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But You Should Have Seen the One That Got Away by Kowalski

Page history last edited by PBworks 16 years ago

But You Should Have Seen The One That Got Away

by Kowalski


They say the truth is stranger than fiction.


With this in mind, I feel I should tell you about someone I once knew.


I met her in the Fall of ‘89, shortly after I’d graduated from college. My roommates had convinced me to go out one Sunday evening for a few beers at Creepers, a dank, grubby little campus bar down the street from our apartment. A friend’s band was playing so we decided to go show some support, knock back a few and check out the new crop of college girls.


By the time we arrived the band was already half way through the first song of their set. Creepers was pretty empty that night and the crowd of a dozen or so student types were mostly carrying on like there was no band in the house, shouting at each over the music, laughing, drinking.


At the end of the first song my friends and I hooted and carried on, hoping to inspire the room to do likewise. This band needed all the help it could get. We managed to coax a polite smattering of applause from the audience.


During the second song I caught my first glimpse of Patti. She was sitting at a table across the darkened room with a bunch of her girlfriends. I noticed her because she was one of the few people in the room besides me and my buddies who seemed to be paying any attention to the music. Also, she wasn’t too hard on the eyes either, with dark hair, big beautiful eyes and a nice smile. Even from a distance I could tell she was a big girl, but I found myself staring at her anyway. The band wrapped up another song and again we all clapped and cheered. I glanced across the room to find this pretty young thing clapping too. As the applause died down I caught her eye. She looked back at me for a brief moment and smiled. I smiled back.


We stole glances at each other all through the next song, at the end of which she got up from her table and headed for the bar. She was dressed modestly in a oversized untucked denim shirt and black jeans. With shoulders hunched forward and her head bowed slightly, she loped deliberately across the room with an almost tomboyish gait. When she passed near our table she drew her hair back behind one ear and grinned at me slightly; my signal to get up and introduce myself. I relocated myself to a vacant stool next to her at the bar.






She smiled warmly and tilted her head to one side, causing a strand of her lovely shoulder length hair to fall down in her face. Close up, she was prettier than she’d seemed from afar. Soft round cheeks, a pronounced jutting chin (but not too much so), white flashing teeth... and those eyes. Her big eyes were a beautiful light shade of hazel with heavy lids and long dark lashes. They seemed to jump out of her head.


“My name is Chuck. Chuck Whitney.”


She drew her lips together into a polite grin as her eyes wandered nervously over to her table where her drunk girlfriends sat, oblivious to us. She looked back at me and offered her hand.


“I’m Patti.”


She didn’t tell me her last name at first. She was a smart girl. Smart enough to be just a little uncomfortable being approached by a guy in this dive. I’d never seen her in Creepers before, which stood in her favor. She tucked her hair back behind one ear and leaned in close to the bar as she ordered a drink.


“I’ll have a shot of Cuervo”, she told the bartender, who then turned to me.


“I’ll have the same thing.”


I turned my body toward her and drummed my fingers on the sticky bar, wondering what to say next. Should I ask her if she’s a student at the college? Too obvious. Should I ask her major? Too cliché.


“So is it Patti with an ‘I’, or Patty with a ‘y’?”


I felt her guard lower a bit as she laughed softly at my silliness.


“Patti with an ‘I’, actually.”


She leaned back away from the bar as the bartender placed two shots of tequila down in front of us. I pulled a twenty out of my jeans and plunked it down.


“Let me get this.”


“Thanks,” she said as she took the glass and swirled her drink around a bit.


We raised our glasses together and toasted nothing in particular. Out of the corner of my eye I observed her as she tossed her head back and downed the amber fire water. The neon lights behind the bar helped me get a better look at her. As she repeatedly and unconsciously yanked down on the front of her thick shirt I sat there wondering what she was hiding with all that loose clothing. She was certainly no frail little thing. I was right. She was a big girl. Not quite as tall as me. Yet she didn’t look particularly fat, despite her soft facial features.


She placed the emptied shot glass back down on the bar and gave a shudder, shaking off the burn of the strong drink. I looked her up and down, trying to make out her body which was in shadow. She seemed to be doing a good job of hiding that bar stool from view.


“So, Chuck Whitney... do you come here often??”, she asked in a quizzical tone.


“This place is kind of a dump, I know!” I replied.


“Kind of???”


I ordered us a round of margaritas and soon we were conversing with ease. It turned out she wasn’t a student at the university after all. Her kid sister was a first year freshman though. After a little verbal prodding Patti Cayhill revealed her full name to me. When I asked her what she did for a living she told me that she was a waitress. She’d recently moved to the city from her hometown. She seemed unduly apologetic about her professional status and rural background. I was a college graduate and, even if I’d only just barely squeaked by with a C average, I suppose to her a BFA in communications sounded pretty impressive. But to her own credit, she was obviously quite bright, college or no-college. And I told her so. She seemed genuinely flattered. The conversation just took off from there. Patti seemed to relax noticeably after that, though she still seemed suspiciously self-conscious. After another round or so we were both fairly well lit. By now this sweet girl was talking my leg off. We talked about all kinds of safe subjects. Music. Movies. Books. How we both hated dank smoky bars. We discovered we were both the same age and that we were both the eldest sibling in our families. She eventually got around to confessing that she’d had a difficult time meeting “nice guys” since she’d moved to town.


Before I knew it my roommates were hovering nearby, trying to draw my attention. They were ready to go cruise one of the night clubs downtown and wanted to know if I was coming along. I waved them off. Soon after, Patti’s bunch was also ready to bail out of Creepers. After introducing me to her sister Cheryl, Patti instructed her and her friends to go on ahead without her. Now we were alone.


“Your sister’s pretty.... I can see the family resemblance.” I said flirtatiously.


We sat and talked awhile longer until the Creepers crowd thinned out even further. Eventually Patti asked me if I lived nearby. For such a sweet and shy type, she didn’t hesitate to initiate things between us. Maybe it was the tequila. Next thing I knew, we were en route to my apartment under the pretense of coffee. Strolling under the dimly yellow street lights in my neighborhood, I had difficulty making out her figure. The gaze of her beautiful electric eyes though distracted me from any such concern.


Once inside my darkened living room, Patti slipped her arms around my waist and drew me closer for a kiss. We were both pretty drunk, I realized, but our first lip-lock was sweet and gentle. I put my arms around her and held her loosely, half afraid of what I might discover. I smoothed my hands over her shoulders and down to the small of her back while our wet lips pressed together. Her tapered waist was maybe a little bit thick, but certainly not fat. I tightened my embrace. In doing so I felt her chest bump into me. In the darkness she allowed her soft body to press completely up against me. Through the thick material of her shirt I could feel her breasts push against my chest. Across the expanse of her back my roaming fingers felt the wide band of her brassiere. The girl was stacked.


She broke off our kiss momentarily and looked at me. Her expression showed a vulnerability and a smoldering desire that was turning me on. Her eyes roamed randomly around my face while her soft hands stroked my cheek and neck. Again she pressed her mouth against mine and kissed me passionately, throwing her arms over my shoulders. I slipped my arms under hers, moving my hands down to her well-rounded behind. Those black jeans were skin tight and packed to the hilt. I clutched her fine ass in my palms and pulled her firmly against my crotch. I felt a gasp escape her lips as her tongue plunged into my mouth and darted around wildly. We shuffled backwards toward the couch and eased down onto it. It was pitch black and I could barely see anything at all. But I did notice once again as she self-consciously tugged at the front of her shirt and curled her shoulders forward, reflexively concealing her body from me.


“What about that cup of coffee?, she asked, softly pushing me away.


Was I moving too fast on her? I moved to get up off the couch but she pulled me back onto the seat cushions and hoisted one leg up over my knee.


“I was only joking”, she said.


Her free hand splayed the top buttons on my shirt, and fiddled with my collar. As I looked up at her dark shape I could just barely see the flash of her pretty smile, and those luminous eyes.


“Would you like me to turn on a light or something?” I asked.


I didn’t want the lights on, but I realized I DID want to see her. She quietly shushed me and proceeded to unbutton my shirt, baring my chest. Her hands felt warm as they smoothed over my chest and my stomach. I enjoyed the feeling of her delicate fingertips as they lovingly traced the subtle contours of my pecs and abs. I sat back and relaxed as she reclined next to me. Positioning her left knee between my legs, I felt her grind lightly against my thigh while her palm strayed downward and felt the bulge in the front of my jeans. My cock was stiff and was poking nearly out of the top of my underwear. She squeezed its girth through the thick cloth and leaned towards me. I felt her bosom press softly into me as once again our lips met in a tight wet kiss. With her knee driving into my crotch and her free hand feeling the bare skin of my chest, this girl I hardly knew was coming on strong. I reached around and squeezed her ass and pulled even tighter to me. She inhaled deeply and I felt her chest swell against mine. I breathed in the musk that emanated from her body as my hand reached up to the top button of her shirt. She tucked her chin down and I felt her silky hair brush against my face as I undid the long row of buttons. When I had the last button undone she parted the material and shrugged off her denim shirt. She still seemed a bit reluctant to bare herself, even though it was evident she’d done this kind of thing before. I felt her hand at the back of my head, pulling me to her bosom. I felt her kiss the top of my head as I was introduced to a good three or four inches of her soft inviting cleavage which I kissed sweetly. I reached up to feel her breast and found a good handful of her cheap polyester bra. That bra of hers seemed to be packed as tight as her jeans. Her large breasts were imprisoned inside a sturdy minimizer bra that was as big as any I’d ever seen firsthand. In the darkness that night, all I could do was feel its expanse blindly and guess at the size. When I squeezed that handful of fabric, I felt Patti weaken slightly in my grasp. She collapsed against me and once again her mouth found mine and her tongue entwined itself with mine. She pressed her body against mine, grinding herself against my groin with gusto.


As we kissed each other passionately, I removed my own shirt and threw it onto the floor. Soon I was fumbling with the row of hooks at the back of her brassiere. She pulled away at first, her modesty still holding her back somehow. With her shoulders drawn forward she would hold my face in her hands and kiss it lightly, seemingly in an effort to slow us down. But soon we would be mouthing each other even more passionately. Before long though, I nearly had that bra off. Only one hook was left to hold that thing on, after I’d managed to undo the first three. As I worked on that last hook I felt Patti’s body relax on top of me. I tugged on the tiny metal loop and twisted it but it didn’t want to come loose. The other three hooks had pulled away from each other by a good four inches it seemed, so the tension on the remaining one was great. Finally I loosed it. I felt the little hook rip across the back of my knuckle as it came free. Simultaneously I felt the fullness of her tits surge forward between us.


She froze momentarily and hugged me tightly, not wanting to lean back. Although it was completely dark in that room that night, she was painfully shy about revealing herself to me.


“You feel so wonderful”, I said quietly into her ear. I moved my hands down her back toward to her ass. She seemed to have broad shoulders and well developed back muscles, for a girl. I lay there and held her to me and soon she commenced to kissing my neck again and biting on my ear lobe.


“You feel great too” she said as I felt her pubic bone press forcefully against my thigh.


Eventually she unfroze herself and pulled back a bit, far enough for us to kiss. I felt her tits decompress from between us as they hung loosely behind her unfastened brassiere. Though the fabric of her stiff cups still came between us, I felt one of her nipples escape beneath the thick underwire and brush against my bare stomach. I smoothed my hands up over her bare back and carefully reached up under her arms and gently brushed the sides of my hands against the side walls of each of those boobs of hers. Despite being an avowed breast man, I didn’t know much about size in those days. Until I’d met Patti, my biggest girlfriend had been a 36” C. I knew for sure though that Patti was larger than a C. My touch on her bare skin must have felt good to her because soon she was relaxing more and reclining slightly against the sofa cushions next to me. One of her tits seemed almost more than a handful. I couldn’t believe it. For a long while I just caressed her big breasts and kissed her gently. Gradually, more and more, I could feel her relax and warm to my touch. Eventually she shrugged off her confining bra and dropped it onto the floor next to her shirt. Then her hand was back at my crotch, unbuttoning my jeans. Both of her tits were hanging free now. I could feel one of them bumping softly against my ribs while the other hung down and compressed itself against the arm she was supporting herself with.


My cock was aching to be free when finally I felt her undo the fly on my pants.


My eight inches sprang to attention and she took it in her hand and squeezed it. I nearly came right then and there. She proceeded to stroke my cock slowly, alternating between caressing my balls and kissing my mouth. I loved the feeling of her full tits brushing against my bare chest. I reached up and took one in my hand and felt for her nipple. When I squeezed her nipple I felt her seize up and pull hard on my dick. Her tongue plunged down my throat and I felt her body yearn for more. When I reached down to unbutton her skin tight jeans she broke away and whispered in my ear.


“What about your roommates? Won’t they be home soon?”


“You’re right. Let’s go into the bedroom.”


She stood up with her back to me and crossed one arm across her bare chest, waiting for me to lead the way to my bedroom. I put my hands on her hips and guided her past the kitchen to where the door to my bedroom was. Safely inside my room I could now see her a bit better as the streetlight outside streamed in through my tiny bedroom window and delineated her stark silhouette. Now that she was topless I could see that this girl was well-endowed, busting out with womanly curves from her broad shoulders, full bosom and tapered waist right down to the pronounced flair of her wide child-bearing hips and generously proportioned ass. I watched from behind as she unbuttoned her jeans and peeled them off. That ass was almost as astounding as her bountiful tits, which I could see even from behind as their crescent shapes peered out slightly from under her arms. As she stepped out of her jeans, I pulled down on the waistband of her panties, drawing them down over that booty. When Patti stepped out of her panties she immediately crawled onto my bed and gathered the covers up close to her body, beckoning me to join her.


We picked up where we left of in the living room, fondling each other, mouthing each other, moaning softly, building the anticipation. Patti lay back, resting her pretty head on my pillow. I kissed her soft, slightly pudgy belly and worked my way up to HER pillows, which were still pretty firm even though they flattened out somewhat across her chest. When I took her sensitive nipple into my mouth and sucked, I felt her pelvis swivel upwards to brush against my bobbing cock. I plunged three fingers into her sopping wet pussy which seemed most accommodating. I was dripping with pre cum and was eager to slip it in her.


“Do you want to make love?” I asked. After all, this was our first date. A chance encounter actually. Suddenly I felt rather ungentlemanly jumping her bones like this. We were both pretty drunk and besides, I barely knew her. Patti smiled back at me with a surprised look on her face. She put her hand to my cheek and looked into my eyes, speechless.


“What. Did I say something wrong?”


“No one’s ever asked me that before.” She said in a grateful tone.


“What do you mean?”


She didn’t say anything at first, searching for the right words to say.


“I guess most guys usually just say ‘Do you wanna fuck?’...”


It seemed like an odd thing to confess to me, but I tried not to read into it. I leaned down and kissed her again. I realized with a body like that and a pretty face and personality like hers, Patti had probably suffered her share of disappointing bozos trying to get into her pants. Even though I’d only known her a few hours, even though this felt like a cheap encounter between two strangers, somehow, it DIDN’T seem cheap. I really liked this girl and I could tell she really liked me.


“Do you have a condom?” she asked nicely.


I jumped up and bounded over to my dresser. My stiff dick bobbed up and down. I could feel her eyes on my body as I rummaged through my sock drawer where I kept a couple of prophylactics, for just such emergencies. I hated rubbers. Still do. But I’ll get into that more a little later.


When I turned to face her she had the sheet pulled up over her tits. I could see her stiff nipples tenting the thin white material as the pale street light fell across her chest.


“You have a nice body,” She said with a naughty look in her eyes.


I proudly unrolled the condom down the length of my shaft.


I pulled the sheet down and exposed her naked body from head to toe. Without asking, Patti spread her legs and exposed her pussy to me. I entered her and began pumping away with as much finesse and restraint as I could muster under the circumstances. I reached orgasm after a minute or two. I couldn’t help myself. I collapsed onto my back and gasped for breath.


“You feel fantastic, Patti. God I don’t believe it.”


I felt her take my member in hand and slip the rubber off. She squeezed my dick and coaxed the last spurt of cum from my balls. With her soft tits pressing into my side and her hand working my cock, I was soon ready to go again. I reached for another condom and motioned for her to climb on top of me. But she resisted. I sensed that even now she still didn’t want to “let it all hang out”. Even now she appeared to fight against herself, seemingly because of some shyness about her beautiful endowments. I wanted her to straddle me and dangle those tits in my face and smother me, but I sensed this was the last thing in the world she might feel comfortable doing.


“I have an idea.” She said suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. She crouched down low and lay on top of me, scootching downwards beneath the sheets toward the foot of the bed. I could feel her tits brush along the tops of my thighs as they smoothed their way up and enclosed the length of my dick, engulfing it completely.


She looked up at me from beneath the covers with a playful glint in her eye. Clearly this too was something she’d had some experience with. The cleavage between her soft pillows was slick with sweat and semen. I was in heaven as I felt her move her body up and down in rhythm to my pelvic thrusts. As good as her crouching tit fuck felt, what I really wanted was for her to climb on top of me and smack me around with those globes of flesh. Perhaps in due time, I thought to myself. No need to rush things. She may have been way too modest to flaunt that figure in public, but from the look on her face as she watched me build up to my second orgasm, I could tell she enjoyed this special talent of hers. She was all too aware of the effect she could have on the opposite sex. Yet at the same time she was clearly reluctant to wield this womanly power to lure a man. No doubt it attracted more of the wrong kind of attention than the right kind. She was smart enough to have figured that out years ago, I realized. Her modesty had her engaged in some kind of tug of war with the raw sex she exuded. I could fall in love with a woman like this!


Before I could reach another climax we heard the front door to the apartment burst open and my three roommates come barrelling in. Patti immediately jumped off of me and snatched her panties off the floor and pulled them on. I jumped up and closed the bedroom door and pulled my jeans on, as did she.


“My bra. My shirt. Chuck... my clothes are out there.” She whispered.


We could hear my drunken roommates rattling around loudly in the kitchen on the other side of my door. I grabbed a tee shirt and pulled it on and ran out and gather up her things. I left her sitting there in the dark as I dashed out, hoping to discretely grab her stuff and get back without incident.


When I emerged from the bedroom, completely disheveled with my shirt on backwards, I was greeted with obnoxious comments and giggling from my room mates. Every light in the place was on. I looked over to the living room. Kyle was stretched out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. We both eyed Patti’s denim shirt and brassiere which were strewn across the floor next to the table. He bent over and picked them up before I could get to them.


“Just give ‘em to me, Kyle.” I said in an I’m-not-in-the-mood-for-your-shit tone.


He cut me a break and handed the articles to me. In the brightly lit room I was again surprised by the size of those cups. I think he was too.


“Busy night, eh Chuck??” he said.


The huge cups looked like flattened out baseball caps. I noticed the size label that was stitched into the wide band; 38” DD.


“You’ll excuse me.” I said and I returned to Patti.


When I got back in my bedroom the bright ceiling light was on and Patti was wearing one of my polo shirts. The large men’s shirt should have fit looser on her, but it seemed to stretch tight across her double Ds.


I handed her shirt and brassiere to her. She turned her back to me, moved across the room and slipped out of the polo shirt. In a quick expert motion she slipped the wide band of the bra around her stomach and effortlessly fastened the row of hooks that I’d had so much difficulty with just moments earlier. Then she slipped into the denim shirt, buttoned it up, and finally turned back around to face me. She self-consciously smoothed her hair down and pulled it back behind her ears. Fully clothed, her shoulders returned to that hunched forward posture. From across my cluttered unkempt bedroom I gazed at her now with a clear head. This was the best full-on view I’d had all evening. I could now see what I was only guessing at back at the bar. Her hair was silky raven black. Those eyes were gorgeous and sparkling. I’d lucked into something great, I realized. Even though she appeared to not be wearing a drop of makeup, this girl looked too beautiful for the likes of me. I had a physique I could be proud of at the time, but I was never what you would call handsome.


“You look fantastic.” I said as I stepped closer.


As soon as I said it I realized this wasn’t what she wanted to hear at this moment. Even draped in her bulky shirt and battened down in that industrial-strength minimizer bra, she DID look fantastic. I turned on my bedside light and turned off the jarring ceiling light. I hugged Patti and could feel her heart race. She rested her head on my shoulder. She seemed more shaken up than the occasion called for, but I could understand her embarrassment. At this point we were both all too sober. For a few minutes we just stood there quietly in an embrace and listened while on the other side of the door my room mates slowly began to drag themselves off to bed. I heard Kyle’s bedroom door shut behind him, then Jimmy’s. Then I heard Steve slam the refrigerator door and watching the crack beneath my door I saw the lights to the front room go out. I could feel some of the tension drain out of Patti’s body when we both realized things had calmed down again.


“I better get home. I have work tomorrow.” She whispered.


“You don’t need to rush.”


Suddenly there was a knock on the bedroom door. Patti gathered herself in a quick jerking motion.


“Yo, Chuck. The bathroom’s free if you need to use it.” Steve said.


“Thanks Steve.”


I held Patti closely and tried to calm her, maybe rekindle a bit of the passion we were feeling earlier. I kissed her on the mouth and squeezed her tightly, but all I could feel was tension in her body. I reached back and grabbed her behind and pulled her close but she resisted. When I reached up to cup her breast through the multiple layers of stiff fabric she grabbed my hand and backed away.


“I should go.”


“I’m sorry.”


“No, it’s okay. I just need to get to sleep.”


The chance encounter that had moved along at such a quickened pace had come to an abrupt and unceremonious end. I called a cab to take her home. While we waited for the cab we sat on the edge of my bed and awkwardly reassured each other that we’d both had a lovely time and that we would see each other again under more favorable circumstances.


Before I turned out the lights to go to sleep that night I glimpsed something in the corner behind my dresser that gave me a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was my two foot tall stack of tit mags, ineffectively hidden by a lone sock.


Had she seen them when I was out of the room?




° ° ° ° °




I called Patti the next day but didn’t catch her at home. I left her a message to call me as soon as she could.


A day went by and I didn’t hear back from her so again I phoned her and left her a message. I told her I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I wanted to see her again. My feelings, based primarily on a drunken roll in the hay between two strangers, came off sounding a bit crude no matter how thoughtfully I tried to express them. The probability of her having seen my collection of Juggs gnawed at me. Would she see me again? Would she even call me back?


On the third day I called her again. After four rings I thought I was going to get the machine again.


“Hello?”, a girlish voice answered on the other end.




“No, this is Cheryl. Who is this?”


“Um, this is Chuck. Is Patti there?”


I didn’t hear an answer back. Just silence. Then I heard her lay the phone down with a clunk. I waited for a few moments and listened. I could hear Patti and her sister talking in the background. Eventually Patti picked up the phone and answered.




“Patti, hi. This is Chuck.”




“Did you get my messages? I called a couple of times but you weren’t home.”


Again there was a silent pause. Then she spoke in a stiff unfamiliar tone.


“Um, yeah. I got your message. Sorry I’ve... been really busy the last couple days.”


“Oh well, that’s ok. I was just hoping we could get together this week. Maybe go get dinner somewhere.”


“I’m pretty broke right now. I don’t think I can...”


“Hey, consider it a date. Dinner’s on me. I just want to see you.”


“I don’t know. I’m gonna be pretty busy the rest of the week.”


I know the brush-off when I hear it. But I was determined to give it my best shot.


