0 comments/ 29790 views/ 1 favorites Erin Go Bra(less) By: HarveyMarcus WARNING: The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further! This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen. This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached. * * * * * * * * * * We take a brief detour (Not again!) from two series - "Dots and Dashes of Color" and "Service With A Smile" - to explore the deep meaning of the Festival of The Green. No, not the day Mr. Marcus consumed too many chili cheese dogs at Wieners R Us. St. Patrick's Day. Mr. Marcus goes after an Irish lass who perpetrated violence on his dear sweet Annie, and runs into a bride's maid green with jealousy. We know who drove the snakes from Ireland, but what motivates Mr. Marcus to drive his snake into young women? I present the cir-cum-stantial evidence . . . * * * * * * * * * * I'd forgotten it was St. Patrick's Day, although the green ties, green dresses and green doughnuts in the food cart in the lobby should have been an obvious clue. Actually, the green doughnuts could have been moldy ones unsold from the previous Friday. I escaped any encounters with colleagues, customers and my boss all morning, completing several technical specifications. My brain was drained, and I was in no mood for conversation. When lunch hour rolled around, the usual eat-together crowd headed off to Hennessey's. No surprise when they came back plastered. Before any face- or buttock-copying broke out, we all got early dismissal, to prevent serious mistakes while inebriated. In fairness, they let everyone go home early, including all of us sober blokes. Someone thought it was funny to pin a "Kiss Me, I'm Jewish" button to my jacket. Oh well, nothing else I was wearing was green. --- On the couch at home, I harmlessly paged through the local paper, checking out young female athletes in the Sports section. The silence was interrupted by the front door squeaking open. "Hello?" Annie peeked out around the corner. "Hi, Daddy." We were supposed to have a family dinner that night. All we needed was my wife to get back from who-knows-where. Annie had her back to me. Odd. "Turn around, sweetie." Annie stood with a hand over one eye. "What happened?" She dropped her hand, exposing a black and blue shiner. "Marty Kelly punched me in the face." "What?" Some classmate punched my only daughter? I jumped up, letting the paper scatter to the floor. I knew precisely where the student directory was, in the kitchen next to the phone. "Daddy, don't!" Annie pleaded. She was pulling at my arm. "You'll only make it worse." I ripped the page of "K"s from the booklet and stormed off to the garage. "Someone needs to teach that kid a lesson." "Daddy!" Annie stood in the kitchen doorway as I backed out of the garage, beckoning me back. I could feel the blood throbbing in my ears. How dare some bully sock my Annie in the face? What is this world coming to? Annie wouldn't hurt a fly. She might, however, unzip one. I obeyed all the traffic laws, despite my foot's desire to floor the accelerator after every stop sign. A series of deep breaths lowered my blood pressure but did nothing to curb my mission, to confront the young man who brutalized Annie. I stopped at the proper address, turned off the engine and yanked at the handbrake. I was up their front steps in two leaps, and leaned heavily on their doorbell. A young boy, maybe seven, opened the front door. This couldn't be the kid. "Are you Marty?" "No, that's my sister." Sister? He must be mistaken. "Maaaaaa," cried the boy. A woman walked over, a baby nursing on one breast. I heard crying of another child somewhere in the house. "What can I do for yee?" The baby pulled back, exposing a fat red nipple. "You'll excuse me. She needs feedin'." "Of course." I was jealous. Her breasts were pale, nice sized, obviously milk-laden. "Your son Marty hit my daughter Annie and gave her a black eye." She pushed back the screen and gestured me in, past an entry table. "You met my only son. The other three are girls. Marty is spelt with an 'i'." She walked into their living room and motioned to a family portrait on the piano. Her and her husband, a burly brute I'd prefer never to meet, a red haired young lady, the young boy and two babies, dressed in green, not traditional pink. "Okay, I got the gender wrong. Still, there's the issue of Annie's assault. Can I speak with Marti?" I asked. The baby in her arms lifted her head towards the nipple, blocking my view. "Best not. I'll speak to her when she gets home after work." The crying in the other room got louder. "She'll be leaving your Annie alone from now on. You'd be leaving now." "Where does she work? I'd like to speak with her myself." "You'd be best letting us apply the discipline. Marti has a temper, for sure. We'll handle her, Sean and me. Thanks for letting me know." I headed out, deflated from the lack of satisfaction. I wanted the direct confrontation, not delegation to Marti's parents. "Could you do me a favor?" Mrs. Kelly called from the other room. "Fetch the mail and put it inside?" "Sure." The mailbox was mounted next to the door on the exterior wall, filled with a newspaper and dozens of envelopes. I flipped through them, looking for a clue. Among the envelopes, I saw a paycheck-style envelope from the Radmont Hotel, downtown, addressed to Marti Kelly. Bingo! Temper, huh? Perhaps she works the hotel bar a bouncer? Traffic between the suburbs and downtown was murder, which gave me time to think about what I'd say to Marti. Every scenario ended with me punching her in the face, so she'd look and feel the way Annie did. The idea of doling out physically violence seemed acceptable, and I shivered at the concept. I'm a lover, not a fighter. I parked in the hotel's lot, expecting that they'd validate, even if I punched out one of their employees. After all, this was personal. I strode through the lobby to the bar. It was full of rowdy drunks singing songs off key, but no redheaded waitresses. Back in the lobby, I scanned for activity. Near the staircase to the second floor, a sign directed folks to the Gillpatrick-McGinnis wedding. Of course! She's waitressing a wedding party. Based on the bride and groom's surnames, these folks picked a perfect day, St. Patrick's Day, to get married. The party must have ended, since the Ballroom was nearly empty. A few ladies in long dresses stood around a bar in the far corner of the huge room. A few young men waddled towards a pair of swinging doors, arms filled with soiled tablecloths. Sounds of kitchen cleanup came from behind those doors as I approached. Busboys had loosened their ties, unbuttoned their collars, and were heading out the back way. Large sinks full of dirty plates and cups were evidence of a sumptuous gathering. My stomach growled at the thought of a nice meal. Damn Marti, for hurting my daughter and making me hungry. "You can't be back here." I turned around. A redhead stood defiant, hands on her hips, wearing a molded black plastic top that ended just above her breasts and short white miniskirt. It was Marti. "I'm Anna's father. You know, the one you punched in the face." I closed the distance between us. Could I haul off and hit her? Marti poked at the button on my jacket. "You shouldn't make fun." She hiked the sagging black molded bustier higher, but it fell back to its original position, leaving her cleavage exposed. I glanced down at the object of her scorn. Damn, I hadn't removed the "Kiss Me, I'm Jewish" button. Take the offensive. "And you shouldn't be giving other girls black eyes." "She deserved it, the little tramp. It wasn't me, stepping in to steal her boyfriend, now, was it?" "Annie wouldn't do that." Would she? I knew Annie was experimenting sexually. Hell, she and I had our share of mutual adventures. Maybe there was more to the story. "What did she do?" "Nothing, 'cause I stopped her. Her and those slut friends of hers." I knew those girls. Biblically. "So she didn't actually steal your boyfriend? And you hit her anyway?" "She was planning on it, that's for sure. Stopping in the halls, rubbing his shoulder. Any minute, she'd have drug him away and had her way with him. So I told her hands off." "And she said?" "That he wasn't my property, and she could talk to anyone, and not to get my panties in a knot. Great father you are, raising a daughter that way, with no discipline." "You should talk!" I was getting no respect, which pissed me off even worse. "Now I know where she gets her attitude. Who are you to me, anyway?" Marti's hand came up to slap me. I grabbed her wrist. She swung her other hand. Ambidextrous? I grabbed that one as well. I was close enough to see a gold "Kiss Me I'm Irish" ornament hanging around her neck, just above the valley between her tits, tucked behind the stiff plastic top. She must have noticed my stare. "So you want a peek and a kiss, huh?" She leaned forward and planted one on me. Bumping of lips without feeling. Not particularly gratifying. That was the last thing I remembered before her knee slammed into my groin. --- The florescent lights were sharp, making everything look fuzzy. Straddling my legs, red-haired Marti. Sitting on a stool behind her, a long-dressed young woman, one of the bridal party most likely. It must have been a dream. First, because the woman on the stool looked like a mermaid, with a tail in place of legs. Second, because my pants