Thy Neighbor's Wife
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Peter was stunned but not surprised. He had been afraid from the beginning that this was going to be Lakisha's fate. Jones's reputation for violence, after all, was so bad. "Falling in the bathtub," indeed! Of course, Peter believed even less the statement that Lakisha had been beaten "for no reason." He was sure there was a reason, though the reason could certainly not have justified the beating. Poor Lakisha!
The article was accompanied by a paparazzi photo of Kenyatta Jones and Lakisha at some charity event. She was wearing a barely decent dress and looked ravishing. Although the picture was a bit grainy, you could easily see that she had an enormous bust. For one thing, the low-cut dress was showing off a stupendous, almost unbelievably long, deep cleavage. For another thing, the bulges in the dress below that point were amazingly huge. This girl was built!
Kenyatta Jones's stony-faced homeboys, who acted as bodyguards at such events, stood in the background; they were probably the source of the "falling in the bathtub" story. Peter continued to stare at the paper in disbelief. He frankly had broken into a cold sweat in reaction to the news.
"Peter, what on earth is in the paper — you look like you've seen a ghost!"
Peter handed over the paper. "Oh, our local bad-boy basketball player has gotten arrested for beating up his girl friend," he announced, in as matter of fact and even airy a tone as he could muster. "Looks like he's really stepped into it this time."
Amanda looked at the paper and shook her head in distaste. "Oh, yes. Kenyatta Jones. That thuggish basketball guy who's got the girlfriend with the ridiculously huge bust. They were on some local Oprah-type show I watched a couple of months ago. I wondered how long it would be before he put her in the hospital. Poor thing, she's quite pretty really, and only seventeen, too ... so awfully young as well! ... God, she's huge! Look at her, darling! What an amazing bust! I remember the audience was yelling and whistling when she and Kenyatta came on stage. And it wasn't Kenyatta Jones they were yelling for. I bet she's as big as ... as ... oh, what's her name ... you know ... Julie Lamson, remember? Imagine if mine were as big as that! Would you like that, honey?"
As this talk continued, Peter started to wonder if Amanda was going on and on about Lakisha deliberately. This was getting to be as bad as the night she would not shut up about Julie. Surely she could not suspect that he had been fucking Lakisha? The idea of her Main Line banker husband hooking up with a buxom little ghetto girl was just too bizarre! More likely, she was merely giving her husband a hard time on account of his love of massive bosoms. He certainly hoped that was all there was to it! Jesus!
Peter could not leave it at that, however. He simply could not abandon naïve, uneducated Lakisha to her own devices. He determined to help her in some tangible way.
Over the course of the next few days, more details emerged, especially in the more lurid Philadelphia Daily News. Lakisha, it turned out, had allegedly been in bed with Rico Brown, one of Kenyatta Jones's homeboys, when the basketball star unexpectedly returned home from a trip back home to Virginia. From the tone of the article, it was clear that Lakisha and Rico had been going at it hot and heavy upon his arrival. Naturally, Jones gave his pal Brown a pass — the homie was apparently still living in the penthouse and was once again in the basketball star's good graces — but he had allegedly beaten Lakisha up very, very brutally.
The articles said that Lakisha was recovering nicely but that extensive plastic surgery was going to be necessary down the road. The head of the TJUH plastic surgery department said in an interview that he was confident that once the surgery was behind her, Lakisha would be unmarked from the incident — physically, that is! Of course, the many surgeries required for that purpose were going to be both expensive and painful. The surgeon added that he had seen few victims of domestic abuse as badly beaten as Lakisha. The poor kid!
At that point, Peter swung into action. He called a lifelong school chum named Lionel Schuyler. They had attended Episcopal Academy, St Mark's, and Yale together. Lionel was a senior trust officer at Girard Trust and administered several of Peter's family trusts. Lionel was the absolute soul of discretion; he could be counted on in delicate matters like this. In fact, he had been called on before but never on so sensitive a matter as this!
"Listen, Lionel, I need a favor. It has to be utterly on the Q-T. Especially don't bother asking me why I need it, either! Okay?
"Okay!"
"This Lakisha Davis, the one Kenyatta Jones beat up? I'm sure you read about it in the paper. I want to help her. Find out who's paying her medical bills; if she's not covered, pay 'em out of one of the discretionary trusts. Find her an apartment ... something nice but not lavish ... good neighborhood ... pay the first six months' rent in advance, too. Then get hold of a really high-powered PI lawyer ... a guy who's willing to take a case against one of Philly's biggest heroes ... maybe former heroes is a better way to put it! Clear?"
"You bet, Peter."
"You can call her at the hospital and discuss these plans. Keep me out of it, though. I'll arrange the entrée, don't worry! She'll know your name when you call. And unless there's really some extraordinary development down the road, this is the last I want to hear of it. I'm putting you in charge so as far as you're concerned, I don't exist. You've got complete discretion to do what you think needs to be done. Comprende?"
"Absolutely, Peter. You know you can always count on me!"
Peter next called the hospital. Miss Davis, it seems, was out of danger but was only taking calls from family members. "Tell her that her friend Jim ... Jimmy! ... wants to talk with her; see if she won't take the call."
"Jimmy, is that you?" Lakisha could barely talk; her jaw was probably wired shut.
"You bet it's me, honey."
"Oh, Jimmy," she mumbled, "you done warn me 'n I didn't listen. You was right! That Kenyatta Jones be one dangerous fucking asshole! He hurt me so bad!"
"Listen, honey. I'm very, very sorry about what happened. I care about you a lot! I want to help. Here's what's going to happen. A guy named Lionel is going to call. Take his call. He's going to arrange for taking care of your medical bills, getting an apartment, and especially talking to a lawyer about suing for damages. This is the only time you'll hear from me but listen to Lionel and do what he says — he'll give you all the help you need."
"Oh, Jimmy, thas so sweet! You don't gotta do that!"
"I'm doing it! Now just lay back, relax, and get better. Your problems are going to go away."
"Oh, Jimmy! You always be the dude for me! Sho nuff!" Lakisha paused for a moment in apparent thought. Peter could hear some faint voices in the background. The little girl then resumed talking, this time in a more animated voice.
"Hey, Jim! Momma an' Makeesha be here visitin'. Shit! You shoulda seen the faces on them doctor dudes when they walks in! I tol' ya how big my Momma is. 'Member? Also, I tol' you how big Makeesha was back when we be seein' each other? 'Man! I gotta tell ya, Jimmy — her tits be twice as big now! You wouldn't fuckin' believe 'em!"
Peter could hear shrieking voices and delighted giggles in the background. Then all grew silent. He could sense that Lakisha had put her hand over the mouthpiece. About a minute later, she was again speaking.
"Listen, Jimmy! Back when we was together, I tol' Momma and Makeesha all 'bout you. I mean all 'bout you, baby! Everythin'! They be real impressed! Yes, sir! Tell you what, baby! They be up here all afternoon and night visitin'. Kin you drop by 'n meet 'em? They really, really want ta meet you! They just tol' me so! I's in room 408. Mebbe you kin give 'em a ride home, too. Us girls with big titties get felt up on the subway somethin' terrible! What you say, Jimmy?"
Peter suddenly realized that his cock was a stiff as a board! He had never actually met Momma or Makeesha. Yet ... he knew them so well! His mind was drifting as he fantasized meeting the two ultra-breasted beauties at the hospital and then driving them home.
"Well, what you say, baby?" Lakisha repeated.
At this point in his life, Peter was in better control of his urges than ever. "Lakisha, I really would like to meet them. I certainly would enjoy saving them from the Broad Street Subway. But it just wouldn't be a good idea. Not a good idea at all!"
"Is you sure, baby? Momma 'n Makeesha gonna be real disappointed! After, you know, hearin' so much 'bout you 'n all."
"No, Lakisha. I could not be more sure. Coming to the hospital would not be a good idea. It's much better this way."
Lakisha's hand went back over the mouthpiece. After some thirty seconds, she was back.
"Well, I tol ya so! Momma 'n Makeesha got real long faces 'cause they ain't gonna get to meet my Jimmy. Maybe spend some time wif him, too, thank him, you know, for bein' such a sweetie to their little girl." Lakisha again paused in thought. "Well, even if you ain't coming by here ... hmmm ... how 'bouts we get together, have a little fun, say, when I's out of the hospital and be lookin' good again? Maybe get it on, even. Shit! Somebody got to thank you for bein' such a sweetie!"
Peter smiled. Lakisha would never change! "No, honey. It's really best not to see each other again. Just know that I care about you ... a lot! You'll be special to me always. Good luck, kid!" Peter paused for a few seconds. Then he added, "Goodbye, Lakisha!"
Lakisha's luck really did turn. Once the police leaned on the homeboys, the true story came out. Rico and Lakisha, it turns out, had been fucking for months. What's more, Kenyatta Jones strongly suspected but could not prove their relationship. His simmering distrust probably explained the fury with which he attacked Lakisha when he finally discovered that his suspicions were well founded.
Kenyatta Jones was immediately suspended by the '76ers. He was indicted for felonious assault shortly thereafter. District Attorney Lynne Abraham talked of making an example of him. Kenyatta Jones was no longer the hometown hero. Instead, he had become the symbol of all that was wrong with professional basketball and the all too large a group of self-absorbed, slack-jawed, and character-deficient young men who played it.
Based on the evidence, Commissioner David Stern suspended Jones indefinitely from playing in the NBA. The feeling was that he would be banned for life if his trial ended in a conviction. Certainly, numerous newspaper editorials in many cities were demanding just such a lifetime ban. The wolves were out for Kenyatta.
What's more Lakisha's lawyer had brought action for $500,000,000.00 in damages. Whether or not Kenyatta Jones was going to end up in prison was uncertain; that he was going to get hit with an enormous civil verdict, on the other hand, seemed certain. Miss Davis was in line to become a very rich young woman! The view on the street was that she deserved every penny!
A long-ago congressman from South Philadelphia named Ozzie Meyers had once announced that "Money talks but bullshit walks." Unfortunately, he made the statement while being videotaped in the process of taking a bribe during the Abscam scandal. His next stop was a federal prison camp. But the principle remains applicable, both in Philadelphia and elsewhere.