“Well what about this weekend?”


“I’m working all weekend.”


“Well what about next week?”


I heard a sigh of frustration on the other end of the line. She covered the receiver and said something in a muffled voice to her sister who was leaving. Then she returned to me.


“Why do you want to see me again?”


And it went on like this. I talked to Patti on the phone for over two hours that night. That conversation probably brought us closer together than a month of dinner dates ever could have. She insisted that she was an amateur drinker and that she had allowed herself to get way too drunk the night we met. ‘Out of control’ was her way of putting it. I trusted that she knew what she was talking about. I had to work hard to convince her that I had enjoyed our conversation at Creepers. That I could tell she was someone very special. That I’d been unable to get her off my mind for three days... and not just because of our interlude on the couch. Slowly I think I convinced her that my intentions were honorable.


Perhaps my intentions WERE less than honorable. Maybe I did want to get her in bed again. But I wanted to get to know her better. Honestly. And through the course of our long conversation that night, I think we both convinced each other, all over again, that we really were attracted to one another. No mention of my magazines was ever made and I concluded that she must not have noticed them.


That night Patti referred to some of her past experiences with men, alluding to some rather abusive encounters that started and ended not unlike the one we had had. She also went into some detail about her last boyfriend and what a controlling jealous freak he’d been. I got the impression, although she didn’t say so specifically, that this guy had been physically abusive. She had not been in a serious relationship since, and her feelings of fondness for me were now confusing and difficult for her to confront. But she did give me something to work with that night; letting me know, in a roundabout way, what she would need me to do before she’d ever let herself get serious about me. If I was ever going to get my hands on that body of hers again, I realized, I would have to prove myself trustworthy. The way she made it all sound, this might be a long slow haul.


Three weeks later though, I was bidding a fond farewell to my old room mates.


I was moving in with Patti Cayhill.








We’d been living together for a couple of months, fucking each other silly just about every night. But despite our sexual abandon, and despite the fact that we were very much in love, Patti’s neurotic self-conscious behaviors went unchanged. Her mood swings were drastic and difficult to cope with. During her periods, which were heavy and painful, she became angry... almost hostile. Her unstable mental state, penchant for the baggy clothing, the unsexy minimizer bras, the hunched shoulders, these were all part of the package, I realized. Much as I would have loved to see her dress more comfortably, even around the house, I came to respect the fact that she had some serious issues with her sexuality and how she chose to display it. Even in bed, of all places, she remained unwilling or unable to get on top and let those titties dangle. Our lovemaking was great, but it was routine. Every night was much like that first night in my old bedroom. Either missionary style, with me on top and her on her back. Or her crouched under the sheets with her tits wrapped around my cock. That was about it. No oral sex. No strange positions. We didn’t even shower together. And she still wasn’t comfortable letting me watch her dress and undress.


Most importantly, after two months and countless dozens of condoms, I was really wanting to suggest she go on the pill. Eventually I did suggest just that. She flatly refused, without giving me much of a reason. So I backed off.


I brought it up again occasionally, hoping to sway her. All my previous girlfriends had taken the pill and never complained. I didn’t understand what the big deal was. Patti and I were both serious about birth control. We didn’t want to take any risks with a pregnancy neither of us were ready for. We were fucking like rabbits and those rubbers—which of course would break from time to time—were becoming the bane of my existence. How I longed for her to just go on the pill. I suggested that the pill has been known to stabilize a woman’s menstruation, lessen the severe cramps and mood swings. She seemed strangely uneasy even discussing it. A couple of times the subject had devolved into a terrible fight that made me regret even bringing it up. I tried to make my peace with the condom and accept it as just another part of Life With Patti. But as time went on I only grew to hate wearing a “raincoat” more and more.


One day, after we’d been living together happily for six months, I once again brought up the pill. I knew what her answer was going to be, but I had to try one more time. When she again said no, I pressed her for an explanation as to why.


This was the first time Patti ever really talked to me about her tits. “These things”, she called them. It was the first time she really opened up and told me why, exactly, she was so shy about her body.


Frankly, I didn’t know what to believe and what not to believe. Not at first anyhow.


She told me about her years growing up in her hometown in the southern part of the state, a tiny speck on the map that I’d never heard of. Her childhood was a subject she’d always been evasive about. She showed me some of her family photos, which revealed her white trash roots. She showed me pictures of her as a teenager, before she’d started developing. Until she was a junior in high school Patti had been flat as a board. She looked a like a taller, more athletic version of her sister Cheryl. She’d always been a tomboy, she told me wistfully. She’d been the star of the girls’ basketball team, the volleyball team, softball. The works. She been all-state in the 100-yard dash, the long jump. She reflected with pride on her early accomplishments. Her plan, she informed me, had been to go to college on some sort of sports scholarship, until sports became all but impossible for her.


But there was more to it than that.


It was during her junior year of high school that she’d first tried taking birth control. She was sexually active with her boyfriend at the time, and after a bit of arguing between her and her mother, she convinced her parents to let her go on the pill. As Patti told it to me, it was soon after she went on the pill that her body started to change. Not only did her hips and thighs and ass begin to grow gradually wider and rounder, throwing off her coordination and compromising her performance on the field, by the end of that year, her breasts had swollen, slowly but surely, from a pubescent 34” A cup to a womanly 36” C.


“I couldn’t believe what was happening. At first it was kind of exciting. And my boyfriend loved my growing tits. I suppose I loved it too at first. Having a more appealing feminine shape. And they were hyper-sensitive in those days. Jeremy couldn’t keep his hands off me. We were both horny all the time. REALLY horny. When I realized I’d grown beyond a B cup and had to upgrade to a C though... I think that was when I started to get concerned. It all happened within a semester it seemed. I’d always been able to run and jump and do whatever I wanted to. But after that...”


She trailed off, lost in thought as she revisited a forgotten past. I was getting a hard-on just listening to her talk about her budding breasts. I tried not to stare at her tits while she talked.


“Suddenly I had these... THINGS on my chest that were bouncing around like they had a mind of their own. I couldn’t get used to it. Even when I wore a sports bra, they still got in my way. I managed to deal with it okay through the end of my junior year. But it was the summer before my senior year... that was the worst. My boyfriend was starting to get really weird on me, really possessive and jealous. Other boys were noticing me more and more, and hitting on me. Maybe I liked it, I don’t know. Over the course of that summer, I don’t know what it was but the pills just kept affecting me more and more. My curves got curvier, seemingly by the week. I gained a lot of weight. None of my jeans fit me anymore. My boobs grew even more and by July 4th I couldn’t wear my C cup bras. By the time we went back to school I was a 38” DD. I actually started to feel afraid. The first week of school my boyfriend decided to dump me. I was shattered. That Fall the whole school seemed to turn on me. All my former girlfriends took one look at my big tits and acted like I’d had implants or something. Every one of my former guy friends tried to make it with me. I went out with a few of them, trying to move on with my life I guess. But it was a disaster. Half way through a date, we’d end up in the back seat of his car, our hands all over each other. These nice guys who had been my friends suddenly seemed to see me as some kind of fuck toy. They’d fuck me once and that would be it. I’d never hear from them again. When I began turning down dates guys just circulated rumors about me, about what a tramp I was. People wrote ‘whore’ and ‘slut’ and ‘tits’ on my locker. Even teachers seemed to turn on me. I stopped taking the pill after that.”


I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.


“But Patti”, I said as I looked at a cute picture of a teenage Patti Cayhill in her tight basketball uniform, “don’t you think it’s possible that you simply weren’t done developing? I mean, you were only sixteen, right? You were still an adolescent. The body doesn’t...”


But she would have none of it. “Chuck, no one in my family has tits like this. Not on my mother’s side. And not on my father’s side. It was the pills, I guarantee you.” She said with a definite and decisive self-disdain.


I couldn’t believe that this intelligent grown woman still believed that some birth control pills she’d taken when she was in high school had caused her tits to grow. Clearly it still really affected her, as if it all happened only yesterday. I was surprised when she began to cry. I’d never seen her cry before.


“That’s why I don’t want to take the pill....do you understand? These things are too big as it is.”


She covered her face and began to really sob.


“Patti... honey...” I held her in my arms and tried to sooth her.


“Is it really so awful? A lot of women would do anything to have a figure like yours.”


Was this the right thing for me to say? I didn’t know quite what to say at the time.


“You don’t understand, Chuck. I was never meant to... these tits... ruined my life!”


She said this with the shame and remorse of someone who’d been horribly disfigured or crippled. She knew that I accepted her as she was. Heck, she knew I loved her as she was. Something else was eating at her, had been eating at her all these years. I tried to pull her hands away and prepared to tell her that I thought her body was fantastic, beautiful, sexy... she probably knew this was what was coming next out of my mouth. She stopped me before I could make an ass of myself.


“Chuck.............. my step-father raped me.”


I was stunned into silence.


“Christmas vacation my senior year. I’d noticed him ogling me more and more, after I developed. Not so much at first, when I first started growing... but over that one summer... and especially after I began to outgrow my D cup brassieres. There was nothing I could do to hide them anymore. Even my mother started making jokes... in front of me, in front of my step-dad, even if front of friends of the family. The worst was when she would refer to me as ‘Tits’, that was her nickname for me. She’d been pretty permissive and understanding when it came to me being sexually active. But her attitude changed. I think when my boobs got bigger than hers, then when they kept getting bigger... I know she resented having to come up with the money to buy me all new bras every few months... she just seemed to change along with everybody else.”


I felt terrible for Patti. My heart went out to her as she bared these obviously painful memories to me.


“My mom pretty much stopped talking to me at one point. I couldn’t do anything to please her, it seemed. One night her and my step-father were getting dressed to go out with their friends and she made some remark to him about how I should ‘share some of that tit’ with her, saying how I had plenty to spare. Like she was jealous or something. But that wasn’t nearly so creepy as my step-father. He drank a lot. He and my mom both were alcoholics. But he didn’t even try to be discrete about staring at my chest. That’s when I started dressing down. To hide myself from him. I tried to make the best of it all, tried to pretend like none of it was happening... that things were still somewhat normal in our family. If my real dad were still alive I would have ran off and moved in with him I suppose, just to get out of that house.”


“You don’t have to tell me this...” I said.


She just continued talking, almost like she wanted to hear herself tell it. I later found out that I was the first person besides her sister that she’d ever told this story to.


“That year... it was the day after Christmas. My sister was sleeping over at her girlfriend’s house. My mom was passed out drunk down in the den. I know HE had been drinking all evening. I was in my bed, reading. I remember it so clearly...” She paused, staring off into space. She wiped a tear from her cheek and steeled herself.


“I was under the covers, in my flannel night gown. He just opened the door and walked right in. I knew he was drunk. He was carrying a Christmas present in one hand and a drink in the other. I think I told him to get the fuck out or something like that, but he just smiled and told me to shut up. He had a threatening look in his eye. He was a big man. I think I’d always been a little afraid of him. He tossed the package onto the bed and told me to unwrap it. It was this cheap red push-up bra and matching panties, with this sheer camisole thing. I remember exactly what he said, ‘It should be your size. It’ll look a lot nicer than that shit you normally wear.’ He leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. I could taste the booze on his breath. I almost threw up. He pulled the covers off my bed and threw them onto the floor. Then he grabbed at my nightgown. I clutched at it as he proceeded to yank it from my body. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Couldn’t believe my fucking mother would allow this to happen. I was terrified. He instructed me to ‘model’ the bra and panties for him. I grabbed them and put them on, and when I turned around to face him he was sitting on the edge of my bed with his dick out, stroking it, smiling at me. I ran for the door and he ran after me. He grabbed me and threw me onto the floor, laughing all the while. I tried to scream. He put his hand around my throat and choked off my air supply, told me my ‘drunk bitch’ mother was passed out downstairs and that she would never hear me anyhow, that I should just lay back and...”


I touched her hand and she pulled away from me.


“...ENJOY IT...”


She bowed her head and started blubbering again. Through her heaving sobs she tried to finish the story, trying to regain her composure only to break down all over again.


“He tore off the panties and climbed on top of me. His mouth was all over my tits. He grunted and talked to me through the whole thing, called me ‘a big cow’, threatening me, telling me I better start dressing a little sexier around the house or he’d kill me. He said he knew what a whore I was, said he knew about all the little high school boys I’d fucked. I was too paralyzed to cry at this point, I just laid there and stared at the ceiling while he raped me. When he was done he pulled out and wiped himself on my sheets and left the room. He told me that if I ever told anyone what he did that he’d kill me.”


I was dumbstruck. It was heartbreaking to hear this awful story in such detail, but somehow it seemed like something Patti needed to get off her chest. She continued to explain that in the weeks that followed, she began to feel sick. She didn’t know what was wrong with her at first but soon realized that she was pregnant. She was too ashamed to tell anyone about it, not even her sister. By Spring she was beginning to show. Word around the school was that Patti Cayhill had fucked one too many guys and now she was getting what she deserved.


She had an abortion, dropped out of school and moved out of the house. She took a job waitressing at a restaurant in town, her dreams of college shattered, her innocence violated forever. Her reputation followed her beyond high school. Patti laid low for awhile, did her best to dress down, put on weight, became intensely private. She didn’t date anyone at all for a long while, and when she did, she found most of the guys around her small town were only interested in an easy fuck. Increasingly it seemed like her fate in life was to hook up with one of those hometown guys, push out a litter of kids and grow old and fat without ever having seen the world.


Moving to the city to be close to her sister had been her first big step towards taking back her life. Allowing me into her life was her first big step towards getting over the trauma she’d suffered over six years.


We had started out talking about the pill and about birth control that night. I wound up hearing her terrible life story. I wouldn’t pressure her to take the pill after that, although I still wasn’t convinced that the pill made her tits grow. This was just something she had chosen to believe as far as I was concerned, to make her pain easier to bear. It seemed irrational to me, but far be it for me to try to dissuade her from that comforting lie. The bottom line was that she still hated, or felt this intense shame about, her body. She blamed the pill and therefore she blamed her body for attracting everything bad that had happened to her. But her body had certainly played a role in attracting me. She knew this. Maybe it was I, with my college degree, kind heart, and insatiable lust for her, who would be the one to help her heal and move beyond all the pain and humiliation she still felt.


After the revelations of that evening I was more careful than ever not to treat Patti like a sex object. Not that I ever had, but being the big tit lover I am, I think I was extra conscious of it from that point forward.




° ° ° ° °




We grew closer in the weeks that followed. The love and trust between us deepened. Our sex life continued on just as it had before, with no new awkwardness on the part of either one of us. I used the condom without complaining and was rewarded, it seemed (actually), with an increased interest in sex on Patti’s part. Suddenly she began to initiate sex as often as I did. It seemed like the comfort zone that our relationship provided her with was allowing Patti’s dormant libido to come out of hiding. Patti continued to dress in a manner that diminished her assets, but gradually I began to notice a change. Her attitude about herself took a turn for the better. In the bedroom, Patti gave her new attitude its first trials. She no longer crouched under the sheets or laid passively on her back during sex. Much to my delight she sat atop me, displaying her breasts without shame, even leaning over sometimes and using her nipples to tease me. Of course I loved this, and of course she knew that I, just like all guys, loved this. But at the time I wondered if she knew how very much I loved this. She must have. And I could tell she was beginning to like it too. She seemed to become more and more comfortable with and unafraid of the natural sexual power she wielded.


In public Patti was slower to shake off her inhibitions. Her hunched-shoulder loping walk still showed more than a trace of the young tomboy who felt uncomfortable in her womanly body. She still wore the minimizer bra. Always. But as long as things were going so wonderfully behind closed doors, I never complained about her style or her posture or anything at all.


Soon, without my saying a word, I noticed her wardrobe begin to morph.


I think it coincided with a little bit of weight loss. She’d dropped fifteen pounds of baby fat over the course of the long winter. Her closet full of drab, stiff, long-tailed shirts, uncomely minimizer bras and clunky shoes gave way, bit by bit, to more form-fitting tops, the occasional skirt, low heels and Ð most significantly, the first ‘pretty’ bra (as she referred to it) that I think she’d owned in her whole adult life. By the time our first summer rolled around, Patti was like the butterfly emerging from its cocoon. I could tell she was tentative and more than a little self-conscious wearing anything that showed ‘the cut of her jib’, but I could also tell that she was beginning to feel a great relief. The fact that I loved her as she was, that she could be who she was and not feel threatened or ashamed of ‘those things’, it was like the dark clouds of her young life had disappeared with the Spring rains and she finally felt free to enjoy her life.


We were at the shopping mall the day it really dawned on me that Patti had finally conquered her self-negating habit of mind. She was wearing her ‘pretty’ bra (which gave her bosom a new lift and a perceptible bounce) and a tight-fitting blouse that showed a little bit of cleavage. I was helping her shop for new tops and everything she picked from the racks of brightly colored summer wear was either form-fitting, skimpy or both. She was doing this for me, but she was doing this for herself too, I realized. She stood in front of a full length mirror, multiple hangers in hand. Holding the tops up in front of her chest, she’d ask me what I thought. Eventually I just stared at her tits in the mirror as if in a trance. She stared at me staring at her, both hands full of hangers hanging limp at her side. After a beat or two she elbowed me in the side. I looked her in the eye and she was smiling at me. She flung her arms around me and gave me a full-breasted hug and kiss right there on the sales floor.


“Thank you, Chuck.”


“What for?” I asked.


“For just being you.” She said coyly.


It was a hokey line, but I knew what she meant. She felt happy. It showed on her face. She was happier than she’d been since I’d known her. She was literally ‘nipping out’ just from the liberating experience of trying on sexy clothes. It was the day I thought might never come, but there in the juniors department I realized that Patti had ‘come around’.


Patti made a clean sweep of the mall that day, loading up on a whole new summer wardrobe of tops, shorts, skirts. Our last stop was at Victoria’s Secret. She submitted to the first proper fitting she’d had since her mother had stopped buying her brassieres in high school.


Even with the pounds she had shed over the winter, she was still a 38” DD.








I was working in a miserable dead end job at a local video store, unable for the time being to find anything better. I lacked any previous experience, and despite my degree and my eagerness to get a foot in the door with some kind of editing job or technician job... anything... the recession was on and there were no good jobs to be found in the city. Everyone was looking for work. I told myself I was lucky to have the job at the video store at that point. Patti was still waitressing at a restaurant downtown, and with her new attitude adjustment I noticed her tips had begun to really add up. Many nights she’d pull in over $300. One night I remember she came home with almost $500. We both celebrated with champagne and steaks. She was learning how to ‘work it’.


This was a far cry from the awkward girl I’d met less than a year prior. Maybe it was the changing seasons, and the change in wardrobe. Maybe it was the fact that she’d started wearing makeup to work. I was pleased with all these new alterations to say the least, but I was also surprised. Even her posture and her walk seemed to change for the better. Now wherever she went she seemed to carry herself with newfound confidence, her shoulders pulled back, her head held high. She even added this subtle little sashay to her hips that I had NEVER seen before. It had to be a conscious thing on her part, but I never mentioned it. Much to my delight, Patti Cayhill had transformed herself into the total knockout she always had inside her, without my prodding or pushing her to do so. Even her horrible mood swings were becoming fewer and farther between.


And the sex... well, the sex was better than ever.


Life was good.


On her days off, Patti would always come to the video store to visit me. I looked forward to her visits. Unfortunately, so did my co-workers. I found I hated the way the other guys would ogle her and talk into her chest when she came in. They always asked me what a girl like her was doing with a loser like me. I knew they were jealous, but those guys nurtured that seed of doubt in my mind which had been there since that first night. And I hated them for it. When I saw her come in through the front doors of my work I would always try to get away from the counter and go chat with her in the aisles, away from my asshole co-workers. And they would always come and find us and try to butt into our conversations. Looking back, I realize that they were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to ‘other guys’ and how they would behave or misbehave around Patti. It came with the territory.


One hot Summer evening my supervisor Jason, a kid who was at least two years younger me, came down the aisle while I was visiting with Patti. She was wearing khaki shorts and a clingy linen blouse with a sheer white bra that showed through the fabric. Our air-conditioning was making her nip out and she knew it. When she saw Jason coming our way she folded her arms modestly over her chest, to hide and warm her nipples.


“Hey, Patti. How’s it going tonight?” he asked my girlfriend.


“Hi Jason. Pretty good.” She replied with a smile.


She unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her hips. Jason eyeballed her chest. Patti’s nipples had softened and were no longer visible, I was relieved to see. Jason handed me a handful of videos.


“Here’s a STACK for you, Chuck. Will you put these back in the RACK?” he said before he turned and disappeared into the back room.


The videos were all pornos. All titty titles. Maybe I was flustered, or embarrassed, or pissed, but I dropped the videos on the floor. Patti knelt down and helped me pick up the dozen or so tapes. Her breasts compressed against her thighs. Through the gaping neckline of her blouse I was treated to an eyeful of her cleavage. I could smell her perfume. We both knelt there in the narrow well-hidden documentary aisle, I, clumsily trying to gather up the videocassettes as quickly as I could, Patti lingering over a couple of titles that seemed to amuse her; ‘Knockout Knockers Vol. 11’ and ‘Magnificent Melons Vol. 9’. Judging by the look on her face it was the first time she’d ever seen anything like it.


“Magnificent Melons!” she said with a laugh, a bit too loudly for my comfort.


I snatched the tape from her while she read the back of ‘Knockout Knockers’.


“Join four of the bustiest beauties in America for ninety minutes of fun and frolic...” she said with a giggle.


“Gimme that.” I said, trying to jerk the tape from her hands.


Patti held on the to the tape and continued to read the copy, now in at a lower volume.


“If you love huge tits, giant bazooms, jiggling juggs... get ready to be knocked out...”


Again I jerked on the tape and stole it away from her. In the process I dropped one of the other tapes I was cradling in my arms.


“‘Deadly Weapons’. My god, Chuck. Look at this woman!”


She had the rosetta stone of classic ‘60s big tit videos in her hot little hands.


“Chesty Morgan....” She mused, turning the box over to read the back.


“To the amazement of all who dare to watch, Chesty goes from aspiring artist to vengeful vixen in this wild wonder of a film as she sets out to avenge the mob’s murder of her fiancée Larry. On this mission, Chesty explores many serious issues and makes some astounding fashion statements. She also manages to capture our fascination and our hearts as she epitomizes the American Dream -- proving that determination is all one needs in order to achieve lofty goals in this world.”


I sat there in that kneeling position while my girlfriend kept turning the box over and over, pausing to inspect the ponderous photo of Chesty Morgan and her all-natural 73 inch bust. Patti’s expression alternated between serious concern, dismissive amusement, and something that I could not have imagined, coming from her... intense interest!


“Poor thing. It must have been murder having to lug those things around.” She was shared the insight in a matter of fact way that belied the teasing effect it might have on me. “Can you imagine?” she asked me. “No, I can’t.” I answered, impatiently pulling the video from her hands. “Have you ever seen it?” she asked. “No.” What else was I going to say in that situation? What she said next truly took me by surprise.


“Let’s rent it tonight. I want to see it.”


“I don’t think so.” I said, replacing it to the stack of tapes.


“Come on, it’ll be fun. Get ‘Knockout Knockers’, too. Let’s do it.”


She was serious, I could tell.


“Are you serious??”, I asked in disbelief.