were unzipped and my penis was waving around at half stiff. Marti's hands tapped the organ back and forth. Quickly, it was gaining length and girth. I propped myself up on my elbows. "See, he's not dead," said Long Dress. "Hey, Big Guy!" Her slurred speech indicated intoxication. "The name is Marcus." "Oh no, you're Big Guy. On campus, off campus, anywhere you point that thing. Big Guy." She hoisted a bottle of what looked like champagne and took a swig. "It's even bigger than Sean's!" I had no idea who Sean was, and why our comparative sizes were relevant. "I'm so sorry," Marti said. "It was instinct, you see. I didn't mean you any harm." Leaning over like she was, the formed plastic top drooped away from Marti's body, exposing her breasts, hanging like juicy cones with large red nipples. Her white pleated shirt rode high on her thighs, exposing green panties. The sight of her, bare on top and vulnerable below, was enough for me to forgive. After all, my dick was still functional, and seemingly her new toy. "You were out cold," said Long Dress. "Missy here told me what she did. I suggested check for damage. Looks like you're fully functional." She stood but her ankles wobbled. "So, Missy, you want to get up and let me test Big Guy's equipment?" "I won't!" Marti's hand grasped my erection, hanging on for dear life. "I'm not finished with it," Marti said to her female companion. Light shining through glass crystals on a wall ornament cast a multicolored spectrum on my crotch. "You think you've found the treasure at the end of the rainbow? Come on, get up and let a real woman at him. You haven't the faintest what to do with a prize like that." Long Dress struggled to stay upright. Because the gown was extremely tapered at the ankles, she was forced to shuffle. With one step, she collapsed to the floor like an air mattress with a rip in the side. "Damn this dress anyhow!" With one tug, she split open one side of the dress, then the other. "Much better." Now her gown was one large apron, a halter-top holding it around her neck, hips, thighs and legs flashing on both sides. She wore stockings with a garter belt in place of panty hose. It was one big game of Peek-A-Boo, and I was glad to be a participant. Long Dress crawled over, body parts exposed with the sway of the hanging cloth. "Wooah, Nelly! Look at that stick!" Marti tried to cover my erection with both hands. Too little too late, but feeling awfully good. "Don't let me stop you. If I had my hands around a cock like that, I wouldn't let go," she continued. Marti looked down at my throbbing prick. Both of her hands caressed the length. She sat silent. Long Dress tried to kneel down but practically fell instead. "So, possession is ninety tenths of the law. Whatcha gonna do with it?" Marti looked at me, then back at Long Dress. "I don't know." "It must be hot. Why don't ya' give it a little kiss?" "I sure won't be doing that." Despite her denial, Marti was still hanging on, groping the length. "Then let me. For lubrication." She moved her head closer, tongue stretched out. I raised my hips to assist. "No you don't. This is mine." Marti hesitated, but then wrapped her lips around the tip of my penis and gave a loud smack. What a feeling! "See, it's easier when he's moist. Damn, I'm wetting myself. So, finish him off, or do you want me to do it?" "Beg off." Marti increased her tempo, occasionally mouthing the head of my dick like a casual suck of a Tootsie Roll Pop. With minimal saliva and precum as lubrication, Marti's strokes were taking their toll. My hips bounced. The hungry look of the stranger, plus looking down Marti's top at her rose-tipped breasts was more than enough stimulation. On Marti's next stroke down, a spurtlet of cum erupted, smack on the front of Marti's bodice. She startled, and with a firm pump the next blob hit Long Dress just above the stomach. A few more strokes and Long Dress was splattered with dripping streaks of my juices. Marti laughed as she shot my stuff all over the visitor. "Well played!" Long Dress laughed, but then her mouth drooped. "Oh oh. I think I drank too much. Where's the Little Girl's Room?" Long Dress was much too tall to be called little. She tried to stand but fell over. Marti helped her to her feet as if she weighted nothing. Long Dress sidestepped into a cabinet. China clinked with the impact. Marti brushed herself off, but couldn't wipe off the red from her face. She'd been caught fondling a man's penis, and had been provoked to beat him off. "I'd best be getting home now. Mama expected me hours ago." "I met your mother," I said. "I stopped at your house before I came here." And before I came here. "I told her what you did to Annie. She'll want to have words with you." Marti's face remained red. "That's okay. We're even. Annie played with my guy, and I played with hers." Annie had merely talked to Marti's male friend, not exactly what I'd call playing. "As long as you won't beat her up again." "Heavens no! Not that I might not want another chance at this." She tugged my penis hard, as if to remove it from my groin. I wanted to just tuck my dick away, to heal from the irritation of a virtually dry hand job. Marti turned and flounced away down a dimly lit staircase. Long Dress was still wobbling, clinging to the china cabinet. "I have to hit the head myself," I said. "Let's find it together." I was glad Marti had left, for many reasons. She had been too interested in my cock for her own good, or mine. Who knows, she might want the second round to be a fuck, her strong Irish thighs rapped around my - Shit! Time to clean up. "I can do it myself." Long Dress took a step away from the cabinet and stumbled into my arms. "Let me help." I held Long Dress's waist as we limped towards the bathrooms. Her skin was soft and warm. I considered letting my hand slide up and cop a feel of her breast. Nah, a cheap move. Low class. "I'm Harvey, by the way." "Aggie, sister of the bride. Sister? Bah!" "So why are you still here? Where's the rest of your family?" "The party's over." She began to sing. "It's time to call it a day." Her voice was nothing to tape record for posterity. We reached the bathrooms. I pulled my hand from her waist, and she didn't fall over. Then again, she was holding the wall. "Nice to meat you." I headed for the Men's john. "Woah, Nellie. I need some assistance here, Big Guy." Reluctantly, I guided her into the vacant woman's bathroom and chose a stall. She lifted up the rear flap and plopped down on the toilet seat. No panties? "Wait for me." The sound of her urine stream went on for minutes. Her bladder must have been over-extended. She pulled a handful of paper from the handy roll, lifted the front flap of her torn dress and spread her legs. God, what legs! And what a pussy! Too bad she didn't need help wiping herself. She leaned on the toilet paper holder to stand up. I guided her to the stall wall, where she could get a grip. "My turn." I unzipped and aimed for the same toilet. Aggie peeked around the corner. "You've got a nice chunk of meat there, Big Guy." "Thanks." I shook the last drops, tucked in and zipped up. "How are you going to get home?" I asked. "My cars in the lot. If I can find my purse." I couldn't let someone in her condition out on the road. "You're not driving anywhere. I'll take you home." Aggie leaned heavily on my shoulder. "You're a good guy, Big Guy. Not like that bastard Sean." We made our way to the exit, back through the kitchen area. "Who's Sean anyway?" Her expression turned from gentle to vicious. "My boyfriend, and my sister's husband." I've been in some funky situations, but this one was wilder. Aggie's boyfriend married her sister. "She stole him?" "She stole him, he stole her. What's the difference? They're at some hotel, fucking their brains out. Shit! Why can't I pick the good ones? We'd made it back to the scene of my recent hand job. "Wait a sec." Aggie opened the massive door of the industrial fridge. Sure enough, bottles of champagne, unopened. She took one in each hand. "Okay, one for you and one for me." "I'm your designated driver, remember?" "Okay, one for me and another one for me." Aggie pointed to a row of coat hooks. "That's mine." With one arm around her waist and a trench coat over her shoulders, I guided Aggie out the rear entrance to the parking lot. There sat my new charcoal-colored coupe, two weeks old. Aggie held out one of the bottles. "Hold this," she said. Then she put the other bottle between her thighs. It looked like she was wrestling a large glass penis. "You really don't need any more -" The cork popped and flew directly into the door of my new couple. The impact was a hollow thud. Shit, the first ding! Bubbly fizzed out, all over her hand. She sucked her fingers clean if not dry. "Mmmm, yummy. Sure you don't want some?" "No thanks. And try not to spill. The car is new." And mostly pristine, except for the ding in the door. I helped her in. The front flap slid, exposing those beautiful long legs, thighs and hips. My erection had subsided, but watching the torn dress expose large sections of Aggie's torso was highly erotic. I'd drop her off, make sure she was okay, and then split. Harriett was due in, and I wanted to be home before she arrived. As I drove, Aggie rambled on, telling the sad story of how her sister used the family's first meeting with Sean to begin the process of theft. Between chugs from the