Kenyatta Jones was clearly too good a basketball player to be banned from the game for life, let alone to go to prison where his slender 6' 1" body would be a target for every sexual predator in the joint. Not, at any rate, when there was so much money to be made by so many people on account of his considerable on-court talents. Too much money was at stake for a result like that to be allowed to occur!
Instead, a grand compromise was reached. Jones would be plead guilty to felonious assault and receive a five-year suspended sentence. He would have to do 500 hours of community service during each of those five years and contribute $1,000,000.00 per year to approved charities during that same period. If he transgressed yet again, well, God help him!
He would be suspended from NBA for one year, after which he would be traded to the Los Angeles Clippers for that team's first and third round draft picks over a two-year period. His career with the '76'ers was over! But not his career; Kenyatta Jones would return!
Finally, he agreed to settle with Lakisha for $10,000,000,00 in satisfaction of her claim for damages. He would pay $2,500,000.00 down, and cough up the rest once he resumed playing and was again receiving a paycheck. The Clippers would ensure that Lakisha got paid by paying the little girl her money off the top. Kenyatta Jones also agreed to take out an insurance policy to cover the remaining $7,500,000.00 in damages in case the basketball star got injured, released, or arrested. In short, Lakisha was financially set for life.
Since the compromise had been reached before most of the medical bills had been paid, Peter's trust funds did not take too serious a hit. But that was to him a matter of little consequence. He had done what he knew was right; he was just happy that Lakisha was going to be taken care of in the fashion she deserved.
To the extent she made the papers, Peter was able to keep up with Lakisha from time to time. She was pictured in the Daily News a year later when she received her GED. She had worked on it during the intervals between her numerous surgeries and during her many convalescences. The article also said that the eighteen-year-old beauty was going to enter Temple University the next fall as a freshman. Good for her!
She looked as stunning as ever — the surgeries had been pronounced a rousing success — and her tits actually looked more gigantic than ever. No surprise there; after all, she was a year older! Peter read in the gossip columns some months later that she was getting the rush from lots of big name rap and hip hop artists. He hoped she was using better judgment in picking her friends this time. For now, though, everything was coming up aces for the buxom little kid. After what she had been through, she deserved it!
For Peter, an additional, if subsidiary, satisfaction in all this lay not merely in seeing Lakisha's successes and accomplishments but in finding out her actual age. She was seventeen when she had been assaulted by Kenyatta Jones. That meant she had been sixteen when she and Peter had parted. But how old was she during their affair? Anything less than age sixteen would have put Peter at risk under the Commonwealth's rape statute — at least in theory.
Peter did a little research out of available court records. Lakisha, it turned out, was indeed only fifteen when they had met on Market Street but she had already turned sixteen — just barely! — when they first had sexual relations. As far as the law was concerned, he was safe!
It was not a point of overwhelming importance. Certainly, it was not that Peter expected to be arrested or anything. It was comforting, though, to know that their affair had been legal. Unwise and immoral? You bet. Illegal? Nope!
Although keeping Lakisha in the news had seemingly been responsible for the spilling of ship loads of ink and the felling of a number of forests, Gina by contrast seemed to have dropped completely and utterly out of sight. Not that that was all bad! Had she been in the news, Peter would undoubtedly have had to listen to Amanda go on and on about how huge her tits were!
Peter's best guess was that Gina was living in Cherry Hills, New Jersey or some similar community with a hubby and kids — lots of kids! Peter wondered if she had married a client. Only a very few escorts, he had once read, would ever do such a thing. He then remembered the conversations he and the buxom escort had shared on the subject. Gina? She probably was married but was definitely not to a client! No way!
Heather Scott, on the other hand, was often in the news — though not always in ways she would have chosen! There had, of course, been no contact between Peter and the buxom, blonde starlet — none! — since that steamy night long ago in the Los Angeles Hills. In fact, Peter's first self-directed act of penance after his confession to Father Winn had been to take the list of Heather's phone numbers out of its hiding place in Thorndike Encyclopedia of Banking and Financial Tables (3rd ed. 1987) and flush it down the toilet. The new Peter needed no such sexual safety nets!
Heather had married a famous rock star with whom she had a couple of kids. A self-made videotape of their honeymoon was an underground classic. Unless the tape lied, her husband had at least a foot-long cock. Peter wondered if he had been responsible, at least in part, for Heather's apparent taste for huge pricks. Peter did not like to think of himself as immodest but he did know he could have that effect on a girl.
Unfortunately, Heather's husband turned out to be a wife-beater. Heather left him several times; finally, they were divorced. They remarried, however, which brought to Peter's mind the old saw about "fool me once, your fault; fool me twice, my fault!" Peter thought they had gotten divorced a second time after a new round of beatings but he was unclear on the point; for a fellow who did not keep up with the gossip columns, Heather's marital life was simply too complicated to follow!
Along the way, Heather would appear from time to time in bit movie and TV parts that required a big-busted actress. She looked better than ever! She was a favorite pinup model and the subject of countless postings on the Internet both with her actual DD-size chest and with those large breasts morphed into an even larger volume thanks to the wonders of computerized imaging. In fact, the reproduction of her buxom image in magazines and on the Web probably led to the spewing of gallons and gallons of semen every day! Heather was a true fantasy girl!
Unfortunately, the huge bosom that made so many guys reach for their cocks seemed to have kept her from getting the important roles she craved. Walker's Cove, it seems, was the apex of her career. Once that Baywatch spin-off was cancelled after a three-year run, the parts had seemed to get smaller and smaller. Too bad — Heather was such a sweet kid with such high hopes!
One night Peter and Amanda were in front of the tube watching a sitcom in which Heather turned out to have a bit part. Amanda, needless to say, immediately noted her presence.
"There's that Heather Whats-her-Name again. She always plays the same parts. Whenever they want a woman with big breasts, they seem to send for her. Humph! Mine are bigger than hers! Don't you think?" Peter nodded gravely. They certainly were! And who better than he to make the comparison! "Do you think," Amanda continued, "I could get a job on TV like that if I got tired of teaching and writing? I'm sure I can act as well as she can...."
Letitia Buxleigh? Nary a word! She was probably living in the Midlands raising kids, possibly with the boyfriend on whose account she had refused to see Peter that last evening in London.
Peter still saw Jennifer Finnegan around town from time to time. She was still practicing law and was still looking very, very good. Extremely good, in fact!
She had married a thoracic surgeon who practiced at Penn; they had a couple of kids and lived out on the Main Line in Devon. Time had softened the bitterness that had marked their break-up. After all, she now had the husband and family for which she had yearned while Peter and she were dating. Peter maliciously wondered how big a cock J. Scott Hamilton, M.D. carried between his legs. Peter, as we know, was convinced that his sixteen-inch long, forearm-thick cock often spoiled girls for other men.
Peter had actually introduced Amanda to Jennifer when the Wyeths had bumped into Dr and Mrs Hamilton at the Academy of Music one night. The exchange was very cordial. As far as Jennifer was concerned Peter was married, she was married, and that was that. Bygones could be bygones. She could even forgive Amanda's stunning looks and J-cup bosom. As a result, Jennifer was very pleasant whenever she ran into Peter; in fact, she always had a warm but totally non-sexual smile for her former lover every time they encountered each other in Center City.
Deborah, on the other hand, had long ago moved to Los Angeles. The pleasant little lunches with his former girl friend were thus a thing of the past. Of course, on account of his marriage to Amanda, they would have been a thing of the past even if Deborah had still lived in Philadelphia. Lunch with former girl friends was a guaranteed recipe for disaster, even when their relationship had become safely platonic. At least now, Peter knew better than to engage in potentially dangerous dalliances like that!
Peter's faithfulness during these first few post-harem years was absolute. Resolute. Uniformly successful. At the same time, it had not really been seriously challenged. That is, Peter saw lots and lots of gorgeous women in the course of his daily life, and lots of them continued to hit on him. He was, after all, an absolute hunk whom a high percentage of women found irresistible. He was pleased to find that he was able to resist these temptations without much effort. Still, the fact that these efforts took place almost entirely in public places or at parties when Amanda was somewhere in the same room meant that Peter may have been entitled to a gold star but hardly a medal! The offer to take Momma and Makeesha Davis home from the hospital had been a little tempting. Especially considering the subtext of the offer! Yet Peter had been able to turn it down without too much difficulty. No, Peter was not entitled to claim hero status. Not yet, anyway.
A business trip he took to Las Vegas turned out to be another matter altogether, however; there, temptation proved to be nigh on overwhelming! Park Place Entertainment Corporation, a huge player in the Las Vegas gaming business, had decided to build a $450 million, 900-suite luxury hotel tower as part of the Caesars Palace complex in that Nevada gambling mecca. Peter, who was now executive vice-president of the bank, had succeeded in getting the institution to loosen up a bit as to the range of the loans in which it was willing to participate. As a result, Pennsylvania Trust had signed up for a major stake in the financing of the project. Peter was dispatched to Las Vegas to help work out the final details of this very profitable deal.
Peter spent a lot of time during the trip with Jake Farmer, a billionaire property developer who had put together the real estate package necessary to build the tower. Jake was a real charmer, a truly handsome, suave guy. A real lady-killer as well, Peter could tell. He and Peter took to each other immediately. Even though Peter was in full retirement, he could spot a major league cunt hound in a second! But for his irrevocable withdrawal from the chase, he and Jake would have been two of a kind! What a trail the two of them could have blazed through the fleshpots of Las Vegas!
The final details were at last nailed down late on a Friday afternoon. It was too late to fly back home that evening, so Peter made a reservation for a plane early Saturday morning. The weeklong series of meetings had left him exhausted; he thought he would take a run along the strip to Fremont Street downtown and back and then relax in front of the tube with some room service food at the ready. Perhaps he would venture a few bucks at the blackjack table. In any case, he was going to end the day by soaking in the hot tub in his suite and falling in bed at an early hour!
As the meeting ended, however, Jake suggested a farewell drink in the hotel lounge at around seven-thirty. Why not? That would give Peter plenty of time to get his run in and then shower; it would be nice to end the trip with a couple of scotch and sodas with such a personable fellow.