She kissed me on the mouth and moved my hand up to touch the skin of her bare chest. I was shocked by her brazenness. I pulled my hand away and looked her in the eye. Had she gone mad?? She looked ME in the eye and made her eyebrows dance suggestively.


“Okaaaaay. I’ll check ‘em out.”




° ° ° ° °




Big tit videos.


My favorite subject matter, right?


Let me tell you; I was never more uncomfortable watching pornography than I was the night Patti and I rented ‘Deadly Weapons’ and ‘Knockout Knockers Vol. 11’. I’d seen them both before, but I didn’t dare let on. We sat on the couch with the lights turned down low and watched ‘Deadly Weapons’ first. Patti seemed transfixed at the sight of Chesty’s astounding mammaries. We laughed at all the low budget horribleness of the film, but when it came to lingering shots of Chesty’s tits, Patti grew quiet and was awestruck, just as all have been who’ve seen that woman on film for the first time. It was more awkward for me, oddly enough, than it was for her. I didn’t know how to act, whether to feign outrage, disgust, or to get into it and enjoy it. The humorous moments made it easy to get through though, compared with what was coming next. ‘Knockout Knockers’ was just pure tit porn, without any of the ironic detachment that made ‘Deadly Weapons’ easy to laugh off. ‘Knockout Knockers, by comparison, was no laughing matter. Just pure jack-off material. The transfixed look on Patti’s face during certain parts of ‘Deadly Weapons’ returned as the superbusty tit queens took over our TV screen. I was squirming in my seat. So was Patti. The huge augmented busts looked like party balloons compared to Chesty’s pendulous all-natural udders. I expected Patti to sooner or later launch into a tirade against implants, or the mentality of the girls who get them, or of the men who like them. But she just sat and watched.


“Unbelievable.” She said at one point.


She was looking for some kind of reaction from me. I felt her snuggle up closer to me and put her hand on my thigh. I put my arm around her and felt her softness against my body.


“Do you think that’s sexy?” she asked me point blank.


I didn’t answer at first. I just squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.


“Well? Come on, Chuck... answer the question.” She said playfully as she in turn squeezed my leg.


“They’re all so fake.” Was the best I could come up with.


“Oh come on...” she said again, “we both know you like big ones...”


She stared at the screen. So did I. It felt bizarre to be having this conversation, neither one of us looking at each other, both watching some silicone pool toy kneed and ply her big soapy balloon tits under a shower. My cock was hard, despite, or perhaps because of, my discomfort.


“You used to read those boobie magazines.” She said.


My heart sunk. My old stash of Juggs. She HAD seen them that night.


It was so long ago, it hardly seemed to matter now. Or did it? Was she testing me? Or was she trying in her way to let me know it was okay? After all, SHE had big tits... and lately had come to own them and enjoy them.


What was she getting at?


“I like big ones. I like yours... they’re real....” I said.


As the girl on the screen rinsed off her glistening orbs, I felt Patti’s hand in my crotch. She undid my pants and freed my cock and started stroking it. Onscreen the girl with the volleyballs hanging from her ribcage slowly toweled off. We both stared as her boobs wobbled unnaturally, nearly pulling the poor thing toward the floor. I reached down into Patti’s open blouse and slipped my hand into her bra. Her nipple was stiff as could be. I pinched it and heard her sigh softly. She squeezed my cock and a dribble of pre-cum moistened her fingers. The video slut with the knockout knockers then lay down on a bed and reclined. Her tits, two round bags of water, rode atop her torso. She spread her legs and exposed her pussy to the camera. I felt Patti’s hand tighten around my cock. On screen was a larger than life pink wet pussy, topped off by a dainty strawberry blonde bush. You couldn’t see the girl’s face anymore as it had disappeared behind the swelling horizon of her fake tits The girl commenced to masturbating herself, rocking her hips, causing her big fake boobs to slosh and roll around in unison. With her free arm she did her best to gather them up and tried to restrict their movement.


“The weight of those things must pull on her skin. I’ll bet it hurts.” Patti observed.


I just stared at the TV and kneaded my girlfriend’s tit in my hand while she pumped my cock. Next thing I knew she bent over and took my eight inches in her mouth and slowly engulfed it. She’d never done this before. It was like she was telling me, finally, after all these long months of no head, ”I like big ones too.”




° ° ° ° °




We didn’t make a habit of renting porn after that.


We didn’t have to.


Patti’s curiosity was satisfied I guess. Or she’d made her point... gotten me to come out and admit to my tit fetish, a subject both of us had always danced around but never addressed openly... for fear of making the other person feel bad, I guess. She had known all along anyhow. More than all my efforts to reassure her that I respected her as a person, it seemed to really please Patti to have me just openly acknowledge my love of big boobs like this. She had instigated it of course, thanks to that asshole Jason. But thank god she did!


Unbelievably, from there on out, our sex life just seemed to get better and better. Patti lost all inhibition when it came to using her tits to pleasure me and tease me and taunt me in bed. Her pride and self-confidence grew. She became completely comfortable with her fantastic body. Suddenly oral sex was never out of the question, the sixty-nine position, on her knees, from behind, on top, on the bottom. We were fucking and sucking around the clock it seemed; in the mornings, in the evenings, at bedtime, in the afternoons. It was like our sex drives went into overdrive. We were both in heaven.


She also grew more comfortable and in control when it came to ‘us’. Not in a bad way. Let’s just say the first blush of new love or whatever you wanna call it (after more than a year living together) gave way to a sense of emotional security she’d never felt with a man. With Patti earning more than twice what I was making at her waitress job, and with me seemingly at her beck and call, more than eager to please and satisfy her in any and every way, sexually, emotionally, doing the housework, running her errands, whatever... she began to assume a power position in the relationship. She didn’t abuse it, but she was well aware of it. It was just overwhelmingly obvious, this dynamic to our relationship. I was a college grad and I earned less than her and sometimes even had to borrow money from her. I don’t know that she necessarily respected me any less, but I practically worshiped her. She knew by now that I loved her deeply, and not just for her body. Nevertheless she started to really encourage and cultivate my obsession with her tits, something I went along with like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Maybe that was irresponsible of me. Looking back on it now though, I don’t know what choice I had. She knew she was beautiful. She knew she was smart. But more than that, something that had been repressed by the victimized child had at last been allowed to emerge and assert itself in the form of a mature sexual woman.


It was a sight to behold for me and the rest of the world, but for me in particular, it was also frightful at times.


That’s right; frightful.


Whether consciously or simply as a matter of course, I think I gave the once deeply competitive Patti Cayhill the time and space to really assess herself and her new life for the first time... and she was feeling like a winner. She’d gotten away from her small backwater nightmare and was now happy in the big city. She was in a solid relationship, with an educated man who treated her like a queen. She was raking in more money than she’d ever dreamed of. She was using her wits, her smarts and her charm to keep it all working in her favor. And somehow it all came back around to her own personal proving ground: her sexuality. The very thing that had tripped her up early on. The thing that—when I first met her—she was still fighting, struggling to deny and wanted no part of. When she finally got a grasp on this part of the puzzle I think she saw what a complete package she really was. Thanks to that humiliating surrender she was forced to make at the hands of her psycho step-father all those years ago... thanks to the leering but generous businessmen who frequented her restaurant... thanks to ME and my admitted obsession, with her, AND her large breasts... Patti finally accepted herself. Finally embraced who she was, took control of her sexuality as it were. I’m no psychiatrist, but I was right there in the thick of it and I’m here to tell you that Patti was learning day-by-day to use everything at her disposal. It was amazing to see and be part of, considering how neurotic and fucked up she’d been for so long. But she really turned up the heat after that, using her sex appeal, seemingly all the time, and not just on me. Whether as a weapon or just a tool, she worked it and used it to full effect; at the grocery store, at home, at work, wherever she went. She never gave me cause to be insecure about our relationship. But that’s precisely how I began to feel and behave; like an insecure boyfriend, prone to all the usual jealousies and difficulties that an insecure love partner can bring to a relationship. Looking back, Patti was both patient and understanding with me, as well as manipulative. She used my lust to her advantage. She loved me, but she made sure to mold me to suit her needs and whims. She wrapped me right around her finger and kept me there. My life had become a Russ Meyer film.


But hey, I wasn’t complaining.


I’m still not complaining. Just telling it like it was.






I’d been graduated for just two years when I got my first job offer. My first shot at a ‘real’ job. An old buddy from the communications department back at school had just landed out in Los Angeles and was working as an engineer at a post-production house working on TV commercials and stuff. He said he had a contact for me to follow up on, an editor at some other post-production house called Fine Line Productions, Incorporated. Sounded pretty impressive to me. I sent them my resume, did a couple of telephone interviews. They needed a production assistant. Not what I really wanted to be doing, but it was a foot in the door. The pay was lousy by LA standards, $22,000 a year, with benefits. But they’d pay me $500 towards moving expenses. Basically it was an entry level position and I was welcome to it if I was willing to make the move to LA.


I discussed it with Patti.


Her reaction to the notion of moving to LA was lukewarm at best.


“I make more than $22,000, Chuck. It sounds like a lousy deal to me.” She said.


“But hon... this is the chance I need. Just to get my foot in the door out there. That’s where all the jobs are for people in my line of work.”


She folded her arms over her chest and frowned. She knew this was the big break I’d been hoping for since she’d known me.


“Chuck, I like my job. I can’t just pull up stakes and move, just like that. Besides, we’re doing just fine here. With my tips... I practically make enough for both of us. You don’t need that job.”


She walked over and scratched the top of my head like a loyal house pet. From where I sat at her kitchen table, her chest was at eye level. She took my head in her hands and held it to her bosom. From this vantage point I had to make my plea.


“The video store is a dead end for me, Patti. I’ve got student loans to pay back. My credit cards are maxxed out. This town doesn’t have anything for me. I need this chance.”


She pulled her arms together and inhaled. She buried my face in her chest, muffling my voice.


“I like my life here. Just as it is. I don’t want to move to LA, Chuck. And I don’t want you to move to LA That’s all there is to it.”


She took my face in her hands and smiled down at me. Her nips were visible through the fabric of her silk nightgown. Like she’d done countless times before in these situations, she loosened belt of her garment and let it fall open, exposing her baby feeders to my hungry eyes. Inside her robe, her tits were held aloft by satin and lace half cups, making an enticing cleavage that was too much for me to resist. Like a babe in arms I nuzzled her tits and she raked her nails down my back. I was too smart to fall for this but I was a sucker for her wiles. She knew it too. I gathered my strength and answered back.


“Patti. What do you mean ‘that’s all there is to it’? Do you mean it’s not even open for discussion?” I asked in my own defense.


It seemed like a reasonable request. But she grew indignant, whipping the two halves of her nightgown shut and retying the satin belt with a forceful yank. She pitched her shoulders, emphasizing her chest, which she aimed right at me.


“You want to discuss it? Let’s discuss it then, smart guy. If you want to discuss it.”


Her words cut me like a knife. I found out she could turn cruel sometimes, cruel and impatient. Especially on those rare occasions where I disagreed with her about something. Usually I just went along with whatever she wanted, within reason. That was what she’d grown accustomed to. But the new Patti could brook no disagreement. She especially hated being forced to do anything she didn’t want to do. And I knew asking her to move across country against her will was about the biggest thing I could ask her to do.


“In the last four months, I’ve carried you on the rent. I’ve paid your last two student loan payments. Do I complain?? No. I understand your money is tight since they cut your hours back at the video store. I make more than enough to take up the slack until you get back on your feet. But this... this ‘moving to LA’ Who do you think you are? Do you expect me to quit my job and just take off and live off YOUR income? With all the debt you’ve got hanging over YOUR head? Do you have any idea what it costs to live out there??” She shifted her weight onto one foot and dug her heel into the carpet.


“Patti... come on... you can get an even better waitress job out there, in a fancier restaurant, making a lot more money.”


It was the worst thing I could’ve said. For the first time ever she slapped me, hard, with her open palm, right across the face. Her eyes glared at me and her face flushed red. She’d taken my comment as an insult, like I was belittling the restaurant where she worked, where they all LOVED her. Worse, I was belittling waitressing in general I suppose, suggesting that anybody can get a waitress job any old where. I was belittling her.


“The NERVE...You must not respect me very much.” She said.


“I DO! What are you talking about?”


“Considering what you’ll be making at this new job, it sounds like you’re COUNTING on me to tag along and get another job and take up your slack out there. Same as I do here. Well you can forget it.”


I got up and took a step toward her. She took one step back. I reached out to touch her sleeve and she pulled away.


“It’s not like that,” I said. “This is a chance for me to do better. For both of us.”


She smirked. It sounded like a load of baloney to her. Maybe she was threatened by the thought of me having a professional job, making real money some day down the line.


“I don’t want you to have to keep working as a waitress.”


Again, I’d meant it as an overture to her, but it came out sounding like an insult.


“Fuck you,” she said.


She turned her back on me and stormed off to bed like a stubborn child.








She barely said a word to me for the next few days. Sex was out of the question, for the first time ever. For her part, Patti put on quite a performance, maintaining an artificial cheerful air about her that was more hurtful than if she’d just acted mad. She dressed more provocatively than usual around the house and at work. The few times I tried to touch her or get close to her she just smiled and moved away. It was all designed to hit me where she knew I could hurt the most.


Fine Line had given me five days to make my decision. When the day came that I had to phone them with my answer, Patti was out for the day. She left me a sloppily scribbled note that said, “I’m with Cheryl. C-ya later” with a smiley face next to it.


I had to take this job.


I phoned California and told the folks at Fine Line I accepted.


I didn’t know how this would affect my relationship, whether it would be a make-or-break thing between us. I was feeling powerless to affect my own fate at that point. That realization was enough I think—that and my male pride, such as it was—to make me do what I did. The thought of losing Patti was unthinkable, but the thought of working at the video store and mooching off her until she got sick of me really struck fear in me. Lucky for me, I think her kid sister actually talked her into making the move that afternoon.


Before Patti came home that night, she’d already decided to ‘let me win’, as she put it.


Lucky for me she told me her decision BEFORE I told her that I’d phoned Fine Line and accepted the job.


We celebrated that night with an unbelievable session of makeup sex. After three days I was going through withdrawal. I think she was a little bit too. The combination of no talk and no sex, it was like our two only lines of communication had been broken. I think for us though, by that time sex had become our primary mode of communication. Patti was a smart girl, but both of us knew that between the two of us, I was the smarter one. So the bed had become—through her efforts to condition me, and my willingness to go along—our private forum, the arena where all her little victories over me were won, over and over and over again, much to my delight. I practically dove on her that night, and gratefully fucked her and sucked her and ate her pussy till she was whimpering for me to stop.


By morning we were both looking forward to making a new start in California.




° ° ° ° °




We loaded up my old Toyota Corolla and hit the road on June 1st.


Patti Cayhill sucked my cock and jerked me off all the way to California. I think she felt bad for hitting me and wanted to make up for it. That road trip was a lot of fun for both of us. Every night in the motels we stayed at, I fucked her and sucked her tits until we either collapsed from exhaustion or ran out of rubbers. One night we were so out of control, Patti asked me to ‘fuck her’... it was the first time I’d ever heard her use those words. This night, she must have been insatiable. I’d used up my last rubber. I told her I ‘couldn’t’. It didn’t make her angry, but something inside her would not be denied. “Fuck me” she persisted, writhing suggestively on the lumpy mattress. The air conditioning was broke and the room was hotter than hell. We were both hot and sweaty. Patti didn’t want to hear any excuses. I didn’t know if she actually wanted me to impregnate her, or wanted me to prove that I was at least willing to risk it, to make good on my pledge to support her. She was just plain horny. Hornier than I’d ever seen a woman. I tried to stick it between her tits but she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me down forcefully. I remember her splaying her pussy lips with her fingers and guiding my naked cock into her for the first time in that run down motel room. Her body was flushed pink. It was primal. “Go ahead Chuck. Fuck me. Put it in me. Deeeeper.” She lifted her hips off the bed. I felt the slick walls of her vagina grip me, pulling me inside. In less than a minute her orgasm was building to its crescendo. So was mine. When I made a motion to pull out of her and cum on her stomach, she grabbed hold of my hips and held me inside her. I felt her vagina constrict forcefully around my surging cock and milk by balls dry. It was the best fuck I ever had.


When we arrived in California we were both in extremely good spirits. The day we hit LA we started hunting for an apartment. We agreed to start out small, until we were both pulling in money and could afford a bigger place. We rented a little bungalow style house about a half mile from Venice beach, only a 15 minute drive from Fine Line. It was smaller than her old apartment, but Patti didn’t seem to mind one bit.


That bungalow would be our love nest for the first year we lived there.


I kinda miss that little place, I guess. I remember the day we moved in like it was yesterday. I remember how excited, how relieved I was. To be in California. To be out of my old job. To have Patti with me. I really felt hopeful for the future.




° ° ° ° °




The job turned out to be pretty menial.


I wasn’t doing any editing or technical work. In fact I never even got close to any of the editing suites. I was running errands for management, fetching lunches, delivering packages. I was a gopher. The place was impressive though. Huge. Clearly the place was doing great, I thought. It was well over a month before I even knew what kind of work Fine Line Productions was doing.


Our first few weeks in Southern California was pretty stressful. For me anyhow.


At first we were loving Venice, our new little love nest. It was like a renewed love affair. After a couple weeks though Patti’s mood changed. With nothing but free time on her hands she began to brood. I sensed something was eating at her. She was restless. When I’d come home at night she’d always seem preoccupied with something or other, reluctant to leave the house. I didn’t know what it was and she didn’t seem to know either. I found out later, the day her period finally hit her like a ton of bricks—more than a week late—that she was afraid that I’d gotten her pregnant that last night on the road.


When she found out she wasn’t pregnant, she was relieved.


For awhile after that she was a lot like that innocent girl I knew that first summer we spent together. Things were perfect between us. I never felt closer to Patti than I felt those first few weeks in LA.


With her small savings running out though, I knew that she felt pressure to get a job, to get some money of her own flowing in. She’d been right, my paycheck wasn’t going to be enough to make ends meet. She never got pissed about it, as I feared she might. Never rubbed my nose in it. She was pretty patient with me and my job, which turned out to involve long hours on salary, with no overtime pay. It was a pretty rotten deal, for sure. But I had no regrets.


Patti diligently made the rounds around Venice, looking for a waitress gig. She was disappointed that no one seemed to be hiring. After a couple weeks pounding the hot pavement, she kind of gave up on finding a job and decided to just enjoy the beach. She bought some new bathing suits and made Venice Beach her weekday hangout.


About five weeks after we moved in I finally had my first free Saturday. I talked Patti into going to the beach with me.


“Can’t we get in the car and go somewhere else? I’m kinda bored with the beach every day...” she pleaded.


“What? I’m in the car all day... six days a week... that’s practically all I do. Come on Patti, I just want to go to the beach... get some sun... waddya say?”


She succumbed. She tied on one of her new swimsuits, a sexy white two piece that showed her cleavage off to full advantage. The cups were skimpy, but full enough to corral and contain her fantastic knockers.


I put on my suit and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Standing next to Patti, my skin look pale, ashen. By now her skin was already bronzed and glowing. She flashed a gleeming smile at me and I really noticed how dark her skin had become. Her teeth were bright white. Her clear hazel eyes and black hair and white bikini made her a striking study in contrasts. She looked incredible.


My time at the video store, and now sitting behind the wheel of my car six days a week with little or no exercise, were ruining my old college physique. Years of working out at the school gym were going to waste.


Patti pointed it out to me too.


“You look like you need some sun.” she said as she pulled a brush through her long black hair, admiring herself in the mirror. I gazed back at her reflection. She smiled that teasing smile of hers, turning me around her finger... like old times.


“You’ve really let yourself go, buddy.” She said, pinching the spare tire that had begun to take shape around my waist.


I didn’t say anything, just sucked in my gut.


She was right of course, but why did she have to point it out? I looked at her tummy and thighs, which had been more than a little pudgy when we’d first met. They now looked well-toned, completely free of any extra fat. It seemed the only place she hadn’t dropped the pounds was in her tits.


“At least some things are still in good shape” she said as she dipped her slender brown fingers into the waistband of my swimsuit.


I watched in the mirror as she pulled out my cock and stroked it lightly. She stood behind me, her breasts pressing into my back. With her chin resting on my shoulder she looked in the mirror at her boyfriend, her pale out-of-shape boyfriend. She assessed my cock with half-closed eyes while she mechanically jerked me off. When she felt my breathing grow heavy, she spoke softly into my ear, almost like she was thinking aloud to herself.


“God you’ve got a beautiful cock, you know that?” She said.


I couldn’t believe it. As liberated as she now was, this kind of ‘dirty talk’ just wasn’t the kind of thing that ever issued from her mouth. She nibbled on my ear and pumped my dick, squeezing it in her hand. I looked at it in the mirror. She looked at it too. Each time she tightened her hand around its base, the purple head would swell up like a ripe plum.


“Nice and big...”


We both knew very well how I felt about HER endowments. It was nice after all this time to hear how she felt about MINE. She’d lavished enough attention on it over the months we’d been together, but she’d never actually told me what she thought of it. Did she sense I needed to hear some flattery after all this time? Or did she need to remind HERSELF at this point what my outstanding feature was? Or was the California sun getting to her?


“I’ve measured it you know. When you were sleeping. Eight and a quarter inches long...” she said as she smoothed her fingers along its length, “...six and a half inches circumference...” she said as she tightened her grip around its base. Then she snaked her other hand around me and cupped my balls. “And balls the size of hen eggs...” she said as she gave them a gentle squeeze.


Her talk sounded positively pornographic. The fact that we were standing in front of the full length mirror of our moldy little bungalow bathroom ... with me on display... made me feel self-conscious. I think she liked it. She pulled my trunks down around my ankles and dropped to her knees. I felt her hand squeezing my buttocks, causing them to clench up. She rubbed her cheek against my ass cheek.


“Next to that fantastic prick of yours, I think I like your nice shapely ass.


I felt her soft wet lips kiss my ass. Was I imagining this?


She turned me sideways and moved around to take my cock in her mouth. She closed her eyes and wrapped her lips around its swollen head, easing all eight and one quarter inches of it effortlessly down her throat. She sucked and slurped it, slowly and expertly. Her boobs bumped softly against the fronts of my thighs. Her fingers reached behind and I felt her nails dig into my ass cheeks. The sight of myself in mirror was none too pleasant, but the sight of her sucking me off like this was about to send me over the edge. My cocked jumped for joy inside her mouth. She pulled back and let my slippery dick slide out and bob in the air in front of her. She smoothed her palms over her boobs and pressed them together, leaving it for me to take my cock in hand and finish myself off. She slipped the straps of her bikini off her shoulders and peeled the soft white cups from her tits. She pushed her boobs together and looked me in the eyes, pleadingly. I don’t know what had come over her, but I liked it. Finally I spurted onto her chest, splashing ropes of creamy white jism across her tan lines, her neck, and in her hair.


She seemed strangely calm and serene, like her mind was somewhere else.




