Give Her An Inch Shell Take A Mile 1

My wife Katie had been into rap music long before I met her. It was seemingly the one big difference in our interests. From movies, to television, to books, and even politics, Katie and I clicked on every level. But then there was music. I just didn't understand Katie's enthusiasm when it came to that god-awful "music" she insisted on blaring every time we went anywhere in the car, especially considering the over-the-top misogynistic lyrics.

Still, it would have taken much more to dissuade me from a girl like my Katie. She is a complete and total knock-out in every sense of the phrase. Out of my league in the looks department by just about anyone's standards, she was by far the most gorgeous girl I had ever been with. Her shoulder-length curly blonde hair, ample tits, and perfect heart-shaped ass had me mesmerized from the moment I first laid eyes on her. The fact that they were supported by a 5'4'', 110 pound frame just extenuated her lovely curves even more.

From our very first conversation, back in college, when we were partners on a group project for our sophomore psychology class, I knew Katie was the girl for me. She was bubbly and radiant, and when she spoke to me I felt as though I was being blessed with the presence of a Goddess. A Goddess that I was determined to make my bride.

Unfortunately I didn't feel as though I was in a position to ask her out when our group project was complete, and Katie was once again returned to her position as the girl who kept me distracted all class long. Truth be told, I had been rejected by less pretty girls throughout high school, and I was sure that if I put the question to Katie I would once again be playing the rejected dope.

My assets were of the academic nature, not of the physical, like the guys I was sure Katie was attracted to. I would occasionally see her flirting with guys before and after class, and if they weren't all football players, they all could have been. She was definitely into the jock type, and while I was an average baseball player in high school, these guys she would gravitate towards towered over me.

A few weeks after turning in our group project, I ran into Katie at a party off-campus. It was actually kind of lucky on my part, as I rarely went out to party. I wasn't a big drinker, and I had to keep my GPA above 3.5 in order to keep my financial aid. By the time I saw Katie that night I'd consumed 5 or 6 beers, more than I would usually. She looked even more beautiful than usual. She had on a tight-fitting light blue dress that showed off her ample breasts and ended just an inch or so below the bottom of her ass cheeks. Topping it off with black platform high-heels and gold hoop earrings Katie was looking like a model and was clearly the best looking girl at the party.

Katie was off in a corner chatting it up with one of her fellow cheerleaders that I recognized from my economics class. While the sight of these two beautiful vixens would have ordinarily been too intimidating for me to approach, the alcohol I had consumed had given me some new found bravery, so I made my way over to the them. With the music blaring as loud as it was, I found it difficult to hear what Katie was saying, but she was obviously happy to see me. That smile of hers nearly melted me then and there.

After a couple of minutes, Katie's friend excused herself to get another drink, and I nearly jumped at the opportunity to tell Katie that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I professed to her that if she were to give me the opportunity to be her boyfriend that I would treat her like a queen day and night, and that her happiness would be the paramount concern of my every waking moment. While clearly flattered, I could tell by her giggle and the way her eyes widened that these were not feelings she reciprocated towards me.

"What the fuck did you just say?" The deep burly voice caught me by surprise, but it wasn't nearly the surprise as the punch that landed me square in the jaw a split-second later. Knocked flat on my back by the power of my attacker and dazed as all hell, I heard Katie tell the behemoth I was now looking up at that he didn't have to do that before hurrying him away.

After somewhat regaining my senses and returning to my feet, the girl I had seen Katie talking with before informed me that the big black guy who had just knocked me on my ass was Katie's boyfriend. I decided to drown my sorrows with several more beers that night.

***

An ear-splitting headache woke me up seemingly just a couple hours after I had laid my head down on my pillow. Arriving in the bathroom, after avoiding the urge to vomit, I recoiled at the massive black eye that now adorned the right side of my face.