Jake met him in the lobby. When they entered the lounge, Jake suggested they sit in a dark, secluded booth in the very back of the bar. "That way we can stretch out, relax; besides, we could use the extra room ... some friends are joining us a little later," Jake said.
Peter's antennae suddenly shot up. "Friends?" he asked.
"Yeah," Jake replied laconically. "Some old friends of mine. They'll be down shortly."
Peter decided to let the matter ride for now but he was really on guard. Old friends? He hoped that did not mean what he thought it meant! Vegas being Vegas, he had a strong feeling that these "friends" were going to be two in number and female in gender! He was going to have to do some fast backpedaling as a result when they arrived. Friends indeed! Peter, the pensioned-off satyr, had no intention of coming out of retirement for an encore, even if, as he suspected, these "friends" turned out to be totally fabulous-looking babes.
About halfway through his first drink Peter heard the clickity-click of high heels heading toward their booth. They abruptly stopped right behind his left shoulder. Oh, oh! When he turned around to see who had walked up, he thought his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets!
There stood an astonishingly sweet-faced and breathtakingly beautiful young girl. She was a very light-skinned mulatto. She really looked more white than black, except for her lips, which were very thick and protruding. This girl was just super gorgeous ... her looks were truly world class!
"Peter," Jake began, "I'd like you to meet Clarissa."
The young beauty extended her hand and gave Peter a very appraising look. Peter gave her hand a short squeeze and smiled. She was obviously looking Peter over and liking what she saw. "A pleasure," she breathed. "A real pleasure, good-looking!" The girl had a cockney-tinged English accent.
Peter broke the silence. "Clarissa's joining us for a drink and...."
"Christy will be down in a sec," Clarissa added as she completed Jake's sentence.
"Christy," Jake explained. "She's the other friend I mentioned."
Clarissa! Christy! Peter's mind suddenly reeled! Jake had not, of course, mentioned any names at all. But Peter remembered those names! But from where? Wait a minute! Clarissa and Christy were two mega-titted and fantastically expensive escorts he had run across while surfing the Web back in the days when his tomcatting activities were just getting into gear. It all came back to him, now. The two girls worked as a team, for thousands of dollars a session. And now Clarissa was here ... in the flesh ... and what flesh it was! ... and with Christy not far behind! Jesus Christ!
Clarissa continued to stand next to the booth; it was as if she was putting herself on inspection. Peter accepted the invitation and inspected. He was immediately sure of one thing; there was little doubt that this girl was the Clarissa of Clarissa and Christy. No doubt at all!
She was just super-gorgeous — way beyond even drop-dead beautiful. She had shining, very thick, curly, long black hair that flowed all over her shoulders and way down her back. Luscious!
As Peter's eyes started to roam downward, his jaw frankly dropped. Clarissa was wearing a really tight, creamy-white, ultra-ultra-short mini dress; it provided a sexy contrast with her light milk chocolate skin. Naturally, the hemline was just way up to here; Peter was not even sure her pussy and rump were fully covered. Wow! This dress was daring even for Vegas!
Of much greater importance from Peter's perspective were the two astonishingly massive bulges that punctuated the tiny little dress. Peter could sense his mouth getting dry. The girl's tits were as big as watermelons! At least that big! Her astonishingly massive tits seemed to cover her entire chest from her collarbone all the way down to her waist! Clarissa's entire trunk was apparently hidden behind a wall of tit flesh. What's more, these colossal udders stuck out about two or three inches on either side of her trunk, besides. The sight was absolutely unbelievable!
The dress had a scoop neck. A very deep scoop neck. Clarissa's cleavage was mind-boggling! The dress allowed the display of about eight inches of cleavage before the girl's massive bosom disappeared into the dress. Because her huge tits were so squished together by the tight little dress, Clarissa's cleavage was many inches deep as well. The sight was unbelievably arousing; it was beyond mouth-watering!
Peter's eyes then completed their downward trip to spot a tiny waist and fantastically luscious thighs and legs. He was willing to bet that her ass was equally curvy and succulent. Clarissa had such a petite body but yet was so impossibly buxom at the same time. What a combination!
Clarissa was very young looking as well. Her face would not have looked out of place atop the body a high school freshman. But no fourteen year-old ever had a shape like this! The juxtaposition of those little-girlish looks and the very adult curves below her neck was, as result, almost impossibly arousing.
In a lot of ways, Clarissa reminded Peter of Lakisha. Yet he had to admit that Lakisha, in spite of her stunning beauty and staggering bosom, was fool's gold compared to this girl's solid gold bullion assets. Lakisha might be a traffic stopper on Market Street but Clarissa was the real deal! World class!
When his glance finally made its way back up Clarissa's fabulous body to meet her gorgeous, bedroom eyes, Peter noted that the fantastically beautiful and unimaginably buxom girl had a little smile on her face. That smile seemed to be saying, "I certainly don't have to ask if you like what you see, 'cause I can sure tell you do. You like it big time!"
Peter suddenly snapped out of his sex-stunned shock. "Um ... I'm being impolite ... please sit down." He got up and let Clarissa slip into the booth between the two men.
Peter noted that no sooner had the girl slid onto the cushion that Jake and Clarissa slammed into each other as if their bodies had been drawn together by a magnet. "Hi, baby!" Jake said, "it's been so long."
"Too long, lover," Clarissa whispered.
The two greeted each other with a demure peck that quickly turned into a deep, deep French kiss. Their hands lightly raced over each other's bodies. Their tongues lashed at each other. There was no doubt that Jake and Clarissa were very glad to see each other!
After about thirty seconds, Jake and Clarissa broke their torrid clinch. "I'm sorry," Jake stammered, "I didn't mean to get carried away like that. It's just that Clarissa and I go way back and I'm so happy to see her. It's been months! Anyway, you don't have to feel like a third wheel 'cause here comes Christy.
If Peter had been staggered by Clarissa's buxom beauty, he was knocked senseless by Christy's mind-boggling good looks. She too stood by the booth upon her arrival, quietly posing so that Peter could check out her fantastic goodies.
Christy had a lot in common with Clarissa; they could actually have been sisters. For starters, she was slim and about 5' 4". Peter guessed the two girls were about the same height and build. Their ages were remarkably difficult to gauge because of the disparity between their childlike countenances and their impossibly lush, ultra-womanly figures. Still if Peter were to hazard a guess, he thought they looked about nineteen or twenty tops — certainly no more than that. Still, Peter recalled with a start, they had been escorting in New York about three years ago; that was when he had seen their ad on the web. Jesus! If they were only nineteen or twenty now, could they really have been hooking at sixteen or seventeen? Maybe they just looked a lot younger than their actual ages. He certainly hoped so!
Although the girls were both traffic stoppers, they were not twins. Christy, for example, was even more of a baby-faced beauty than Clarissa. Like her friend, though, she was truly and unbelievably beautiful. Words failed Peter; Christy was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. She was stunning beyond belief.
Peter was used to being in the company of remarkably beautiful women. Hell, he was married to one! Yet he had to admit that Christy's fabulous looks were in another dimension altogether. She actually redefined the meaning of good looks. The unbelievably gorgeous girl took the idea of beauty into a different dimension altogether! Merely gazing in her face was making Peter dizzy with shocked lust!
The ultra-beautiful girl had a cute, pert nose and gorgeous bedroom eyes — just for starters. Her vaguely dusky complexion was just slightly darker than Clarissa's. Like her friend, she had unbelievably thick, really pouty lips. The remarkable size of her lips was extremely arousing. These super-fat, funnels of hot flesh perfectly complemented the extraordinarily beautiful young girl's face.
Clarissa and Christy were both staggeringly beautiful girls and he would have been hard-pressed to label one as the more beautiful. If put to the test, though, the conclusion was unmistakable: Christy by a hair! Clarissa, in other words, was something like a 50 on a 10-point scale. Christy, on the other hand, was a 51!
Again like Clarissa, Christy had big hair; it was silken, super-thick, jet-black, and extended all the way down to the top of her ass. This kid had it all!
Peter then checked out her chest. Oh, my God! Peter's head really began to swim. He was staring, bug-eyed, at the biggest, firmest, most swollen pair of tits he could imagine. And that included the pair on Clarissa he had just eyeballed a few minutes before. Clarissa was huge but Christy was bigger still! Huge and huger!
Even in light of his past experiences, Peter simply could not believe it was possible for tits to be this huge, at least on a girl this petite. Her breasts were not just as big as watermelons but were even bigger than that. Incredible! Christy's super-pendulous, almost doublewide pillows of tit meat hung down lower than her waist — maybe even to her groin! Easily that far! Wow!
Like Clarissa's, Christy's tits were noticeably wider than her trunk. But they stuck out on either side of her body by three or four inches at least, or an inch or two greater than the girth of Clarissa's bosom. The effect was that above the waist, the girl seemed to have no trunk at all. Unbelievable! From just below her neck to just below her waist, she was just all tit — Christy was nothing more than two gigantic knockers atop a pair of extraordinarily curvaceous legs. Peter could tell that he was involuntarily shaking his head in frank disbelief at the sight of this unbelievably huge set of milkers.
Naturally, visions of Lakisha's massive tits floated in Peter's overheated mind as he stared at the unbelievably giant-bosomed girl. The Philadelphia girl's tits might actually be a tad larger than Christy's (and thus Clarissa's). Julie too might be bigger than either of them. Still, as fantastically beautiful and buxom as his former girl friends undoubtedly were, there was no getting around the fact that they simply were not in the same league as these two unbelievable beauties. Wow!
Christy, along with those gigantic treasures, had been poured into a short, tight, sleeveless, high-necked dress. The miniature garment was made out of some thin, clingy, synthetic material that was so light that Peter doubted the dress weighed more than an ounce. The garment fit her like a second skin — maybe even more snugly than that! It either faithfully outlined every one of Christy's curves or left them uncovered altogether! In any event those curves were considerable in number and unimaginably delectable in quality. The way the clingy material seemed welded to every square inch of her mammoth bosom was especially exciting. In fact, the dress so faithfully hugged Christy's curves that Peter wondered if someone had somehow managed to put liquefied fabric into an aerosol can so that Christy could get dressed simply by spraying the dress on. Man! It was that tight!