° ° ° ° °




I accompanied Patti to the beach that afternoon with pride, my ego inflated, my manhood secure. I really needed to work out though. Get back into shape. This much I realized as soon as we hit the beach and I saw all the chiseled muscle boys and surfers dudes. Next to them I looked like shit. Why had I let myself go? I used to be in fantastic shape. I had Patti next to me though, who looked like a millions bucks. I pushed the negative thoughts out of my mind. Two thousand miles away from home, away from all those leering jerks who used to annoy me so much, I’d been feeling confident lately, free of most of the old insecurities. The fact that she was willing to pack it all in and come out here with me... I guess that filled me with some extra confidence too.


I couldn’t believe this was my life!


We spread our towels out on the sand and kicked off our shoes. I rubbed lotion on Patti’s back and legs. After an hour or so laying there sweating in the sun, Patti rolled over and asked me if I wanted to take a swim. I watched her get up off her towel and shake the sand out of her hair, with her firm well-oiled 38 DDs drinking in that California sun. She was a sight to behold standing over me. That white bikini clung to her form like it was painted on.


“Come on. A swim will do ya good.” she said sleepily as she adjusted her suit.


“I think I’ll just lay here for awhile, get some more sun.” I replied.


She snapped the elastic of her bikini bottom against her ass and shook her leg.


“Okay then. I’ll see ya back here in a few.”


I drank in the image of my girlfriend as she walked away, my eyes following her swinging hips as she sauntered on down to the water’s edge, waded out into the ocean and finally dipped into the water and swam out against the splashing waves.


I propped myself up and looked around to see what else I could see.


I realized there wasn’t one solitary out-of-shape person on this beach. Aside from me of course. Or so it seemed. I was still acclimating myself to LA at this point, but I’d spent next to no time around the beach since we moved here. Everywhere I looked there were lean, tanned sexy women. And for every woman, at least two buff guys strutting around with their rippling muscles. A couple of women walked past my towel and kicked sand all over me as if they didn’t notice I was even laying there. I almost said something, but the sight of their shapely legs walking away seemed to make it okay. They were soon joined by three muscle boys who fell in alongside them and started talking them up.


I noticed something else of course. The tits on this beach. I know it now—all too well don’t I know it—but LA is the home of fake tits and platinum blonde hair. The majority of women on this beach it seemed were blonde. And the more I looked, the more I realized that many of them, incredibly, had perfect tits. Then I started counting the obvious boob jobs. I think I lost track of all the fake boobs, and I lost track of time. First there was the chick in the pink bikini with the big round Pamela Anderson melons. Then there was... another chick... with the same pink bikini and the same exact big round melons. Then another... and another... I looked around and looked around and the more I looked around the more big fake tits I was seeing.


And each pair, it seemed, had a couple muscle boys hanging around.


I’d come to the right place, I thought at the time.


An hour or more must have passed since Patti went into the water. As I scanned the shoreline trying to locate her, another pair of girls came over to where I was laying. They asked if the space next to me was taken and I told them it was. I was astounded by the sight before me. Both of these women must have been strippers or porn stars, I figured. They both had big fake tits, by far the biggest I’d seen all afternoon. The shorter one had a pair that looked like firm cantaloupe halves, riding unnaturally high on her chest, tied back by a ridiculous string bikini with two tiny triangles of fabric that strategically covered her nipples. The taller one had even larger tits, seemingly the size of volleyballs. She was also wearing a skimpy string bikini. It barely managed to conceal her areola.


“Maybe we can lay over here” the shorter one said, pointing to a little spot down the beach.


“This is fine.” The taller one said and she unrolled her towel and spread it out a few feet from where I was laying.


She stooped over, bending at the waist, as she unfurled her towel across the white sand. It was no mistake that she gave me an eyeful of her cavernous cleavage... if two volleyballs can be said to ‘cleave’. Ha. Soon the two girls were sitting on their towels, their backs to me as though I didn’t exist. I was surprised these girls didn’t have a gaggle of studs hanging around them. I laid back and shielded my eyes from the sun. Soon I fell asleep.


After awhile I woke up to the sound of voices. Some blonde surfer dude and his loud-mouthed buddy, apparently a body builder, were seated next to the girls. Crowded together there in front of me the four of them were such a huge mass of muscle and silicone and blonde hair, they practically eclipsed my view of the beach.


I checked my watch and looked around to find my Patti. A couple of hours had passed since she left to take her swim


“Hey buddy, can you move over a little?” the body builder asked me.


I figured I might as well move back.


“Hey, ya bully. Don’t make the poor guy move. He was here first.” The tall volleyball-titted girl said in my defense. She was joking though. They were all making fun of me. Obviously. She grabbed my ankle and turned on her elbow to look back at me, her gigantic tits compressed under her like two huge balloons. I squinted into the sun behind her. The feel of her hand on my foot was turning me on.


“Don’t worry mister, I’ll protect you.” She said in a mockish tone.


Her friends all laughed at me.


This was too much.


These people weren’t necessarily younger than me, or better looking particularly. Not much anyway. But in the shape I was in... I felt like this was their beach... and I was intruding on it. Just looking at the four of them, and at all the other perfect bodies that littered this beach, it made me feel like I had no business being there.


“That’s okay, I can move back a little bit,” I said.


The girl released my ankle and I stood up to collect my things. Both girls started laughing at something. My gut, I thought to myself with disgust.


“Don’t go! Stay here and hang out with us.” The shorter girl said, then the surfer dude leaned over, kissed her on the mouth and reached for a bottle of suntan lotion.


“No, let him get his skinny white ass out of here.” The body builder said.


I took this as a threat. I picked up our towels, anxious to move away from these people as soon as I could. I realized with embarrassment that my cock was stiff and was tenting the front of my swimming suit to comical effect. This was what the girls had been laughing at, I realized. Suddenly I heard Patti’s voice coming up the beach.


“Hey Tony. Hey Summer.” I heard her say.


I turned around to see my girlfriend actually talking to the body builder and the volleyball girl. ‘Tony’ stood up and gave Patti a friendly welcome, his eyes scanned her body like fingers.


“Hey good lookin’.” Where you been hiding?” he asked her.


“I was in the water.” Patti said.


“Yeah, right”, Tony said.


I looked at her and she looked at me. The wind was blowing and her wild hair was in her face, and completely dry.


“Hi, Chuck...” Patti said, “...where ya fixin’ to go??”


“He was just leaving,” Tony said decisively.


I looked at Patti who stared back at me with an innocent smile on her face. Summer, the volleyball girl, kicked Tony’s leg and chided him. Patti laughed. Her and Summer exchanged knowing smiles with each other, like they were giving signals.


“Have you guys all met my boyfriend Chuck??” Patti asked the group.


“THIS is your boyfriend?" the surfer dude asked.


“These are my friends, honey. This is Summer, and Tony , and Heather and Lars. Guys, this is Chuck.”


They all looked at me and smiled. “Hey Charrrrlie, where’ve you been lately”, Lars said with a snigger.


If his body builder buddy wasn’t standing there, I thought maybe I’d punch that punkass fuck in his pretty little face.


"Chuck works for a living, Lars. He’s going to be a... video editor, technician... guy, or something...” Patti said as she gathered her windblown hair, tucking it behind her ears.


Was she making fun of my work?


What did she think I did, or what did she think I was planning to do? It sounded as though she probably didn’t have much of a clue, and probably didn’t care. Maybe she never cared, I thought to myself. I stared back at her, trying to muster a look of betrayal. If she read me loud and clear, it didn’t seem to phase her. All four of them just looked at me and smiled.


“But right now he’s just a gopher. Right, honey? Tell them how much you make.”


This was completely inappropriate. I couldn’t believe she was being so rude to me in front of these clowns.


“Do you work on pornos or something?” Heather asked me, she turned her shoulders to give motion to her melons.


“No. I don’t.”


“He makes twenty thousand a year, you guys.” Patti said.


“That’s probably enough to cover your rent, Chuck. Good for you.” Summer said.


I wasn’t in the mood to correct Patti’s underestimation of my salary in front of these a-holes, or discuss my rent payments with ‘Summer’. Besides, twenty two wasn’t any less embarrassing than twenty. I wanted out of there. I didn’t know who these people were, or how Patti knew them. I knew I didn’t WANT to know them! I rolled up my towel and pulled my tee-shirt over my head. Summer grabbed my foot again and tried to hold me back.


“Come on. Stick around, Chuck. Seriously. We want Patti to hang out and watch the sun go down with us.”


I heard Patti giggle at Summer. I directed another accusing look at my girlfriend. She was fingering the straps of her bikini, focussed on adjusting the cups of her top. She looked up and smirked at me and arched her eyebrows, as if to say “What? What’s the problem?” The moment passed oh-so-briefly but for a moment... looking at my girlfriend’s big boobs ensconced in the tight white cups of her new bikini, I could swear her breasts looked... bigger.


“I don’t think so... but thanks for the invitation,” I said sarcastically.


“Maybe some other time,” Summer said.


“Yeah, maybe ...”


It seemed, to my dismay, as though my girlfriend belonged on this public beach more than I did. Standing there next to the overdeveloped body builder Tony... with Summer and Heather and the pretty boy Lars gathered at Patti’s feet, I felt ...alone.


I tucked my towel under my arm and turned to leave, hoping Patti would follow.


“You coming with me?” I asked her.


“Stay here and hang out with us awhile longer, Patti,” Tony said, putting his meaty arm around my girlfriend’s waist and pulling her to him.


I felt a powerful new jealously and helplessness roil up in my guts.


Patti looked at me. A look of concern for my feelings showed in her eyes. Finally. She put her hand on top of Tony’s and removed it gently from her waist.


“I better go,” Patti said with a note of disappointment in her voice.




° ° ° ° °




On the walk home from the beach that evening we were both quiet. I was angry and hurt. Patti acted quietly undisturbed, pretending nothing strange had taken place back there on the beach.


“How do you know those... people?” I asked her as we approached our bungalow.


“They’re just some people I met at the beach.”


“When? When did you meet them??”


“Last week. Week before last. I forget. What difference does it make?”


“So what... are those your FRIENDS now? Are those girls porn actresses? Strippers? What’s the deal there?” I asked accusatorily as I turned the key and stepped into our place.


Patti pushed past me and headed off towards the bathroom, answering back over her shoulder.


“What the fuck. Because a girl has big tits she must be a porn star? Is that what you think??”


She hastily unhooked her bikini top as though she couldn’t wait to get it off. She threw it over the shower curtain rod and turned on the shower.


“No! I’m not SAYING that. I’m just saying....”


I held my tongue for a moment. I didn’t know what to say in this situation. Our two room bungalow could get pretty claustrophobic at times like this, that much I did know. As usual, when push came to shove with Patti, I managed to open my mouth and say precisely the wrong thing. She appeared before me in the bathroom doorway, stark naked, one hand placed confrontationally on her hip. Her breasts look extremely ripe and full, with stark tan lines from all the time she’d been spending in the hot California sun.


“What ARE you saying, Chuck? That you know better than me what kind of people I ought to socialize with? Is THAT what you’re saying?”


I searched my tired brain for the right thing to say. She stood there before me completely on guard, completely naked and unafraid. Her boobs DID look bigger than usual, I realized. Was it the heat? ...playing tricks with MY mind?


“No. I’m sorry, honey... I’m SORRY.”


This diffused the situation. Somewhat.


She spun herself around in a huff and climbed into the shower.




° ° ° ° °




We didn’t exchange many words that evening. After her shower, Patti put on a long tee shirt and panties and went over to the kitchen area and heated up a couple pieces of leftover pizza.


Wanting to give Patti her space, I got a beer from the refrigerator and grabbed a bag of pretzels. I parked myself by to our little kitchen sink and turned the afternoon over in my mind. Patti plopped herself down on the couch and turned on the TV, stuffing her face with stale pizza. I watched her while she watched the TV. Before long she got up and stomped barefooted back over to the refrigerator. She was braless. Her boobs swung around freely inside her loose tee shirt in counter-rhythm to her steps. I sipped my beer quietly as she stood in front of the refrigerator with the door hanging open. The cold air made her nipples stiffen beneath her shirt. She was looking for something more to eat, muttering to herself under her breath, as though I weren’t even there. She scratched herself and tapped her foot on the linoleum. Usually Patti did not go braless, not even around the house. She always wore something for support. My cock twitched with life when I saw her reach under her tee shirt and absent-mindedly cupped one of her big boobs.


“I want a salad,” she mumbled. “Why don’t we have salad stuff in here?”


She didn’t look at me. She was still talking to herself. She moved her hand to her other breast, gathered it in her fingers and hefted it up and down. She was feeling it like a ripe piece of fruit, like she was guessing how much it might weigh.


“Hmmmm...” she muttered.


She dropped her boob and removed her hand from her shirt. Yanking the freezer door open, she discovered a half-eaten tub of ice cream.


“Ah HA!”


Finally she gave me a look, acknowledging my presence in the tiny kitchenette. She pried the lid off the ice cream and dug in. I sipped my beer and looked at her while she gobbled ice cream there in the middle of our cramped kitchen. I felt weird. She was ACTING weird. Was this some weird way of making amends with me? Usually I was the one who had to make the amends. She shoveled large spoons of gourmet vanilla ice cream into her mouth, one after the other, like a starving woman. She eyed my crotch. I’m sure she noticed I was aroused. We eyed each other, me sipping my beer, her stuffing her face with ice cream. Her cheeks were practically bulging out with the stuff. Some of it oozed out of the corner of her mouth and trickled down her chin, dripping onto the front of her shirt. She smiled and looked down at her chest, brushing her tit with the back of her wrist. Her nipples were sticking out like I’d never seen them before, making two distinct points in the thin cotton fabric.


She licked her lips and gave me a playful look as she crammed yet another huge scoop of ice cream into her mouth. She tried with difficulty to chew. A glob of the half-melted stuff fell out of her mouth and slid down the front of her shirt, leaving a sticky wet trail on its way to the floor. It landed on her bare toes.


“Ooomff!” she said, lifting her foot.


She grinned at me like a little kid, her cheeks puffed out with ice cream, her shirt stained with it. I took a dish towel and moistened it and wiped off the front of her shirt. She swallowed part of it and thanked me, then lifted her foot so I could wipe off her toes. I knelt down and wiped off her pretty foot, lovingly.


“Thank you”, she said, swallowing down the rest of the ice cream.


I looked up at her from the vantage point of our kitchen floor. Her chest jutted out prominently. Her normally well-supported and shapely breasts swelled to the sides, her nipples pointed at divergent angles over my head. She put the ice cream tub down on the counter and pulled on my hair. I stood up and was rewarded with a cold sweet make-up kiss. Patti plunged her vanilla-coated tongue into my mouth and pressed herself up against me, shoving me back into the counter. I reached up and grabbed her tit and gave it a squeeze through the moist fabric of her tee shirt. She moaned with pleasure and grabbed the back of my head, guiding my mouth down to her nipple. I sucked her stiff nipple through the wet material. She pulled my face into her tit, pressing it against me, smothering me. I was in my favorite place.


“Take me to bed...”


I looked up at Patti. Her chin was tucked to her chest, she gave me that helpless little girl look that I only saw when she really—really—needed to be fucked. She raised one leg up and wrapped her arms around my neck, like she wanted me to carry her to bed. Patti Cayhill was a big girl, but I picked her up and walked her into the bedroom. On the way into the room, she flicked a wall switch and the bedroom was flooded with a bright warm light.


I sat her on the bed and peeled her sticky shirt off and flung it onto the floor. She pointed her feet in the air so I could do the same with her panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs spread, her large breasts parted and drooped slightly to her sides. Patti gave me her best come hither look. As I unbuckled my pants and pulled them down, I watched Patti reach across her chest and gather her left tit in her hand, feeling its fullness. I’d never seen her fondle herself like this. She looked down at herself, at her big boobs, first at her left one, then her right.


“Do you like my tits?” she asked.


“You know I do”, I said as I stepped out of my underwear.


“How much??” she pried, leaning back on her hands, drawing her elbows to her sides to support her arched back.


“I love YOU.”


Her eyes demanded that I elaborate.


“Your breasts are beautiful, Patti. YOU are beautiful. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever...”


“But do you think they’re too big?” she asked, cutting me off mid-sentence. She tucked her chin and looked down at her naked tits, seemingly admiring herself.


“Too big? No. I don’t think your breasts are too big.”


I climbed onto the bed and took one of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger and pinched it lightly. She chewed her lip and enjoyed the feel of my hands on her bare skin.


“Do you think they’re too small?” she continued, taking her other nipple in her own hand and pulling it out, stretching the skin.


I took her boob in my hand and squeezed it. It felt full and heavy, squishing out between my fingers. She cooed softly and I squeezed a bit harder.


“It feels so good when you squeeze them like that.”


“Oh?” I replied, giving her another squeeze. Her nipple wrinkled up and stiffened between my fingers. I took it in my mouth and sucked on it hard. Patti purred.


“You didn’t answer my question...”


I kept sucking intently, looking up at her face, kneading both tits with my busy hands. She smiled down on me and gave my head a pet.


“Well??? Do you think they’re too small?”


What kind of question was this? Undoubtedly her mind was on Summer’s and Heather’s surgically enlarged tits. I tried to avoid the question, hoping my increased ministrations would quiet her. She pulled the nipple from my mouth and pushed me aside.


“Chuck.... why won’t you answer my question?”


“Of course not. I love you. I think you’re beautiful... just as you are.”


“But you WOULD like it if my boobs were bigger, right?”


I was on thin ice here. Was she baiting me? Testing me? Was she actually entertaining the thought of implants?? For herself!?!? Surely not.


“I know you love big ones”. She said, tracing her fingers lightly down the side of her far tit.


Maybe she was wondering what I thought of her new friends. Wanted to hear me admit that I was attracted the sight of their big tits, fake or not. Maybe she was size-conscious around them... or just fucking with my head. Maybe she just had some pre-menstrual swelling and was feeling bloated, or fat. Hell... I didn’t know. Patti laid down on her back and stared at the ceiling, kneading her breasts. I climbed on top of her and slipped two fingers into her pussy. It was sopping wet like I’d never felt it before. I scooted down and started eating her out. Patti spread her legs wide. I fingered her twat and flicked at it with my tongue. I looked up to see Patti crushing her tits between her hands like dough, and moaning with pleasure. I was as turned on as I ever had been. I climbed up and reached over to the nightstand for a condom. Patti grabbed me by the wrist and pulled my hand away.


“Just put it in me”, she commanded.


“No, let me get a rubber on. It’ll only take a second.”


“Nooo, I want to feel you... inside me ...”


She was burning with desire. But I didn’t want to get her pregnant, and I know she didn’t want that either.


“You can pull it out... cum on my titties.”


This was really reckless of her. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.


“Patti... are you sure??”


She grabbed my cock with her free hand and pulled on it hard, aiming it towards her dripping cunt. I reluctantly let her guide the head to her slick lips and relaxed when I felt her draw the length of my shaft into her. She felt fantastic. I climbed on top and started pumping my hips in rhythm with hers, grinding myself against her, driving her passion higher. She spread her elbows out, placed her hands on her tits and shoved them together.


“God that feels great. I love your cock... your beautiful cock...”


I could tell I wasn’t going to be able to take much of this. I could feel my first orgasm welling up inside. She took my head in her hands and pulled me down for a kiss. She mashed her lips against mine and forced her tongue down my throat. She lifted her feet into the air, wrapped her ankles around my waist and pulled me inside as deep as I could go and held me fast. I felt her strong thigh and calf muscles flex and heard her grunt in a low guttural voice. Her orgasm came before mine that night. This was a first. She pounded my ass with the heels of her feet, bucking her hips wildly, lifting herself and the weight of my body up off the bed with each thrust.


“Patti... I’m... going to... cum.” I tried to pull away, but she had me trapped inside her and wasn’t letting go.


“Let me go honey...” I pleaded. I felt my cock twitch as the first bit of semen shot up from my balls, coursing through the length of my dick. She opened her eyes and bit down on her lower lip, seething. I felt her legs relax somewhat, like she was going to release me. I’d already spilled some of my seed inside her. My body seized up but I managed to pull out before I pumped her insides full of my cum. Or I thought I pulled out. I just felt her lips close around the tip of my dick and felt the cool air hit me when once again Patti flexed her legs, grabbed my love handles, and pulled me back inside. I pumped my load inside her with a mixture of panic and passionate abandon. I saw Patti’s eyes go wide with excitement. She threw her head back and relaxed her body. I could pull out at this point if I wanted to but it was useless. Whatever damage I might have done was already done. Eventually I collapsed from exhaustion.


I should have been angry. I should have scolded us both for being so irresponsible.


Instead I just lay down by her side and quietly caressed her sweaty tummy while my stiff dick went limp against her thigh. We were both wide awake. Patti put her arms around me and I rested my head against her pillowy right tit. Her pussy was leaking my fluids. She slipped her middle finger into her twat and coated it in my cum. Raising the glistening wet finger up to her tit, she swirled and twirled it around the nipple closest to my face. I watched as her areola wrinkled up and her nipple stiffened. She pinched and tweaked it and pulled it then she guided it to my mouth. I tasted my own salts as I sucked on her teat. Patti rolled toward me. Her left tit came to rest on the side of my face and effectively buried me against the damp bed sheets. She took my cock in hand and started stroking it. My erection returned immediately. I felt myself being pushed onto my back. Patti threw her leg over me and impaled herself on my cock. With her palms on my chest, she rested her weight on me as she slowly gyrated. I could feel her stirring her pot with my dick, could feel her maneuver her body so that I would prod and probe every nook and cranny of her pussy. She drew her arms together behind her udders and leaned forward. With her big boobs in my face she shimmied her shoulders back and forth, teasing me, dragging her plump nipples across my lips, slapping my happy face.


This time my orgasm came on before hers.


She felt me tense up. My breaths grew short. I felt her wide hips pick up speed as she rode atop my cock. I reached around and grabbed her big ass, wanting to pull her up off my dick. This time she lifted her leg and let my slide out of her. My surging dick flopped free. She trapped it against my stomach and held it in place, for a moment, wanting to prolong my climax. She lay down beside me and cradled her tits in her arms.


“Cum on my tits”, she said.


The room was still flooded with light. Patti’s entire body was flushed pink. This was the second time in one day that my girlfriend offered her tits up for me to spray them with my seed. I didn’t need any encouragement. I got up onto my knees and started pumping, trying to pick up the rhythm that she had going before she climbed off me. It took awhile but soon I was on my way again. Patti alternated her fixed stare between my cock and her tits as she anticipated the splash. She cradled her boobs, gathering herself up with her arms, making a nice tract of cleavage for me to fill. That was all it took. I jerked myself off, shooting my wad into the air and onto her tits.


Maybe California wouldn’t be so bad after all.




° ° ° ° °




That night with the ice cream, especially the make up sex after our big argument, that was the turning point.


After that things between us really improved. Patti never challenged me or seemed in a bad mood or out of sorts in any way. Her life, I realized, was now centered around having a good time, pleasing me, pleasing herself, eating, drinking, relaxing. ‘If it feels good, do it’ seemed to be her new bywords. Patti always seemed relaxed in those days... to a degree that I didn’t think was possible for her. And I was feeling much the same. I didn’t look forward to those occasional trips to the beach so much, but my work rarely permitted it anyhow. And I was better off not subjecting myself to that scene anyhow, I told myself at the time.