After several more hours of dealing with my hangover and headache, all of my discomfort melted away when I bumped into Katie at the food court. She immediately went into a very long apology explaining that if she knew he were capable of something like that she never would have dated my assailant. I told Katie that there was no need to apologize, that I had too much to drink, and that it was my fault for being so forward with her. She then told me she had broken up with him earlier that morning. I couldn't help but wonder why the break up hadn't occurred last night, and my mind drifted to the sweet pleasures Katie's body had likely provided her thug boyfriend after he had laid me out flat.

She and I ended up chatting the afternoon away. When she told me that she had to get going and do some studying, I once again laid out my argument for being her boyfriend and again put the question to her. In her sweetest voice possible, Katie explained that she needed some time off from dating to find herself a bit. I told her I understood of course, but I couldn't help but feel like she was just saying it so she didn't have to give me a flat out no.

The months passed by and Katie and I remained friends even after our psychology course together ended. A girl like her doesn't stay on the market long, however, and she was soon back to dating guys much more gifted physically than myself. Each relationship would last a few months, and after each one Katie would give me some excuse as to why we couldn't date, but before long she would be back on the arm of another muscle-bound adonis.

Being Katie's friend certainly had its benefits though. We were nearly inseparable during our free time for the rest of college, with the exception being Katie's midnight trysts with her latest "boyfriend". We would study together, go see movies, get dinner together; all the usual boyfriend / girlfriend activities, with the obvious exception of the physical aspect. As time passed, Katie became more and more comfortable with me, even getting to the point of walking around in her underwear whenever I would come over to her apartment.

I had remained single throughout college in hopes that Katie would eventually come to her senses and see that I was the right guy for her. My hopes were finally fulfilled just weeks before our senior year came to a close. Katie had been dumped by her pro-football bound hulk of a boyfriend, and after a long night of crying on my shoulder, I once again pronounced my love for her. She seemed hesitant at first, ,but after a little more sweet-talking on my part, I was finally blessed with the words I had waited so long to hear. "Yes Martin, I will be your girlfriend."

***

Katie and I both remained near campus after school finished up. I had found a well-paying job at the local newspaper and gotten my own one-bedroom apartment, while Katie was living with a couple of her fellow recently-graduated cheerleaders in a rented house and working part-time at a gym.

Our progression from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend went seamlessly as we were all ready engaged in all the usual things one would do in a relationship. My attempts to take our relationship to the physical level (beyond kissing) proved fruitless, until Katie finally succumbed about three months after we started officially dating. Not having much experience, and having not been with a girl in years, I was quite nervous to begin with.

Katie's body was everything I imagined it would be, and then some. I had seen her prancing around in a thong and bra on many occasions, so her incredible ass came as no surprise, but when I finally glanced her perfect soft tits I thought I would faint. They were perfect. I explored every inch of her body with my hands and kissed her all over before taking her missionary on my bed. I didn't last more than a few pumps, but it was still by-far the greatest orgasm of my life up to that point.

It didn't take me long to snap out of my post-cum euphoria, however, before I realized Katie seemed less than impressed. It dawned on me that she must have gotten used to the physical prowess of those guys back in college, and was likely underwhelmed by my staying power. I was also readily aware of the fact that the majority of the guys Katie had previously been with were big and black, while I myself measure up to a meager four and a half inches only on the best of days. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know I was on the small side of things, even for white guys. I quickly apologized and promised I would last longer next time, but she assured me that ours was a relationship of the mind and that if I was satisfied, she was satisfied.

Katie moved in with me after a few more months of dating, and a few more months after that I asked her to be my bride. I had known she was the girl for me since I first laid eyes on her, and when she accepted my proposal I would not hesitate to wager it was one of the greatest joys ever known to a man. She was everything I had ever wanted in a bride.

We had a traditional wedding at a church not far from our apartment and it truly was the greatest day of my life. Katie was absolutely radiant in her flowing white gown and I knew I was the envy of every man in attendance. With our friends and family watching on, I promised to love and cherish Katie for the rest of my life. I fully intended on keeping that promise.

***

Luckily for me, Katie's father had footed the bill for the festivities, which allowed me to splurge a bit on our honeymoon. We would be spending two weeks at a swanky resort in Jamaica which catered to tourists of the under-30 variety, fully equipped with restaurants, shops, an over-the-top pool area, and even a nightclub.