From the cut of her jib, it seemed likely that Christy would have used up an entire can of liquefied fabric on each of her tits. The overall scantiness of the garment, however, suggested that Christy might have depressed the nozzle only three or four additional times to complete the job on the rest of her body. The dress was that skimpy! Man! What a sight Christy was!
The hem of the dress was so high and Christy's tits were so huge that her tits actually seemed to hang to a point lower than the hemline of her miniature dress. Jesus Christ Almighty! Yet these massive udders were so firm! Christy obviously was not wearing a bra under that dress. It was so tight that Peter would have seen the outline of such a garment and, besides, he could see stiff, prominent nipples punctuating the fabric. The dress was so unbelievably snug that Peter could actually see the outline of Christy's breathtakingly huge areolae!
The way Christy's enormous globes jutted out of the skin-tight dress, especially considering her lack of a bra, made one thing thrillingly clear — the buxom mulatto beauty had extraordinarily firm and solid jugs. Hell, they were threatening to poke right through the insubstantial dress material. What a pair!
Peter had not been surprised to see that Christy's thighs and legs — entirely on view, of course — were world class as well. God! This girl was something!
Peter knew that his eyes were glittering with approval and even naked lust. How could they not? Any fellow this side of brain death was going to have a strong sexual reaction to Christy's fantastic goodies. It couldn't be helped!
What's more, it was not simply her physical attributes that made Christy so startlingly arousing. Her entire persona glowed with sensuality. She was, Peter had quickly concluded, totally feral in temperament. Peter could almost sniff the sharp odor of sex! Yet Christy's remarkably baby-faced countenance made her seem almost prepubescent. It was a thrillingly intoxicating combination that, Peter was sure, had brought many a fellow to his knees. It was certainly having that effect on Peter! For the most fleeting of moments, Peter's overheated mind crazily jumped back to his impossibly erotic fantasy about Makeesha, Momma, and Lakisha Davis so many years before. Déjà vu all over again!
This was clearly a girl who lived to copulate. In fact, Christy offered the prospect of a girl who spent a significant portion of her life with a stiff cock stuffed up her twat. What's more, from the way she was looking at Peter, she clearly considered him a worthy candidate for that honor!
Christy did not even bother to ask the question. Instead, she simply whispered, "I'm glad you like what you see, baby." The shockingly beautiful, buxom girl then smiled into Peter's eyes. The smile seemed to promise unimaginably exciting intimacies. "Can I sit down?" she added. Peter wordlessly got up and let Christy slip into the booth. The lineup around the circular table by gender was now boy, girl, girl, boy.
After Peter retook his seat, Christy edged very close to him. Her skirt was hiked up so high that with a typically shaped girl he could have seen her panties. Not so with Christy. Her gigantic but shapely bosom was resting in her lap so as to cover not only that part of her body but her upper thighs as well. Christy was so big!
Still, Peter could admire the lower portion of her thighs; they were beyond luscious. She was sitting only several inches away from him; when she turned to talk, however, her gigantic bosom began to press with erotic force into his shoulder and arm. Peter knew he was going to have to get out of there real soon!
"Jake thought we might enjoy meeting each other, Peter," Christy said. Then she paused and added in a low voice, "He sure hit the nail on the head as far as I'm concerned! Man, was he right! Wow! I mean, you're an unbelievable hunk, baby! Jake said you were a really suave, good-looking guy. He didn't say the half of it! I'm really glad to make your acquaintance!" The unimaginably buxom girl then leaned back and arched her back in order to thrust her gigantic bosom in Peter's direction. Then she continued.
"I really hope you feel the same way. I can tell from the way you're lookin' that you can't believe how huge my tits are. Let's do the math first. 32Zed-19-32. That's right, I said 32Zed, precious! And do you know what those numbers could add up to? The most thrilling experience of your life, that's what, baby!"
With that, Christy began to crush her watermelon-plus tits even harder against Peter's body. On account of the incredibly soft, lush pressure of her bosom, Peter could tell that those 32"Zed" wonders were 100% natural. Wow!
Peter mentally dismissed the "Zed" cup size Christy was claiming as mere pie-in-the-sky. Peter knew that for girls like Christy and Clarissa, an assertions of a "Z-cup" were just one of those airy-fairy things that girls with builds like that bandy about. It was just part of the hype! "Z-cup"? Not bloody likely! Gigantic? Mind-boggling? Nearly too huge to believe? Now we're talking!
At the same time, Peter's attention was quickly diverted from his brief contemplation of bra sizes to a matter of more immediate concern. Christy had lightly placed her warm hand on his thigh. Against his will, Peter could feel himself getting very, very stiff! This would not do at all!
"You see, honey," Christy continued softly, "Clarissa and I are in town to make a movie. It's an, er, adult flick." The unimaginably buxom girl looked up at Peter and sensuously licked her glossy, succulent lips. "It's called Frolic in the Watermelon Patch". She once again licked her juicy, overly full lips — more slowly and deliberately this time — and then glanced down at her colossal tits. "Guess it's easy to see why they call it that!" she chuckled.
The giant-breasted beauty then squashed her massive bosom with even greater energy against Peter and began to massage his thigh as well. Peter looked to his right as if for help from the other couple. Jake and Clarissa, however, were wildly hugging and kissing. They were also shamelessly groping each other; Peter could see that Jake was frantically kneading a giant tit, while Clarissa's left hand seemed to have disappeared inside Jake's trousers. He would get no help in that direction! With that, Peter could feel a heavy clot of pre-cum slurp out of his cockhead!
Christy then continued. "You see, baby, me 'n Clarissa need some help reading our lines for tomorrow. Jake thought you guys could help us, you know, doin' just that. It would be lots of fun! Actually, there ain't many lines to read. There's a lot of action, though. Lots and lots of action. Wait till you see the script! That's what we need help with. The action. To practice, you know, makin' love!"
Peter stammered. "I ... I ... don't think...."
"Honey," the beyond buxom girl whispered, "you're not supposed to think. Just feel. It'll be great. You'll see!"
With that, Christy's roaming hand suddenly encountered Peter's monster hard-on. The straining muscle extended down his pants leg. Christy traced its length with her hand. She did not reach his shockingly bulbous cockhead until her hand had nearly reached the fellow's knee! Was this even possible? At that point she let out a low moan. "Oh, baby!"
Peter could hear a low guttural sound in her throat. Christy was wildly rubbing her hand all up and down the prodigious length of Peter's horse-sized cock. "Oh, precious, what have we here? Oh, baby, this is unreal! Sweetheart, I didn't know they made 'em this big!" She then groaned again. "Honey, I think I just won the lottery!"
With that Christy's roaming hand had slipped inside Peter's trousers. He could not believe how adeptly she had accomplished that feat. Within seconds, she had her little hand wrapped around as much of the circumference of his rock-hard cock as she could encompass — much less than half its girth, actually. She then once again lightly traced its improbable length, this time inside his trousers. Then she started to moan. "Oh, baby! It's so thick, too!"
Peter was frankly going crazy! His groin was so warm! His cock was on fire! The way this young girl was playing with his dick was getting to be too much to bear. He was approaching the point at which loving up her giant tits and fucking her brains out was going to be the only thing in life — the only thing! — that mattered. That is, if he didn't blow lunch right here in the booth first! His little head — his fucking little head — was simply taking over! Peter knew — he just knew! — that he dare not let things get to that point. The problem, Peter feared, was that they were already there!
"I ... it's that.... um ... we....!" Peter was doing his best but his inarticulate protests sounded more like gargling than talking!
"Baby!" Christy looked at Peter with exasperated fondness. "Just don't try to talk at all. Just feel! Hmmm, baby! Just go with the flow ... and there's going to be plenty of that tonight! I guarantee it, precious! It's going to be like heaven!" Then she gave Peter's fossilized cock a final squeeze. "Maybe I'd better stop playing with this huge monster for a while to make sure, though! It would be a shame to have too much action before the curtain went up!"
As she withdrew her hand from his pants, Christy pivoted her body to the left and looked up at Peter with something akin to adoration. Her thick, juicy lips were parted. He knew she wanted him to kiss her. Deeply. The kiss, if it happened, was going to be one of the deepest and most passionate French kisses of all time!
Peter wanted to kiss her so badly! Hell, he wanted to swallow her face! He longed to smash his mouth against those juicy, bloated lips and then jam his tongue down her throat. Oh, man, did he yearn to do that! But if he actually did, Peter knew in his heart, he was then a goner! Goodbye, Peter!
Christy got up on her knees and put her arms around Peter. She slowly began to edge her huge, thick lips closer and closer toward Peter's mouth. If Peter was not going to get things rolling, well, then, she was going to initiate the kiss herself!
Peter clumsily evaded her approaching wide-open mouth by violently jerking his face to the left with a strangled, bestial growl that was meant to articulate the word "no". He then locked his head into position so that he would not be tempted to look back and — what the hell! — kiss her anyway!
Christy settled for planting a passionate kiss on his cheek. Jesus! The giant-breasted girl's lips were so thick and bloated that the open-mouthed kiss seemed to cover his entire cheek! Then, Christy actually started to suck his cheek flesh into her mouth and to suck on it. Finally, she simply opened her mouth wide and began licking Peter's cheek like an overeager puppy. No puppy, however, would have licked so slowly and sensuously. All the while, she had returned to squeezing Peter's huge erection through his pants with one hand while running her other hand through his hair. The impossibly buxom and beautiful girl was apparently losing any semblance of control! The thrilling prospect of getting laid by this mule-sized cock had clearly unhinged her!
Peter continued, however, to maintain iron control. Or something like it! He sat upright like a statue. When Peter did not respond, Christy, probably assuming that Peter was too shy or discreet to make out in a hotel lounge, turned to Clarissa. "Honey, let's get out of here. Up to Jake's suite. I mean, we've just got to go! Right now! You should see the fucking stage prop I just found. I didn't know they made 'em in that size! I've hit the friggin' jackpot. I mean, we got some practisin' to do for tomorrow! Let's go!" Christy was clearly frantic to get upstairs to start making love!
Clarissa and Jake were still ardently making out. They broke their face-swallowing soul kiss and turned to the other couple in the booth. "Sounds good to me," Jake smiled. "Let's get out of here."