champagne bottle, of course. And Aggie's folks were fine with Sean marrying either of their daughters. It didn't matter which one. "Haven't you had enough?" I asked. Erin Go Bra-less Erin Colleen Romano was born on St. Patrick’s Day; March 17th, 1949, at 3:17 a.m. to Carmella {nee: Pasquale} and Frank Romano; in two Italian families when you ALWAYS named your bambinos after the father if the baby was a boy or after the maternal grandmother if a girl, or in a final option; in honor of the ordained-to-be Italian Godparent. It was considered a Romano family law back in those days. Erin’s parents, however, abolished that law and blew it right out of the holy water with the announcement of their own choice of first and middle names for their newborn daughter. The shocking news also had Carmella’s parents going to confession every day pouring out their hearts {and naturally, their souls} to St. Michael’s parish priest about their daughter’s and son’s blasphemous, tradition-in-heritage homicide. So it was from that first day after officially being baptized {the families had still held out their hopes, prayers and rosaries until then that Carmella and Frank would come to their senses}, that Erin Colleen Romano was thought between the two Italian families’ monarchies as certainly a love and a blessing; but certainly, simply because of her “foreign” name, as potentially being “somewhat different”. And so it went for Erin - through her cuddly infancy, bubbly childhood, moody puberty, and, quite the opposite of her same generation boisterous relatives; through her shy and soft spoken teen years - the prophesized “somewhat different.” Erin’s life otherwise was like most teenage girls growing up in an Italian neighborhood on Staten Island, New York back in the sixties; listening to 45 RPM records, talking on Princess style phones that were attached to a teen’s ear as if soldered in place, and rating all the new songs on American Bandstand with Dick Clark and his Philadelphia show’s dance regulars. Of course, keeping abreast of the current lowdown as to what twirler was going steady with what jock, was considered a civic duty to a teen then, too. You had to keep a weekly update with that kind of gossip when you were in your final year of high school, as Erin was that year. It was in the decade of free love, draft dodgers, flower power, and burning your bras in protest of something - or nothing. It didn’t matter in that “walk on the wild side” era. It was 1967, and Erin Colleen Romano was, quite surprisingly for the “make love – not war” times, still a virgin. And, so it was on the first Friday afternoon in March of that year, that Erin was in one of the countless telephone marathons had between two teenage girls. The number one discussion was always about the opposite sex, of course, but it then usually came around to beauty tips. And the topic: “How to Attract Men” {not just boys, but real men} was the top headline of this day’s hot info. And the answer to that worldly mystery was, in a nutshell; to grow voluptuous breasts, {with the proper use of exercise and creams}, in a matter of no time. Erin’s best-friend-in-the-whole- universe was Maria {named after HER maternal grandmother, of course}, that began the conversation about the irresistible, sexual attraction of large breasts. “Erin! I have just read an article on how Annette Funicello developed those mammoth boobs of hers! Have you seen her on the cover of this month’s ‘Teen’ edition? She’s posed in profile with Frankie Avalon, and her chest is so huge, it looks like it’s going to fall off the front cover when you open the magazine!” Maria was so excited; Erin had to move the receiver away from her ear just to avoid going deaf from her friend’s outburst of enthusiasm. “Maria, cool it!” Erin laughed into the phone as she cautiously replaced the earpiece to her ear. “We are both almost eighteen now – and I don’t think we have much chance of growing an addition onto our boobs at our age!” She was now shaking her head in disbelief at just the thought of how gullible her friend was. “You can’t believe everything you read! It’s all a matter of heredity, anyway. Annette’s mother and grandmother probably are big chested, and that’s where she got the tendency for being well endowed. If it’ll make you feel any better; think about this, Maria. Both our moms still have it going for them; cleavage and all! And they are OLD! They have to be in their forties by now, but they’re still looking good! So, with proper posture, and our moms’ genes, we’ll get by. We both should just accept the fact that we are in the ‘What you see is what you get’ class.” “Yeah, it’s easy for YOU to say, Erin!” Maria rebutted. “I’m still wearing the same cup size as I did when I was thirteen! Since then, the only thing that has gotten larger for me is the size of my shoes! But the only problem YOU seem to have is that you are right in between the ‘Annette boobs’ class and the ‘What you see is what you get’ class. And actually, it’s more like ‘What you DON’T see is what you will be in shock, but very happy to get’ class! You have what most girls in school would give up their college tuitions for- including me! Instead of flaunting what you’ve got going for you; you actually try to hide them! If I had the equipment you have, I’d be fueling those protest bonfires with every last one of my bras, and letting it ‘all hang out’!” Maria now broke out into another loud gale of laughter. Erin was growing tired of the conversation at this point, and strained to get the cord of her phone over to her bedroom door; attempting to get her mother’s attention. She waved to her mom who was putting away towels in the hall linen closet, and gestured that she wanted her to pretend to call her for dinner. Carmella picked up on her daughter’s cue, and called out that she needed her right then and there. “Maria, I’ve got to go now. My mom is calling me to set the table for dinner. Maybe we’ll catch a movie this evening. Talk to ya later!” and without giving her friend time to say another word; she hung up her phone. As Erin thanked her mom for the reprieve, she walked back into her room to place the phone back on the nightstand. Then, she sat on the edge of her bed; thinking about the last remarks her best friend had made before she hung up. The truth of the matter was; Erin was embarrassed of her breasts. At five foot three and 112 pounds, she was slender and petite in frame, but in her mind, the majority of her feather weight appeared to be on her chest – and she did everything she could to hide this fact from the world. She lay back on her bed; gazing at the ceiling, as her memory drifted back to the first time her mother announced they were going bra shopping together. One warm spring afternoon, her mom had taken her out on the back porch; two bowls of strawberry ice cream {Erin’s favorite} on a tray, and sat Erin down to have their first chat about the now apparent need for training bras. Erin had just turned ten. “TRAINING BRAS?!? No, Mom! I don’t want to wear them! I like my undershirts just fine! Those things- those things with hooks and metal bars on the shoulders will KILL me!” she whined, as she spooned the first of the ice cream into her mouth. “Erin honey,” her mom began, “Those ‘metal bars’ that you are worried about are just little clasps that allow you to adjust the straps. And you will get used to the difference in the way a bra fits and feels. Your undershirts no longer are appropriate for your emerging womanhood. You are growing up into a lovely young lady, and its time you wore the proper undergarments. You will thank me later for starting you now on the right support.” “Erin! I really DO need you down here now to set the table for dinner!” “Ok, Mom, I’ll be right there!” Erin yelled down to her mother as her train of reflective thought was broken for the moment. As she lifted herself off the bed and went to open her door to head downstairs, she stole a glance of her reflection in the door mirror and paused. She looked at herself for a moment and took a mental critique of a young woman that, in just another week, would be eighteen. She stepped closer to the mirror now; her eyes surveying her entire presentation at first; then dissecting parts of her anatomy in self evaluation. She began with her hair; shoulder length, deep chestnut brown and slightly wavy, that was swept behind her ears at the moment, and showed off perfectly flat to her head; just- right- in -size ears. “Well, so far, so good” she said to herself, as her eyes continued down to her face. Her skin was olive in tone, like the rest of her Italian lineage, with dark brown; almost the color of mink; eyes that were, once again, a part of her Napoleonic ancestry. Her nose was nondescript, and actually fit her face as if it were customized for it. “It’s a nose”, she said to herself with little afterthought about the feature. She studied her lips, and although she wished for a more “pouty” look, she felt with a little lip gloss she could give them a fuller appearance. “Yeah, that will work”, she encouraged herself again. Her chin and neck gave her no apprehensions, but the “nitty gritty” time had now come for this scrutiny to get serious. She once again took a step back to get the over- all scoping of what she perceived to be as a curse. She saw before her this same girl that tried to conceal- since the very first day