Chet Greavey first noticed her when she stretched - she had on a light bombers jacket and a knee length pleated skirt; the bombers jacket was quite formless, but he observed her standing in a part of the garden where she was not in the view of the other people, and stretched her back. Her breasts had been unbelievable to the nineteen year old, the fabric of the bombers jacket for a long tantalizing moment stretching taught over the woman's big breasts - they had looked perfect, the size of cantaloupes and jutting outward.
And then hidden so well when she lowered her arms. But beside her breasts, it was her face that drew him like a moth to a flame; she was gorgeous, with full pouting lips, high cheekbones and a perfect, straight nose. She was somewhere in her thirties, he found, but could have passed for an easy twenty five. She had that high class look; the type of face he loved to see his dick shoved into.
He was the quarterback of the college team (it was just a small local college, but Chet's motto was that you took what you could get), and he had been largely responsible for the winning season. He asked around, and introduced himself; grabbing the beauty's hand he stared into her eyes, smiling down at her, and held her grip. She tugged lightly, but just smiled up at him demurely until he let go. His cock was already stiff as he thought he saw something in her clear eyes, and the way she had blushed deeply when she tried to tug her hand away and he would not let her.
Cathy tried to stop her hands from trembling as she walked away from the young man - she could not even recall his name - he could not be a day over twenty.
She had tried to tug her hand away, and he had just smiled at her, his eyes boring into hers. She could not help but think of Deacon Daniels - how he had simply grabbed her hand and forced her to start rubbing his cock. Ten minutes after that he had had his cock buried in her throat.
She determined to leave as quickly as possible, but one conversation drifted into another. Her nipples remained sensitive and half stiff, and her belly kept fluttering. She looked for the young man casually but did not see him.
Then one of the organizing women was asking if she could take someone home, a Chet Greavey. Glad for an excuse to leave before the bold fellow showed up again, she leaped at the chance. Mrs. Danielle Gordy, an attractive woman with a short bob haircut and a sweet smile, led her out to the parking lot, and then waved at someone. They were already at Cathy's car; she was driving the station wagon today.
She looked up, and paled as the young man who had held onto her hand was suddenly once again standing there, smiling down at her. "Hi - Mrs. Modeno, right? I'm Chet," he said, and once again gripped her hand in his.
"Thanks, Cathy!" Danielle called - she was already walking away.
She could hear Chet saying something, thanking her - he was once again holding onto her hand as she tugged gently to get it away. He finally let go of her small hand, and walked around to open the door for her.
"Thank you, young man," she said, and he grinned down at her.
"No problem, Mrs. Modeno, my mom taught me to treat a woman like a lady!" He wouldn't tell her what his dad had taught him; she would find that out soon enough. He ran around and got in the other side; he stared at her as he told her where to drive. He talked about the game, and school - he wanted to relax her a bit.
Her skirt was above her knees; she had on white hose, and he wondered whether she was wearing garters or pantyhose. He could see the swell of her breasts now; she as sitting up very straight, and as he stared at them, he could swear that he saw her stiff nipples. A sudden rush of power went through him.
He slid over to her on the wide bench seat, and began rubbing the back of her neck with the fingers of his left hand. "You seem awful tense, Mrs. Modeno, let me rub your neck - my mom gets me to do it when she has a migraine," he said, just making stuff up.
He watched her draw in a sharp little breath - "I . . . I really don't think that's necessary, Chet," she said softly; he could barely hear her breathy voice. He watched her as she bit her lower lip, and her hands had tightened on the steering wheel, but he noticed that she did not say anything more about taking his hand from her neck. He rubbed it a bit harder, and slipped his hand around to the side, rubbed up gently into her hair.
"So, I scored the winning touchdown," he said after a few silent moments.
"Umn, uh, yesss?" Cathy gasped softly. She wished he would get the message and quit rubbing her neck. Her body pulsed, and her breasts were itching crazily.
"The cheerleaders always let the winning scorer feel their tits up - I had to leave early, but I was thinking that you might let me do that - you know, as like, a uh, a prize!" he smiled at her as she glanced up at him, her eyes wide and startled, and then he reached up casually and pushed his palm against her right breast.
