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.