that she wore her very first bra- what most other girls her age would give their everything for: large breasts. She turned to view herself in profile, and confirmed what Maria had just said, and what she already knew to be true, and caught herself stooping over slightly to minimize the appearance of her size 34DD breasts. When she did that, she was reminded of the hunchback of Notre Dame, and immediately corrected her carriage. And once again, her physical attributes lunged forward. With a sigh of resignation, she opened her bedroom door, and went downstairs to do her dinnertime chores. After supper, Erin bopped back up to her room to call Maria to see if she wanted to catch a movie downtown. It was Friday night, and many of the kids from school would be there. It was a double horror feature, and although neither of the girls especially liked the scary stuff, they both knew it was an almost sure bet the boys they had crushes on would be there. “I’ll be ready in half an hour and I’ll be outside on my front steps waiting for you!” Maria confirmed. “Maybe my Nick and your Devin will be there, too, Erin! Wear something sexy, and be prepared! I sure am! I’ll be wearing the red sweater that I got for Christmas that I just shrunk down two sizes!” She gushed. “I’m pulling out all the stops tonight, and come to think of it, why don’t you wear that gorgeous black vee- neck sweater you got for Christmas? It will be perfect with your jeans! And you sure will fill it out and do it justice! Come on; PROMISE me you will pull up to my house wearing that sweater, Errie!” “Maria, I don’t even know if it is clean, but if it is, I promise I will wear it. Cross my heart.” Erin said reluctantly, and then added before hanging up, “But if it isn’t, don’t be mad if I wear a sweatshirt instead.” She already knew the sweater was hanging in her closet on a satin padded hanger; worn maybe twice since the holiday – and only on the occasions when she was in the exclusive company of her relatives at family functions. The truth of the matter was; Erin knew the cut of the sweater would definitely highlight her cleavage- the cleavage she hated to admit she had. But, she also knew they would be in a dark environment- the theater - and she should be hidden in the shadows from any discovering eyes. So, with that all argued out within herself, she changed into the promised attire, and jumped into the family car and drove over to pick up her friend. On the way down to the movies, Erin brought up the subject of the two boys that Maria had spoken of just thirty minutes before - Nick and Devin. “Maria, why did you call Devin and Nick ‘ours’? Neither one of them has ever asked us out, nor am I even sure if Devin knows I exist! All I know about him is that he moved here from Pittsburgh three months ago because his father was transferred by his company to the corporate offices in the city. His father’s company had moved the family several times in the last few years, and Devin lost an entire school year because of it. He’s about a year older than us, I guess. And the only other thing I know about him is the sickening fact that Patrick and Shawn O’Malley are his cousins. And the only time we have ever exchanged words was when he bumped into me at our locker area, and knocked all my books out of my hands.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “At least he was polite enough to ask me if I was all right, and as he picked up the books, he DID apologize. Over and over again; as a matter of fact. I kept telling him his first three ‘I’m sorry’s’ were more than sufficient, but he looked at me with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, and said he didn’t apologize nearly enough.” Erin’s recount of the incident had left her voice trailing off to almost a dreamy whisper. The near silence was suddenly interrupted with Maria’s sharp retort. “Are you deaf, Errie? Did you not hear yourself just now? Of COURSE he knows you exist! Of COURSE he is interested in you! YOU are the one that shies away from HIM! And I think I know why you don’t make the first move to show that you’re interested in him, too.” Maria kept Erin dangling in suspense for a few additional seconds to make her conclusions more emphatic. “The reason is that you believe he is just like his cousins, Shawn and Patrick; the gross maggots that brag - true, or most likely not true- that they have made every girl on the cheerleading squad. And if he knew you liked him, and you started dating him, you are afraid he would start that kind of rumor about you, too” And, with one long, deep breath, Maria ran her mouth off like a waterfall with the truest summation of all: “And you’re afraid he would share the secret with those two creeps just how big your breasts really are.” Erin remained silent as she drove the last half mile to the theater. It wasn’t until she put the car into park and shut off the ignition that she turned toward her closest friend and quietly said, “Yes, you’re right. You’re right about it all. I am interested in Devin. I like him a lot. And I AM afraid to make the first move to show him I’m interested, because I am MORE afraid that that piggish behavior runs in the family, and he may be just like his cousins.” She then turned to look at her friend, and quietly said, “I couldn’t handle that disappointment, Maria.” Maria saw her friend’s eyes had filled up with tears, and she reached over to give her a consoling “there, there” hug. And without another word spoken, they got out of the car and headed to the box office to get their tickets for the show. Once inside, the girls stopped for cherry cokes and a bag of popcorn to share, and headed for the doors leading into the movie. The first of the double feature had already begun, and as their eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, they looked around to see if they could make out any familiar faces in the mass. Other than the sporadic couples that were “a thing” in their school and the few cliques that hung out together all the time, the girls recognized no others in the orchestra seats. Then, they peered into the darkness of the upper balcony area. Maria spotted the boys first, and registered her delight by leaning into Erin’s ear and whispering, “I think we’re REALLY going to enjoy the movies tonight, after all!” When she nudged Erin to follow her up to the mezzanine seating, Erin, too, then noticed the group of boys sitting in the very uppermost row. As the two girls chose seats a few rows below them, Erin took note of who comprised the all male group. There were six of them occupying the top row seats: Nick, {Maria’s heartthrob}, Joe, {Nick’s younger brother}, Donny, {one of the school’s wrestlers}, Patrick, Shawn, and...Devin. Her heart somersaulted when her eyes fell upon him; greatly due to his returning her gaze with a nod, a genuinely warm smile and a wink. The euphoria dissolved but a moment later when Patrick began the heckling with “Hey, Erin! I’d have you sit on my lap, but I wouldn’t be able to see the movie with those mountains getting in the way”, as he pointed to her chest, and both Shawn and Donny chimed in with snorts and howls in the background. Under her breath, the words; ”Oh, no” escaped Erin’s lips, as the girls settled down in their seats; attempting to ignore the ongoing snickering from three of the back row occupants. Although Maria had taken her coat off before she sat down, Erin sat first; wriggling out of her coat, and then shrunk down into the seat to be as invisible as possible; praying to herself that the O’Malley brothers and Donny would just forget she was there, and simply watch the movie. Nick was the first one to start throwing popcorn to get the girls’ attention; specifically Maria’s. It was a playful gesture at first; and since there were no other people sitting in the rows below the boys, their view of the girls – and their aim - was unobstructed. Maria caught the first kernel in her hair, and both girls turned to see who the culprit had been. When Nick waved at Maria and grinned, Erin relaxed thinking the popcorn war was just between the two. But the O’Malley boys had other ideas. The exchange of popcorn hurled in the balcony continued; as Maria turned to face the screen, and tossed a piece above and behind her head. Erin glanced back only once to realize that Devin and Nick’s younger brother, Joe, were not involved in this skirmish; but merely trying to watch the movie, and with an inward sigh of relief; she turned back to watch the movie herself. Before they knew it, a flurry of popcorn pieces besieged the two girls; as Donny, Nick, Shawn and Patrick bombarded them in synchronized fashion, with several of the buttered pieces landing dead center of Erin’s cleavage, and falling neatly – and deeply- into her bra. As she tried to discreetly reach inside her sweater to pick out the greasy mess, she heard an all too familiar, dreaded voice yell out," BOOBS away!!! I mean, BOMBS away!!!" The lower seated moviegoers, upon hearing the disruption, turned to see what the noise was all about. They were now all staring at four boys laughing hysterically – and one very mortified girl. Erin turned in her seat; not so much as to see her assailant {she already had an inkling as to which of them it was};but to avoid the eyes of all the patrons now gawking at her.It was then that she saw Devin had hopped the vacant seats in the row in front of