Peter was shaking with desire. His cock was so full, so ready! It felt as if it had been broasted! He was crazy with lust. He wanted to fuck Christy so very badly. He so very much needed to!
Christy had started to make things even worse by rubbing her gigantic tits up and down the length of his trunk. They felt so warm, so soft, and so huge! She had slipped her hot little hand back inside his pants and was shamelessly jacking off his monstrous tool. Peter could tell she had gone round the bend with sexual desire. She wanted that giant cock! Peter was going around the bend as well. He wanted her — all of her! Suddenly, all that mattered was making love to this fantastic girl who was just giving herself, throwing herself, at him right now!
Peter's mind wildly raced as he feverishly considered the situation. Yes, no, yes, no — oh, shit! Shit! SHIT! Then, somehow and by exercising a major effort of the will that Peter had feared was beyond him, he somehow ripped the focal point of his consciousness away from Christy's fabulous body and face and managed to refocus his thoughts on Amanda. And not just on Amanda as an individual but on Amanda as the personification of his vows of faithfulness, of his determination never again to slip. He even violently shook his head several times in an imperfect attempt to get this buxom vixen out of his head!
Suddenly, in an instant, the tiny germ of will he had somehow conjured up blossomed into something like a full bloom. It was clearly going to be a very short-lived blossom but by God it was there! At least for a moment! Maybe, just maybe, he was going to be able to do it!
"I ... I ... I can't!" Peter was finally able to croak. There! He had said it!
This declaration was followed by a deathly silence. Peter looked over at the buxom young porn star. Her face was flushed and her mouth was slack with sensual desire. Peter glanced at the huge bosom resting in her lap; he could see thick, pointy, super-erect nipples thrusting out through the ultra-thin fabric of her skin-tight dress. This girl was primed! Christy was in a high, perhaps frantic, state of sexual arousal. She was plainly a gal who not only loved giant cocks but who also had just encountered the Holy Grail. No wonder she was breathing hard with passion and sexual need.
"What do you mean, you 'can't,'" she asked in a low, sex-slurred voice.
"I ... I mean I can't help you with your lines. I ... I ... have to get back to my room! I've ... I've ... got to ... leave! I ... I ... I can't be with you tonight! I ... I ... just can't!" Peter was in such distress and confusion that he could hardly make his tongue work!
Christy stared at Peter with a mixture of concern and amazement on her gorgeous face. She continued to look at him long and hard. She slowly shook her head in astonishment. "You mean you're turning me down? Rejecting me? Really?" The fantastically beautiful girl was thunderstruck! She was the one who delivered lines like that — she didn't receive them!
Peter dumbly nodded his head.
Christy again shook her head in amazement. "Peter, I don't think a guy has ever turned me down before. Not ever! Frankly, I can't believe it! I mean, I'm no dummy — I know the effect I have on guys! God, do I know! This sort of thing just doesn't happen!" The unimaginably buxom and beautiful girl again slowly shook her head in wonderment.
Peter, who had never been so tongue-tied in his life, sat quietly until he had regained a little composure.
"Let me explain," he ventured in a still-strangled voice. As he began, he saw that Clarissa, Jake, and Christy were hanging on his words. "This is nothing personal, believe me! You are one of the most beautiful and sexy girls I have ever seen in my life! Boy, are you ever!" Peter paused for a moment. "But I'm married!"
With that Peter could see Christy and Clarissa exchange glances. He could tell they were subtly rolling their eyes in unison. This explanation was not selling! Married? Was this guy for real?
"Look," Peter continued, "I don't mean the kind of 'married' that figures it's OK to have a little fling when you're thousands of miles from home 'cause who would know and so there's no harm done. No, it's the kind of married that stays faithful even when nobody's looking. 'Cause I'm looking!" Peter paused again to switch gears; he did not want to sound sanctimonious. Actually, he was afraid he already was! Whatever! It was how he truly felt!
"Look," he continued. "Jake is single — for him a night like this is great. And I'll make a confession. In the past I haven't always followed that rule. That's putting it mildly! I think it almost cost me my marriage. I love my wife too much to risk it again." Peter paused one final time, a crooked smile on his face. "Christy, outside of my wife I can't think of a woman in the world I would rather read lines with than you! But you're not my wife. So, I've got to say it's been really nice meeting you — more than you know! — but I've got to leave and go up to my room. Alone."
Christy had continued to rub Peter's cock during this little speech. He was, in fact, still as stiff as an iron bar.
"Your cock certainly doesn't seem to be saying 'I want to be alone,'" Christy protested in a petulant tone.
Peter smiled. "My cock has a mind of its own. A very one-track mind! Not one that thinks about consequences, I'm afraid. Of course, I'm attracted to you. Fantastically attracted. Who wouldn't be? But I just shouldn't ... can't ... won't ... whatever!"
A hush once again fell over the table. It was as if the idea of a guy saying "no" to Christy was akin to repealing the basic laws of physics. It just couldn't happen!
Jake finally broke the silence. "Well, look, there's no problem here." The suave businessman got an evil glint in his eye." We'll just have a ménage a trois instead. That sounds like a lot of fun to me! How about it, girls?"
Clarissa smiled. "Fine with me, too, except I was sort of looking forward to a switch-a-roo along the way." She sighed and was quiet for a moment. Then she brightened. "But being with Jake is so exciting, though, that we'll be OK! Really OK!"
"Have I rained on your parade, Jake," Peter inquired.
"Not a bit ... not really," Jake replied. "I really should have checked with you first but I just assumed...."
"I know," Peter sympathized. "Have I upset any financial apple carts?"
"There is a spot of money involved," Jake admitted, "but nothing that the rest of the evening or the pile of money we just made on the project can't justify. It's no problem. So, I guess it's goodbye, Peter." The genial developer smiled into Peter's eyes. "We'll miss you!" Then he chuckled. "Maybe we'll send you a postcard. It'll say, "Wish you were here!"
The foursome got up from the booth and started to go their separate ways. Clarissa and Christy went first, walking arm in arm with Jake on either side of the about to be very lucky guy. Peter almost fainted when he caught a glimpse of the girls' rolling, rocking, and barely covered rumps, beyond luscious thighs, and sleek muscled calves. These girls had asses and legs so fine that they would have attracted a crowd even if they had A-cup tits and were butt-ugly besides. Plus, their six-inch heels were really showcasing their assets. In addition, a significant portion of their gigantic but shapely bosoms could be seen jiggling from the rear as they bopped along. Peter once again shook his head in wonderment. These girls were Universe Class! The sight was so erotic that Peter was afraid he was going to fall flat on the floor in some sort of sex-induced paralysis!
Peter hung back to let the three lovers-to-be get ahead of him; any greater proximity was only going to dangerously fuel his libido. So far so good but he really was afraid to trust himself in Christy's company! As the trio reached the entrance to the lounge, however, they suddenly stopped and turned. Oh, oh! Christy was coming back!
If the retreating sight of Christy's luscious rear end had staggered Peter as her sensational ass cheeks swiveled toward the front of the bar, the frontal view of her fabulous body as it returned was reducing him to mush. Jesus! His eyes were so widened with stunned lust that he was forgetting to blink. Hell, he might miss something! Christy was certainly the complete package! Wow! Her heartbreakingly baby-faced features were so shockingly, over the top, gorgeous! Her sleek thighs were so perfect! Her legs were such killers! The bounce of her long, sexy hair was so arousing! But of course it was the sight of her outrageously massive tits that truly finished him off. Their watermelon length and width thrillingly obscured her entire torso. It just seemed impossible that tits could be this huge and firm. Fuck! Although they displayed a firmness that seemed inconsistent with their astonishing size, there was no doubt that these enormous puppies were 100% real. Implants didn't quiver and jiggle like these babies!
Even though they were captured inside Christy's skin-tight — or tighter! — dress, these huge mounds of tit actually extended downward to a point beyond her just-below-the-snatch hemline. The sight of her long, erect nipples punctuating the dress at that point made the sight all the more electrifying! Peter was clearly no beginner when it came to eyeballing gigantic bosoms; nonetheless, the incredible size of these massive whoppers had left him in a state of utter shock. He felt like one of those cartoon characters from his youth whose eyeballs, precariously attached to their sockets by springs, had been hurled out of their heads in response to some overwhelming or surprising sight.
The manner in which Christy's bigger than big milkers were floating and quivering in response to her every high-heeled footfall was the finishing touch. Clickity ... bounce ... clack ... quiver ... clickity ... jiggle ... clack ... float! God! Her enormous jugs were so huge that by the time these massive bags of breast flesh could process the messages Christy's brain was delivering, the quivers and jiggles of her gargantuan tits were half a step out of sync with her footsteps. Wow! Christy got closer and closer. In response to the increasing proximity of her overwhelming beauty and above all her bouncing, floating tit flesh, Peter began helplessly to whimper and groan. The approaching vision of this luscious, overly buxom girl might be the most arousing sight Peter had ever experienced! Yet it was forbidden fruit! Totally! Peter knew he had made the right decision — one he was not about to change! He couldn't! — but still, there was that crazed corner of Peter's brain that wanted to throw away everything — his success in fending off the impossibly desirable girl, his carefully honed standards, even his marriage if it came to that — and spend an evening with one of the premiere pieces of ass on Earth! Christy was that exciting, and Peter was that aroused.
As he stood beside the booth, his arms loosely dangling at his side, Peter knew that his beyond-stiff cock was jutting obscenely out of his pants for all to see. It was even pulling his waistband away from his body! Well, it couldn't be helped! Had he been able to tear his eyes away from Christy's jiggling, impossibly swollen bosom, he might have glanced down to see if the slurps of pre-cum he was experiencing were staining his fly. Well, he would have to check that out later. Right now, his bulging eyes were hopelessly locked, laser-like, on Christy's looming, incredibly gigantic, bosom.
The fantastically buxom girl stopped about a foot in front of Peter. That meant, of course, that her gigantic tits were a millimeter away from jamming into his chest. Her café au lait complexion was so alluring!
"I just wanted to say, Peter, that I am not only pleased to have met you but proud to have met you!" She smiled. "Look, I know just how excited you were. I've never felt a bigger or stiffer cock in my life. Honey, it was harder than steel. That tells me you wanted to be with me in the worst possible way. But you honored your wife and said 'no.'"