How could this young punk think she would ever do that?
He could feel her stiff nipple immediately, and he pushed harder against the mound, amazed at the feel of the heavy globe. He wondered what kind of shirt she had on under the jacket, and flattened her globe a bit further, at the same time beginning a small circular motion.
She was panting softly - he stared intently at her face as he dragged her nipple around with his palm a bit harder. She was panting softly, and her eyes were open wide as she gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter.
Then she finally said, "That's enough, young man! Remove your hands from me this instant!" and then pushed his hand away. Immediately, he was grabbing a thick tangle of her hair with his left hand. He jerked her head back, so she had to look out the bottom of her eyes to see the road, and then hissed in her ear, "Take your hand off my arm, bitch! You let me feel your big tits already - I'm just gonna do it a little bit more, and your gonna keep driving!" He pulled a bit harder on her hair, and she gasped, tears in her eyes.
"Yes, I mean, unh! Oh! Yes sir - please, don't pull my hair like that!"
"Yeah, that's a good girl," he said, and then reached out and unzipped the bomber jacket.
Cathy gasped loudly - she considered her options, but in truth was having a hard time concentrating - far from turning her off, she realized the rough way he was handling her was making her even more breathless, making those tortured waves of bliss pulse a bit more strongly through her lithe body.
Cathy clenched her jaws - he had her hair tight in his fist, and flexed it slightly, as though testing how good of a grip he had. She gasped softly, and another wave of heat washed through her. Things had changed in an instant, but she could not just let this happen. Another part of her told her to play along and get it over with. The biggest part said she just didn't have a choice in the matter unless she was willing to wreck the car.
She watched helplessly as he unzipped her jacket, and then he was spreading the halves apart, staring at her shirt. It was a tight, thin knit shirt, a short sleeved pullover, and it hugged her taut belly and firm breasts like a second skin. Her small lacy half cup bra was easily visibly through the thin fabric, and her soft tit flesh was obviously bulging slightly out of the skimpy cups. They pushed her already proud breasts further up and out, and Chet made a small growling noise as he reached up and cupped her left breast this time. He began kneading it softly, rolling it around on her fine chest. His fingers dug into her firm, pliantly soft mound, and she licked her lips and tried to breathe evenly. Her big breasts had always been super sensitive, and she squirmed in the seat as the boys naughty hand sent sparks racing through her taut little belly into her juicing pussy.
"Uhnnnn, ohnn, god, Chet, please - Owwww, noooo, OK, don't pull on my hair again!"
The nineteen year old smiled at her; "Here, I'll give you something to feel too," he said, and grasped her right hand in his, guided it down to his raging cock shaft.
He let go of her hand, with a meaningful tug at her hair, and then began rolling her tight shirt up. Cathy swallowed, and decided she had better just concentrate on driving - they were on a four lane highway, but it was not an interstate. She tried to ignore the fact that the insolent punk was now pushing her shirt above her swollen breasts. Despite herself, she pressed her hand lightly against the thick shaft - she could feel it quite plainly through the loose khaki's the man was wearing.
Her small half cup bra held her heavy breasts perfectly, with the top half of each cup made of lace. Her big tits looked as though they would spill right out of the thing, and Cathy tried to breath evenly as the 19 year old punk began once again gently squeezing and mauling her firm melons, gradually increasing the strength of his ministrations.
Cathy sat, losing an internal battle - her nipples were as hard as they had even been and he had not even pulled her needy breasts from the confining little bra - she wanted to reach up herself and do it, and then she was sobbing softly as he pulled her left breast out of the small bra cup by her nipple, and began shaking the heavy globe, then slapping it.
"Yeah, you like that fuckin rough stuff, Mrs. Modeno!" he exclaimed - her nipples felt like they were going to explode as the bastard pinched and twisted them. she told herself that she really had no choice this time; but her hand pressed harder against the tube of flesh in his pants, and she began slipping it naughtily up and down the length of his penis.