him, and had turned to face Shawn. Grabbing his cousin’s arm, he was telling him in a not- so- low voice to go down and apologize for his behavior, and then return to his seat and to not make another sound after that-or another move- until the show was over; that he had caused enough ruckus for one night. The commotion brought the ushers running up the aisle steps, and as the boys were corralled and led down to be escorted out of the building, Devin turned to Erin and mouthed, “I’m sorry” to her once again. The words spoken- or nearly spoken - seemed to be becoming a habit. Monday brought the news of the movie incident to the school; entirely propagated by Shawn O’Malley himself. Erin felt like someone on trial; constantly professing her innocence the entire school day. She thought it was the worse day of her life, and couldn’t wait until the day ended, so she could go home and hide in her room. The only saving grace was that the tails that weren’t wagging over Shawn’s exaggerated accounts of Friday night, were the ones wagging over the upcoming St. Patrick’s Day dance that was to be held in the gym on that next Friday; the actual holiday – and Erin’s eighteenth birthday. As the last bell of the day finally rung and Erin hurried to her locker to grab her coat and escape any additional comments or questions, she found Devin leaning against her locker; fidgeting; studying his shoes and looking unsettled. Erin Go Bra-less “Devin, anything the matter?” Erin asked, as she slowed down; approaching him and her blocked locker. “Oh, hi! No, no,” he began; looking up from his feet to see her now. “I just got here myself, but wanted to catch you before you left. I have something to ask you, Erin.” He then moved aside; looking at her with those incredible blue eyes that made her heart do a little jogging- in- place. He continued as she ran her combination through the lock and opened the door. “First, I want to apologize for Shawn. He was rude and obnoxious, and he has no excuse- none at all- for what he did to you.” Then, before she could protest Devin’s apology that was, once again, on behalf of his cousin, he completely took her by surprise with his next words, “That being said, the real reason I wanted to see you before you left school today was to ask you if you would be my date for the St. Patrick’s Day dance on Friday. I had intentions of asking you when I saw you at the movies, but; well; what with all that happened, I ... I didn’t get the chance to ask again until today.” Erin had turned around to face him by then; studying his expression for any indications that this had been staged; that the invite to be his date was a farce perpetrated by his taunting cousins, but no signs of that were visible. Devin looked like he was sincere in wanting to have her as his date for the dance. Erin took approximately two and a half seconds before giving him an answer. It was "yes". The remainder of the week flew by; as the tri-fecta day - the holiday itself, the dance, and Erin’s eighteenth birthday - was nearing. Carmella had, upon hearing that Erin had a date for the dance, purchased the mini dress that her daughter had seen in Macy’s in the city, and presented it to her as a pre-birthday gift on Thursday afternoon. “Oh, Mom! Thank you! It’s THE dress! The one I wanted since the moment I saw it! You’re wonderful, Mom!” Erin bubbled; hugging her mother in between hugging the dress in her hands. “Since you will be attending the dance on your birthday, your father and I decided we will take you out for dinner in the city and a Broadway show on Sunday to celebrate your special day.” Carmella continued , “And we hope you don’t mind, Erin, but Daddy and I will be staying the night at Aunt Louise’s and Uncle Tony’s house tomorrow night. Your grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary is coming up in June, and all my brothers and sisters and I want to throw them a really nice party in a hall. But it will take a lot of thought to make it memorable, so we’ve decided to start the planning now. We’re all going to meet at their house in Brooklyn tomorrow night – but we won’t leave here until Devin has picked you up for the dance, alright?” “That’s fine, Mom – and don’t worry about me. I’m a grown woman now, and I know how to take care of myself,” Erin laughed; adding, “And suggest for the party that they hire a rock n’ roll band! Grandma and Grandpa will think its tough enough!” The next late afternoon finally arrived, and after having her birthday cake with her family,Erin started getting ready for the dance. She was on cloud nine; floating about her bedroom in the anticipation of being a knock-out for her date that evening. Her make-up applied just right; her hair brushed to a sheen; she stepped into her dress, and stood in front of her door mirror to give herself a final inspection. She stared in horror at her reflection. The scoop neckline of the deep purple dress showed more of her cleavage than had her vee neck sweater – and upon seeing this; Erin was flooded with the horrible memories of the previous Friday night. She stood frozen before the mirror; frantically trying to think about what she could wear in its place; when an idea came to her. She slid the dress down to her waist and removed her bra. Bending down; she replaced the dress onto her shoulders, and then looked at herself once more. Removing the bra had indeed minimized the overflow of flesh, and being so young; its absence did not adversely affect her appearance and make her breasts look like udders hanging from a cow. She breathed a little easier now; believing this to be the answer, and finished putting on her earrings and shoes. As she finished the final touches, she heard Devin’s car door slam, and peering out her bedroom window, she saw Devin walk up the path to the front door. Erin heard the doorbell ring, and then her Dad greeting her date. She stopped herself at her bedroom doorway; suddenly remembering to button her coat before descending the stairs. On the ride to the school, Erin reflected on the misleading idea that she was home free; she had solved the problem of the protruding cleavage, and had gotten away with her parents not discovering she had worn the dress bra-less to the dance. What happened at that dance would start the turning of the wheels of Fate and Destiny for Erin Colleen Romano. ************************************************** Devin parked the car in the school parking lot and came around to open Erin’s door. It was cold and blustery that St. Patrick’s Day night; typically a March expectation for the northeast. As Erin tightened her coat around her neck, she alighted from the car; and the two hurried into the gym entrance where the band music was just starting their first set. They had entered the double doors with a group of other students, and had to wait in line for their coats to be taken at the makeshift coat check room; directly across from the continuously opened gym doors. Devin had removed his jacket the moment he got in line, but Erin decided to keep hers on until they were ready to leave them with the attendee. The gusts of cold winds came charging into the corridor each time the doors were opened and left Erin, at least, chilled to the bone. Some minutes later, the couple left their coats with the checker, and made their way into the gym for the festivities. Maria was the first one to approach her friend at the dance; wishing her a "Happy Birthday", and admiring the dress Erin’s parents had presented her for the dual occasion. Then, oddly enough, Maria suddenly asked Devin if he would mind getting the two girls some refreshments. As he left to fulfill her request, Maria looked at Erin, and excitedly told her she was proud of the way she boldly wore nothing underneath the mini dress bodice; that Erin had a lot of courage in doing so; especially knowing that all there would see how obviously “perky” her nipples were, and how, apparently, Erin was there to show all the under- developed girls up. Before Erin could recoup from Maria’s comments, Maria had spotted another student, and had trotted off in that direction to chat with her. Erin looked down at herself and suddenly comprehended why her nipples had become erect. The cold air had caused them to protrude, and because she was bra-less, there was no way to "compress" them within the confines of the bra cups themselves. The harsh reality hit Erin: there was nothing she could do to make them flat now; anymore than she could make her boobs flat. Erin was beginning to feel the panic creeping back into her, but tried to contain the feeling when she saw Devin heading back with drinks in hand. But it was already too late to worry about containment - Shawn and Patrick had seen Erin and Devin walk into the dance. And they were coming her way. “Well, hey there, Erin! I see you’re here tonight with my cousin! Looks like he got real lucky – like he has a four leaf clover in his pocket or something’” remarked Patrick; as his brother added loudly from a few yards away, “And I see you may have one – no, definitely two - ‘clovers’ in your mini dress! Those are REALLY BIG CLOVERS, too, chickie!” Shawn was nearer to her now; but yelling his innuendos out even louder; causing several of the other students to start drifting towards them. “This is going to be a million times worse than it was at the movies!” Erin’s mind screamed within her head, as she