The ultra-buxom beauty had clasped Peter's left fingers and palm between her soft little hands. "Can you guess how many husbands I've been with who trash those vows or just put 'em in storage for the evening?" Christy smiled again. "A hunk like you! And with a cock like that! I think you could have any woman you wanted. Yet you stick with your wife. I'm impressed, Peter, and not insulted one bit! The truth is, I'm honored to have met you!"
The heavily breasted girl than leaned frontally into Peter, stood up on her tiptoes, and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. In the process, of course, her firm, massive mega-breasts threatened to poke holes in his chest and groin! The way his stiffer than stiff dick was indenting her soft, lush mega-bosom was beyond thrilling! Jesus! As she pulled her massive tits back from Peter's body and turned to rejoin her waiting playmates, Christy looked up at Peter with real affection. "I hope your wife knows what a lucky gal she is!"
Peter smiled. "Thank you, Christy," was what he said out loud. "So do I, so do I!" is what he said to himself.
For just a second or so, Christy leaned her fabulous body back into almost welded contact with Peter's torso. ""Course," she added in closing, "I am disappointed, too." The impossibly buxom and beautiful child-woman gave Peter a smoldering look and licked her lusciously swollen lips. "A whole lot! I think our sex would have been unbelievably hot! I know I'll wonder for a long time just how that giant cock of yours would have felt inside me. I've never had anything that big. Not even close! You make a girl go all weak in the knees, baby!" She then paused for dramatic effect. "C'est la vie!" she added with the slightest of shrugs. With that, the awesomely buxom and beautiful girl reached up and briefly touched Peter on the cheek with her fingertips. Then she drew back from Peter's body once again and smiled.
That was not the end of the show, however — not by a long shot! Peter stood stock still in sexual shock as Christy pivoted to walk back toward her friends. The view from the rear was fantastic — beyond fantastic. Her painted-on body-hugging dress was so short that he could actually see a hint of ass crack at the hemline. Wow! Plus, the shiny skin-tight knit garment was just welded to her heartbreakingly perfect ass cheeks. Man! The way her two impossibly curvy little half melons were sexily rolling and rotating and swinging and swaying under that tiny little dress as she clickity-clacked along!
Peter was sure she was provocatively exaggerating her walk in order to put on a show. Man, was she succeeding! That is, Christy might admire Peter's fidelity to his wife but she was not above putting on a little performance just to rub it in as she sashayed upstairs to get laid, re-laid, and parlayed by some other very lucky fellow!
Her long sexy, down-to-the-small-of-the-back hair was really alluring as well. The effect of Christy's six-inch heels was making her hair bounce and swing in an almost impossibly sexy manner. What's more, the extreme shortness of her miniature dress meant that the fullness of her thighs — so heartbreakingly sleek and slender — was on display. And her calves! They were so perfectly muscled and shapely! The tilt to her posture added by the high heels made them just fantastically luscious!
And her tits! Christy's bosom was so wide that Peter could see a huge mass of tit flesh as the impossibly beautiful and buxom girl retreated from their booth. Wow! Bulges of tit meat of at least three to four inches in width extended out on either side of her trunk. What's more, her bosom was so colossal that these twin bulges extended from her upper chest to her groin! Even more exciting, these gigantic piles of tit were jiggling and softly floating in response to the click, click, click of Christy's six-inch heels. Man!
Before she had turned the corner and disappeared from view, Peter felt as if his legs were actually going to fail him. As it was they were trembling from the effect on his nervous system of this retreating vision of impossibly buxom beauty. Christy had certainly given him a good sense of what he was going to be missing!
As she reached the corner, Christy presented an encore. She turned sideways, smiled, and childishly wiggled her fingers in the air as a farewell. In the process, she turned sideways enough so that Peter could see her fabulous figure in full profile. The little vixen was clearly arching her back to give her would-be lover one last look at her gargantuan bosom in all its firm, swollen glory! She ended the little charade by blowing him a tiny little kiss.
As she finally disappeared from view, Peter had to fall back and lean against the wall. He was sweating profusely. He was short of breath and his heart was palpitating. This poor fellow had been through the wringer! But somehow he had resisted temptation!
Peter was soon back in his room! Finally! Alone. As soon as he had closed the door, he fell back against it and noisily exhaled. That was close!
Peter felt he always tried to keep himself on guard against such eventualities as this. But Clarissa and Christy's sudden arrival had blindsided him.
Then Peter thought again. In truth he had known something was up all along. He chose to ignore the warning signs Jake had posted by not asking some questions about these "friends". Nope — Peter had received plenty of warning. He just simply ignored it.
Peter knew well the old saw that if you want to avoid slips, stay out of slippery places. For a happily married man away from home on business, a dark bar with a Vegas lothario who has casually mentioned the imminent arrival of some "friends" is a slippery place. A very slippery place!
The irony was that back in his salad days, he would have seen a vision like Christy as a gift from the heavens. There would have been no luckier guy around than he! He would have given her a real hosing — he knew it would have been some of the greatest sex either of them would ever experience.
Well, Peter was following a different script these days. He knew his lines and was not going to flub them! Christy would have been a fantastic bedroom experience but in its own way the knowledge that he had stayed faithful to his vows in the face of such unreasonable provocation was even more satisfying! Barely more satisfying but more satisfying nonetheless.
Not that there weren't residual problems! For one thing, his rock-hard boner simply would not soften up! He was so aroused! He picked up his cell phone and called home; it was about 11:30 back there. Maybe some phone sex with Amanda? No answer — oh, yes, she had said she was going to the late movie with some girl friends from church. A chick flick called Serendipity. Damn!
Peter threw off his clothes and hopped into bed. His mule-sized boner was waving in her air. Man, was he horny! He was in utter agony! "Amanda," he said to himself, "I think you have to cut me a little slack right about now." Under all the circumstances, he decided, he was entitled to a little self-abuse. Having a boner on account of such extreme provocation was no capital crime! Neither was responding to its intractable demands!
With that, Peter wrapped both hands around his straining hard-on. He began vigorously stroking the huge member. Each trip his taut cockskin made up and down his shaft felt like it was being struck by lightning! He was soon groaning — this was not going to take very long at all! Hugely buxom women started floating though his consciousness. Christy of course! Clarissa, too. Hell, Heather, Letitia, Gina, Julie, and Lakisha as well. And of course Amanda. There was some Amanda in this fantasy, thank goodness! But he had to admit that it was Christy who was front and center when the familiar tickling in the anus started up. "Well," he said to himself just before the powerful cum crowded out all other thoughts, "this isn't really being unfaithful! Actually, it's the result of being faithful! It's just answering nature's call! Nothing to apologize for here. Not a fucking thing!"
Peter was soon groaning and moaning as unbelievable chills, thrills, spasms, and convulsions commandeered his body. He had once read that a guy could experience a stronger orgasm by beating off than through vaginal sex. Tonight, he was willing to believe it!
As the shakes and clenching thrills continued, and Peter continued stroking his meat, he dimly noted that an unbelievably urgent yard-long clot of semen had exploded out of his cockhead and splattered all over the ceiling. It was followed by heroic ejaculation after heroic ejaculation of nearly equal power and volume. Three minutes later, his cock was still spurting seed. Lots of it! And every single geyser of hot, creamy semen was hitting the ceiling! Wow! The stuff was all over his body and the bed as well. Man! Christy had really done a job on him!
Finally, after an unbelievable six-minute interval, the cum came to an end. "Well," he said to himself, "at least I didn't do a job on her!" With that, Peter reached up and turned off the light. He was too tired to even clean himself up. He would just sleep in the shit and hope it dried by morning. Just like high school. Too bad about the ceiling, though. What a mess! Well, the drained, sleepy fellow rationalized, that's what happens when you let girls like Christy and Clarissa hang around your hotel! Peter chuckled and closed his eyes. He was asleep in less than a minute.
Peter never saw Toni again. Thank goodness! Although he continued to enjoy the occasional cheese steak at Rick's, Peter never again encountered the super busty girl sitting on a stool doing likewise. For all Peter knew, she and her girlfriends might still be frequenting the Rotunda Bar at the Ritz-Carlton on Friday nights. The now chastened family man would never know for sure, because he certainly stayed out of slippery places like that!
On the other hand, Toni might actually have snagged her Main Line husband. More likely, she settled for a fellow from her old neighborhood. He surely was a prosperous, up-and-coming type, though. No dirt under the fingernails blue collar types for Toni!
Peter shuddered every time he thought of Toni. Even though the buxom bitch had gravely damaged his marriage for years, Peter had decided upon reflection that it really could have been a whole lot worse. All in all, Peter decided, he had been pretty lucky!
Thoughts of Toni frequently made Peter wince with sympathy for the husband he supposed Toni to have married. He was willing to bet it had been a whirlwind courtship. The fellow would have been bowled over by Toni's shockingly voluptuous figure. Those tits! In addition, her face was really awfully cute. Best of all, her sexual appetites and expertise, this fellow would have discovered, were the answer to a lover's dreams! Peter was sure that a ring had been forthcoming in no time at all.
Well, Peter reflected, marry in haste; repent at leisure, as the old line goes. Peter was sure that now that the honeymoon was only a memory, Toni's husband was paying a heavy price by way of unrelenting bitchiness for his attraction to those gigantic tits. The poor bastard!
Peter had never run into Julie since the end of their affair. Not once! Philadelphia and its surrounding area is a very big place yet Peter would have thought that a couple so socio-economically similar to each other as the Wyeths and the Lamsons would have bumped into each other at some point! But no!
This lack of contact ended one Saturday afternoon in late August. The twins were now ten and really enjoyed picking out their own clothes — with Mommy's help and approval, of course. Accordingly, Peter and Amanda piled all the kids into the Navigator and headed for the Lord & Taylor — the late, lamented Wanamakers! — located in the Plaza at King of Prussia. It was a signal if stressful day in family life — time to pick out school clothes for the upcoming academic year.
Peter, ever the dutiful father, tried to keep himself from dying of boredom while Anne and Jessica tried on what seemed like every stitch of clothing in the girls' department. He would have preferred staying home to watch the Philly-Pirate game on the tube except that Pete and Jeff had wanted to come along to get some clothes of their own, and it was thought that Peter's masculine eye and fatherly discipline were needed once the family ramble moved into the boys' department.
