That night, after I got home from work and showered, Esther knocked on my door and thanked me for the date. I asked if she'd like to go out again. I proposed a nice Italian dinner in the North End on Saturday night.
She smiled, nodding enthusiastically. "That would be nice."
When she left, I opened my laptop and typed a note of apology to Esther's Mom, explaining that I'd been angry and that I had lied about Esther's drinking alcohol and having a sexual relationship with and my sister. I told Astrid I was a jerk and apologized for getting her involved with my stupid email. I tried to make the note sound sincere, but my original email had been so bluntly honest that I had no idea whether this new one would succeed.
Esther and I didn't see much of each other the rest of the week, other than in passing at the apartment. Star got back Thursday night, way later than she'd expected.
I did some research in preparation for Star's next lesson, assuming there was one.
When Saturday rolled around, Star asked me about the Monday lunch date with Esther.
"We had fun," I said.
"Are you putting some lessons learned into practice?"
"Yep," I said, smiling.
"You're not trying to steal my girlfriend, are you, brother mine?"
I rubbed my hands together. "I've got big plans, Star."
"Oh, that reminds me. I want you to see something." She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, opened up something and handed it to me.
I took it. It was a video on pause. Just a dark screen.
"Press play."
I did.
"Do you see it?" she asked.
"What am I supposed to see?"
"Dumbass! You don't see that? Look closer!"
I drew the phone up close to my face, and then, suddenly, some fat dude's hairy ass appeared and farted.
It surprised me, and I jumped a little.
Star giggled.
I chuckled and said, "You're a fucking idiot, Star."
She laughed me off, making a stack of dishes from the dirties on the kitchen table. "Here, give it back," she said.
I held it out for her.
She lifted her hands—full of dirty dishes—and turned around. "Slip it in my pocket for me, brother mine, but don't cop any feels while you're back there."
I opened her pocket with one finger and slid the phone in.
And then, of course, Star farted on my hands.
"Fuck!" I yelled.
"You're the most gullible dumbass on the planet!" She was almost screaming with laughter.
I spanked her, hard.
"Ow! Shit!" Star yelled, and she almost spilled all of the dishes. When she had them balanced again, she grumbled, "Look what you almost made me do, Hatrick Farthands!"
I laughed. "Is that my full name?"
She giggled, taking her load to the sink.
Man, her ass! I thought. That fucking thing is incredible!
I'm no big spanker—never really been into kinky stuff—but that was an ass that I would smack around with pleasure, if asked. Packed to the brim with feminine strength, Star's booty took my strike like it was nothing at all. Didn't squish. Didn't jiggle. It resisted, more like. Hell, the thing fought back! My hand probably stung as much as her ass.
I went to the couch. "What's today's lesson, Star?"
She walked over. She was in a black tank top and tiny khaki shorts. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but two thin locks of hair bowed out from her forehead, framing her face. As she approached the couch, she reached behind and under her shirt. Then her arms reappeared. She slid the straps off each arm, and then reached under the front of her tank top, pulled her bra down, and dropped on the floor.
"Advanced touching," she announced. "Let's go back to your room."
I followed her.
She sat on my bed, crossed her legs and motioned me over. "Today I'm going to teach you how to touch a woman's breasts."
I nodded calmly, but my heart raced with excitement. "Can I just try, and we'll see what I already know, like always?"
"Okay," she said.
I stripped off my shirt. "Take off yours, Stella."
"No."
"Well, then it's not really fair, is it? You want to see if I know what I'm doing, but touching through a shirt isn't the same."
"You can reach under."
"Still isn't fair. If I can't see them, I won't be as inspired."
She thought about this for a second and then shook her head. "Plenty of times you're going to feel tits without seeing them, so no."
"Look, Stella, do you want my best effort?"
"Yes."
"Then take off the shirt."
She seemed to be debating my proposal, but after a few seconds, she did. When her breasts came into sight, I decided that they looked inhumanly firm. Star's tits—just over a handful, each—did the opposite of sag. They jutted out. No, they almost rose up. They didn't behave as if they were filled with fatty tissues. It was more like they were filled with flexed muscle. It was like they had filled out so quickly, that the skin hadn't had time to adjust. They were overfilled. Something about the skin—how it shined—made them seem ready to burst. Star's tits were flushed and teeming.
"Lay down," I said, moving toward the bed.
She did. As I saw at Centerfolds weeks before, laying down had no visual impact on the shape of her tits. My cock was halfway to hard.
Her nipples were stiff, and the nipples, themselves—the tips—were wide, each like a stack of five dimes, but I couldn't tell where her normal skin ended and her nipples began until I was very close. The color difference was so subtle. They were definitely circular, and the tips were brown, but it was a gradual shift, not stark, like Esther's.