looked over the sneering Shawn O’Malley’s shoulder, and saw Devin’s face. His beautiful blue eyes had turned nearly black; as his cousin’s display of manners – or lack thereof – had visibly brought Devin to the brink of a fist fight. “Get away from her, cuz” Devin warned, as he handed the drinks off to Erin. “I told you last week you owed Erin an apology, and now I believe you owe her two.” The crowd surrounding them had grown larger now, as Shawn looked around and wisely decided he would deal with family at another time, and gave Erin a half hearted apology. But, as he then walked away, and as the crowd dispensed, he turned back; yelling louder than ever his last ditch effort to humiliate Erin. “Like I said, chickie; those are nice HARD clovers in your bra! Oh! My mistake! You’re not wearing a bra tonight, are you, chickie? Must really like having those clover fields run wild!” The crowd that had been standing around them moments before, all turned to look at Erin once again, and the giggles and snickers echoing in the gym made Erin bow her head in shame; tears spilling onto the glossy hardwood floor from her eyes. “You look absolutely beautiful in that dress, Erin; bra or no bra.” It was Devin's soft voice she now heard directly in front of her. Erin looked up; tears still overflowing onto her cheeks as she quietly pleaded, “Devin, please take me home now. I don’t want to spend the rest of my birthday with these people.” She was driven back to her house with Devin’s arm around her; his consoling tone and words void of understanding her self consciousness regarding her breasts, however. He walked her to her front door; arm in arm; still explaining to her that she was blessed; not cursed with a beautiful figure, and that she should be happy knowing that fact. Erin had listened to Devin’s theory, but still was shaken from the incident at the dance. Erin was looking into Devin's eyes now; so kind and caring; knowing at that moment she wanted - and needed - to still be with him. “Devin, would you like to come in? Even though I made you bring me home early from the dance, I still would like to be in your company tonight. Please?” and then she added in a somewhat lighter tone, “After all, it’s still officially my birthday, and it would make me a very happy birthday girl if you would! And you may be in luck with some left over birthday cake, too. I hope you like chocolate cake with cannoli cream filling." Devin didn't know what cannoli cream filling was, but he didn't really care anyway. He couldn’t refuse Erin – nor did he want to. He had begun to have deep feelings for this special eighteen year old birthday girl. And so he accepted her invitation with no hesitation. Erin turned on the radio to Cousin Brucie, 101.1, as they settled comfortably on the sofa; making small talk until the subject came back to Devin’s family. Specifically Shawn and the way he was so cruel to Erin at the dance. And, once again, the tears began to flow as Devin put his arm around Erin to attempt to mend her feelings. Only this time, the exchange of looks took on a different meaning; as Erin nuzzled up to Devin, and he in turn, kissed her repeatedly on the top of her forehead, as she wept against his arm. Both of them felt it at the same time; as Erin raised her face from his shoulder, he held her tear stained face within his hands, and drew her lips to his. His mouth caressed hers; warmly and ever-so-tenderly at first; as her response invited more of the sweetness of his lips onto hers. He kissed her again and again; placing a row of the moist kisses onto her bottom lip; tattooing it with his own soft pair. Erin succumbed to his first of oral artistic renderings; desiring limitlessly more of the sensual paintings than she ever thought could be created. The kisses grew in length and urgency; bolder passion replacing the timidity of innocence. They leaned into one another, as Devin slid one arm around her small waist while his other hand stroked the side of her neck and down and across to her shoulder. Erin moaned beneath their welded lips; as their bodies pressed harder against one another; each yearning for melded existence. Devin’s tongue now searched for its soul mate; the wet tip brushing hers in short, alluring strokes; as he felt Erin’s tongue inviting with eagerness his own. They kissed endlessly; acquainting their mouths to one another’s in the wanton fashion of first of foreplay. His hand that had been caressing her arm was now hesitantly moving toward her breast, but without Erin’s resistance. The feel of his touch was well beyond wanted, and Erin’s growing desires allowed his hand to rest on her breast; to discover what no other had before him. The heat from the palm of his slightly cupped hand was felt through the dress’ fabric, and Erin emitted a slight shudder, as Devin’s thumb and forefinger gently kneaded the stone size erect nub. He continued to trace around the areola as if it were a bull’s-eye; targeting her nipple with a slight pinch as Erin felt the sensitive shock waves of his fingertips’ embrace course through her entire body. A sensation of heightened tingling raced through her system; as Erin leaned back, and with her eyes locked onto his; crisscrossed her arms over her shoulders and shyly slipped the dress slowly down; exposing her breasts for the first time to any man’s vision beholding. Devin’s eyes descended slowly; drinking in the voluptuous sight before him; as Erin heard him draw in a shallow breath in mesmerized appreciation. She laid back on the sofa; her eyes still transfixed on his; realizing that his eyes revealed much more than she had just revealed of her body to him. She raised her open arms to him; needing no words of invitation to convey that she was giving herself to him this night. Devin ascended Erin’s prone body; carefully supporting the majority of his weight onto his forearms, as he resumed kissing her cheeks, lips, chin, neck; flicking his tongue in and out of her ear as he dropped his lower torso down to meet with hers; matching the squirming motions that Erin’s womanhood could not; would not suppress. His cock was now achingly pulsating within his pants; bobbing in its confinement with each grinding upheaval of her body; a roller coaster of movements that made him crave for everything sensual to be had - now. Erin felt the desperation of Devin’s unrelenting erection straining to escape its prison of clothing and to seek its needed destination: deep inside her. He lifted himself off her as if reading her mind, and began to remove his shirt and tee; then began to unbuckle his pants; his hard cock visibly imprinted against the zipper. Erin raised herself up also, and, clasping his hands within hers; she looked at their entwined fingers and quietly said, “I am still a virgin, Devin, and I’m afraid I don’t know what I am doing.” And before he could confess that this was his first time in “going all the way” with a girl; that he was considered a "late bloomer"; that his experiences to date were limited to making out a lot and petting a little; she raised her head to look into the beautiful blue eyes that she now realized belonged to the man she loved, and with all her heart pouring forth she said, “Please show me how to make love, Devin. I want it to be special for us.” He knew nothing about making love either, but he knew this was the woman he wanted to experience his first time with – and, deep inside his own heart; he knew she was the one he wanted to experience and share so much more with in future memories.. Devin slipped his hands out and over Erin’s, and with deft guidance; had Erin unzip his fly and unbuckle his belt. As he kicked aside his clothes, he again took lead in guiding Erin to grasp the waistband of his underwear, and pull them down; releasing his young muscle of virility that her eyes alone would see. Erin was fascinated with his cock; as he had been with her breasts. Its length and girth expanding still as she stared at what she knew would be inside of her in a short while. Devin stroked her hair as he stood at her inspection; looking at Erin’s wide, dark eyes admiring his throbbing member that was now seeping with precum. His head reared; his eyes closing in heavenly delirium; as Erin touched the milky pool with the pads of her fingertips; coating his entire cockhead with the sexual foam. She continued playing with this seemingly endless fluid; entranced; until Devin could not handle the intensifying surge in his balls any longer. He gently laid Erin back down on the sofa; kneeling beside her thighs. With impatient desire, he slid the dress that had rested on her waist entirely off. Finally, her stockings and lace panties that demurely covered her velvety pelt were carefully removed to reveal a young woman of new, but passionate readiness. Devin stopped to gaze in awe of Erin’s supple and huge breasts; drinking in the beauty that she had been trying to obscure since pre-adolescence. Trying to obscure until tonight. Until Devin. “Erin, my God, Erin...” Devin softly uttered; his voice broken like static emitting from a radio, as he leaned over her breasts and began to kiss and lick the full flesh of each; alternating his oral attention with manipulation of her rosy nipples with his fingers. His long, hot tongue wandered around the base of her nipples before languidly grazing them; tiny droplets of saliva left behind cooling the heat emanating