After one of the most hectic weeks of our lives, which included our families meeting each other for the first time, it came as a great relief when we boarded our flight to Jamaica. The flight was long, but Katie and I passed the time by catching up on the sleep we had both been missing out on recently. Truth be told, I could have sat there snuggling with her for the full two weeks.

Later, upon touching down, we boarded a shuttle bus that would ferry us to the resort. With the sun bearing down on us with all its might, the air conditioning of the shuttle felt like an oasis. The bus was about half full. From my isle seat, holding Katie's hand, I spotted a few other couples around our age, as well as a group of college-age girls and a pair of guys who looked like they would have fit in at most college fraternities. The bus driver was a large pot-bellied black man with the appearance of a local and the smell of someone who frequently enjoyed the most famous of Jamaican exports. As everyone departed the bus, I hung back and asked the driver if he wouldn't mind parting with some of his crop. He opened the backpack next to his seat and retrieved the biggest bag of weed I had ever seen. He ended up charging me quite a bit, but it was worth it considering we might not run into another potential businessman at the resort.

After checking in with the busty Jamaican receptionist, Katie and I made our way through the lavishly decorated lobby to the gold doors of the elevator, while our luggage was brought up by a pair of handsome bellboys in red uniforms. After generously tipping them, we entered the room we would call home for the next two weeks. Katie shrieked with joy upon crossing the threshold, first racing to the immaculate dining area, then peeking into the bedroom, before racing to the french doors and flinging them open to capture the gorgeous ocean view.

"Oh my God, baby. It's perfect!" she exclaimed. I beamed with pride at my wife's pleasure. I always found her to be at her most beautiful when she was smiling. I leaned in for a kiss, but Katie had already turned her attention back to the view and did not notice. "Martin, look at the pool! And all the people! I've got to get down there."

The pool, shaped like a big turtle, did look quite impressive. As did the mass of mostly hot-bodied twenty-somethings clad in bikinis and swim trunks bumping and grinding to the loud hip-hop music blasting from several sets of speakers. Hot tubs lined the edge of the pool, making up the turtle's legs, and two pathways on either side of the pool / patio area made their way out to the beach. Off in the distance, the pier was visible, as were several massive yachts.

I grabbed my swim trunks and splashed some water on my face in the bathroom before changing. I marveled at the lavish shower and jacuzzi, separated from myself by immaculate marble tile. When I re-emerged, Katie was standing with her back to me in a pink thong bikini. "You like?" she giggled.

"How could I not?" I responded after picking my jaw up off the floor. I had seen Katie in plenty of bikinis, but she had never been so bold as to wear a thong in public before. When she bent over to grab a pear of wedge high heels I could see her butthole and pussy lips clearly. The prospect of all the people I had seen poolside enjoying that view did not thrill me, but we were out of the country and no one knew us here, I reasoned, so I just went along with it.

"It looks even better on the floor," she said as she grabbed my hand and led me like a puppy to the bedroom. Unfortunately I was extremely aroused seeing Katie in her new tiny bikini, and I couldn't last my usual five minutes. My stamina in the bedroom had grown considerably since we first started dating, but the combination of the bikini and the exotic environment was too much for me, and I came within thirty seconds. Katie's frustration was noticeable, but she cut off my apology before I could begin. "Relax babe. I'll just take it as a compliment on my new bikini," she said, winking at me while slipping the thong bottoms back on.

"If relaxation is what you're after, I've got just the thing," I told her. After slipping my swim trunks back on, I retrieved the bag of marijuana I had purchased from our bus driver and handed it to her. "Take a whiff of that, babe."

This time it was Katie's turn to be surprised. "How did you get this!!?" she asked while sticking her nose in the bag and inhaling deeply.

"From that Rasta bus driver. It cost me a pretty penny, but it was worth it. So what do you say? What better place to get high for the first time than Jamaica?"

