I was fresh out of high school, not really having anywhere to go. I had planned on taking a year break from schooling, so I was stuck at home with nothing better to do than watch television and pretend to work around the house.
Of course, you've seen my profile. Back then I was a skinny one with a plump chest. Five-foot-seven with a 28F bra made me popular in high school, and I had gotten around quite well. The biggest I had seen was nine inches, and another some seven inches around. I had long red hair, and I kept my bush for kinky reasons. Guys seem to like fire-crotch.
My neighbors a few doors down were having a celebration. Their son, Joseph, had just returned from Europe after getting an internship from his college. He was brilliant in world history, and the school had paid for him to travel the continent due to his excellence. I remembered him from high school. He was kind of handsome, a very confident and personable person. Unfortunately, we never talked much, and now I was being forced to attend because my mother said so.
I went upstairs to take a shower. I remember this day very well because it was the first time I laid eyes on my future husband. I was wearing a bright blue camisole with a black sports bra underneath, my chest jutting out of my small frame. My boxers were loose in the leggings, so my pussy had plenty of breathing room. I took them off in the bathroom, my red hairy bush contrasting to my pale white skin.
I lifted off the camisole, and got the shower running. I tossed it onto the floor, and pulled my arms through the straps of the sports bra. I peeled it off, my perky, giant tits defying gravity. My big, puffy areoles were growing hard in the cold room. I coyly touched one, and a surge of pleasure went through me.
Yes, I was (am) a nympho.
I cupped my hand and put it on my mound as I sat on the toilet, grinding into it as I played with my tits. When I felt myself getting wet, I put a finger in, at first; then two, then three, until I was pumping my own fist into me. I was leaning on the counter, my tits falling into the sink as I masturbated, my breath fogging up the metal faucet as I panted. Finally, I found my g-spot, and focused on that so intently and so precisely that globs of my juice ran down my leg. It took me a while to finally take the shower -- I was reluctant to wash my face with my dirty hands.
I always showered in a pattern. First I washed my hair, and then I washed my body. I purposely cleaned my boobs longer than necessary, because the feeling I got rubbing my nipples was just amazing. I got some more shampoo and cleaned up my pubes, as it was just so thick. I grabbed my razor, and cut the hair out from my underarms and legs. I may enjoy natural things, but there was no way I was that natural.
I got out, drying myself off. I wrapped my hair up in one towel, and with another covered my body as best as I could. I went back downstairs, wearing just the towel, because it was only my mother and I.
My mother had me when she was older. She was now just fifty, and she had tits almost as big as mine. My grandma, apparently, was a C; my mom was a DD; now I was a F. The towel gave me prominent cleavage, and it pulled my towel up just before my ass cheeks would show. "Hey mom," I said, just to let her know I was in the living room with her.
"Karen, what have I said about just wearing a towel around the house?" I sighed.
"Whatever, mom." My mom came up to me, blocking me from the front window.
"What if neighbors saw, Kair? What would they think?" I kinda laughed a bit.
"They would like what they saw, wouldn't they?" My mom frowned, and ordered me to get dressed. I groaned, but complied.
In my room, I put on a nice support bra, with a very tight green shirt over it, hugging every curve. I didn't wear any panties, and just pulled up a pair of jeans. They were tight and low-rise -- if I lifted up my arms, my shirt would come up and my pubes would be clearly visible.
I headed back down stairs, my boobs bouncing with every step. My mom was at the door wearing a polite-looking dress. She had become a lady of modesty lately. "Ready to go?" she asked, and I nodded. We both went out the door, and started the small walk over to Joseph's house.
"Met any cute guys?" my mom asked as we went, and I groaned to myself. She was always trying to get in on my personal life.
"No, mom," I told her half-heartedly. I had a flashback to about two weeks ago giving some guy a blow job. He was average, but man did he fire a load...
"Have you?" I asked jokingly.
She literally jumped, and cried, "No! Heavens no! Why would you ask that?" I shrugged.
"You're still a beautiful woman. And it's not like you owe dad any respect, after what he's done." He'd basically cheated on her with a 60 year-old woman with enough silicone and plastic in her to dominate a world industry. My mom frowned.
"No, I have not met anyone." And from then on the small walk was silent. The whole remaining ten seconds. His driveway had three cars filling it up, just for the celebration.
We knocked on the door, and who would open it but Joseph. He wasn't exceedingly attractive, probably a seven or eight, but he just had this aura of, "Hey, everything's alright, let's just chill and have fun." He smiled when he saw us, and said happily, "Well if it isn't Mrs. -- (um... No last names!) and Karen! How are you, Kair? Still in high school?" He was acting like he knew me. That was weird.
"Uh, no. Graduated. Got my driver's license fixed up the week before so I could drive to graduation like an adult." He smiled as if he actually cared.
"Fantastic. Well, come on in!"
We entered the house, and found a small crowd in the living room. We were introduced to Joseph's mother and father, his two aunts, and an older cousin. Everyone was just having a good time, and welcomed us in rather well. We hugged with the women (though the aunts seemed to enjoy crushing in on my tits), and simply waved at the men. Joseph offered us anything to drink. Several people wanted something, and my mother, bless her heart, sent me to help.
We were both in the kitchen, and alone. "So you got any boyfriends?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Well isn't that something rude to ask!" I declared, getting some tap water. He sat down on a collapsible chair in front of some cabinets.
"I'm only curious," he asked, "Just trying to make conversation." I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, come on, we barely know each other. Stop acting like we're great friends." His eyes went wide.
"I'm only trying to be nice!" He was leaning back in the chair, his legs spread wide. It looked odd to me, seeing a white guy wearing oversized basketball shorts.