from their pores. His mouth vacuumed them now, sucking hungrily; as Erin arched her back in uncontrolled wanton reply; driving her entire nipple well within his mouth. Her mind and body were floating in a sea of ongoing sensuous waves; as she felt his hand explore the concave curve of her stomach; her hip; the inside of her thigh; trembling with each of his touches. His fingers spread to envelope her vulva; a bolt of erotic lightning coursing through her vagina; signaling secretions of her womanly juices to trickle freely. Erin’s moans of newfound ecstasy permeated the air in the otherwise silent house; as Devin’s thumb discovered the sensitive lobe of her clit, and began gently manipulating it; sending Erin into convulsive spasms of rapturous climax. She grabbed his hand and held it fast to her; the musk of her sweet nectar drifting to Devin’s nostrils, as she gloved his fingers with her love liquids, and rode the undulating sensations out. Devin’s cock had stood hard and pounding this entire time; waiting for its turn to release the pressure building inside of its balls and shaft. He mounted Erin now; so very careful as to not cause her pain; but very much needing to drive his manhood deep within the canal of her vagina; claiming the unchartered territory as his. While holding his shaft in his hand, he channeled his rigid cock slowly within her wet hole; feeling her climax coating the head and part of his stem. She tensed; feeling the pressure of his urgent muscle invading her tight womanhood and willed herself to relax; knowing this pain would soon be no more. She bit down on her lip, as Devin’s cock sunk in deeper and, at the same time, felt something warm exit her body. She realized it was her virginity bidding farewell, and loosening her clenched fists; she began to cautiously push back on his willful member. Devin could feel his seed rising to the surface of his cock at alarming speed; but as delicious as it felt; he knew it not responsible on his part to cum inside of her. He pulled abruptly out; squeezing his cock just beneath the head to stave off erupting, and heard Erin’s voice; now panting between words from the aftermath of her climax. “Slide... yourself... between my... breasts, Devin.” She was squeezing her endowments together; forming a tunnel for Devin’s cock which he now feverishly drove through; slapping his balls against Erin’s upper ribcage in his thrusts. His cockhead poked through the top of Erin’s breasts with each of his shaft’s stride, and with no encouragement needed; Erin extended her tongue to lick the head on each upward stroke. The taste of his sexual emissions was sweet to her taste buds, and she began to lean into her self held breasts so as to lick more of Devin’s precum. The look on her face as her tongue reached for his cock was more than his thinning self control could handle. The slit in his cockhead opened up to relinquish all the semen that had been churning in his scrotum just moments before, as he flooded Erin’s fleshy tunnel with his cream. He continued long after his ejaculation with stroking his cockhead on Erin’s hard and sensitive nipples; caressing and covering them with the syrupy evidence of his climax; providing sensations of an erotically exquisite nature that, to Erin, was indescribable - and unsurpassable. Erin Go Bra-less They laid cradled in one another's arms in the aftermath of their lovemaking; each knowing even then this was the eternal sleep of their sexual innocence, and the evermore awakenings of sexual explorations. ************************************************** Erin was overwhelmed with unveiled emotions that night of first time lovemaking. She realized she had become a woman that day when she turned eighteen – and had become a woman that night as she had lost her virginity. And, in one more way - probably the most important way of all - she had become a woman when she realized that her breasts; while not to be flaunted in a self cheapening way, were nothing to be ashamed of, either. For they offered both her and Devin – the other virgin that Fateful night – and the virgin who was, through Destiny, to eventually become her husband – the joy and satisfaction of sensual bliss. That bliss has lasted 37 years and is still as joyful and satisfying as it was that first time for us. And we never did have the leftover birthday cake that night. We had each other instead. Erin Go Bra(less) "Don't be my father. Puhleeze!" It was clear Aggie's sister had hurt her deeply. And then, to make Aggie the bride's maid? Cruel and unusual punishment, to my way of thinking. Aggie burped. "I don't feel so good." The odor of her breath was vile. Even in the intermittent amber street lighting, Aggie's face had lost all of its color. "I think I'm going to be sick." "Not in the car!" I swerved to the curb and slammed the breaks. Aggie lifted the handle and leaned out. The entire left side of her body was exposed, ankle, calf, thigh, hip, torso, and the profile of a breast. The retching sound grabbed my attention. I snagged a handful of tissues from the box behind the passenger seat. "Here." I placed them in her left hand. The puking noises stopped. "I can't get up." I grabbed Aggie's elbow and pulled her upright. My hand ended up lodged between her upper arm and the side of her chest. My fingertips wiggled against her breast. "Copping a feel?" she asked. I pulled my hand back, embarrassed. "It was an accident." "Yeah? Well, make sure it happens again." Her smile was inviting but her breath reeked. Aggie pointed out the building, a two-flat in a remote part of the city. I came around to her side, and assisted her with her exit. The fact that she continued to clutch the two bottles of champagne didn't help. I fished her keys from her trench coat pocket. My hand rubbed her thigh and groin as I struggled to grab her keys. Aggie giggled. "Ooh, you're so touchy feely." I unlocked the door and led her in. To get her weight off my shoulder, I let her drop onto her leather sofa. The apartment, or was it a condo, was nicely appointed. Whatever Aggie did for a living paid well. Very well. No table lamps, the room had track lighting in strategic places. Illuminated by a single spotlight, a bigger than life-size picture of a pair of legs adorned a wall. Aggie's legs. While Aggie thrashed on the sofa to remove her trench coat, like a beached whale, I wandered into the dining area. Her mahogany table was littered with documents that looked like contracts, and numerous photos of her long, shapely legs. "What are all these?" I asked. The response came from the couch. "I'm a leg model. Best gams this side of the Mississippi, and that includes New Pork City. Got another shoot tomorrow. I'd better get some sleep." She nuzzled a faux or fur real animal skin throw. "What do you do?" "Technical stuff. Nothing creative. Not like modeling. I write a little." "Oh really? Like what?" Aggie was up, moving my way, holding the fur. "Whodunits." I wasn't going to tell her erotica. In most of my stories, the reader learns whodunit - with whom, and in what position. "Who whatsis?" "Detective stories." "Oh, dick stories." She giggled. I'd never heard them called that, but mine bounced in my slacks at the phrase. Maybe I was also writing dick stories and didn't realize it. My dad used to read coverless paperbacks. When I asked, he said they were dick stories - mysteries. One night, when my folks were out, I crawled into his closet and found the box with his books. Whoa, they were dick stories all right. Horny porn novels. There was dick and pussy and tits - She fell towards the table. "Why is the floor moving?" "You need to sleep it off, and I need to go." Before I do something I regret. "No. Stay with me. Please. I like your company." Who wouldn't want to hang out with a model? "All right. Just for a few minutes." "Goody!" Aggie jogged a jagged path into the kitchen. "Here." She held out a glass. "I really shouldn't. I have a long drive home." "Just one. To celebrate. Freedom." She used the same between the thighs technique on the second bottle. The cork flew and I ducked. It hit a picture frame on the mantle above the gas-burning fireplace. The glass cracked and the picture fell over. She stumbled towards the damage and lifted the frame. Behind the shattered glass was a photo of her and a guy. Sean? Yes, because she was sobbing. "I hate him! I hate him! Oh God, how I loved him." She dropped the bottle. It spilled several glasses worth before I could grab it. She was collapsing, so I grabbed her in my arms, still clinging onto the bottle. I really had my hands full, holding her bare skin. "I loved him so much, but he couldn't stand it." What did that mean? Can anyone get too much love? "He kept complaining. But I couldn't help it!" Her hand gravitated to my ass. My erection pressed into her belly. "You've been so nice. Can I ask you one more favor?" "Okay." What could she ask? For me to tuck her in? After all, she had a photo shoot tomorrow. Unless she meant guns? "Show me I'm attractive." I'd heard that models are the neediest women, always unsure of themselves. At least, that's what the copy of People magazine claimed in the dentist's office. "Drop trou, Big Guy. She bobbed her body up and down. "You want to, don't you? You want to make love to me, right? Shit, you got it up for that red-haired waitress. Why not me?" Her hand ran the contour of my prick beneath