For the next couple of weeks we were fucking each other to the point of exhaustion every morning and every night. Patti didn’t insist on the crazy ‘pull out’ method. She seemed to regain some self-control in that regard. But she made absolutely no effort to control her raging libido. It seemed all she wanted was to jump my bones, eat and sleep—in that order of importance. When I reached for the rubbers, she always waited long enough for me to put one on. But after that she was merciless in her assaults on my dick. Maybe it was all that free time and the endless summer weather, but I recognized that Patti’s interest in sex had begun to overtake any other interests she may have had. Each day it became more abundantly clear to me that this was the case. She was dedicated to plumbing the depths of her own desire, with me there to help her get where she wanted to go; a far cry from the shy girl I met at Creepers all those many months ago.


With no job to deal with and the beach only blocks away, her life was pretty simplified compared to what it used to be. That may have had a lot to do with it. As much as she’d been disappointed at first when she couldn’t find a job, soon enough she seemed quite content to stay home and live off of me and my meager income.


My reward was a thorough pipe cleaning... every morning and night.


After a week or two I noticed Patti was wearing her brassieres less and less, usually opting for just a loose tee shirt or a halter, or better yet just her bathing suit. Patti’s collection of swim wear grew faster than the rest of her wardrobe it seemed. I didn’t know where the money was coming from. She still had some of her savings, and she claimed she’d gotten a new credit card. I didn’t complain, about her spending habits OR her penchant for wearing nothing but a bikini around the house. When we went out to dinner or to the supermarket though, I personally thought it was a bit too much for her to go bouncing around braless like that. I commented on it on more than one occasion. She never argued the matter. She’d just obediently walk into the bedroom and put on some clothes, no questions asked. But even so, from time to time we’d get ready to go out for the evening and she’d head for the door without a bra on, her unfettered knockers bobbing around freely inside her shirt. I didn’t know if she was just getting forgetful or if she didn’t think I’d notice or if she was just testing the limits of decency.


I didn’t let any of it bother me too much though. As you might imagine.



° ° ° ° °



Patti eventually made me realize that I’d been both right and wrong about Summer Cox.


Summer WAS a stripper of course. But I was pleasantly surprised to find out what a nice person she was. She turned out to be a good friend to Patti. The two began to see each other quite a bit. After I’d spent a little time around her, I actually found Summer to be intelligent and funny... and, well... I enjoyed seeing her too. In more ways than one.


One Saturday night in early August we were getting dressed to go out and meet Summer for Mexican food and margaritas at a nearby joint. I was dressed in my chinos and a decent looking shirt. Patti slipped into a flowered skirt and a yellow bathing suit top. The bathing suit top did a good enough job of containing her beautiful tits, but, despite their gravity-defying firmness, the bikini did nothing to restrain their movement. It made me uncomfortable. It was bad enough dealing with other guys ogling Patti on the beach. I felt I shouldn’t have to tolerate their stares in restaurants and bars.


“Patti, please. Are you going to dinner dressed like that??” I said, eyeing her chest


She scrunched her face up and stomped her feet like a stubborn child. Grabbing a pink rayon blouse from her closet, she quickly slipped her arms in the sleeves and started buttoning it over top of her bikini.


“You can’t go to dinner in your bikini. Put on a bra, like a normal person.”


She whipped the shirt off again. I pulled one of her brassieres out of the dresser drawer and handed it to her. She reached around and untied her bikini top. The triangle cups loosened and her naked boobs sprung free. She wrapped the bra around her waist and fastened the row of hooks, then rotated it around and pulled the straps up over her shoulders. When she tried to maneuver her breasts into the 38 DD cups of her brassiere, I saw... finally... what I’d suspected that day on the beach.


They HAD gotten bigger. Too big to fit in her bra!


Patti loosened her straps and wriggled and stuffed her swollen breasts into the cups of the old bra. The thing was inadequate to say the least. She overwhelmed it. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Apparently she hadn’t worn a bra for weeks, or I would have noticed the poor fit. She’d been improvising with her bathing suits, which served as a more forgiving form of underwear. Flesh pooched out over top of the DD cups, and out under her arms. The underwire didn’t even make contact with her body as the volume of her overfull tits simply could not be contained. Despite the shabby fit, she grabbed her pink blouse and stretched it around her prominent bust, and proceeded to button up. Her chest looked huge.


How could I not have noticed this??


Yawning peek-a-boo gaps opened up between the buttons of her blouse as the stretchy fabric strained to span her bust. A generous amount of cleavage swelled out behind her open collar. She fidgeted and squirmed.


“This isn’t comfortable. My old bras don’t fit anymore.” She said in a ditzy voice.


“Um, honey? Have you gained weight or something??”


She didn’t look like she’d gained weight. Except for in her boobs maybe. She looked at me and smiled. Her white teeth gleamed brightly.


“I wondered when you were going to notice.”


“Notice what... that you gained weight?”


I looked her up and down. If anything her stomach looked flatter and tighter than ever, even her ass looked firmer.


“No silly. My tits.”


She plucked at her shirt collar and shimmied her shoulders for me, showing me her cleavage... her exceedingly deep cleavage. I was pleased, but dumbfounded. To say the least. She could see that I was confused. I think she enjoyed it, the fact that I had not noticed her ‘progress’... that I was now dumbstruck as to how suddenly she was spilling out of her old clothes.


“This is the day I’ve been waiting for, lover.”


She drew closer. Her chest drove into me and knocked me back on my heels. Patti raked her fingers through my hair and looked into my eyes.


“You never believed me, did you?” she asked, searching my eyes for a sign of recognition as she pressed her bosom against me. Still it didn’t sink in... what she was talking about.


“I started taking THE PILL again, lover.”


Her eyes flared. She threw her arms up over my shoulders and kissed me lightly. The cushion of her constricted boobs came between us as she tried to hold me close. The pill? Birth control pills? Her boobs were growing? She was growing her boobs?? On PURPOSE?!? That is to say, she actually WANTED them bigger? I was thrilled. Surprised. Shocked. And most unexpectedly, I was... concerned. What was she thinking?


“What are you telling me Patti? That your tits have swollen? Because you’re back on the pill??”


“You’re very observant.” She said as she mashed herself against me.


“But that’s not possible Patti. That’s just... I mean...”


“Isn’t it??”


“But I don’t understand. You mean you WANT bigger tits? I thought you hated... I mean... when I met you....”


“A lots changed since you met me, Chuck. Besides... I know you like ‘em big. I finally realized I like ‘em big too”, she said, driving her knee up into my crotch. She hadn’t lied —to me OR to herself— about the effects of birth control on her body. Her boobs were growing. AND her libido was


“I know but.... I mean... I like... I like ‘em big but...”


I relaxed a little and let it sink in what was happening here... or what HAD happened, what had BEEN happening, right under my nose, as it were. I pulled back and took another look at her. I cupped her ripe honeydews and squeezed them through her undersized clothing. Patti flipped her hair from her face.


“They’re a LOT more sensitive too. Especially the nipples.”


I could feel her nipples boring through the layers of fabric. My eyes darted back and forth from one tit to the other, admiring her development. I recognized a look of pride on her face. She looked so hot, busting out of her clothes like that, with excess flesh overflowing the cups of that old bra.


I wondered... if she was too big for a 38 DD... then....


She was reading my mind, I’m sure.


“I’m a 38 F now”, she said.


“38 F???!?!?” I repeated in disbelief.


She seemed delighted by my shock. I must have had a big dumb smile painted on my face too, because she laughed a hearty laugh.


“I can’t believe you didn’t notice!”


She started unbuttoning her blouse again. And I helped.


“And you know what else? They’re still growing...”




° ° ° ° °




We did make it to dinner that night. Eventually.


We were forty minutes late, but we finally managed to make it out of the house.


Even sitting alongside Summer and her big fake spheroid implants, my Patti looked like a goddess. In my mind I knew that she wasn’t visibly bigger than she’d been the day before. Then too, in my mind, in my filthy breast-obsessed little mind, I realized that Patti actually WAS bigger, if only infinitesimally so, but she really was bigger than she was yesterday. A series of titillating little factoids soaked in while I sat sipping margaritas that night; the fact that Patti actually wanted this... the fact that she wanted it and that it actually worked... and the fact that, from what I could tell, she wouldn’t mind getting even bigger.


It was a page torn straight from my private little book of sick fantasies and it was coming true.


All during dinner she kept slipping her hand under the table, patting my bulge. Teasing me. She went ahead and wore the 38 DD bra to the restaurant that night too. At my request. For old times sake. She hadn’t yet bought any new bras but confessed that she’d been looking forward to it. On the walk down to the restaurant that night she told me she’d been waiting... for me. And frankly, she’d been waiting for her tits to grow. Biding her time, using her bikinis for underwear and just going braless, to saving the money she might have spent on useless ‘intermediate sizes’.


I didn’t even mind that she left her blouse unbuttoned half way to her navel that night. I relished the sight of all that cleavage. I was proud of my girl. Summer was proud of her friend too, I could tell. Clearly she and Patti had shared Patti’s ‘secret’, probably weeks prior. Perhaps Summer had inspired Patti, or maybe she had actually encouraged Patti. A girl like Summer probably wanted the biggest and the best of everything, for herself and for her friend. I was reeling trying to grasp all this. I was speechless. For the most part I let the girls do the talking that night. I think if we had talked about what was on my mind, over drinks, the way I was feeling... I would’ve probably turned three shades of red, cum in my pants, and passed out under that table. Those two knew my mind was reeling, they probably enjoyed the fact that they were reducing college boy’s brain to so much jelly.


I just sat there, staring at my girl’s cleavage, sipping my drink, picking at my food. Like a fool. Like a happy, stupid, ‘stare-at-it-and-obsess-about-it-till-you’re-blind’ fool


“Doesn’t Patti look great?” Summer asked me at one point during dinner.


“Yeahh.” I think was my answer.


I was a lousy conversationalist that night, at a total loss for words. And I think those two liked me better that way. They yammered on and on and laughed it up like the best of friends, like they’d known each other all their lives. Patti seemed genuinely happy. I was happy for her.




° ° ° ° °




The next day we made a trip into Hollywood. Patti wanted to go to Melrose and Sunset and shop for new clothes. I was pretty broke, but Patti said she had money. Had to be the last of her savings, I figured. She bought armloads of new clothes that day, including a handful of sexy new bras, a new bikini, a pair of goofy platform sneakers, a couple pairs of heels, sunglasses, tank tops, a skirt and I don’t know what all. She paid for our lunch, filled up the tank of my car. She even bought me a couple of new shirts that she said she wanted to see me in, shiny clubwear stuff that I would never have considered. I didn’t keep track, but she must have spent over a thousand bucks that afternoon. It was kind of our celebration of her going on the pill, and an overdue Welcome To LA celebration for me, so she said.


In actuality it was her celebration, of her self. And I didn’t mind one bit.


The new Patti was right at home in LA, I realized. She strutted around Melrose and Sunset like she was born to it. She looked fantastic in those platform sneakers and short skirt. With her all-natural 38 Fs now ensconced a satin and lace, that fantastic bosom was supported to beautiful, bountiful effect. She was the hottest thing on the street that day, I thought. It was the first time in weeks I’d spent some prolonged time with her fully clothed. I’d grown accustomed to her braless bikini ‘around the house’ look, but I was reminded that she was just as hot-looking (if not more so) IN clothes than she was out of them. Unlike when I met her, these tits were nothing that could be hidden or ‘minimized’ or restrained. Even strapped down inside a properly fitted foundation garment, her huge jugs bounced and wobbled with new life.


The stares of other men of course were still something that I had to contend with. A small price to pay though.


I borrowed some money from Patti and joined a health club and started working out again. Gradually I started to work off some of that flab and get some of my muscle back. Things even improved at work. By the end of August I’d been promoted from gopher to something called ‘Assistant Duplication Technician’. Basically I worked with a crew of other guys in a cramped room full of video duplication machines. Our subjects were institutional and corporate in-house videos, exercise videos, direct market sports videos. That kind of stuff. It was pretty mindless stuff, but I was just thrilled to be in the office, doing something other than fetching peoples’ lunches. They even bumped my pay up a little bit, enough that I could start paying Patti back some of the six thousand or so bucks that I was into her for.


We decided to stay in the little bungalow through the end of the year, or until I could get a better handle on my bills. Money was still tight, but Patti was happier than ever. I was happier than ever. Things were going as planned. Things were going BETTER than planned.




° ° ° ° °




My hours at work didn’t let up. By September Fine Line had me working almost sixty hours a week, without overtime. The excitement of being promoted to ‘Assistant Duplication Technician’ had worn off pretty quickly. All I could think about was Patti. I just couldn’t wait to get home to her at night. And in the mornings it was all I could do to tear myself away and drag myself to work. Every morning, with every birth control pill she washed back, I greeted the day with the realization that my girlfriend’s bounty was increasing. The idea itself was a kind of stimulation that stayed with me all day every day. Her growth was too slow to really notice, but every week or so we would both measure her with the tape measure. Sometimes she’d be about the same, other times she’d have added another eighth of an inch or so. I kept the kitchen stocked with her favorite ice cream, chips, beer. I wanted her to have whatever she liked, especially if it would help her grow faster. Patti’s energy level and increased sex drive showed no signs of slowing down. It was just the opposite in fact. She met me at the door each night when I’d return home, eager for her first fuck of the evening. Then we’d order pizza or make dinner, then we’d fuck in front of the TV until bedtime, which seemed to come early. In bed we’d fuck each other until one of us passed out. Usually it was me. I tried my best to keep up with her but it was no small task. Usually around one or two in the morning I’d collapse onto the bed exhausted and limp. I’d drift off to sleep with Patti fondling my cock, trying to coax it back to life.




° ° ° ° °




By October, after four months on the pill, Patti had grown another cup size. Her bustline increased a few inches. She understood all that sizing stuff better than I did when we started out, but soon she had me fitting her like a professional so she could run out and buy a new size off the rack almost without having to try it on. She was now a whopping 40” FF... or G cup. (Depending on the manufacturer.) She’d really graduated to the big leagues. Now she stood out wherever she went, barring the appearance of the occasional Summer Cox type. The only women on the street or at the beach who rivaled her size were those with implants. You could tell those women admired Patti’s all-natural wonders. The less well-endowed women peppered her with derisive stares. Patti loved the attention, all the attention. She showed no signs yet of reaching her ideal size. In fact we never did discuss what her ‘ideal size’ might be. As much as we’d become addicted to our orgasms, I think Patti was becoming addicted to ‘the thrill of the pill’. She enjoyed getting bigger. And the pill, clearly, had some kind of aphrodisiac effect on the rest of her body. She was horny all the time. And her tits were clearly the focus of her heightened sensitivity. I often thought back to her high school experience with the pill. She’d confessed to me that she’d ‘enjoyed’ the feeling of her sensitive titties and the sex with her then boyfriend. According to her, all her dates were nothing more than heated backseat grope sessions. Now years later, as I was experiencing Patti on the pill first hand, I wondered how much of her sexual misadventures had been her own blind doing? I wondered if maybe the boys and girls at her school weren’t actually more observant than she’d given them credit for. Not that she had been a slut, but maybe this kind of hormonally-imbalanced horniness was just too much for the teenage Patti to handle or make sense of.


I was amazed Patti never complained of back pain from all the weight she was carrying around upstairs. Must have been her athletic youth and years of lugging her double D’s around. A few added pounds didn’t seem to make a bit of difference to her. Besides, our calisthenics in the bedroom were keeping us both in pretty good shape.


One day as my lunch hour approached I was in the men’s room at work, beating off, thinking of Patti lounging around our apartment, popping those little pink pills, growing her tits. I was just about to unload into the toilet when I stopped myself.


“What am I doing??” I thought.


I realized that with her insatiable demands for sexual gratification, I should start making the 20 minute drive home on my lunch hours. Why not? I owed it to her, and to myself. I gathered up my pants and jumped into my Toyota Corolla and headed home for a nice little weekday surprise.


I parked my car down the street from our house. I found the front door to our bungalow standing open. This was nothing unusual when we were hanging out together on the weekends. I was surprised though that she left the door hanging open on weekdays. Oh well, at least she was home and not down at the beach cavorting with all those surfers.


I crept up to the open doorway and looked inside. I didn’t see her. I heard a familiar moan emitting from the bedroom. It was Patti. In my mind I half expected to find her in there with another guy. I felt like I might throw up. I cautiously peered around the corner into the bedroom to see my girlfriend spread eagle on top of the sheets, covered in sweat, stark naked. Between her legs was the biggest dildo I’d ever seen. It must have been a foot long. She was holding it with two hands, carefully shoving it up inside her. Her fingers barely reached around it. I was shocked by the sight, but relieved at the same time. At least she was alone. Every time she plunged that club into her she grunted in that low guttural animal tone. Her hair was wild and natty. She was deep in concentration, her eyes shut, her tits quivering in responses to the little jerks her body made. I felt like an intruder in my own home. I didn’t announce my presence, I just stood there silently watching as she worked that huge rubber dick in and out of her slit. There was no way anything that large should fit inside any girl but Patti proved me wrong as she worked that thick prong up inside her, nearly to its base.


How long had THIS been going on? With my larger than average cock I’d never noticed Patti feeling loose, per se. Although I’d never paid much attention. Suddenly she let out a soft whimpering cry. Her thighs twitched and wriggled. She released her grip on the dildo, leaving it buried inside her pussy. She gathered a handful of her left tit with one hand and manipulated her clit with the other. I watched while the love of my life pleasured herself, taking herself somewhere even I’d never seen her go. She grabbed repeatedly at her boob, trying to get a handle on it. Her fingers looked tiny and overwhelmed by all that tender flesh. She tugged and twisted mercilessly on her nipple, grabbing roughly at her breast. I backed away and moved around into the living room and just listened as my wife’s pleasure climbed to greater heights. Suddenly I felt I should leave. I didn’t want her to know I’d sneaked in and watched her. I pulled the front door closed and headed back to my car. As I crossed the little yard in front of our place I heard Patti cry out her orgasm. I’d never heard anything like it.




I looked around but no people were in ear shot but me. As I walked down the sidewalk to my car I heard her cry out over and over. Even a half block away, as I slipped my car key into the lock, I could still hear her.


I sat behind the wheel and stared down the street toward the shimmering beach. I was due back at work in ten minutes. I’d be a little late, so what the fuck. I felt an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling that I wasn’t enough for Patti Cayhill. Even after all we’d been through together. How could this be? How could it have come to this? How much is enough for her? Was this my life?? Sneaking home to spy on my girlfriend secretly pleasuring herself with giant sex toys? In a couple of minutes I saw her emerge from the house, dressed in a bikini, towel in hand. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing sunglasses. She locked the door behind her and turned down the street on foot, headed for the beach. Even a half block away I marveled at the sight of her. My cock was uncomfortably stiff inside my pants. I took it out, beat off into a napkin, and drove back to work disgusted and confused.


I tried to put it all out of my mind but I couldn’t. The next day I was back in my car, heading home on my lunch hour. I told my boss I felt sick, which I did. I took the rest of the afternoon off. I parked down the street from our house and turned off my car. I remember sitting there, unsure what to do or what to expect. Maybe I would just confront Patti, or catch her in the act again, or something. In my mind, I imagined her spending all her precious carefree weekdays with that damned dildo. Like yesterday’s peep show had just been another routine day for my oversexed girl. Was she just using me to fill in the for the dildo? Or was she using the dildo to fill in for me? And if so, who or what else was she filling herself with. I didn’t really want to know the answer to that question. Maybe the burden was on me... to step up MY efforts to please her.


I felt sick to my stomach as I walked up to my house. The door was closed. Loud music was playing inside. I slipped my key in the door and discretely turned the knob. As I slowly swung the door open, once again I was greeted with an empty living room. Over the thumping loud music I could hear Patti talking in the bedroom. Was she with a guy now?? I threw down my keys and stormed into the bedroom. There I saw Patti, standing there in her panties and nothing else. Summer had our tape measure out and was stretching it around Patti’s tits, measuring her bust line. They both seemed surprised to see me.


“Oh, hi honey!” Patti said, “What are YOU doing home?”


“Hi, Chuck. How’s it going?” Summer said as she fiddled attentively with the tape measure.


I just stood there and didn’t say anything at first. Neither one of them seemed disturbed by my presence in the slightest.


“We were just getting a new measurement on your girlfriend’s melons here.” Summer said.


They’d been getting bigger again. In the last week Patti had undergone another growth spurt. We both knew it. I stood and watched. Patti smiled at me with her arms held straight out into the air.


“Inhale” Summer said.


Patti drew a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. “Annnnd exhale.”


Patti exhaled and looked down at the tape measure. “Well?” “Around the rib cage you’re the same. But you’ve added another inch around the bustline. Girl, I think you’ve added another cup.” Summer said matter of factly as she coiled the tape measure back up and placed it on the dresser.


Patti looked at me and waggled her eyebrows. I smiled. My girlfriend was now an H cup?? I couldn’t believe it. Would she stop now? Was this the end of the line? She started to put her old G cup bra back on, maneuvering her shoulders and dangling her big juggs trying to find the fit that was tolerable as recently as yesterday. Summer snickered and adjusted her own spandex top, jostling her volleyballs inside their stretchy man-made confinement.


Patti unhooked her undersized brassiere and tossed the constricting garment into the cramped closet, atop a pile of dirty laundry and shoes. She ambled across the room and pushed past me, heading for the bathroom. Her naked boobs bounced freely in front of her. (Lately she’d introduced an extra little heel to her stride which was designed to make her jiggle even more than usual. I know Patti liked the physical sensation of her bouncing boobs, because she told so.) She retrieved her new bikini from the bathroom... and a Popsicle from the kitchen.


“And it looks like she’s an inch taller.” Summer said to me.


WHAT??!? Did she say TALLER? Patti padded back into the bedroom, the Popsicle sticking out of her mouth like a bright red cock. She slipped her bikini top around her neck. The little pink triangles of material were slight, but she managed to position them over her big nipples.


“Will you tie me?” she asked me sweetly, handing me the pink strands.


It was true. In bare feet Patti now was at eye level to me, which meant she’d grown two inches since going on the pill. I’d not noticed because she wore heels so much of the time now. Was she going through some kind of accelerated second puberty?


Patti Cayhill was now officially 5’ 11”, the same height as me. Summer grinned at me knowingly while I tied Patti’s bikini straps at the small of her back. She was already wearing the bottom half of the bikini. The thin string of material disappeared halfway down her crack, baring her entire, perfectly tanned ass and hips to the world.


“What do you think, Chuck? Doesn’t our girl look great??” Summer asked.


Patti turned to face me, slurping and sucking on her Popsicle. We stood eye to eye. My heart pounded in my chest. She looked like the queen of Venice Beach in her tiny pink bikini that covered no more than a few square inches of skin.


“She looks fantastic.” I said, looking her up and down.


Something came over me right then and there, an intense wave of insecurity that made me want to ask Patti to marry me. I felt like I might be losing her, either to Summer, or to herself, the dildo, the beach. I’d begun to lose my grip on her tits, which were now more than a handful. Was I losing my grip on her in some larger sense? The thought that she could live without me, that she might be happier single, free to flirt and pursue other men... with her incredible assets... it filled me with desperation that I knew I had to keep hidden.


