A few readers, while generally liking the original story, felt that the absence of a context left them unsatisfied. If any of you have read my bio, I mention that I don't often return to a story once I've finished. In a sense, that is a bit selfish. I suppose I have largely written for myself, but as I've published a few stories, and received some feedback, I realized how many people at least open the stories to look at them. I've begun to feel an obligation to write for you to some degree. Having seen the staggering response to J.K Rowlings' Harry Potter series, you see how much people hunger for something that moves them away from the endless boredom of their lives. Perhaps the writer is no different than the reader, except that they actively dispel their boredom rather than let others guide them. Enough of a philosophical peregrination.
He had watched Jenny from the time she was a flat chested tom boy rough housing with boys after school. She was a vibrant child, eyes always bright, loving of each day. Even though there weren't many black kids in her neighbourhood, there was enough ethnic mix that she didn't really feel much out of place. Kids mostly didn't care about race until some adults told them they had to-either by direct action or by indirect innuendo. For Jenny, it wasn't much of an issue. Her mother mixed well with everyone, even though her dad had left many years ago.
At age 13, everything began to change. Puberty brought periods, a spreading butt, and, worst of all, boobs. Not just little girl buds, but breasts that were suddenly sticking out from her chest, seeming to grow bigger overnight. The raucous tom boy was suddenly wrenched from her childhood. Her mother watched over her like a hovering hawk, expecting a pedophile, or hormone drugged teenaged boy to jump out from behind every corner. Jenny had some real problems coping with this situation. From carefree kid roaming pretty freely in the neighbourhood, to house arrest in a matter of a few months was culture shock for her.
The months passed and her mother didn't let up. Boys were now all over her at school as her breast grew out of her C cup bras by grade 10. And then D and DD. At the same time, she retained a very trim shape with a gorgeous butt that would satisfy the most discerning anal erotic.
She managed to reign in her own surging hormones, even with the claustrophobic presence of her mother pissing her off. The few boys who got a chance to be alone with her were only interested in her tits. Jenny soon grew very tired of being treated as nothing more than the life support system for two huge tits. One particularly persistent rascal actually managed to convince her to let him jerk off on her tits. The experience was the last straw, and she withdrew into a shell until high school became a memory.