my pants. "Take 'em off." This was not a good idea, fucking a drunken woman, even if she was a model. "Maybe when you're thinking clearly, we can -" Her hands ran the full length of what was now an erection. "Wow! Was it that big at the hotel?" "I guess." Like always. When an attractive woman touches it. Any woman, actually. "I'll go first, then you. Okay?" She stepped back and unclasped the halter-top. The independent flaps of material fell to her feet. There she stood, in a wisp of bra, under wire, perfect for her mild breasts, lifting her nipples, begging for sucking, the thread of a cockeyed garter belt, run stockings on long, perfectly sculpted legs. It was clear to see why Aggie was successful. Her legs were a work of art, in any circumstances. I could almost feel the heat radiating from her pussy. "See, I skipped panties, hoping for a quickie in the coat room. Sean or the best man, it didn't matter. And they would have, too, if I'd only been able to pull that damn dress over my hips. Now drop your pants and get over here. Little Missy didn't know what a treasure she had, but I do. And you're going to do me until I'm done." It sounded more like a threat than an invitation. What the hell? I stepped out of my pants and jockey shorts. My erection stuck out in her direction. So, this was a revenge fuck. Her ex-boyfriend had married her sister, and fucking me would make everything better. Right! "Oh yes! Colleen has Sean, but I have you!" She grazed one finger up the length of my prick. "You're not thinking about that red-haired hussy, are you?" I shook my head. My prick swayed from side to side. "Let me change." Aggie jogged off to what I presumed was her bedroom and shut the door. Into what? She was already essentially nude. Why did she need to put anything on for sex? Maybe a diaphragm? She returned from her bedroom in crotchless flesh-colored leggings and knee guards. Were we going to play nude hockey? "I have a shoot tomorrow," she said. "I can't have any bruises." She has a shoot and I'm going to score! Almost laughed out loud, except I was sure it would spoil the mood, and I'd already decided I couldn't pass up the opportunity to fuck a model, legs or not. She cuddled up along side and blew in my ear. "Come with me." I certainly hoped I would, after sufficient in and out sausage action. She climbed up on the bed and knelt down on all fours, legs together. "Make love to me." "Okay. Spread your legs a little so I can -" "Straddle me. Otherwise, I'll be bowlegged tomorrow. It's none of anyone's business that I made love tonight." I climbed up got behind her, my legs apart. I rubbed my erection up and down her pussy lips. Moist. I jabbed at her opening, which was pressed tight by her thighs. She craned her neck to look at me. "Watch it! Haven't you ever made love before?" Nice, getting insulted during what was supposed to be intimate and caring. I prodded her cunt lips apart with my fingertips, holding them while I slid closer. With a slight lean, the head was nestled inside, but just barely. I shuffled closer. "Easy." It was a command more than a request. Given my size, it was reasonable. I penetrated in slow motion. Her natural lubrication further in was significantly less. Her cunt walls grated against my erection. After what seemed like hours, I was buried. The pressure was marvelous, given her closed stance. Now it was time for fucking, an active verb if I ever knew one. I pulled back and slid forward. "I said, take it easy. Gentle." Perhaps Aggie's micromanagement was objectionable to Sean. Maybe Colleen threw herself on the bed, opened her legs and hollered, "Climb on!" I executed a series of gradual withdrawals and reentries. My dick was aching from friction, perhaps from a combination of Aggie's tight cunt and Marti's hand job. "Colleen doesn't know what she's missing." Perhaps, but I knew what I was missing. Active participation on Aggie's part. Sheesh, she just knelt there, making the whole thing a job. Oh yes, and chatting. "You know, my aunt Julie told me a story, last time we went out for drinks and dinner. Just after Sean told me we were quits, and he was taking up with Colleen. Bastard! Watch it, not so fast. Anyway, she told me about a stud living next door that completely reamed her out. Better than anything she ever got from the scumbag husband of hers, may he rot in hell." "That's nice." "She told me was trying to figure out a way to roll in the sack with him again, without being obvious. After all, they're neighbors. So, you have competition out there, Big Guy." Wait a second. Julie? "Juliet?" "Uh huh. Juliet McCarthy. Why, do you know her?" Damn! Juliet is Aggie's aunt, Breann's mother and my next-door neighbor. [See Valentine Birthday and Spring Trash Pick-Up Birthday] And Julie isn't keeping her mouth shut. The song "It's a Small World" began to play in my head, and you know how hard it is to evict that kind of song. "Nope. Just thinking about Romeo and Juliet, that's all." Her grip tightened. Was she enjoying this, finally? "You do! Oh my God! You're the stud muffin who reamed her out!" For the first time, Aggie moved. Not much, just a little. "You can go a little faster now." I leaned over and put my hands on the front of her thighs, for leverage. "No, no hands there. I bruise easily." I reached forward and took her breasts in my hands. Perhaps some nipple action would animate her. "For cripes sake, keep your hands off my tits. The last thing I need to be reminded is how small my chest is!" I'd run out of things to grab, and then I saw it - her hair, cascading down her neck. I took her mane in hand, like reins on a horse. "What are you doing? Don't pull my hair! You'll give me whiplash!" "Shut up!" I didn't know my frustration was so high until I hollered. Here I was, trying to give her a good time, and all I got were complaints and restrictions. It was time to deliver the revenge fuck she'd asked for. I started thrusting, holding onto her hair. My dick was throbbing, begging for release. "Wait! Wait! You're going too fast." "Too late. I'm ready now," I said. "Maybe you need to be ridden, so you can feel something. Feel this?" I pulled back and slammed my dick all the way into her cunt. "Oh God! What are you doing?" "How about this?" I pistoned in and out a half dozen times. "Can you feel that?" "You're fucking me!" she shouted. No duh! Isn't that what she asked for? Sean got Colleen and she got me? All eight inches of me? "Finally! Don't stop now! Fuck me good and hard!" I lunged and retreated, pushing every inch into her cunt. With every penetration, she cried out, gasping for breath, pressing back to slam her butt into my crotch. There were other positions that would have afforded better groin grinding, but no, she couldn't be bruised for a photo shoot. My prick was raw and my knees hurt. Maybe she didn't need to walk tomorrow, but I did. And my dick felt like it had been scrubbed with steel wool. In a quick motion, I grabbed her wrists and dragged them forward. Aggie was face down on the bed. And I fell on top, still inside her. "What are you doing?" "Fucking you." Prone, her legs were slightly separate, but not enough to make her bowlegged in the morning. Still astride her, I continued humping. Good thing she wasn't a butt model, because I expected her backside was already black and blue. I imagined my bloody prick. My balls were churning, and Aggie was about to get a load, ready or not. "Are you on the pill?" I asked. She turned her head. "Morning after." Those weren't legal yet in the US. But, as an international leg model, Aggie traveled the world. Wouldn't be hard to get some. Speaking of hard, if I didn't erupt soon, I never would, and all of this would have been for nothing. I slowed to a crawl, not because she'd asked, but from the pain. I could feel every square inch inside her pussy. She was still quite tight, despite my interior assault. I groaned as sperm flowed from my dick. At that moment, I had no idea whether Aggie had achieved an orgasm or not. And, to be honest, I didn't care. I was done, and done in. I crawled off the bed and cleaned up in the bathroom. The image of my dick in her mirror showed terrorized flesh, raw and sore. Aggie parked herself in the doorway. "You're the stud that did Aunt Julie, aren't you?" "Lots of guys have big dicks." I dabbed at mine with tissues soaked in cold water. "Yes, but you knew her real name was Juliet. Boy, she wasn't exaggerating!" She closed the distance between us and moved her mouth to mine. A kiss, after all this? I closed my eyes. Her tongue slid into my mouth, almost choking me, as her hand found my wilting penis. I pulled back. "What's the matter? Don't you french?" she asked. "Yeah, but I like breathing better. And be careful with that." Aggie laughed. "You're a trip, you know that?" She tugged my prick. I winced. "So, you going to call me or what?" I looked down at her bloodied hand on my dick. "You're married. I know," she said. "But I don't know if I can get along without this." I lifted her hand from my penis. "We'll see. Give me your number." I tucked her in to bed, got dressed, and drove home. The exterior lights were on, so Harriett had gotten home safely. I prepared myself for the second beating of the evening. (To be continued) ### An Original H M Tale I'm always interested in reader feedback. Tell me what you think. Copyright (c) 2006, HarveyMarcus. All Rights Reserved.