Patti didn’t sense my desperation though. Not at all. She was tweaking and adjusting her pink string bikini with both hands, absorbed in herself, admiring her tits in the bedroom mirror, that Popsicle sticking out of her mouth. She gathered up her long black hair and let it fall down her back, swiveling on her heel, checking how it had grown. It was nearly long enough that it tickled her ass. I felt woozy. I sat down on the edge of the bed. Summer sat down beside me.


“When are we going to bleach that hair, babe?”




“What are you talking about?” I asked. I loved Patti’s silky black hair. She knew that.


“You don’t like blondes, Whitney?” Summer asked, stabbing me in the arm with finger.


I wouldn’t tell her so, but Summer Cox’s dry platinum blonde curls looked trashy compared to Patti’s luxurious, straight shiny hair.


“I like Patti the way she is.” I said.


“The way she IS? Or the way she WAS... our Patti Cakes here is a work in progress, honey.”


Summer put a friendly hand on my knee and held it there. I sensed that the decision to go blonde had already been made... without consulting me. Patti came over and sat down beside me and put her hand on my other knee. She gave me a suck off her Popsicle then kissed me on the lips, flicking her cold tongue inside my mouth. Summer’s hand was still on my other knee. I felt her give it a squeeze. I felt my girlfriend’s huge tits take up space in my lap as she leaned in and mouthed me.


She pulled away and smiled. “I’m bleaching my hair Chuck. You’ll like it. Won’t he Summer?”


I felt Summer’s hand move up and down along my inner thigh.


Patti pulled the little triangles of pink fabric aside slightly and exposed her nipples once again. She wetted both of her areola with the Popsicle. I could see gooseflesh form on her skin. She took my left hand and raised it to her right tit. Summer brushed the back of her dainty hand against the side of Patti’s other tit. She leaned forward and offered her cherry flavored nipples for Summer and I to kiss.


“I’m glad you came home early today, lover.” She said.


“Aren’t you glad, Summer?”


Suddenly I felt Summer’s tiny hand moving to my crotch.


I kneaded my girlfriend’s tits with both hands while Summer checked out my eight inches for the first time. Patti looked down, amused by my attempts to get a handle on her big boobs. I think she got off on the sight of her tits overwhelming my hands. By now they were as large as her head, approaching the size of Summer’s. Huge as they were, they still looked natural though, with a beautiful teardrop shape. Nothing like Summer’s fake looking spheroids.


“I can’t believe I’m a 44” H. I hope I can find a bra that size.” She said.


I kept on kneading away. I couldn’t believe it either.


“Do you think I’m big enough now?” Patti asked me with a smile. I felt Summer unbuckle my pants and remove my cock.


“You’re beautiful... “ I murmured.


“See Summer? I told you.”


Summer bent over and wrapped her pouty collagen lips over my cock. Patti pushed me backward and flung her bikini across the room onto the dresser.


“You don’t think I’m too big though, do you???”


“No. Not at all.” I answered.


I reached up and slipped two fingers into her dripping snatch. She withdrew the Popsicle from her mouth and inserted it into her pussy, gliding it in and out a few times, letting the sugary syrup melt inside her. I removed my hand and watched and waited. She pumped that Popsicle inside her big twat as she maneuvered her hips to accommodate it. Her dangling tits swayed heavily in front of my face.


“Because I’m planning on getting even bigger you know.”


“I know”, I said.


She affectionately slapped her tits in my face, thinking aloud. “These things are so sensitive now... my whole body feels fantastic, just like in high school, but way more intense.” (I think she wondered how much I might be able to take before I finally lost it. Like, “How big do you think you want ‘em, Mister?? You love big tits? Well I do too. Now lets see who loves them more.”)


Summer pulled down on her spandex top and removed her factory-installed volleyballs from their elastic hammock. With workmanlike expertise she positioned my dick between her big fake boobs and started tit-fucking me.


“How do you like THAT, tit man??” Patti asked with a sweet smile.


She didn’t need to hear my answer. She knew I could have died right there a happy man. She leaned down, mashing her giant flesh pillows against my stomach, and kissed me on the mouth.


“I love you, baby.”


“I love you, Patti. I only want to make you happy.”


With that she climbed up and straddled my face and grinded her pussy into my chin. I lapped up the sweet cherry-flavor that was smeared along the length of her swollen labia, probing her yawning entryway with my tongue. Her pussy hadn’t been stretched, I realized. It had actually grown... in proportion with the volume of her tits... the thickness and sensitivity of her nipples... and the level of her physical desire. She gyrated her hips, using my entire face to pleasure herself. Her firm ass bounced off the top of my head. Her muscular thighs tightened against my ears. I felt like I could crawl inside her.


I felt Summer release my eight inches from between her balloons and climb up onto the bed. Straddling me she adroitly impaled herself in one smooth motion. Now both women were using me for their fuckhorse, grinding on me, kissing each other, fondling each others’ big tits like the wonderful playthings that they were. I listened to their voices as they talked sweetly to each other, sexing each other up. Was it for my benefit or for theirs? Either way, it was dramatic and surreal.


“Oh Summer... you were right about these tits. They feel sooo... mmm... so good. The bigger they get the better they... OH!....the better they feel.”


“There’s nothing like it, Patti Cakes. It’s a powerful, powerful...”


I felt Patti’s thighs tighten around my ears, drowning out Summers’ voice.


“...I know... I love it... mmmmmmm”


I didn’t care what it took. I was going to do everything I could to keep Patti happy. I was going to do everything I could to get her to marry me.




° ° ° ° °




I went back home the following day for lunch. Patti wasn’t home.


I had hoped to find her and Summer at play in the bedroom again. But they were nowhere to be found. I rummaged around in her drawers and found that dildo. Holding it in my hands it seemed even bigger than I remembered. Like the butt end of a baseball bat, and about half as long. I’d seen it with my own eyes but still I couldn’t imagine how Patti had managed to fit that whole thing inside her.


I picked up a snapshot of Patti with Summer, laying on towels down at the beach. What a pair! I thought back to the previous day’s activities and felt my cock stiffen. I wasn’t about to ask Patti to arrange something like that again, but I was hopeful. We didn’t talk about it afterward but it was obvious that she and Summer had some special ‘thing’ with each other, and if I behaved myself and didn’t complain about hair color, maybe once in awhile they’d treat me to a repeat performance.


I replaced the dildo in Patti’s drawer, behind her brassieres where she kept it hidden. I removed one of her old 38” DD bras from the back of the drawer and held it up to my face. It looked small to me now. I thought back to my old girlfriend with the 36” Cs... remembering how lucky I felt in those days. I thought of all the hours I’d spent with my Juggs magazines, and my big tit videos, escaping into that fantasy world in my mind. Now my real life was better than that fantasy world ever was. Even so, this avowed big tit aficionado from way back found himself falling deeper into that deep cleavage of the mind. I remembered the old adage, ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here’. I was beyond hope and I knew it. But was I taking Patti Cayhill down with me? That sweet small town girl who I’d practically dragged away from home to come live with me in this ratty two room dump by the sea? Or was she taking me down with HER?


“Where would it end?” I thought to myself as I smelled her perfume waft from those silken cups. I pulled out each successive size that Patti had grown into then out of. I spread them out across our bed in ascending order, yanking at my crotch all the while. Why I did what I did next I’ll never know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I unbuttoned my work shirt and took one of Patti’s bras and hooked it around my waist. The feel of the silk and elastic material hugging my torso was arousing. I pulled the straps up over my shoulders and adjusted them for length. The empty cups I stuffed with two of Patti’s tee shirts, then I replaced my work shirt, buttoning it up over my stuffed bra. I looked in the mirror at myself and felt excited and sickened with myself. I returned to her drawer and rummaged around. I discovered a videotape hidden in the very back. I pulled it out. What was my naughty girl hiding now?


The answer hit me with all the subtlety of a flying mallet.


“Huge Cocks, Vol. 3” On the cover was some dude with a black bar covering his dick from his crotch down to his knees. I’d seen this kind of stuff in the video store back home, but I was appalled that my girlfriend actually owned her own secret copy. Or, maybe it wasn’t hers. Maybe it belonged to Summer.


My lunch hour was ticking away, but I took the tape to the living room and stuck it in our VCR and turned on the TV. I wanted to see what my girl found so interesting on this tape. It was cued up to a spot half way into the tape.


The image flickered onto the screen.


A huge dick filled the screen from side to side. It was covered by ugly veins. Two slender hands were working up and down its length. The camera pulled back to reveal... of course... Summer Cox! Her big collagen lips and balloon tits were both streaked with cum. As she pumped the ponderous horse cock a thick rope of cum flung itself into the air, landing on her cheek. Then another, in her eye. She opened her mouth to catch some of it. She parted her lips and placed her mouth over the big apple head and received the remainder of his prodigious load. The camera pulled back to show her squeezing this guy’s fuzzy tennis balls. Two strong hands reached down and stroked her blonde sticky hair. The camera pulled back further to show the guy’s muscle-bound body. It was Tony.


“oooh, Big Tony....,” she said.


“You’re the best.”


Suddenly I heard car doors slam outside. And Patti’s voice.


I panicked. I ejected the tape and turned the TV off and dove for cover in the back bedroom. I scooped up Patti’s bras and stuffed them back into the drawer along with the videotape. The front door opened and I heard Patti walk in and dump her purse and keys onto the coffee table. I was hiding in my own house! I didn’t know what else to do.


“You didn’t have to drive me home. I could’ve taken a cab.” She said.


I heard a man’s voice mumble something inaudible.


“You want something to drink?!? A beer?” I heard Patti call from the kitchen.


I heard the sound of two bottles being opened.


“Thanks,” the guy said.


“I really had fun today. We should do that more often. I just can’t believe how hot it was though. It was almost unbearable.”


It was a hot day that afternoon. But what was all this small talk about? Where was it leading? I tip-toed over to the door and quietly closed it but for a crack that allowed me to see out into the living room. I barely recognized the woman I saw standing there, back lit by the sun that was now flooding in through the open front door. Patti was dressed to the nines in a scoop neck black bodice with those lace-up strings criss-crossing in front of her fully exposed cleavage, tight white shorts and platform heels that put her well up over six feet tall. Her head was nearly hitting the ceiling. And her hair... she must have bleached it that very morning. It was completely blonde now with platinum highlights that streaked through it. It was cut a few inches shorter and looked a lot thicker and fuller than before. The front was cut into bangs and the top was teased up, adding a few more inches to her height. She looked beautiful, but... well... let’s just say the transformation was now complete. The ‘work in progress’ had just taken a few more steps forward, I guess. She looked sexy. She still looked like herself, just a bit cheaper... a trashier version of herself. I didn’t know what to think. I’d been against the whole idea, but now that I saw her—even though she looked like a stripper—I had to admit she looked great. Her hazel eyes made her look like a natural blonde.


She moved toward the living room and I lost sight of her.


The guy was talking but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Then I didn’t hear ANY talking. A little bit of giggling. I heard a beer bottle tip over, then some laughing. Patti’s muscular legs whipped by, carrying her in a few long strides to the kitchen. Her blonde tresses swung down her back. Her big rack bounced assertively on her chest. She passed back in front of me carrying a handful of paper towels.


“Don’t worry about it. I do that all the time. I’m always knocking shit over.”


The talking stopped again. I opened the door a few inches, trying to see what I could. I stuck my head through the doorway and craned my neck around to see Patti from behind. She was on her knees, wiping something up. I could see a man’s forearm on hanging off the side of the sofa. Suddenly his hand moved down onto my girlfriend’s ass.


Patti slapped it away playfully.


“Stop that. You’re bad. Summer will be here any minute.”


I heard the guy mumble something under his breath.


“There’s no time, besides..... it’s not right....” She said in a sweetened tone of voice that was both motherly and childish.


She got up and sat down on the couch beside this guy. I leaned my head out to get a better look. It was Tony. Big Tony. On MY couch... with MY girlfriend. And she was leaning over to kiss him. I saw him cup one of her tits in his big hand. Patti flung her long tan leg up over him and straddled his lap. With her hands around his neck she leaned forward and smothered the man in her soft cleavage. Tony grabbed her ass and lifted her up completely, nuzzling her cleavage. I was horrified. It was the worst thing I could imagine, my worst paranoid fantasy playing out in front of my eyes. Patti unlaced her bodice and shrugged it off it. She flung the racy garment against the bedroom door. It hit with a clunk. I watched in disgust as Tony put his hands on my future wife’s naked tits, those wonderful sweet tits. He handled them roughly, twisting her nipples, squeezing them hard. Patti closed her eyes and leaned backward, bracing herself against his knees. She relished every bit of it.


“Wanna go in the bedroom?” I heard him ask her.


“I don’t know Tony. I don’t think we should.” She said half-heartedly.


I felt anger—and fear—churning in my guts. She was loose enough to take her top off and let this guy feel her up in our own living room, but she drew the line at taking him into our bed? It was of no consolation to me. I was just praying they wouldn’t find me. He pulled at her shorts and she pushed his hand away, crossing one arm in front of her breasts.


“It’s not right... I don’t feel right...”


He leaned up and kissed her and muttered something. She kissed him hard back, for a long while they kissed each other, and once again his hands roamed up to her big boobs and grabbed at them like toys. I could see Patti’s face grow flush with passion, her hips beginning to gyrate perceptibly. Then I saw Tony lift her up off of him and stand up in the middle of our living room. My wife’s long legs wrapped around him in a tight embrace. The front door was wide open. I wondered who might walk past and see this strange man having his way with my Patti.


“Come on. Just a quick one.” He said into her ear.


Patti’s face was red, her chest was heaving with her passion. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t say no this time. She plunged her tongue into his mouth and mashed herself against his muscular chest. Tony turned toward the bedroom and where I was hiding. I got in the closet and pulled the door shut behind me. I could barely fit in there with all of Patti’s clothes and shoes. I was quiet as a mouse when the huge man’s footsteps thumped into our sleep chamber and dumped my woman onto my bed. The springs groaned and squeaked loudly. I allowed myself a small crack to watch what I never in a million years hoped I’d have to watch. Patti’s tits bobbled around atop her chest, partially hiding her face from my point view.


“This place is a dump. I have to apologize,” she said with a smile.


“Let’s have some fun.” Tony said.


She slipped out of her shorts and panties and fluffed our pillows up against the headboard. I watched from behind as Tony peeled off his muscle shirt and his spandex bike shorts. I saw my wife’s eyes go aflame with awe and desire when those shorts came off. I myself was stunned when I looked between his legs to see that heavy dong of his hang down almost to his knees, like dead weight. It was fully as long and as thick as that dildo. His balls looked just like in the video, huge, like tennis balls. He climbed onto the bed and the springs groaned even more. The guy must have weighed over 260 pounds... all muscle. He spread my girlfriend’s legs and positioned his cock at the opening of her love tunnel. Patti licked her lips and winced as she admitted his thick prong into her pussy. Clearly it hurt a little, but she toughed it out and soon he had the entire thing buried to the hilt and was pumping her slowly.


“GOD you feel fantaaaaaaastic... oh god, Tony... you’re so big.”


With his strong arms he could put his hand behind her back and hold her up off the bed. Soon he was on his knees, holding Patti aloft and pumping her body up and down on his obscenely huge shaft. And she was loving every inch of it, whipping her ass up and down, carefully easing the entire length in and out of her repeatedly.


“God yes, Tony. You feel so great...”


There was a sudden knock at the front door.


“Helloo-ooo???!? Anybody home??”


It was Summer.


I think we all tensed up at the sound of Summer’s voice. Patti climbed off of Tony’s spear. She jumped to her feet and grabbed her bathrobe from the back of the bedroom door and headed for the living room.


“Stay here,” she told Tony.


She went out into the other room and greeted Summer.


Tony lay back on the bed, completely relaxed, stroking that giant trunk of meat growing out of his crotch. The thing reached up to his chest. Despite myself I sat there, crouched in that hot stuffy closet on a pile of Patti’s shoes, and watched him with admiration as he lavished attention on himself. Then I remembered what I was wearing. I still had Patti’s old bra on. I prayed I wouldn’t be discovered. I heard Summer crack up laughing in the other room. Then I heard Patti laugh too. The bedroom door burst open and Summer walked in and dramatically scolded Tony.


“If you were my boyfriend... buddy... this would never stand,” she said.


“I thought I WAS your boyfriend.” Tony said with a confident smile.


“Oh that’s right. I guess you are. For now.”


They all laughed. Patti picked up her bodice and pulled it on. Summer sat down on the bed and took Tony’s dick in hand and stroked it. “It’s a good thing I got here when I did, huh??”


She started pumping, intent on finishing a job she’d obviously done before.


“What am I going to do with you?”


Tony reached a hand out toward Patti. She stepped closer to the bed. He slipped his fingers inside her panties and plunged them inside her twat.


Something shifted under me and I felt myself fall backwards against the wall. I was mortified.


“Did you hear that?” Summer said.


The closet door opened up and there stood Patti. Tony and Patti both laughed, realizing I’d been there all along. Summer stood up and came over to the closet. They all saw what I was wearing. I felt humiliated completely. Patti was probably embarrassed too, because she laughed nervously and a little too hard. Summer shoved her to one side and admonished her for laughing at me. Patti removed herself to the outer room and made a loop around our little apartment, cracking up laughing.


“Come out of there honey.” Summer said, offering me her hand.


Tony turned onto his side and lay there, smiling. “Yeah, honey. Let’s get a look at you.”


Patti came back into the bedroom as Summer was helping me to my feet. They all tried to choke back their laughter.


“You naughty boy... what am I going to do with YOU??”


Tony sat up and invited Patti to come sit on his lap. Summer took me in her skinny arms and gave me a look of sympathy and friendship. My humiliation was complete, yet my cock was straining inside my pants. Summer unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off.


“Look at you. Playing dress up on your lunch hour, you naughty naughty boy.”


She plucked the two tee shirts from the cups of my brassiere, emptying the huge cups. She reached behind me and undid the row of hooks with ease and slipped the silk bra off and tossed it to the floor. I was frozen on the spot. Her hand brushed against the front of my pants. I looked at Patti and Tony. Patti had one foot up on the bed, the other on the floor. She was angling Tony’s tall jock toward her snatch, lowering herself onto it without regard for me. Summer leaned forward and kissed my nipples, sucking them hard. It felt great.


“How does that feel?” she asked.


“It... feels good.” I said tentatively.


She squeezed my crotch lovingly as she again put her full lips to my nipples. She sucked on them and nibbled them and it felt fantastic.


“I’ll bet no one’s ever sucked your nipples have they?” she asked.




She pinched them hard but it didn’t hurt. I looked down as she bit them and tugged and sucked on them until they were red and swollen. She unbuckled my pants and freed my cock. When she released her grip on my tender nipples I reached up to touch them. I was surprised how tender they felt, like a girl’s nipples.


“Feels nice, doesn’t it.” She asked knowingly.


I watched her remove the tight tank top she was wearing. Her gigantic tits were contained in one of her custom made brassieres this day. The thing was an engineering marvel, with wide foam filled shoulder straps, deep sides, huge lace cups and thick sturdy underwire. Far more involved than anything Patti owned. She turned around and offered herself up for my assistance in removing it. I unhooked the six rows of hooks and the two wide elastic bands slipped from my grasp. In the background Tony and Patti fucked without regard for Summer or me. Summer turned around, the crumpled empty cups of her big bra were sitting atop her globes. She slouched her narrow shoulders and let the thing fall off, then she stepped closer to me, pulling my head down to her teensy little nipple. I put both hands up to the sides of that big saline-filled orb and sucked lightly at her nip. Her boob felt like a giant water balloon. I could feel the water inside, rippling beneath my touch. She stroked my cock with her hand and backed me up against the wall, driving her big tit up into my face. I could hear Patti’s low moans growing louder and louder. She was laying on her back now, her feet on the floor, with Tony’s huge body laying on top of her, pounding her into the crummy mattress. The springs were creaking. The bed slats were thumping.


“Don’t worry about them.” Summer said.


She led me by the cock to the living room. I think she felt sorry for me. She closed the bedroom door behind us and I heard my wife’s moans and groans grow quieter. Summer pointed me toward the couch and pushed me onto it. I sat back and stared with wonder at her naked tits. I realized I like Patti’s much better than hers. Nothing beats the real thing, and though Summer was still quite a bit larger than Patti, Patti was more than a handful by now, more than enough.


“Patti tells me you like her new big boobs.” She said.


“What do you think of MY boobs?” She looked down at herself and inspected the two twin orbs that were surely never out of her view. She admired their flawless shape and traced a finger around them with pride, like they were brand new.


“How long have you had ‘em?” I asked.


“These??” she hefted one with two hands.


“I’ve had these babies for almost a year now. But I had smaller ones before. This is the third pair of implants I’ve had.”


I took them in my hands and squeezed them. I wondered if she could even feel it. She smiled, like she was happy with her investment, and with me touching her, but it didn’t seem as though she had any sensation in them.


“Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!” I heard Patti cry out repeatedly from the other room. The head board banged against the wall behind me. Summer tried to distract me from the heartbreaking sounds coming through the wall.


“I was only a D to start out with. I’ve made a small fortune off these things. Every time I go bigger, so does my draw. I pulled in four thousand bucks last night alone.” She said proudly.


I couldn’t believe it. Or maybe I could. I felt pathetic, slaving my butt off only to take home twenty thou in an entire year. My erection lost its stiffness.


“What do you do with all your money?” I asked her as she lifted her leg and stuffed my rubbery dick into her pussy.


“I enjoy myself. I send a lot of money home to my family, and I treat my friends.”


I looked around at our disgusting hovel and felt ashamed. The rough polyester upholstery of the couch felt scratchy against my skin. The mildew stains on the walls... the cruddy carpet. Summer didn’t seem to mind. Or did she? I wondered what her apartment must look like as we pumped our hips mechanically. I felt my blood surge, my cock stiffen. I should have been spraying my load inside her by now but I guess I had too much else on my mind. The distractions coming from the other room, the strangeness of Summer’s huge round balloons resting in my lap, her conversational ease during sex. It was like she felt nothing. I wondered what it would take to get her off.


“I gave Patti some money, to help her get set up.” She said.


“What? What do you mean?” I asked.


“After you guys moved out here. She said she was broke and needed a job. I gave her three thousand dollars. I’ve given her some more since then. It’s no big deal.”


I stared off at the wall behind her, thinking, banging.


“Didn’t she tell you?”


I knew now where all the money for clothes had been coming from. Then I realized, Patti’s so-called savings, and her credit cards that she’d used to help support us, to loan me money when I needed it... it had all come from Summer... from her stripping gigs. Maybe the handouts had been well-intended. But it hurt my pride. I felt like a loser. I’d been played for a fool. I pumped my hips, almost with contempt, trying to work my cock deeper into this professional cunt that was sitting on me. I bucked my hips and grunted.


“Oh. That’s more like it.” she said with a smile. She gyrated her hips too.


“How does that feel, honey?”


I didn’t say anything. Call me ungrateful but I resented being called honey. Not by her. My eight inches wiggled and rattled around inside her roomy snatch. I wanted her to feel something. Pleasure. Pain. Either one. I wanted her to feel me. She probably couldn’t feel anything after being stretched out by Tony, the horse who was in my bed right now, doing the same to my girlfriend.


That ball-buster Summer looked at me with calm on her face, like she was letting me fuck her, doing me a favor. I raised up and tried to move her aside.


“Let’s do it on the floor.” I said.