Peter was pacing near the cash register while Amanda and the girls were off on the floor gazing into some mirror somewhere at the latest candidates for their school wardrobes.
"Peter, Peter Wyeth!" A loud voice boomed at him from the rear. Peter turned around to see a jovial, smiling Norman Lamson! And not just Norman Lamson; he had Julie and two young kids, a boy and a girl, in tow. "Peter, how great to see you!" Norman exclaimed. The fellow was acting as if he had been fruitlessly searching for Peter for the last ten years at least — finding Peter seemed to the smiling fellow to be as momentous an event as Henry Stanley finally encountering Dr Livingstone.
This unnaturally heartiness made Peter groan inwardly. He was suddenly flooded by memories of the false conviviality that had typified his chats with Norman during their mutual Thursday night excursions with the garbage. Nevertheless, Peter dutifully and even warmly smiled in return. "How great to see you! And Julie too! And some people I've never met!"
Julie picked up on that cue. "Jason, Brianna, say hello to Mr Wyeth — we used to live next door to Mr Wyeth and his wife."
Peter then ushered forth his two sons. "Let me introduce a couple of mine ... Pete, Jeff. Boys, say hello to Mr and Mrs Lamson. They lived in the Ericksons' house before you were born." Turning back to the Lamsons, Peter quickly added, "There's more to our family than that. Amanda is somewhere in this department with our twin daughters, Anne and Jessica. They'll be coming back around the corner any second, I bet."
Peter smiled again as this pleasant little reunion continued. "I must say, Norman, that you and Julie look great." He was going to say that they hadn't changed a bit except that Norman had changed. A lot! The hapless nerd from Elm Avenue was now a handsome, buffed, self-assured stud! A bit too enthusiastic and overly jovial, perhaps, but an undeniable stud nonetheless. Who woulda thunk it? Peter admiringly looked over the foursome. "What a handsome family!" All true, all true — there was no need to gild this lily!
Peter had been careful to sprinkle his praise equally among the Lamson family members. Of course, it was Julie whose looks interested him the most. As he prepared to take a good look, though, he steeled himself to do so in a disciplined and non-committal manner. This was no time to leer!
Peter calculated that Julie was now around forty. She wore that age very well! She was not as young looking as Amanda — how many women were? — but she could plausibly pass for being in her early to mid thirties. Peter did notice the very beginning of a very slight pattern of wrinkles emanating from the corner of her eyes. But these wrinkles were very light; you had to look hard to see them. And they did not detract from her beauty; if anything, they enhanced it by adding character and maturity to her still-stunningly gorgeous countenance.
No doubt about it — Julie's face was still very beautiful. Long, flowing blonde hair still framed her classic Nordic good looks. Her figure was great, too. She was wearing a body-hugging, patterned linen dress that stopped a couple of inches above the knee; a quick glance disclosed that she still certainly had the legs to wear short dresses like that.
Naturally, it was to Julie's chest that Peter's eyes finally drifted. Jesus! Even though he had trained himself to notice huge breasts on women other than his wife in only the most casual fashion, the sight still took his breath away. It was like old times! Julie was more buxom than ever — the birth of two children had clearly added lots of inches to her already stupendous measurements up top.
Peter's eyes started to bug out as he covertly assayed her colossal bosom. With an electric shock of recognition Peter realized anew just how very, very heavily breasted Julie truly was. His memory flashed back to Christy's supposed "Zed-cup" bosom. Well, as this contented but knowledgeable husband of a massively buxom woman was well aware, all this talk of "Z's" was utter nonsense. What he did know was Julie was clearly one of the most buxom women on Earth, at least in terms of the weight of her gigantic breasts as a proportion of her total body mass. Wow!
Julie's unbelievable, gargantuan tits were now way beyond watermelon size. The two gargantuan jugs bulged almost unbelievably out of her dress. Clearly, Julie had to have her dresses custom made — or make them herself. With a lot of looking, Amanda was usually able to find something that could accommodate her amazing curves, even though she had secretly and privately exceeded the dreaded fifty-inch mark. There could be no similar luck for Julie, however. They just didn't make dresses that could simultaneously accommodate such slim hips, slender trunk, and incomprehensibly massive jugs. Man!
Julie's enormous, almost unbelievable bust still seemed to be firm; perhaps it really was or perhaps she simply wore more supportive undergarments to fight the gravitational effect of age. In any case, her massive, massive tits, even supported by what was undoubtedly an industrial-strength bra plus the additional assistance of a dress, extended down to her groin. Peter could not even imagine how far down they would hang in the nude. Down to the knees, anyone? Julie had been unfathomably buxom when Peter was her lover. Today? What was the next step up from unfathomable or incomprehensible? Peter had no idea but until he could come up with the word, his description of the present size of Julie's bosom would have to remain wordless.
Peter was pleased to see, based upon Julie's outfit and her general demeanor, that she had been able to live with her huge bosom without being embarrassed or with any perceived need to mask it with billowing, robe-like dresses. Thank God she had not resorted to breast reduction surgery! Here, Peter was convinced, was a woman who was proud of her prodigious endowments and was not going to hide them under a cloak! Not any more, at any rate! Good for her!
The three adults and four children continued to chatter happily. Then Amanda and the girls came around the corner. She stopped short, looked quizzically at the little group, and then smiled broadly.
"My goodness! Julie and Norman Lamson — right? Great to see you — it's been years!"
"The very same," Norman beamed. "Good to see you, too, Amanda."
A further introduction of Anne and Jessica then followed. Yet the mood had suddenly gotten chilly. Peter had been looking at Julie when Amanda and the girls arrived; she acted as if she had been slapped in the face with a dead fish. For the rest of the conversation — which lasted only another five minutes or so — Julie was nearly silent. Her answers were monosyllabic. She spent some of the time directing subtle but unmistakably dirty looks at Peter. Daggers even! Peter was mystified; why all of a sudden had Julie's mood changed so drastically?
Peter was not the only one to notice Julie's petulance.
"Boy, Julie certainly seemed out of sorts," Amanda observed as the family walked though the parking lot to their car.
"Wasn't she, though?" Peter agreed. At this point, he realized he'd be wise to offer some suggestions to deflect his wife from too searching an analysis of the situation.
"Who knows?" he offered breezily. "Maybe it's that time of the month." Then he paused. "Or maybe it's Norman. I'll tell you, Amanda, being around anyone that cheerful could turn anyone into a grouch!" In truth, however, Peter was only guessing. What on earth had been Julie's problem?
Peter's musings about Julie were displaced by mild feelings of irritation as the family trudged toward their car. As usual, every passing male eye they encountered was stripping Amanda to the bone. In his exasperation, Peter was conveniently forgetting that in their position he would have been doing the exact same thing.
Every single male pedestrian was plainly staring at Amanda in shock and incredulity. Even some of the women seemed to be gaping in disbelief. Peter was sure that many of these folks were going to wheel around for a stunned second look just as soon as they had passed by the little family group. In addition, car after passing car was slowing down for an eyeful of his shockingly beautiful, extraordinarily buxom wife. These ogling drivers were clearly doing double or even triple takes. Peter was certain that several of the cars were on a second "did I see what I think I saw?" circuit of the parking row. Maybe even a third lap! Such is the price of being stunningly gorgeous and incredibly voluptuous. Peter shook his head and wondered what sort of a crowd Julie would draw when her family shopping was over!
Peter's sense of annoyance was greatly overbalanced by pride, however. After all, the very commotion Amanda was causing in the end served as an ego-booster for Peter. A testament to his good taste in women! Peter smiled. When you get right down to it, he ruminated, weren't he and Norman awfully lucky fellows?
The mystery of Julie's precipitous change in mood was dispelled early Monday morning while Peter was busy at work in his new digs, the president's office at Pennsylvania Trust.
Mrs Rodman, his executive secretary, had just buzzed through. "Mr Wyeth, there's a Mrs Lamson on the line. She says she's a friend of you and Mrs Wyeth. Do you want to talk with her?"
"Goodness, yes, Maria," Peter hastily replied. "Put her through, please!"
"Peter, you complete and utter asshole! How could you?"
Julie was sputtering with anger, and Peter did not know what to make of it.
"Julie, calm down — how could I what?"
"You know very well what I mean, Peter Wyeth! Those tits on your wife!"
Peter started to laugh. "Julie, wait! What on earth are you talking about?"
"Peter, you fucking jerk — don't play dumb with me. When we broke up way back when, I thought the idea was that you were giving up my big bosom and settling for Amanda's flat chest. You were going to make the big sacrifice for the sake of your marriage. I was so impressed! Then, it turns out, you make her go out and get implants, so you can still get your breast fix. Peter, that's despicable! How could you treat her like that?"
By now, Peter was beginning to chuckle. "No, Julie, wait, hold on. It's nothing like that — not at all!"
Julie, however, was on a roll; she was in no mood to be deflected. "Well, then, I guess Amanda just knew how much you loved big tits and so she went out and got the implants herself. And you just stood there with a big grin on your face and let her pack a bag and head off to the hospital to get inflated. I bet you even made her drive herself!" Julie snorted. "Peter, in its own way, that's worse!"
By this point, Peter was openly howling. "Julie, Julie, no, no!"
Julie was not to be sidetracked. "Yes! Yes! Plus I don't think this is one bit funny, by the way. I think your laughter is ... is just so typical of a man ... so ... insensitive!"
There was a slight pause; Peter was thus able to break in. "Julie, listen, I understand how you feel but I can explain. Really! Will you listen to me? Please?"
"You can try," Julie allowed sternly.
"Julie, those aren't implants at all — those are Amanda's real breasts. Flesh and blood. Nothing fake. Honest!"
Julie sounded very dubious. "Oh, come on, Peter, how is that even possible? I haven't seen Amanda in years but I certainly remember that she was pretty darn flat-chested. Nothing like she was on Saturday!"
"True," Peter replied, "but that all changed; it was entirely the result of pregnancy and nursing."
"What on earth do you mean?" Julie paused for a moment as if she had rejected the entire notion out of hand but then decided to hear Peter out just for old time's sake. "This better be good, Peter!"
