Truly and simply a story of fantasy. None of the names are real as related to me and I’m defiantly not the boy, but I’m sure most of us men would like to have been him.
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Chapter one:
By the time I’d turned fourteen my hormones had kicked in and sex was becoming an obsession with me. At every opportunity I would do anything to sneak peeks at my older sister in the shower or her bedroom. I even went so far as to try seeing my mother. Both mom and sis were very well endowed and large breasts were my passion. Suffice to say I seldom scored in the peeking department, but more than once my sister slapped my face so hard I saw stars for the next fifteen minutes.
By the time I was sixteen the empty house next door was finally occupied. A husband and wife in their mid-thirties had bought it. I quite naturally took special delight in the woman since she was what could be called overly endowed chest wise. Her husband, on the other hand, was something else. My parents sister and I couldn’t stand to be around him. Seems he had a very bad habit of being a loud mouthed drunk and wouldn’t hesitate to punch his wife for any small infraction of whatever rule of his she had broken. It was so bad he didn’t care if anybody was watching or not. Most times he would simply slap her face three or four times, but more than once I saw him double up his fist and punch her body. Once, late at night when everyone else was asleep, I heard a loud commotion coming from their backyard. Peeking out my bedroom window I saw him using her body for a punching bag. Again and again his fist would be buried deep into her stomach, then he would grab her hair forcing her to stand. Then he would punch her overly large breasts and I could hear her trying her best to keep from screaming. To our great relief he soon left and we found out later she had called the police, had him thrown in jail and divorced him.
As time passed Chris, the neighbor woman’s name, kept mostly to herself. Once in a while we would see her going to work or coming home. A couple of times, when we were having a cook-out, she would be invited just to be neighborly. Other wise we kept our distance. Even so I would see her in her backyard pool or sunning herself and later fantasize in the privacy of my bedroom sans clothes and sporting an aching erection. I can’t tell you how many times I abused myself ejaculating to the vision of her. To my great distress nothing more ever seemed to happen and Chris was only polite on the few occasions we would meet.
At the time of this writing I’ve passed my nineteenth birthday and, sad to say, I still remain a virgin. It wasn’t from lack of trying, mind you, but the all the girls I’ve dated and gotten past first base with have refused to go any further. Oh sure, I’ve kissed and petted and even gone so far as to have my hands on most of them, but when they began to respond and find what’s between my legs they would all but run away screaming. Sure, now you must be thinking I’m some kind of freak with a schlong fit only to be on an elephant or at the least a horse. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Fact is most of the girls I’ve been dating were just as much virgins as was I and, I suppose, would account for their actions.
I know it’s really not a very good style of writing and things may very well be out of context, but the time has come to let you know the what and wherefores about Chris and myself. Besides it’s my story and I’ll tell my way. First, I’m now nineteen and really quite good looking. I stand six foot six in my stocking feet and weight right about two sixty five. I have broad shoulders and narrow hips. Sound sort of familiar? Well, you can save me a ride to the mine and they call me Big John, really. No, I don’t work in the mines but most of my life I’ve been called Big John. Must be because I’ve always been so much larger than any other kid around. Now for what Mr. J. Dean didn’t tell you. Nestled neatly between my thighs hangs three things. First my penis and below it my testicles. Male manliness wise, and I’ve taken measurements, I sport a proud nine inches of swinging meat and easily as thick as four fingers put together. The drooping sack holds a pair of walnut sized orbs that seem to always be working to produce the thick white fluid a lot of women crave to drink, or have splattered all over their naked bodies or just love to feel filling them inside. OK, it’s spunk, cream, jizzim, man juice or just plain cum. Whatever you want to call it I’ve got it and more, I dare say, than most.
Now to let you in on Chris. Guys, you’re gonna love this one. To begin she’s about thirty seven and drop dead gorgeous. I mean her looks and beauty would easily knock your eyes out, but here comes the best part, her body. She’s tall, well sort of standing five feet eight inches and my guess weighing about a hundred twenty pounds. Don’t let that throw you just yet. Her hair is blacker than the inside of a coal mine yet long down below her waist and very silky soft. She has deep brown eyes so sultry and hot they could melt the largest iceberg, even enough to have saved the Titanic had she been there. Her neck was long and slender made for kissing and loving, or it seemed to me then as now. Looking lower she had shoulders well set for her height and weight yet they seemed so broad as to take on the worries and troubles of the world.
Gonna throw you a curve now and skip down a bit. Chris’s waist was almost to narrow to mention. Most men could have easily taken hold of it and find their fingers touching together. Below were he hips and so very nice they were as they spread with comfort but not nearly enough to be called wide. While not matronly nor skinny in her childless state they could only be described as comfortable with just the right amount of flair. Legs. Have you ever really noticed a woman’s legs? Hers were to die for, long and slender and so very sexy. I’ve seen them from thigh to calf to ankle to foot and only one other part of her body would keep me from fixating upon them. Ah, now I have your attention and that’s why I kept the best for last. Her bosom.
Without any doubt Chris possessed the most magnificent large, no, huge pair of breasts I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon. While my mother and sister are both very well stacked, and I’ve gotten brief glimpses of both, they couldn’t begin to compare with Chris. Even while wearing her largest and most loosely fitting tops she couldn’t hide what had to be captured in a specially designed and built custom holding harness and that including the two piece bathing suit would wear while swimming or sunning. In my mind I pictured and saw her bust size somewhere around 42DD but found out soon enough just how wrong I was. Chalk it up to adolescence and a lack of reality. In reality, and I checked one of her bra much later, she measured 46E and was still easily able to stand erect. I never once heard her complain of back pains, probably because she was constantly working out toning and fine tuning her already voluptuous body.
OK, so now you know a little something about Chris, her looks and her body. But now you ask so what? What’s all that got to do with my story besides something to think about and masturbate over? Well, be patient and read on, I’m sure you’ll like it.
Like I said before, I was nineteen. It was just before my twentieth birthday my whole life changed. It was early summer and we had just gotten our own pool installed. Three months I watched and waited and the ground was dug making a big hole. Then came the plumbers did their thing with pipes and such and a crew came to lay in the re-bar. Next came the shot create gang and they were followed by the deck guys. After the landscaping was done and all the work finished my folks threw a huge block party to wet down the new pool. Needless to say Chris was invited, not just because she was our neighbor and my folks didn’t want any hard feelings, but because we had mysteriously become closer. What now follows is a train of events that started on that most memorable of nights.