“The floor??” she looked around at the stained carpet, hesitation in her eyes.


She reluctantly agreed. She wanted me on my back but I pushed the diminutive 5’ 1” Summer Cox down onto the floor and spread her legs. She lay back on the carpet and gathered her permed hair together and arranged it behind her head. Her big balloons wobbled atop her chest, maintaining their perfect globe dimensions. I slipped my dick into her cunt and banged away. If anything she felt even looser in this position. I used one hand to manipulate her clit. I really wanted to get this bitch off.


“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She said, removing my hand.


I again fiddled with her lips and rubbed her clit, trying to get a rise out of her.


“You have a nice cock, you know.”


“Thanks.” I said. It was like she was complimenting me on my haircut or something.


I felt myself nearing my own climax, and Summer didn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. I felt her move her hips in time with mine, mechanically helping me get off. I pulled out, hoping to prolong my orgasm. I knelt down and put my face between her legs and started licking her pussy. Summer pushed me away.


“Don’t you want to fuck my tits?” She said, shoving her balloons together for me to slip my cock between.


I again dove down and mouthed her clit. I heard her let out an impatient sigh.


“What are you doing, Chuck?”


I kept licking and sucking her pussy for all I was worth. I felt her relax her legs and spread them a little wider.


“Mmmmm... that’s nice.” She said.


I redoubled my efforts. Summer subtly angled her hips up and down to my rhythms, but her breathing was even, unrestrained. I looked up at her. Her eyes watched me from behind those two expensive mounds of tit, watching with apparent satisfaction while she let me eat her out.


I heard Patti and Tony in the other room starting up again. Patti’s need for sexual gratification knew no bounds. By comparison Summer seemed to have no needs. After five or ten minutes I think she grew weary of my head job. So did I. She pushed me away. My jaw was sore as hell. My cock was limp. She sat up and took it in her hand and soon it stiffened to a full erection. Patti’s loud moans could be heard easily through the wall.


“You shouldn’t worry about Patti and Tony. I know he’s MY boyfriend, but, tsk, I wouldn’t want to deprive Patti of that fantastic tool of his.”


Patti gasped and cried out with pleasure from the other room. Summer grinned a ball-buster grin at me.


“She’s just working off all that... excess energy.”


Summer pushed me onto my back in the middle of the floor and gave me a quick hand job that lasted no longer than a half minute. She aimed my dick at my chest and milked it dry with one hand. I came more than I’d ever cum in my life, streams of jism issued forth, and Summer sprayed all of it onto my face, chest and stomach. I felt as spent and exhausted as she seemed refreshed and ready to get out of there. Summer got dressed and went to the refrigerator and enjoyed a cold beer while I looked for something to wipe myself off with. In the other room, I could hear Tony huffing and puffing now. Apparently Patti was giving him a work out. Patti was practically grunting.




I thought they were going to come right through the wall. Summer didn’t seem surprised or concerned. Next thing I knew Tony was dragging his hulking frame and a handful of clothes into our bathroom. I heard his piss blast into the toilet bowl and he groaned with relief. I went into the bedroom and found Patti laying motionless on her stomach, her head buried under the pillows, her tits squashed underneath her. Her legs were splayed out in a wide V at the foot of the bed.


I walked over and took her hand in mine. She didn’t respond.


Removing the sweat-dampened pillows from her head, I uncovered Patti’s face. It was red and glistening with moisture. She was breathing through her mouth, still fighting for breath. I’d never seen her like this, so exhausted, so sated. Strands of that thick blonde hair were stuck to her face. Some of it was in her mouth. I pulled the hair back and tucked it behind her ear. She looked up at me and smiled weakly.


I heard Tony and Summer pull the front door closed then they were gone.


Patti took my hand in hers and squeezed it with what little strength she had left. I rolled her over. Her body was completely limp. Her nipples were engorged, red and puffy. Her bush was wet with the mingled fluids of hers and Tony’s love making. I cautiously put my hand down between her legs. She convulsed at my touch. Her pussy was raw, with white fluid trickling out of it in a steady stream. Between her legs the bed sheets were soaked with a wet stain that spread out two feet in all directions. Patti lifted one of her tired arms up over my shoulder and drew me close to her.


“I’m sorry honey. So sorry...”


She was sorry she’d done this to me I think, but what she was really saying at this point was that she was sorry that she couldn’t help herself, sorry that I happened to come home when I did, that I had to be subjected to her afternoon shenanigans.


“Do you still love me?” she said pleadingly.


I didn’t know what to say.


“I hope so.” She said.


A tear welled up in her eye and trickled down her cheek. I bent down and kissed it away.


“I hope you don’t hate me.” She said.


“I don’t hate you.”


She gathered her knees together and pulled them to her body in something like a fetal position. She hugged her boobs in her arms. The tears continued to flow, but I don’t think she was sad. She wasn’t sobbing. It was simply the hormones, the raging hormones reducing from a boil to a simmer and now, finally, cooling down to normal.


“I love you, Patti. I love you more than anything. I just don’t want to lose you.”


Even after this flagrant disgusting betrayal I realized I wanted to do what I could to hang onto her.


“I’ll always love you.”


Right there. With those four words I think I gave her license to do whatever she wanted. She could fuck a guy I hated in our own bed and I would still love her. But what really did she need me for? She had Summer’s money to play with. How long before she just moved in with Summer and left me to fend for myself?


“I’ll always love you.”


She smiled sweetly while I kissed her salty face. I wanted to ask her to marry me, but this hardly seemed like the time or the place. When would that time be? I felt like if she would just settle down some, maybe take a break from the birth control pills, get back a little bit to her old self, regain some self-control... maybe she could be happy married to me. I knew I could still be happy married to her, of course. But I didn’t know how much longer I could bear to share her.


Laying there quietly curled up, she seemed like an overgrown little girl. I don’t know where her mind was wandering off to, or if she was just exhausted. I wanted to talk. I didn’t expect an explanation or an apology. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hear what if anything she might have to say for herself. But not talking or not knowing how she felt was unbearable too.


I lay down beside her and caressed her shoulder and stroked my fingers through her tangled blonde hair. She brushed the back of her hand against my chest hair and snuggled up next to me. After a few moments of silent embrace she straightened her long legs out and stretched, curling her toes. She scratched her tit and looked me in the eyes, searching for something. Love. Trust. Or maybe just forgiveness.


“Are you okay?” She asked.


I told her I was and she excused herself.


“I have to go to the bathroom.”


Patti showered while I changed the bedding and restored our bedroom to its former marginally acceptable state of neatness. She toweled off and dressed herself in her bathrobe then went into the kitchen and raided the fridge. She came back into the bedroom with two beers, a half gallon of ice cream and two spoons.


“I’m starving to death.” She said.


She was depleted. Seemed like no matter what she ate or how much, she always maintained her figure, not gaining an ounce of fat on her stomach or in her face. I guess her breasts absorbed all those excess calories. And of course she was doing all she could to work them off in the sack.


We didn’t discuss Tony, or the money, or why I was hiding in the closet wearing her bra, or our relationship, or the dildo. We just snuggled in bed that evening and went to sleep early.


That night I heard Patti mumbling in her sleep. She must have been replaying the events of that day in her dreams, I thought. She was laying on her side, facing away from me. I cupped my hand around her boob while she dreamt, feeling for her puffy nipple. My touch caused a gasp of breath to escape her lips and she rolled over onto her back. She didn’t wake up, but continued talking in her sleep.


“Mmmmm, yeah baby..... oohhh...Mmmmm”


I wasn’t touching her. Her dream lover was.


Patti spread her legs in her sleep and unconsciously reached down and fingered herself.


“Patti? Are you awake?” I whispered in her ear. She didn’t answer.


“Feels so goooood.... Mmmmmm....”


I reached down and helped her, mingling my fingers with her own. Patti withdrew her hand and let me probe her. I was amazed, even in her sleep Patti needed to get off. She was getting off all day every day, as I was now aware. But the demands of her body spilled over into her sleeping hours. She unconsciously undulated in her sleep as I manipulated her clit. I don’t know how she didn’t wake up. I rubbed and smeared my finger around her opening and her clitoris, wondering if I could bring her off in her sleep. It seemed like I might. Suddenly her groin spasmed, her thighs jiggled involuntarily and she sighed heavily.


“OOHHHhhhhh.... Ahhhhhhhh....”


She tossed her head back and forth as her dream lover brought her to orgasm. I slipped my four fingers inside her pussy. It felt loose, wet. I found it all too easy to fit my entire hand inside her. I couldn’t believe it. I feared she was stretched out beyond hope.


“Oh!” She woke up finally to the sensation of me fisting her.


She raised a hand to my face, caressing my cheek.


“My lover. My special lover...” she said.


She swung her leg over me and crouched down under the sheets, like in the old days. I felt her scootch down, maneuvering my stiff dick into her cunt as she smothered me with her tits. My dick inside felt like it had with Summer, too small. I drove my hips upward, attempting to reach the bottom of her expanded pussy. She eagerly grinded against me, her legs pulled close together, flexing, trying to muster a tightness that was no longer there.


“I love you Chuck” she said.


“I love you too.”


We both wanted her to feel my cock. Patti wanted to get off. I wanted to be the one to GET her off. She sat up on top of me and let me fuck away. Resting her weight on one hand placed by my head, she lowered one tit to my mouth and let me suck her nipple. She gasped with pleasure from that, almost more than she seemed to get pleasure from her pussy. Alternating between her left tit and her right, Patti pleasured herself that way. I drove my cock inside her with all my strength but the weakened vaginal walls were unable to constrict around my thickness. It was exasperating for both of us. I shot my wad inside of her and kept fucking until my dick went soft. Patti climbed off and tried to coax some more life into my dick but I was spent. I reached down and slipped my fingers inside her. She seemed impatient, desperate to get off. She reached down and fiddled with her clitoris, trying to help it along. Her brow furled and her body heated up with tension. Suddenly she climbed off the bed and went over to the dresser and whipped out her plastic friend. She sat on the foot of the bed with her back to me and worked the 12” toy into her cunt, stirring it around at mad angles. I saw the tension melt away from her back muscles as she reclined onto the bed. I scooted up next to her and, much as I hated to do it, I took the dildo from her hands and fucked her with it. She looked back at me helplessly, her eyebrows arched sadly. I think she realized she had taken things too far, with the dildo, with Tony. And she realized she was a slave now to her body. But did she regret it? I don’t think so. She rolled her head to one side and closed her eyes, clutching her tits and massaging them roughly while her boyfriend probed her stretched out pussy with a giant penis substitute... and as her crashing orgasm approached I could tell by the look on her face she was loving it.




° ° ° ° °




The next morning I was standing in our tiny bathroom getting ready for work. Looking at myself in the mirror, I was gladdened at least to realize that the trips to the gym had been having some effect. I wasn’t the dough boy I was when we arrived in California. My upper body had most of its tone back. I was still nothing even close to the overdeveloped Tony, who spent six hours a day with the free weights and probably took steroids and protein powders and the rest of it. But I looked respectable at least, which was enough for me.


I heard Patti’s heavy footsteps as she padded toward the bathroom. I saw her behind me in the mirror, holding her crotch. She was still sore from the day before. She reached over me into the medicine cabinet and grabbed her birth control pills from the top shelf. I grabbed her wrist and stopped her.


“Patti. Don’t you think we should talk?”


She was still groggy from sleep.




I sat her down on the toilet and took the pills from her hand.


“Don’t you think you’ve taken this far enough?”


She scrunched up her face and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.


“You’re a 44 H now. A 44 H! Think about how big that is. Don’t those things hurt your back just a little bit??”


She straightened up and arched her back with no effort, her gravity-defying tits sticking straight out, taking up their space in the tiny bathroom. She thought about what I was saying and didn’t appear to like the sound of it.


“You’re knocking things over with your tits. You’re pushing six feet tall. And your hormones seem... out of control.”


I didn’t want to come right out and say she was too horny, or oversexed. Or too tall, for that matter. But I was hoping she’d get my meaning.


“I’m knocking things over because this apartment is tiny. Give me my pills.” She said.


“Patti. You’re out of control, I think. The pills have affected your body...”


“Well, obviously” she said, turning her palms up at her sides to indicate her magnificent tits.


“No, I mean.... they’ve taken you over... your whole body AND your mind.”


“I’m too tall for you. You wish I was still short... shorter than you.”


“No, that’s not it. That’s not what I’m talking about.”


“What are you talking about? You think my tits are too big? Is that it?”


“No. I’m not saying that. I think they’re perfect.”


“Well then?”


“I’m not talking about your tits, Patti. I’m talking about you. You’ve changed.”


She reached for the pills in my hand but I held them out of reach. After yesterday the least she could do was sit there and hear me out on this. I think she must have thought the same thing. Otherwise she would have been up and out of there.


“What do you mean I’ve changed? You don’t like me anymore?”


“NO. No.. of course not. I love you. I’m just worried about you.”


“I don’t understand. What you’re so ‘worried’ about.”


She made little air quotes, to underscore her impatience and sarcasm.


We sat there in silence for a moment. I was going to be damned careful what I said next. I was appalled to see her reach down and finger her twat, almost involuntarily. Like she was just occupying herself while I made up my mind what I wanted to say.




“I’m listening.” She said.


“Patti... this is what I’m talking about. You can’t stop masturbating long enough to just talk to me.”


She removed her fingers from her pussy and wiped them on her thigh. She folded her strong arms over her naked tits and stared at me confrontationally.


“I don’t get you Chuck. Don’t you like girls anymore? What is this all about?”


“Don’t be silly.”


“Oh, now I’m being silly am I?”


“I’m just worried about you. That’s all.”


I placed the pills on the edge of the sink and buttoned up my shirt.


Patti looked at the pack of pills but didn’t reach for them.


“I love you. I just want what’s best for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I want you to be happy. I want what you want.”


She reached over and took the pills, popped one out and placed it on her tongue. She looked me square in the eye as she swallowed it down. She stood and fluffed up her messy blonde hair.


“Excuse me. I’m going back to bed.”


She tried to push past me, squeezing her tits between me and the towel rack that blocked her way. I put my hand on her far shoulder, turned her toward me.


“Patti, will you marry me?”


Her expression changed from tired and pissed off to one of genuine surprise.


“Will you be my wife?”


She looked down at her feet, which she could no longer see. I don’t know if she thought it over in that instant or if she already knew what she would say if I ever did ask. Maybe that old small town girl inside her reasserted itself, or, maybe she was just stringing me along... but she looked back up me sheepishly and flashed those white teeth at me.






° ° ° ° °




I went to work walking on air that day.


First I asked if she wanted to elope. Just go down to the courthouse and tie the knot. She said she wanted an engagement ring, a wedding. Bridesmaids. The whole deal. She talked me into waiting until the following June and the first anniversary of our move to LA


Did my new fiancé and I have any ‘ground rules’ after this?


Yes and no.


We discussed the pills and it was decided Patti would keep taking them, but that she’d be open to discussion about it if at some point either one of us needed to voice any concern. She agreed that she was getting pretty damned big at this point, but she got me to agree it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing if she was to get a little bit bigger still.


I came home on my lunch hours daily and fucked her, hoping that morning noon and night would be enough to satisfy my demanding future wife. She lead me to believe that it would. I bought her a little diamond engagement ring and for a while after that, Patti Cayhill treated me like a king.


As for the rest of her downtime, that was still her own. I didn’t know what she did during those mornings and afternoons while I was busy at Fine Line duping videos. I knew she spent a lot of time at the beach, hanging out with Summer and who knows what else. After watching her get it on with Tony that day, my curiosity about her private time was satisfied I guess you could say. I considered that situation a sleeping dog. I noticed her pussy slowly regained some of its elasticity and seemed to shrink down to something like normal. I took this to mean that she’d weaned herself from the dildo. And from Tony too, I hoped.


Patti’s healthy body went through a couple more growth spurts. She was eating and drinking a lot, and the extra calories weren’t going to waste. Her body (constantly depleted and replenished, depleted and replenished) seemed to thrive and blossom, just as before, in all the right places. By Thanksgiving she was filling her first custom made I cup bra to capacity. It was clear she would need to be refitted again before the Christmas. She was now taller than me in her bare feet. A good five inches taller when she was wearing her heels. I asked her at that point if she had any reservations about getting bigger. She said no and kept right on taking the birth control. Clearly she’d have to give it up sometime soon, I thought. Unsupported, her boobs hung down to her waist. Her nipples were almost 18” apart, wider than her body. When she’d lie down on her back her tits spanned out, spreading over her upper arms, covering them completely. When I fucked her missionary style I could barely see her face behind those two luscious quivering mounds of joy. She didn’t mind or even take notice of her incremental growth at this point. I think she forgot what it was like to have a normally proportioned figure. THIS was normal to her now.


By early December Patti’s ‘second puberty’ was in full gear. She now stood 6’2” tall, and had graduated to a 50 inch bust. She carried herself with a new composure when she walked around in public, in an effort to restrict the movement of her huge rack. Like I said, she was used to being a really big girl now. “LA is full of us” she’d always remind me. But I looked around and saw damned few gals in Patti’s league. She could afford to exercise a little modesty at this point. She was comfortable inside her own skin, I’ll say that much for her.


The excitement over our engagement seemed to wane pretty quickly. Patti lived in her own world, I realized, a bubble that she carried around wherever she went. Everything revolved around her, her body, her increasingly more intense and easily achieved orgasms. She wasn’t so obsessive about taking measurements any more. She wasn’t obsessed with size per se, but she did like knowing, in the back of her mind, that she was getting bigger. That they were getting fuller, rounder all the time. Like I said, the growth was steady, but at her size it had become rather imperceptible. In her mind and in my mind she was just ‘big’. J cup. K cup. What difference did it make? Fussing over inches and cup sizes seemed trivial. To her, the pill was simply an effective way of fighting gravity. As she saw it, as long as her breasts stayed nice and full, they wouldn’t have time to sag. It was faulty reasoning, but Patti didn’t think about anything too hard or too long at this point. I missed the old whipsmart personality she had when I met her. In those days she used her brain, relied on it, kept it in fine tune. This new Patti was blander, uncharismatic, mentally lazy. I didn’t know if it was the lifestyle, the hormones, or if maybe the volume and intensity of her orgasms were slowly killing off her brain cells. She seemed to grow dumber all the time though. Personality and smarts were of little use to her, so long as I was pleasuring her and feeding her and complimenting her on her appearance. She became a bit of an overgrown diva in this regard, content only when all attention was focused on her. She needn’t have worried. Attention was always focused on my queen. Whether it was just the two of us alone, a group of us out on the beach, on the street, in a restaurant. Everywhere she went, heads turned, eyes were riveted, compliments and come-ons were showered on her wherever she went and she loved it.


She became used to it.


She expected it.


My jealousies and insecurities were still there in full force. I couldn’t shake them. I don’t think any red-blooded man could have. But as long as that engagement ring was on her finger, I managed to sleep at night.




° ° ° ° °




One day just a few days before Christmas I came home after work to find Patti and Summer sitting on the couch finishing off a bottle of wine. When I stepped in the door Patti jumped up to greet me. She was dressed in just her brassiere and blue jeans that were so tight across her ass, the seams were beginning to rip. She lurched across the room and wrapped her arms around me, crushing her torpedos into my stomach.


“Hi honey. Look what Summer gave me.”


She held out her finger and showed me a diamond bigger than any I’d ever seen before. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit, but it was on her ring finger, next to her engagement ring. And it was at least four times the size. My little ring looked like nothing sitting next to that rock.


“Isn’t it beautiful??”


I complimented Patti on the ring, which must have cost thousands.


This was typical of Summer, flaunting herself, her ill-gotten money, undermining my hold on Patti. I had allowed her to buy Patti a new wide screen TV, a leather sofa and glass coffee table, untold shopping bags full of clothes. It was a blow to my ego, but it wasn’t my place to tell Patti what gifts she could and couldn’t accept from her little friend. For me to question what passed between her and Summer was simply out of bounds. Even if she and Patti were sleeping together, better that Patti should spend her time with another woman, I figured, than with another guy.


“And look what else. This is even better...”


She produced an envelope from her hip pocket, in it was a ticket for an around-the-world cruise. Three weeks at sea, with Summer as her traveling companion.


“You don’t mind, do you Chuck?” Summer asked me, as though I had a say in the matter.


Apparently I was not invited. I tried to pretend I was happy for them both. In truth, I was seething with jealously, but helpless to do or say anything about it. They would set sail in a few weeks, she informed me.


“It’s only three weeks. And I’ll be home in time for Valentine’s Day.” Patti chirped, mashing herself against me.


It would be the first time we’d really been apart from each other.


“Sounds like fun you two.”


Patti bounced over onto the couch and hugged Summer and kissed her cheeks. Their matching pairs of volleyball size tits filled the space between them.




° ° ° ° °




Patti and I went out on a special date the night before she left on the cruise with Summer. I took her out to our favorite Italian restaurant. Before we went out, Patti laid out her clothes for the trip. She’d bought a slew of new bikinis and had a couple more brassieres custom made just for the trip. I helped her pack her suitcase. Sandals, a few wrap around skirts, a few tee-shirts, a sun hat. But mostly what she packed was swim wear. I counted almost two dozen bikinis and thongs.


While I finished packing, Patti dressed for dinner.


I took in the spectacle of her fitting her newest bra, adjusting the straps, tugging it around her big bazooms until it fit just right. Ensconced in the huge black silk cone-shaped cups, supported by those thick underwires, her tits stood out nearly a foot in front of her. Next she pulled on a pair of black stockings complete with garters and a sheer black slip, covered by a bubblegum pink skirt. She looked like some bombshell from the golden age.


“God I’m going to miss you.” I told her.


“Is that what you’re wearing to dinner??” she asked with a smile.


I was wearing a faded floral print Hawaiian shirt and my acid-wash jeans. She indicated a bag in the closet which contained a new shirt for me to wear.


“A going away present...”


I knew it was bought with Summer’s money, but it was the thought that counted. I put the shirt on. It was a short-sleeved black rayon button-up shirt with long pointy collars. In the bottom of the bag was a gold chain with a tiny pendant disc hanging from it. On it was engraved the words, “PROPERTY OF PATTI CAYHILL”.


Was this Patti’s idea? Or was it Summer’s idea of a joke? Either way, I didn’t need reminding of this nice little fact of life. I slipped on the shirt and let Patti fasten the clasp of the gold chain around my neck.


“Now the whole world will know you’re mine.” She said sweetly.


She finished dressing and putting on her makeup without distraction. Patti showed uncommon restraint that evening as we left the house and made it to the restaurant and enjoyed our dinner and returned home again without needing to get off in the car, or under the dinner table. We took a moonlit stroll down along the beach that night. Patti was unusually quiet and reserved. As the evening wore on she confessed, finally, that she was going to miss me too.




° ° ° ° °




The first couple of days apart from Patti were like hell. But I soon realized that maybe I was due for a little break. It was actually nice to come home and kick back on that leather sofa and just watch TV for a switch.


I rented a block of movies and just hibernated for three weeks.


Action movies, comedies. Anything BUT porn. My life had become a porno video since moving to LA. This was the very thing I wanted a break from. I didn’t even beat off for the first week of bachelorhood.




° ° ° ° °




I had a nice surprise about a week after Patti hit the high seas with Summer.