"When Amanda got pregnant with the twins and then started nursing them, her breasts shot up to a K-cup size. They just exploded."
"Well, that can happen," Julie allowed, "though rarely to that extent! But then they go down once you stop nursing. Don't tell me she is still nursing those kids." Then Julie paused in thought. "Or you, God forbid!"
"Of course not!" Peter interjected. "She hasn't nursed in years! But back when she did stop nursing the first time, her breast size only came down to a J-cup. The doctor — we took her to an endocrinologist at Penn, for Christ's sake! — said that things like this happen. He thought that the fact she had been nursing twins might have contributed to it. Plus her milk supply had been so full; she actually had to use a breast pump. That could do it as well. Other than that, well, it was just one of those things!"
"Humph," Julie grumbled, "I don't suppose you were nursing her too, adding to the problem? Not Peter!"
"No comment," Peter replied merrily. "Anyway, she stayed that size but then ballooned up again when she got pregnant with little Pete and then starting nursing him, God, it was like déjà vu all over again. Only more so!"
"How so," Julie inquired. The anger seemed to be draining out of her voice.
"Well, she'd kept all her old nursing bras from the twins but, God, when she tried to get into them, she was busting out all over the place. She was a whole lot bigger than before! She had to call this place she goes to and get some new ones made."
"How big was she this time?" Julie asked. By this time her voice was tinged with sympathy.
"Would you believe an M-cup? That's what she was told, anyway."
"That's huge!" Julie agreed.
"Then," Peter continued, "when she got pregnant with Jeff ... wow! It was P-cup time! I mean, you'd believe there is such a thing, but — not for Amanda! And when the milk was in, she was so full even a P-cup was way too tight. She was bulging out the top and the sides and you could get your whole hand up between her breasts where they held the damned bra away from her chest."
"Goodness!" Julie interjected.
"Anyway, she went down to an L-cup, or so her lingerie shop tells her, which is where she is now. That's the story, Julie. All of it. Really!"
"Oh, the poor sweetie!" By now Julie was positively gushing! "I know how she must have felt. You don't want to know how big I got up to when I was nursing Brianna, my youngest! I mean, you know how huge I used to be when we were...?" Julie faltered and then fell silent.
This silence lasted for about ten seconds. Julie finally spoke. "Are you telling me the truth, Peter? Really?"
"Absolutely. Truly," Peter assured her.
Julie paused and then sighed. "Well, then I guess I owe you an apology, Peter. A big one, in fact! For doubting you, for being so bitchy on Saturday, so angry today — the whole nine yards. I'm really, really sorry. I misjudged you, I guess I should have known better, and I hope you will forgive me."
She then paused for an additional moment of reflection. "One last time, Peter. You are telling the truth, aren't you?"
Peter hesitated not a moment. "Absolutely and completely, Julie," he chuckled. "The Gospel truth. And so ... consider yourself forgiven."
There was another period of silence to allow the participants in the conversation to adjust to its radical change in tone. Finally, Julie broke in. "It really was great to see you, Peter. You look fabulous! Amanda too! I don't think you two have changed a bit since we lived on Elm Avenue, and that's been ten years! Except for Amanda's new bust, of course, and that looks just smashing! Have you two found an elixir of youth or something?"
"No," Peter laughed. "Just lots of exercise, watching our diet, plenty of sleep, choosing the right ancestors. All the usual things, you know!"
"I'm not sure about that sleep part, Peter! From the way you were looking at Amanda on Saturday, I can believe you spend a lot of time in the sack. But sleeping? I doubt it!"
Peter chuckled again. "I'm pleading the Fifth on that one, Julie. But let me say that I thought you looked just fabulous yourself! You're as beautiful and curvy and wonderful looking as ever. You're just a knockout! You were then and are now!"
Julie laughed. "Thanks, Peter. I guess Norman and I use the same recipe as you and Amanda."
"Speaking of which," Peter interjected, "Norman is such a hunk! I mean, he is now one major stud!"
"Isn't he, though," Julie agreed. "Well, he's really worked at it. I'm so proud of him! He really fought for me! I truly fell in love with him all over again. Except that this time it was head over heels! Things are really great between us! And I think I once told you that you played a big role in making that possible! It's true, Peter!"
"I will take no credit, Julie. I'm just so happy you're happy. I've always wondered how you were doing, and I'm so delighted to find you in such fine shape — physically and emotionally."
Julie broke the next silence as well. "We were quite the lovers, weren't we, Peter?"
"God, were we!" Peter agreed.
"I have to admit that I've never had sex like that before or since," Julie exclaimed. Peter kept a polite silence; he was not about to go down that road!
"But it did have to end," Julie opined. "I know that now. And it ended at the right time for me. Just the right time! I didn't know that at the time either but I do now." Then she paused. "I truly hope those sorts of extracurricular fun and games ended for you as well, Peter!"
"They did."
"I had the strongest feeling back then," Julie continued, "that you were just spinning out of control, that I certainly wasn't the only girl you were seeing."
"That's true," Peter admitted.
"I guess I had the feeling that when I said we couldn't get together more than once a week that you would simply fill the days with other women. Big-breasted women! Naturally!"
"True again," Peter allowed.
"Peter!" Julie sighed. "I only hope you got over whatever it was that was driving you so frantically and uncontrollably back then."
"I did," Peter said. "Actually, I ended all of those affairs right about the same time. The one with you was just about the last one."
"If that's supposed to make me feel special, Peter Wyeth, you can forget it!"
Peter paused. "I'm just so tickled to find things going well with you. You know, Julie, your happiness really is important to me. Actually, I think of you often. There is a little part of my heart, I hope you know, that will belong to you always."
"Peter, that's true for me too. Part of me — a little part, granted — will always care about you! Always! After our glorious time together, how could it not?"
"Hmmm," Peter responded.
"And you and Amanda. How are you two getting along?"
"Oh, just great!" Peter answered. "When I think about how I nearly blew it...."
"Did Amanda know? Or suspect?"
Peter let a few moments go by. Did he really want to share this with Julie? As Peter considered the matter, warm memories of their closeness washed over him. Yes, he really did want to share it with Julie. Doing so came under the heading of unfinished business. "Yes. She found out about one girl. Not you, though!"
"Oh, dear!"
"We never actually discussed it but it was pretty clear that I knew that she knew and she knew that I knew that she knew. Something like that. It was our 900 pound gorilla in the bedroom."
"Ignore it and hope it goes away. Sounds like the way a man would handle it," Julie observed crisply.
"Anyway, it's taken ten years of faithfulness to overcome that fracture. But the fracture has healed. Thank goodness!" Peter then grimaced. God! Imagine if Amanda knew the full extent of my sins! Our marriage might be on the critical list. Or worse!"
"I would be surprised if Amanda doesn't know more than you think she knows. A lot more! Perhaps not everything! But more than this one affair. Trust me, Peter. Women always seem to know. Somehow! It never fails! I guarantee it!"
"You were a bad boy, Peter! Awful!"
"Wasn't I, though?"
"A real sinner!"
"I know," Peter chuckled. "Thank goodness I didn't fall into the hands of an angry God!"
Julie laughed. "You certainly did run roughshod through the Ten Commandments, though! Take that coveting your neighbor's wife part. You certainly did that! More than that, actually, 'cause then you committed adultery with her. Zillions of times, too." Julie chuckled softly. "Yes, Peter, you were a bad, bad boy and I was a bad, bad girl."
"Well," Peter added, "I think I have atoned for those sins. So have you! I've been a good boy for years now. Hell, I even went to confession with all of that stuff! I've been absolved, for Pete's sake!"
Julie chuckled again. "Well, then, Peter, I think your sins are forgiven." Then she got more serious. "I have to admit that I don't feel guilty about it at all. Not one bit! What I retain is the memory of the wonderful, wonderful man it was my pleasure to spend so many thrilling and exciting and fulfilling hours with. And the way it awakened so many good things in me. And even, in a perverse and indirect way, in my husband. Thank you for that, Peter!"
"And you too, Julie! It was great!"
"Well," Julie concluded brightly, "that's about it, isn't it! We did it all, didn't we? Yet now all our issues are resolved and all our obsessions are in check ... well, in socially acceptable ways, at least! So ... there's only one thing left to say, isn't there?"
"Right on the button," Peter replied.
"And so, then, I'll say it," Julie continued. "Goodbye, Peter!"
"Goodbye, Julie!"
Peter had started to return the phone to the cradle when he heard Julie's voice weakly leaking out of the earpiece.
"Peter! Wait! There's one last thing!"
"What?"
"I don't know what Amanda does about buying her bras. It can be so impossibly hard, especially on the Main Line where all the women seem to be B-cup or smaller. That's why I gave up on that little shop in Ardmore I used to go to. Instead, a few years ago, I ran across this fabulous place you should know about. It's in Northeast up near Oxford Circle. They have the most amazing selection. Best of all, they have this wonderful old lady named Mrs O'Shaughnessy who can make really sexy special order stuff. And, she can make 'em in the sizes Amanda and I clearly require. Us full-figured gals, you know."
"Full-figured!" Peter objected. "No way! You and Amanda are full-figured up top — wow, are you ever! — but you're certainly not full-figured anywhere else. Not even close!"
"That's true, I guess," Julie allowed.
"You bet it's true. How about," Peter paused for a moment, "how about sizes for girls who are much more than a handful?"
Julie laughed. "That's terrible, Peter. I can't believe you're still so crude! Still," the beautiful, overly buxom matron continued, "I guess that does the job better than 'full-figured'. It certainly sounds more flattering, that's for sure!" She giggled. "The 'More than a Handful' group it is, then!"
She then chuckled for a moment more. "Well, now that that's settled, let me tell you all about this wonderful little shop."
Peter was about to crack wise along the lines of, "Thanks, Julie, but we go there, do that." Upon reflection, he decided that being humbly grateful for the information was the better course. Let Julie have the pleasure of sharing. Why be an asshole, in other words. The astonishingly buxom woman was only trying to help a sister who shared the pleasures and burdens of over-voluptuousness. Why rain on her parade?
"Why thanks, Julie ... thanks a lot! That's so nice of you! Let me grab a pencil...."