, Baccarelli, you have the best boobs I've ever seen. You are one smoking hot woman!"

I saw that Steve still had an erection. I had noticed it only minutes after showing up naked. I felt guilty about it, but was not about to try to help him out in that regard. He had a right hand for those problems. So, I just said, "Thanks, Steve," and I blushed. "I'll return the clothes tomorrow."

"No rush for the clothes, Baccarelli. Glad to have helped out, and thanks for the inspiring view of your body. Your boobs really are special, you know," Steve said, and then he looked ashamed to have said anything.

I blurted out, before I could stop myself, "They're award-winning boobs, you know."

Steve did not ask for an explanation, thinking I was joking, and he just laughed, and walked me to the door. He did not ask for a kiss goodnight, or try anything at all sexual with me, for which I was grateful. I would have given him whatever he had asked for, short of copulation, of course.

Not that I'm a slut, it's just I felt I owed him something, having shown up at his home naked, and I was grateful for how nice he was. Besides, he's handsome. I was glad he decided not to take advantage of the situation.

My day had been already strange enough! I went home, and I was still one hell of a sexually frustrated woman, although now I felt lucky to have escaped from Quinn with no harm other than being locked outside of my home, stark naked.

I called Jessica and told her everything, and told her that Quinn was not good news. I went another week sexually frustrated, but I dealt with it fine. I gave some more thought to the notion of breaking down and getting a dildo or a vibrator, or both. Then Jessica called me back.

Jessica proposed going on a double date. She had a blind date for me, a man named Sherman.

"Seriously? That's his name, Sherman?" I asked. I was skeptical, given his name, but mostly because it was a blind double date, one whom Troy had vouched for. Troy was also friends with Quinn, at least according to Quinn. "Has Troy told Sherman I have award-winning boobs?" I asked, and I groaned when Jessica told me she didn't know for sure, but probably yes, he has. She thought he told everyone he knows.

I reluctantly agreed to go on the double date. I felt safer, with Jessica and Troy there. As it turned out, though, Sherman and I were made for each other. We clicked almost instantly, and by the end of the evening I was gazing at Sherman starry eyed, hanging on his every word. He was educated, polite, spoke the King's English with a slight accent, and he had a great body, as far as I could tell. He was also modest.

Sherman asked me out for the very next night, and I took a microsecond to reflect before I said yes. At the end of the date, he walked me to my door, and we kissed. I don't invite men in on the first date, but I figured this was our second date, and I was still hopelessly horny, so I invited him in.

We sat in my living room. I served drinks and some chocolates, and I waited for him to make a move. I waited, and I waited some more. Nothing. Finally, Sherman said, "Troy told me you won a rather strange award for your boobs? Is that really true?"

I giggled nervously, and confessed that it was. He asked to see it, and reluctantly I got the medal and also the ribbon. Sherman examined both with great care. I had sat down next to him on the couch to show him the medal and the ribbon, and he finally held my head in his hands, brought my mouth to his, and he kissed me. It was a lovely kiss.

We sat on the couch kissing for a good long time, maybe 15 minutes. I saw that he was hard. I was getting wet. When we finally came up for air, Sherman spoke first.

"If you do not mind, I would love to see your award-winning boobs," he said.

"I still have the original pictures," I teased, and I could see his face fall. "But it's easier to show them to you, since you're right here, than to find the pictures," I added, and I stood up and began to undress.

I was wearing a dress that zipped up the back, so I turned around and asked Sherman to unzip it. He did, and I shrugged it off, the dress falling to the floor.

"Would you mind unhooking my bra, too, Sherman, please?" I said, knowing he would simply love to do that. All men are more than happy to provide a service such as that, I'm sure! He did, and I shrugged off my bra, too.

I slowly turned around to face him, wearing only my panties, which I was sure by now were good and wet with my juices. As I slowly turned around, I saw Sherman's face, now exhibiting a heavy dollop of lust. I smiled.

"May I touch your boobs, Baccarelli?" Sherman said.

"You're much too overdressed to touch my boobs," I said. "Proper dress is required, I'm afraid. Ask me again when you have on proper attire."

Sherman stripped down to his briefs in a New York minute, and he asked again. I smiled, giggling nervously, and I said, "Touch away. If you like what you touch, another of your wonderful kisses might be in order, too."

"It's not just your boobs, you know, your entire body is magnificent," Sherman said.

"Funny you should say that," I replied. "Today only, as my daily special, I am running a rare opportunity. With my boobs, I'm throwing in free reign over my body, provided you keep up the complements," and I punctuated that with another nervous giggle.

It was not long after that we were both naked. By "not long," I mean seconds, maybe 3, possibly 4 seconds. I stroked his lovely cock as his fingers explored the mysteries of my pussy. His kisses and his complements, too, continued to flow, and I got turned on in the extreme.

Sherman lay my naked body down on my couch, and he asked me his final question, "How are you fixed for birth control, my sweet?"

"Green light, Sherman," was all I said, and that was all I needed to say, and when he entered me, the sexual frustrations caused by my dumping of my previous boyfriend, which felt like ages ago, made his cock's entry into my pussy seem like manna from heaven. I was so ready for it!

He sank all the way in on the first thrust, and I groaned the groan women have groaned for millennia. My body rose to meet his thrusts as naturally as breathing itself. I let myself go and moaned up a storm. My legs went around his body and I clawed at his back, screaming out my pleasure. I was in heaven.

Meanwhile, Sherman seemed to be enjoying himself quite bit, fucking me for all he was worth. I wanted to show him a good time, but I was so into it, just then I felt it was all about me. Fortunately, men always enjoy laying a new woman, especially when she's a sexpot and totally into it, and boy, was I into it, just then.

After he shot his load inside me, and we were relaxing, both naked and in post coital bliss, I happened to notice one of his fingers. He had fingered me with his right hand, but this particular finger was on his left hand. It had a tan mark indicating the recent absence of a wedding ring.

"Sherman," I said, and for him this must have come from out of the blue, "are you by chance married?"

He did not have to answer me. I could tell from his face and the guilt on it, that he was. I lost it. I screamed at him as he got dressed quickly, and then I pushed him out the door, down the steps, and shoved him into his car, telling him never to even dare to call me again!

I pathetically even threw a rock at his car as it was driving away. I could not hit the side of a barn with a thrown rock, even if I could have managed the distance. But it felt good to throw it at his car. I was doing this, of course, while forgetting that I was stark naked, and dripping his cum. I was so angry, that it did not even occur to me I was still naked. But I was. I was very much naked, dripping cum, out on my front lawn, yelling obscenities and thereby calling attention to myself.

Sherman was watching my boobs bounce around as I screamed and gesticulated and threw rocks at him, which probably explained his amused expression as he drove off and out of my life, leaving me there, naked, at my front walk.

I had returned the clothes and key to Steve, but I had forgotten to replace my spare key to its hiding place, so for the second time I rang Steve's bell, standing stark naked on his porch, this time with my pussy full of cum. I did not even do the maple leaf trick. I had no self-respect left. I was even more embarrassed this time than the previous time, if that were possible.

"It's always nice to see you, Baccarelli, especially in all your glory," Steve said. "No maple leaf this time? Your body is magnificent, especially with the glow of a woman who has just enjoyed sex. And yet, I suspect, this was another date gone bad?"