Fine Line bumped me up from assistant duplication technician all the way to assistant engineer, which meant a move to the editing room. Finally I’d be doing something a little bit interesting. A nice pay raise came along with it. I’d now be pulling in $31,000 a year. Still not a ton of money, but a far cry better than what I’d been squeaking by on until then. I bought myself a bottle of champagne and invited a couple of my co-workers back to the house for a mini-celebration.


Kevin from the editing room, and Tim, one of the duplication technicians I was friendly with, came over and we ordered pizza. We hung out on my front stoop and watched the people go by until it got dark, then we went inside and worked on the two cases of beer Kevin and Tim brought with them.


Neither of those guys had ever met Patti. After six months in LA I still didn’t really have any friends of my own. Not outside of work anyhow. My entire personal life revolved around Patti and what she wanted. We never seemed to get around to me and what I wanted. Besides, what I wanted was Patti, so it all worked out conveniently for her me both. I never thought I missed having my own guy friends to hang out with. Kevin and Tim sort of reminded me a lot of my old college roommates Kyle and Jimmy.


That night I enjoyed revisiting what it was like to have a life of my own.


As the evening wore on and we could see the end of the second case of beer, Kevin pulled out some videos from his back pack. Pornos.


“Hey, waddya got there, Kevin??” Tim asked.


Kevin handed him three video cassettes.


“‘Deadly Weapons’..... ‘Knockout Knockers Vol. 20’.... and, ‘Endless Summer’“


The last tape he turned over and read the copy on the back.


“Endless Summer chronicles the career of one of big bust’s rising new stars, Summer Cox. Complete with early footage, and charting her progress up through the ranks to her current status as one of the strip’s highest paid dancers....”


“I know her.” I said matter of factly.


“Like hell you do. Oh shit... look at her!!!!!”


“Tim, give me that tape. Let’s watch that one first.” Kevin grabbed the tape from Tim and slipped it into the VCR.


I slumped back onto the couch, half dreading, half looking forward to seeing some of Summer’s handiwork.


The early footage must have been from the mid-80s. Summer’s tits were all-natural. She looked like shit. Her hair was huge and fried, her moves were awkward, even those natural tits were saggy and unshapely. As the tape rolled on though I saw before my eyes and those droopers of hers got bigger and bigger.


Kevin and Tim were hooting up a storm. But they got quiet towards the end. Finally I got a look at the Summer I was familiar with. She was in a club, strutting around in pumps and fishnet stockings. Her tits were held aloft by a red patent leather bustier. From the side her body looked like a capital letter ‘P’. She lunged and squatted and stripped for the men in the club, who all stuffed her g-string with crisp bills.


As I watched Kevin and Tim drool over the images on the TV screen, I was reminded how lucky I was, and how much I DIDN’T miss the single life.


I got up and went into the bedroom to fetch a picture from our dresser, a framed photo of Patti and Summer . I realized I didn’t have any photos of me with Summer. But I had pictures of me with Patti. I’d let them put two and two together.


I showed Tim the photo of Summer and Patti.


“Yeah? So what’s this prove??” he asked as he inspected the photo.


“Holy shit, who’s the other chick?? Look at the fun bags on her!!” Kevin said.


“That’s my fiancé.” I said proudly.


“BULLSHIT.” They both said.


I showed them photos of me and Patti, her arms around me.


“Aww dude... you been holding out...” Tim said, inspecting the photo.


I had to explain that, no, my fiancé was NOT a stripper. They didn’t want to believe me but I finally persuaded them. I think they looked at me with newfound respect and admiration after that. Kevin felt bad about the ‘fun bags’ comment, but they both were pretty hush, studying the pictures, looking at me, wondering how in the hell HE got so lucky.


About five minutes into ‘Deadly Weapons’ I realized I wasn’t in the mood to hang with Kevin and Tim any more. I was missing Patti fiercely. By the end of the movie Kevin and Tim had lost their buzz too and decided to call it a night.


As soon as they left I went into the bedroom and turned down the sheets. I missed Patti so much. And she wouldn’t be back for another two weeks. I pulled out one of her huge 50” J brassieres and smelled it, letting her special scent fill my nostrils. It made my dick twitch. I peeled off my tee-shirt and wrapped the huge thing around me. I fastened the hooks and slipped the straps over my shoulders and proceeded to stroke myself. I took my shirt and wadded it up and stuffed it in one of the gaping cups. It didn’t fill it even half way. Then I got an idea.


I went to the kitchen and found a bag of party balloons, left over form Patti’s birthday. I took them to the bathroom and filled one with water. I tied it off and dumped it into the bra cup. It wasn’t big enough to fill it. I filled a second balloon, testing how full I could fill it before it would burst. I was surprised how full it got without bursting. I released some of the water from it until I thought it looked about as big as one of Patti’s tits. It was difficult to tie it off, and difficult to lift it. I placed it carefully in the bathtub while I filled another balloon to equal volume. Stooping over the tub, I hefted one heavy balloon and dropped it into the empty cup of the bra I was wearing. Immediately I felt it pull me forward. I picked up the other balloon and dropped it in the other cup. The weight pulling at my shoulders doubled but the bra held the two heavy water balloons, as it was designed to.


I stood up and felt the strain on my back instantly. I was amazed that Patti never complained of this. The straps dug into my shoulders. I walked back into the bedroom, two heavy water balloons bouncing on my chest. I knew what it must feel like, I thought, to be her, to have to lug ‘those things’ around every day. I took out one of her tee-shirts and pulled it on over the straining bra. I looked at myself in the bedroom mirror and bounced on my heels. The two massive tits inside my shirt jostled up and down, the water inside them sloshed audibly. My hard-on was straining into the air and looked every bit of nine inches. I climbed onto the bed and heard the springs creek as my full weight came to rest on it. I figure those water balloons must have weighed twenty pounds each. Laying on my back, those two tits loomed in front of me like two watery mountains. I could barely see the rest of the room. I jerked myself off, noticing how the weight from those things compressed my lungs and made breathing more difficult. Soon I shot my load, and felt instantly tired. I rolled over onto my side, hugging those two fake tits, letting their warmth and fullness lull me to sleep.


In the middle of the night I woke up. I was short of breath. Patti’s tee-shirt was twisted and those two heavy surrogate tits had me pinned to the bed. Her bra felt tight, like it was strangling me. My heart went out to Patti, and to Summer too. I wondered how they lived with all that excess weight, laying on top of them, pulling them around. For Summer, it was all dead weight. In Patti’s case though I knew the payoff was that all that surplus body mass was more than mere saline. Her fleshy appendages were (literally) oversized sex glands, full of nerves and sensation. I could only imagine what her tits must feel like to her, what an intense source of pleasurethey must be. I imagined how I might feel if my cock grew and came to constitute a quarter of MY entire body weight. How might my priorities or my life focus change? Would the tail start to wag the dog?


I rolled over and pulled up the tee-shirt and tried to remove the balloons without getting out of bed. It proved difficult. The brassiere clung to them like they were real. But I eventually extracted them and sat them down on the floor alongside the bed. I left the bra on and drifted back to sleep.


I repeated this little game a few more times over the next few weeks, trying out Patti’s various sized bras with appropriately-sized water balloons. I found the smallest one, her old 38” DD to be comfortable yet still sufficiently large to be a huge turn on. One Saturday I put it on first thing in the morning and wore it all day underneath one of my muscle shirts. I was surprised to discover how large, from the vantage point of the wearer, that a double D really was. Even a little old pair of double DDs prevented one from seeing one’s feet, still caused back pain, still bumped into everything in the house and threw off your center of balance.




° ° ° ° °




February 14th finally rolled around. I waited at the house for Summer to bring my girl home. I hung out in the doorway for hours, waiting for Summer’s red Porsche to come up the street. Eventually it did.


When my Patti climbed out of the passenger seat I was stunned.


She looked fat. But it wasn’t fat. It was her tits. Patti had undergone yet another growth spurt while she was at sea. She wore a loose baseball jacket which was sticking out in front, making her look like she had a huge stomach. When the jacket parted opened I realized it was her tits. They were bigger than ever.


She moved slowly toward me, with a controlled expression on her face. Her tits were now so big that they seemed to impede her mobility.


“I missed you.” She smiled wearily, hoisted her arms around my neck and kissed me. I couldn’t believe how much tit stood between us. I reached out to hug my fiancé and found I could barely get my arms around her. Even in her semi-stooped position she was taller than I was. Much taller.


Summer unloaded the trunk and brought Patti’s bags over to the curb. By comparison, Summer looked dainty, nicely proportioned. I couldn’t believe it. Patti was now a lot bigger than her friend. The two exchanged kisses and Summer said her hellos and goodbyes to me then she swung her little self behind the wheel of her car and sped off.


I carried Patti’s bags up to the house, walking behind her. She moved like an injured person almost, with short, deliberate mincing steps. Her ass and hips were full and wide, with powerful thighs. Her shapely legs were longer. Her waistband now rode a few inches higher than mine. That big firm ass was in my face. The jeans she was wearing were not her own. They were bigger men’s jeans, and the seams were beginning to tear open in places.


Once inside the house, Patti went into the bathroom and unbuttoned the fly of those skin tight jeans. She breathed easier and turned on the faucet to draw a glass of water. She rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a half-crushed packet of birth control pills. She pushed three or four of them into her large hands. I watched as she pulled her shoulders back and swallowed the handful. Standing directly in front of me I could now only just see over Patti’s shoulder. She was many inches taller than me. I reached up underneath her arms and encircled her prodigious bust with my forearms. Patti had a look of boredom and resignation on her face with dark circles under her eyes. When I hugged her tits she inhaled deeply. She reached back and palmed my right ass cheek with one hand.


“Not now, Chuck. I need to rest.”


Staring into her own vacant eyes in the mirror, her other hand reached backward to firmly grab my other cheek. She sighed weakly, like she was hurting, helpless.


“What’s the matter?” I asked.


“Feels good...” she said.


“Patti, how many of those pills did you just take?”


“I think I’m addicted, Chuck.”


Her nipples stiffened inside her XXXL tee-shirt, tenting the material from inside the bikini she still had on underneath.


“What do you mean you’re addicted? To the pills?”


I could see her eyes fixated on her chest. She licked her lips.


“I can’t help it Chuck. It feels too good.”


“You can’t help it?”


She reached for the packet of pills and pushed out two more and popped them in her mouth and swallowed them dry.


“MMmmmmmmm......” she said with closed eyes.


“How many of those have you had today?” I asked.


“They work faster if you take more of them. Summer... showed me...”


Her voice sounded dry and husky, deeper than normal, as she gulped down the chalky pills. She reached up under her shirt, yanked aside the fabric of her bikini and took one of her thick nipples between her thumb and forefinger. I reached up and grabbed the other one. Patti’s knees buckled and she collapsed back into me. She was very heavy. The towel rack dug painfully into my spine.


“You think you’re addicted to the pills? That can’t be.” I said.


“It’s not the pills. It’s these tits..”


Her strong hand plowed into her flesh, squeezing it. Patti seemed possessed, overcome by the urge to pleasure herself. She appeared to have difficulty speaking.


“It’s.... It’s... It’s feels good..... good God...ohhhhhmmf...”


Her body, and the bathroom itself, shook with what appeared to be a little orgasm.


“How big are you now?”


“Big...” she answered with eyes closed.


Her hand made an abrupt motion toward the pills and knocked them to the floor. I put my arms under hers and dragged her off with difficulty to the bedroom. She massaged herself and moaned the whole way. When I laid her down the bed springs groaned under her weight.


She peeled off her jeans and spread her legs, stuffing both hands into her crotch and quickly bringing herself to another orgasm before I could even get out of my clothes. I helped her off with her shirt and untied her bikini. She sprawled out on the bed like a great cat, stretching her limbs, curling her toes. It was like she was drunk, or high. Even on her back her tits stood out atop her rib cage over nine inches. Her nipples reached for the ceiling. She moved her hands from her pussy to her teats and gave them a firm tug.


“Oh god... it’s the bestest feeling in the world....”


She opened her eyes and looked at me with a look of desperation.


“It feels good to be home, in our bed.”


I dipped my fingers into her huge pussy which was now larger than my entire hand. I sucked on her engorged clit like a tiny dick while a slid my hand in and out of her sopping wet hole. In another minute or so Patti was climaxing again. The bed sounded like it might give out underneath her heaving body. As tired and bored as she seemed with these sustained orgasms, she clearly needed them. Needed more. Her tits had grown so large, they’d assumed control of her body and her mind. They now demanded constant attention, constant stimulation that kept Patti in a twilight mental state, unable to think about anything but her own continued pleasure. We both brought her off over a dozen times before she finally seemed satisfied.


“We gotta get you away from those pills, honey”, I told her that night.


“Really??”, she asked weakly.


For the first time she seemed willing to agree that maybe it was enough.


It was more than enough.


“Summer says I’m gonna be rich.”


Those were the last soft words she said before drifted off to sleep.




° ° ° ° °




In the middle of the night those six pills must have gone to work.


I woke to the sound of Big Patti banging around loudly in the kitchen. I went out to see what was going on and found this 6’ 4” amazon leaning against the counter. She’d finished off just about every scrap of food we had. She was wide awake, alert, stark naked, and staring at me with flame in her eyes. Her giant tits hung low and heavy yet they stood out nearly a foot from her chest and were beautifully shaped.


“Come here, I want you to feel something. You won’t believe this.”


I crossed the room sleepily. She encircled my wrists with her big hands and pressed my palms to her tits.


“Feel that?”


“Feel what?”


Then I felt it. Patti’s massive body was hot. I could feel her pulse through her skin. From head to toe she was a furnace. Her body was in overdrive metabolizing the calories and the hormones.


“What you waiting for, lover? Now’s the time.”


“Time for what?”


She grabbed my head and guided me down to her turgid nipple. I sucked it into my mouth and felt it swell larger.


“Aahhhhhhhh yessssss... that’s the best... when they’re growing.... Incredible...” She hissed.


I gathered up her tit with my hands and forearms, hefting it, feeling its considerable weight.


“It’s better than sex, Chuck. Better than anything you can imagine.”


As I struggled with great effort to grasp it, the huge boob felt warm in my hands, pulsating with life. Patti leaned back against the counter for support and let me experience her expansion for myself, talking to me all the while. I was amazed as I felt the abundantly large and heavy tit begin to swell, growing slowly larger and heavier, overflowing my hands. Patti seemed fully conscious and alert during all of this, like she was on some special clearheaded high, like this heightened physical state allowed her a kind of access to her mental capacities that she would lose again later, after the drug had run its course. She talked my ear off, articulating what she meant by addicted. She was addicted to the pills, because they made this temporary mental clarity possible. And when that subsided, she would again be a slave to her physical desire, unable to think clearly, unable to maintain any self-control. She chattered away, reasoning to herself why she had let herself get so big, wondering aloud if she’d be able to kick the pills and regain some degree of normalcy for herself. The thrill of getting bigger was no longer of any particular interest to her, but she realized and knew that when the drug wore off, her judgement would get cloudy. What was left of her mind would focus itself on her orgasms and on her tits. And she might, in that state, take any number of those pills, in hopes of getting her mind back and again trying to figure a way out of this pickle.


She held me in her strong arms and asked me to keep them away from her.


I promised I would.




° ° ° ° °




By morning Patti was back to her self-gratification. I phoned in sick to work that day and stayed home, fucking and sucking on my fiancé the giantess, giving her what she so desperately needed. I could see a marked difference in her from just the day before. She must have stood 6’ 4”, head and shoulders taller than me. She could lay her palms flat against the ceiling in our bedroom. I couldn’t believe my eyes. And of course her breasts were bigger still. I knew how heavy they must have felt to her, what a huge burden they must have been. But she didn’t complain. In fact she seemed quite pleased with herself. Her shoulders were visibly broader, her musculature more developed. Her arms and legs were well-toned and bigger than my own. She was an awesome sight to behold. Like a Crumb girl come to life.


With her and myself alternating our efforts that day, Patti was able to get off without cease, working herself through one orgasm after another from sun up to sun down. Her endurance was super human, her desire insatiable. When I was too exhausted and too limp to fuck, Patti took liberty with my face, riding her huge wet pussy all over me. Her magnificent pelvis was almost two feet across, her pussy nearly large enough to engulf my face.


She begged me for a pill that evening.


I grabbed her pills and refused to give her one. She pretended to beg for one, play-acting like a little girl who wanted a treat. But Patti was no little girl now. We made a bit of game out of it, and I let her chase me around the apartment. We were only playing, but at some point Patti got overexcited. She had pinned me against the wall and realized I could not break free. The harder I tried to get loose, the more she laughed and just held me in place. She was stronger than me now. And heavier. And she knew it. I think it was a turn on for both of us. Eventually I did slip out from under her. She tackled me in the middle of the bedroom floor, laughing all the while. Our friendly game of keep away escalated into a full-blown wrestling match that ended with Patti flinging me over the bed and into the wall, jamming my shoulder painfully. I think we were both surprised by her sudden loss of control.


I gave Patti her pills and she promised to take only one.


That night I went to sleep using my Patti’s immense bosom for a pillow. I remember the low soothing bass tones of her voice, which was deeper than the day before. I remember her saying, “I’m bigger than Chesty Morgan”. She was right. She WAS bigger than Chesty Morgan. And she stronger than the average man. She was bigger, stronger, and more sex-crazed than the woman who left to embark on that damned cruise. And before we knew it she’d lapsing back into her self-obsessed diva groove. The girl was more than a handful. But, after a week of one-a-day pills, Patti stabilized and was back to something like her old self. She regained a modicum of self-control and was once again able to do things and think about things other than her next orgasm. The apartment was way too cramped for her comfort at this point, but she was able to go out, and with a little effort and the aid of a new custom-built brassiere, she learned to walk normally.




° ° ° ° °




At Fine Line Productions, Incorporated, things for me were more challenging than they’d been down in duplication. I was now assisting on the editing of video shorts, helping create titles and stuff for sports videos and institutional stuff. I had my hands in a little bit of everything. So that was good. I was glad about that.


I think it was Kevin’s bright idea, but when I came up for my next promotion, he recommended me to a full editor’s position. I’d be running a suite of my own up on the third floor. It’s the job I still hold to this day.


My first day at my post was a trial by fire. This new department was all porn. No sports videos. No infomercials. No corporate crap. All the subjects were sub-contracted edit jobs for different pornographers from all over the world. Everything from Playboy on down to the sleaziest garbage you care to imagine.


And what was my first assignment?


‘Endless Summer 2: The Second Cumming’


I was handed four hours of raw footage of Summer Cox, with that girl Heather, Tony and a few other girls I didn’t recognize, all romping around and fucking and sucking each other in every possible combination and position. My job was to edit it all down to ninety minutes, add the music, credits, the whole thing. Summer’s image was in my hands, to do with as I pleased. The effort I had to put forth, to make her look good, to make Tony look good... it went against my grain. But I realized I needed to make myself look good too. And after I was into it, I realized I was having a lot of fun.


A couple of weeks later, I’d edited five or six different porn titles. And was pretty proud of myself. One day I was called up to the owner’s office. Jack Peters, the President of Fine Line wanted to thank me personally for all my hard work. I felt like I’d really arrived. Before I left his office that day he handed me a special assignment. Said it was a super-important project. A lot of money was riding on this one. He was ‘counting on me’, he said as he slapped me on the back. He gave me a box of two dozen tapes, fifty hours of raw footage from something called The Boob Cruise.


“Twenty busty all-stars, out on the high seas with a hundred lucky guys.”


It featured Summer Cox and a slew of other tit queens, some of whose names I recognized, others I didn’t, and... you guessed it: “Patti Cakes.” My girl.


This was what Patti had meant when she said Summer told her she was going to be rich. I was mortified. I looked up at that big bastard and tried to hide my shock and disappointment. I didn’t have the nerve to tell him ‘Patti Cakes’ was my fiancé.




° ° ° ° °




Patti Cakes was an instant sensation in the adult entertainment industry, appearing on the club circuit, in magazine pictorials, videos. By the time it had sold out, Patti cleared a cool $20,000 from that first video. Her and Summer followed that up with a girl on girl release that earned each of them another $30,000. By June she’d banked her first million, bought herself a white Mercedes, and moved in with Summer in a huge house they shared in the Hollywood Hills.


Ironically, she weaned herself completely from the pills after she moved out. Her new manager and her producers succeeded in convincing her that as a 6’6” all-natural 80” MM, she was the world’s largest and hottest big tit star, ever, bar none. When she went off the pills, her libido settled down to something like normal. She was still a dynamo in the sack, still enjoyed those nipple orgasms, still seemed to have the stamina of four women, still seemed partial to longer and thicker cocks, the bigger the better.


But she no longer was a slave to her body.


And she was no longer sleeping with me.


Our wedding date came and went while Patti was on the road promoting “Insatiable: The Patti Cakes Story”, a best of video that I edited. She seemed to think we were still engaged, though she didn’t wear my ring anymore. Said she had “her image” to think about now. The truth was that the ring was simply too small to fit on her finger. It was symbolic of my inability to hang on to her. For a long time she reassured me and told me that we would get back together and get married “some day”, when her work schedule “settled down”. But she was just humoring me, humoring herself, reluctant to just give me my final walking papers. I was living in the beach house at this point, by myself, alone with nothing but her videos, discarded brassieres and my old VCR to keep me company. I was invited to visit her at her new house whenever she was in town, but increasingly those invites came only if I happened to be in the middle of one of hers or Summer’s projects, and even then only if I had some new footage to bring over and show them. Eventually she would call me or be nice to me only when she needed something, and the only thing she really needed from me at that point was for me to work hard and do a good job on her videos. “Make me look good”, she always said. If I was in the middle of one of her videos, she’d sometimes drop by Fine Line and watch over my shoulder while I worked. She loved looking at herself on screen. Loved giving me lots of input and suggestions about where and how to cut her “scenes”. She was brilliant actually. As time went on I think she knew better than me and better than her directors how to make her image work. Patti Cayhill was earning more money than she ever dreamed of. Her old size obsessions now fed and fueled her accumulation of wealth... and her accumulation of lovers. But she didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to settle down with one guy. Just the opposite in fact. It was Patti’s idea to do the ‘Patti Cake 500’, where she fucked five hundred guys on video. That one tape, the first that she put out through her own company, grossed a million in its first year. I had gotten completely lost in the shuffle by this point and had pretty much given up any hope that we’d ever get back together romantically.


I wasn’t completely crushed though until she told me that she had started dating Jack Peters, my boss and president of Fine Line. Jack was a successful man, with a house in Brentwood, three cars, a boat. Tall, dark and handsome. But he was pretty straight-laced and serious. All business. And the Patti I had known was a selfish, freewheeling pleasure-seeker. I don’t know what ever made me think she wasn’t his type, or that he wasn’t her type. Even now I guess I still have trouble picturing the two of them together. But by Fall she was pregnant and they were engaged to be married.


Last I heard they were living in the South of France.


About a year ago Patti sent me a short letter telling me she was pregnant with her third child. There was a photo of her and her husband standing shoulder to shoulder by their swimming pool surrounded by two beautiful daughters. Patti looked radiant as ever, her voluptuous figure softened a bit by motherhood, her long hair still blonde. She had her arm around her husband’s waist, her hand resting near a prominent bulge in his shorts.

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