My Mom and I were relative newcomers to Las Vegas. We moved here from northern Idaho a few years after my dad passed away and have made Las Vegas our home for the past year or so. I'm not all that sure why Mom selected Las Vegas as a new home destination, but I suspect that she had had quite enough of the northern wintery climates where she was forever complaining about being cold. Having said that, she seems to have taken to southern Nevada's blistering summer heat like a duck to water and has never complained about feeling cold since.
At the time of the big move, I was in my final year of high school and was only weeks from graduation. Consequently, I resisted the move vociferously. I wanted very much to graduate with all my friends up in Idaho, but finally relented, gritting my teeth and resolving to make do for my Mom's sake.
Shortly after the move, however, I discovered a particularly pleasant silver lining to desert living.
The somewhat oppressive summer heat inclined the majority of the female population to dress in all manner of scanty, revealing clothing, and a treat to the eyes of the beholder. A summertime trip to any of the local malls was of particular delight for any discerning young man, such as myself, who admired and appreciated the female anatomy.
Enrolling in a new high school here in Las Vegas, I was extremely dismayed to discover that my transcripts from Idaho were not deemed sufficient to keep me at my current grade level. For several years, I had been homeschooled by my Mother, which set me back once I enrolled in a public high school and was held back an entire year. Consequently, I was held back a second time in Las Vegas to repeat my senior year all over again, at nearly twenty years of age, with students one to two years younger than I. Yet again, with gnashing of teeth, I did my best to shake it all off and try to make the best of it.
Another upside to living in Las Vegas was that I was able to find several new friends in a relatively short amount of time. It seems almost everyone here is from somewhere else, so there's really not much of a stigma attached to being a new kid in town as there might be in other cities.
The new friendships I had made were primarily due to my love for playing World of Warcraft, and that's how I first met John. I had been playing for several years in Idaho and had become rather adept with one particular character, a rogue named Duchesne. While running a dungeon with several other anonymous players one night, I discovered that three of the other players were not only from Las Vegas but were also fellow students at the same high school.
Our relationship grew as we played together several more times over summer vacation and they all seemed to appreciate my skills as a player. When the school year finally began, I met John for real one day and we hit it off almost immediately. He introduced me to the others from the game, Joel and Jeff. We all became fast friends almost instantly, and, since my name is James, we quickly began to call ourselves the J4 group and hung out online nightly in the dungeons of Azeroth.
John was just one of those guys with whom I identified immediately. He too had been held back an entire grade level because of poor attendance and grades, so we were roughly the same age, and about two years older than Jeff and Joel. John was taller and more muscular than I, and a perfect foil for me against any of the other students who seemed to delight in hazing those smaller in stature, such as myself. I stand a whopping five feet, six inches in height and weigh about 115lbs when dripping wet.
We often met at John's house to play together, setting up in his basement with our laptops and headset microphones to run dungeons or raids. John's parents were wonderfully supportive of the gaming group and would even supply drinks and snacks to us while we played. Afterward, we would all usually just laze about the basement and talk, comfortable with one another. It was through my friendship with these guys that I first heard mention of a woman named Mable.
We were sitting around after playing for a couple of hours, sipping cokes and just bullshitting, when the topic of conversation turned, as it quite often did, to girls. On this particular day though, the topic was more about women than girls as we began comparing notes about some of our teachers at school.
It seemed we each had a favorite female teacher and were happily sharing our thoughts and impressions. "I like Mrs. Jensen," I offered with a smile. "She's got amazing boobs, don't you think? I like the way you can always see her nipples poking through the material of her blouse, or dress, even though you can tell she's always wearing a bra."
There were nods and snickers all around as everyone generally agreed with my assessment of Mrs. Jensen's nipples. "I know exactly what you mean, man," grinned Jeff. "She must wear those bras with the really sheer cups." Therein ensued a lively, yet bawdy, discussion of women's breasts in general.
At the time, I confess I was not the most knowledgeable or worldly of young men. When it came to experience with the fair sex and the metaphor of reaching certain bases with them, I was solidly in the camp of only ever getting to first base with a girl. A couple of years ago, I had kissed Jenny Lancaster on the lips one night in a darkened movie theater. A fond memory, and yet a resounding testament to the abysmal extent of my experience with girls.
Consequently, I lived a life of raging hormones and total frustration. But, once I became computer literate and discovered the plethora of free porn sites available on the Internet, my sexual frustration level took a rather dramatic turn for the better. I indulged in pornography the way flies take to dog shit and masturbated my face off at every opportunity I could find, going through boxes of tissues at a rate I was sure my Mom must have found to be thoroughly suspicious.
I was infatuated by all manner of porn but was especially attracted to those sites that featured breasts and more specifically, large breasts. Pornstars such as Chloe Vevrier, Milena Velda, and Samanta Lily never failed to provoke my wildest fantasies, as well as countless orgasmic streams of semen. That is not to say, however, that I failed to notice and appreciate breasts of all sizes, only that I seemed to have a special fondness for the larger variety.
"Man," said Joel, shaking his head. "If any of you guys are into big boobs, though, you gotta check out Mable."
As you might well imagine, that particular comment struck a rather profound chord of interest within me. "What class does she teach?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"She's not a teacher, man," he continued. "She lives over in that apartment complex across from the school and man, her boobs are amazing. Ginormous, even."
"Ginormous?" I laughed aloud, wondering how big a woman's boobs had to be to qualify for being ginormous in Joel's eyes. It gave me pause to wonder if he had ever seen Milena Velba's breasts before attributing the adjective ginormous to some other woman.
"I hear what you're saying, man," added Jeff. "I saw her waiting at the checkout over in Wal-Mart the other day and her boobs really do look amazing. But John actually knows exactly how they look. He's actually seen them up close and in person. Right, man?"
John's cheeks colored noticeably, and he shrugged self-consciously with a wide grin on his face.
