Charlie had invited some of us around for a barbecue and a beer. It was just us guys, no women invited, just a friendly men's get-together. We'd talk games and girls and lie about our wives and girlfriends. Possibly we'd even get to meet Charlie's new wife. I'd heard he got married recently but no-one seemed to have met the woman.
I was running a bit late by the time I got to Charlie's place. I could hear the noise coming from the back-yard and it sounded as though the booze was flowing freely. From some of the yelling going on I'd guess they'd moved a TV outside so they could keep an eye on the game.
I suppose the correct thing to do would have been to just walk around to the back and join the crowd but I've always been a bit of an awkward character. Charlie's wife would be in the house and it seemed to me that it would only be polite to knock and introduce myself and have her escort me to the back yard. If nothing else, it would annoy Charlie, and I liked annoying him. He can be an unmitigated prick, at times.
I knocked on Charlie's door and a young woman answered. She had a nice face but was dressed in a very floppy tracksuit, presumably to hide a rather chubby figure. She'd be quite nice if she lost some weight was my first thought.
"Afternoon," I said smiling. "You must be Naomi, Charlie's wife. I'm Jimmy, here for Charlies little get-together."
"Oh," she said, sounding slightly nervous. A little shy, I thought. "Ah, they're in the back yard," she added, pointing over her shoulder.
Now it's possible that she meant I should go around to the back but I interpreted her gesture to mean that I should enter while she escorted me through the house. She blushed and started off into the house, me following, with her mumbling something about us just going through the kitchen.
Charlie's place was quite nice and showed signs that Naomi was a good housekeeper. One oddity I noticed was that the doors didn't have the standard round handles. They had the long lever type handle. Easier to use I suppose but I always found that I got clothes snagged on them when I brushed past them. That doesn't happen if you brush past a round handle.
Naomi proved my point when she entered the kitchen. The pocket of her tracksuit top hooked onto the handle, bringing her to an abrupt halt with her top pulled tight across her.
My first thought on seeing this was, "Holy crap," followed closely by, "What the fuck?" This was because the figure revealed by the now tight top was little short of amazing. Naomi was quite slender. The reason the top looked baggy was because it was draped over what could only be described as considerable superstructure.
Naomi was looking all flustered, hastily freeing the top from the handle and adjusting it, reverting to the fat frump style of dress. I wasn't having a bar of that.
"Hold on a moment, Naomi," I told her, taking hold of her top at the same time. "Arms up," I added and lifted the top straight up and off, with Naomi automatically lifting her arms as the top went up.
I was astounded. She was as slender as a sylph with an absolutely wonderful bosom, barely contained in a plain white bra. That bra was an insult to a wonderful pair of breasts.
I was staring and she was blushing like crazy, arms crossed over her breasts.
"Oh, don't look at me," she said in a sort of wail. "It's not my fault I'm so fat."
"Fat?" I asked. "Are you crazy? Would that any of my girlfriends were so fat. Playboy models would love to be that fat. You are magnificent."
I took her hands and gently pulled them away from her breasts, marvelling at one of nature's wonders.
"I'm sorry," I told her in a very quiet voice, "but I have got to see them properly."
I reached around her and unhooked her bra, drawing it down and away from those treasures, ignoring her protests. Her breasts stood out proudly. No matter what she thought, they knew their own worth. Why they didn't sag was a mystery known only to Mother Nature, but I heartily approved of her accomplishment.
"Gods above," I told her. "If you were mine I'd be hiring you out to Playboy as an example of what the models should aspire to."
"You don't think I'm fat? I've always been told it's not right for a girl to have a big chest."
"Ha! Only a jealous woman would tell you something like that. Any man would lock you in a bedroom and keep you there. This explains why Charlie has never let us see you."
I reached out and cupped her breasts, bouncing them slightly in my hands. They felt wonderful.
"Fat," I said scornfully. Standing back a little I looked at her baggy tracksuit pants. I couldn't help wondering what the rest of her looked like. I decided it would be a fine thing to know.
"Excuse me," I said and pulled loose the tie to the tracksuit. That done I proceeded to push them down, not forgetting to collect her panties along the way. Just like that she was standing naked in front of me and, from the way she was blushing, she certainly felt naked.
"You," I said softly and sincerely, "are absolutely magnificent. I have never seen a better figure. How could you ever think that you were fat?"
"Well, people have said it was too much," she mumbled, a hand waving in the general direction of her breasts.
"They lied," I stated flatly, with great confidence. "Just look at them. They stand proudly without even a hint of sag. You should be proud to own them. You should also buy lingerie that's worthy of being next to them. Go and visit a decent bra shop and see what they recommend. You'll be surprised at what they have to offer."
I should know. I had to take a girlfriend to one once. At least, she let me see each one as she tried them on. It was an interesting experience.
It finally seemed to register on Naomi that it was not at all the correct thing to do to be standing naked in front of a man, discussing lingerie. She'd been so embarrassed about her breasts being on display that the revealing of her pussy hadn't really registered. It certainly registered when my hand brushed against it. Her eyes opened really wide and her blushing started all over again.
"Oh my god," she said softly. "I have to get dressed. Go away. I need to get dressed again."
"No."
"What do you mean, no? I have to get dressed. Go outside with the others."
"No means no. I'm not going. The chances of my ever meeting the equivalent of a supermodel ever again are practically non-existent. No-one is going to blame me if I take advantage of this opportunity of a life-time."
My hands came up and ran across her breasts, centring her nipples in the palms of my hands. I rolled them around in little circles, feeling them tighten and stand out.
"Wh-what are you going to do?" she demanded.
"I am going to worship your body," I told her and, bending my head, I captured a nipple with my mouth.
She pushed at my head, protesting. I couldn't do that, it seemed. I moved my head slightly, capturing her other nipple, proving I could. Finally I lifted my head and winked at her.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
