Author's Note: Here's another one. Also a ridiculous theme of absurd situations, big tits, a touch of humor (I hope). For those that commented on the other stories, publicly and privately, thank you much for the input, advice and appreciation. It's means a lot. I hope to continue improving these stories as I get more input. Anyway, if you like 'em, let me know. It's about 20 stories total, editing as I go.
*****
"Candice, can you please do this?"
Sergeant Wilkins was asking for a huge favor. Apparently the Masked Rapist had done it again. Raped another fraternity boy at Owens University.
It was the third reporting of a naked woman, wearing only a mask to cover her face, jumping guys in their dorm rooms, armed with a gun, forcing them to fuck her.
All three accounts noted the perpetrator had very large breasts. In fact, the sheer size of them slimmed the possible number of suspects to only a very few in our town. You see, Monroe was a small college community, with maybe two thousand students on the campus. We suspected the perp was one of the college students, based off a tip from the first victim. We searched for campus girls who had breasts large enough to fit the description. We estimated they were 34 or 36 J cups. For context, that's larger than Dolly Parton's tits! With no face ever shown by the rapist, her body, especially her breast size, was all we had to move on.
I'd worked dispatch at Campus Security for almost a year and I had an alibi for the last attack. I'd been working that night. But why did I need an alibi, you ask? Because I was one of the very few girls on campus that could physically match the description of the perp. My tits were my most prominent feature, attached to a thin frame with curvy hips. I was a tit-man's dream woman. And yeah, I knew it, but I didn't go around showing my boobs to just everyone. My mother taught me better than that.
Two other girls on campus fit the description and neither one had an air-tight alibi for their whereabouts on the night of the last event. Both said they had been in their dorm rooms, alone, studying. Sargent Wilkins and Detective Bussey wanted to put a line-up together and see if the victims could identify the naked body of the rapist. By law, we're required to have at least three people to choose from when doing a line-up. They had no one else to turn to, Wilkins explained, so since I had the tits, would I be willing to help?
"I don't particularly like the idea of you guys seeing me naked," I said.
"Oh, I won't let the boys know you're doing this," Wilkins said, referring to all the deputies who worked the station.
"You promise?" I asked.
Wilkins assured me and an hour later I found myself in a room, with the two other like-sized girls, behind two-way glass. A small curtain was positioned at our faces, hiding them from the view of the victims. Only our bodies could be seen.
"Please remove your clothes," said a deep voice over the loudspeaker.
We all started stripping and were buck naked within seconds. All of us wanted to get it over with, it seemed. I was shocked by the girl to my left. I was able to see her body even from my angle behind the curtain. Her nipples were almost as large as mine and her boobs very close in shape and size. In fact, except for an inch in height difference, we looked a lot alike naked.
"Could number one please step out of the room," said the voice.
The girl to my right had big tits too, of course, but they were somewhat saggy. Still attractive, though. Her nipples were very light in color, unlike mine and the other girl's. A moment later, the lights came up and Detective Bussey walked in the room.
"Sorry, ladies, but we need to ask you something."
I was mortified Bussey would barge in like this, staring at my tits and pussy.
"What?" I screamed. "You weren't supposed to come in. You promised!"
"The victims... all the victims... are confident one of you two is the perpetrator," he said, pointing at us both. "But they are unsure of which. They think they could tell if they could try intercourse with you. Apparently, the perp has a unique feel to her vagina.
"That is going way too far!" I exclaimed.
"Let's get this over with," said the other girl. "I didn't do it and have nothing to hide."
The Detective looked at me suspiciously.
"You know I was here, Bussey! Working!"
"But we need a positive ID, Candice. Can you please do this? Just bend over and take it for twenty seconds or so. It shouldn't take long. Just enough to get an ID."
Five minutes later, after putting ski masks over our heads, the first man walked in the room. He laid flat on the floor, allowing me to straddle him and sit down with my back to his face, Reverse Cowgirl. This was the routine used by the perpetrator, so the other girl and I were to duplicate it. Which, by the way, she simply watched as I went to doing my business. I found it kind of awkward, yet kind of a turn on as she intently watched me jiggling about on this stranger.
I hadn't been pumping him for ten seconds when he said, "I can tell it isn't you, but would you do that for just a little bit longer."