I had begun smoking my freshman year. First it was just once in a while at parties, but it wasn't long before my buddies and I were smoking every weekend. Katie had never touched the stuff. I had tried talking her into it on a couple of occasions to no avail. Her biggest hang up was that it was illegal, so I figured she might try it here in Jamaica since it was so ingrained in the culture. To my slight surprise, she put up no protest and I sat down on the couch to role a joint. Katie strode over to the stereo and plugged in her MP3 player, switching on the newest hip-hop album she had been raving about.

With her bikini top still lying on the floor, Katie put her arms above her head and began dancing to the music. I could hardly tear my eyes away from her swaying form, her perfect curves in full view, and thus it may have been the world record for longest time elapsed rolling a joint. When I finally finished, I lit up and took a couple of puffs before joining Katie in front of the stereo, using one hand to hold hers and the other to hand her the joint.

Katie took a long, hard drag and handled herself better than I expected, only coughing slightly. "Ooo I like that!" she said before hitting the joint again.

A few more hits and I was really starting to feel it. The only thing keeping me from being completely relaxed was the gangsta' rap blaring from the stereo, which Katie had now turned up. "I'll never understand why you listen to this stuff, baby," I told her.

"I know you're not trying to talk shit about Emperor Willy! You know this shit's my jam right now," she responded before returning to the joint, which she was now sucking on like a baby to a mother's teat.

I picked up the MP3 player, which had the album's cover art displayed. "Emperor Willy", as he is known, was lounging poolside in a ridiculous royalty-style throne chair. Shirtless except for a purple cape, Willy's big black palm was fondling a young blonde girl's bikini-clad ass as she was down on all fours kissing Willy's shoe. The imposing black man had his other hand wrapped around a chain which led to a choke-collar secured around the blonde girl's neck. On Willy's other side was another young white girl, this one brunette, shaking her ass in a black thong and high heels. I perused the song titles and saw sure-fire classics like "Long-dicking", "White Hoes is the Best Hoes," and the single that was currently burning up the charts, "Suburban Girls", which was all about how Emperor Willy and his crew roll from town to town giving their "big black dicks" to "little pink slits".

My attention snapped back to my wife as she strode out onto the balcony, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had forgotten to put her top back on. When I joined her and pointed it out she simply replied, "Don't sweat it, Big Inch."

Ugh. Big Inch. I hated that name. Katie hadn't called me that since the first few months of our relationship. It was a nickname a couple of my college "buddies" had donned on me after walking in on me changing. You probably won't be surprised to hear that a name like "Big Inch" doesn't have much trouble sticking to you when you're on a college campus.

Katie's rebuke forced me to accept her brazenness, but our room was high enough up in the hotel that none of the partiers below seemed to notice. As she re-lit the joint, I noticed a couple of older gentlemen a floor below us and a few rooms over who were obviously getting quite an eyeful. Katie coughed after taking a massive drag, and I saw the guys high-fiving, clearly delighted at the site of my bride's massive tits jiggling unencumbered.

"Goddamn, mister. I think I'm high," she said before launching into a fit of giggles. "Will you show me how to roll one of those things?"

I wasn't sure why Katie would need to roll her own joints with me around, but I agreed none-the-less. After fumbling through her first few tries and spilling a fair amount of weed on the table and carpet, she nailed it on her fourth try and had a perfectly rolled joint in her hand. After sticking it behind her ear, she put her bikini top back on and wiggled her cute butt towards the door. "Come on. We've wasted enough time up hear. Let's go get some sun," she beckoned.

"I'll be right down," I told her. "I'm just going to tidy up this mess a bit." Katie just shrugged her shoulders and slipped on her heels before departing.

I had trouble focusing on the task at hand after seeing Katie topless on the balcony, and thus it took me twice as long as it usually would have to scoop up all the marijuana and put it back into the bag. Suddenly parched, I made my way to the kitchen and pored myself a glass of water. While drinking it I discovered that the refrigerator had come fully stocked with all sorts of snacks, fruits and vegetables, and even some wine. After puffing down half that joint with Katie, it being the first time I had smoked in weeks, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to relieve my case of the munchies and dove into the task of trying one of everything in the fridge.