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When I first saw Shelly’s boobs, I actually gasped — then I got hot-faced from shame. I turn heads myself (I was called Dolly Parton in high school) but I’d never seen tits like hers outside of magazines.

Shelly stood behind the counter of the WhereMI?, the campus sandwich shop. She must have been used to reactions like mine because she appeared nonchalant, just smiled (I noticed a discreet beige retainer across her teeth) and asked me again for my order. Trying desperately to erase the shock and humiliation from my face, which must have been red as a brick, I gave her my order. As she took my cash and made change, I noted the name, “Shelly Garcia” on the little tag above her massive chest. Poor Shelly had to put her arms out to one side instead of to her front in order to take money and reach the cash register because of those watermelons.

Me and Delores went to a table. We look like girlfriends but we’re not. Though both of us are gay, the chemistry of sex never quite took so we went back to being friends after we flubbed a romance in our sophomore year. I often wish we roomed together but Delores isn’t in a dorm; she commutes from an apartment she shares with her girlfriend Ginger.

Delores and I smiled at each other without saying anything but then you can hardly hear yourself think in WhereMI? when it’s crowded. Delores’s little hazel eyes glittered with mirth; she was smirking and, like me, actually blushing. The latter looks especially funny on a butch like Delores: cherry-cola colored flat-top, shaved up one side, no make-up (though her dark brown eyebrows are tweezed to microscopic little arcs), a bright yellow t-shirt and baggy jeans over high-heeled sneakers. Delores likes fake tattoos and, at that time, she had a fearsome looking snake riding up one cheek and a heart with an arrow through it on a forearm.

Delores lightly rapped my hand and teased: “Didn’t Mommy tell you it’s impolite to stare, Dolly Parton?”

I smiled sadly. But I couldn’t stop staring. I felt sorry for Shelly; I hate the sexist remarks and I knew she had to get zillions of them. Plus I noticed other people were staring at her. Guys had to hit on her constantly, especially jock/frat types.

Then I had a crazy thought: maybe she ought to have one of the trays permanently attached under her boobs to make her comfortable.

Shelly was short, about five feet tall, and quite pretty in other respects: long, silky black hair, butterscotch complexion, and a pug nose. Her lips were too thin. She wore pink eye shadow and mascara over thick-lidded brown eyes. Her fingernails were moderately long and painted a dirty dark blue. She carried herself remarkably well, especially considering (my mother used to nag me all the time not to slouch; I now remind myself often).

But for all those thoughts, I was getting turned on too. What would it be like to be overwhelmed by another woman’s breasts, I wondered?


Luckily, I soon found myself sitting with Shelly when she came in the lobby of Oates Dorm to watch All My Children. I introduced myself and we both asked each other the standard get-to-know-you-at-college questions. She had a very sweet, high-pitched voice that made her sound escort istanbul kind of baby like. She told me her major (Computer Science), minor (Accounting), that she roomed at Oates dorm (with a roomie), and that she had just transferred from a JC. I thought we’d probably have a few classes in common sometime or other (though we didn’t that semester) since I myself am majoring in Accounting (my minor is just for fun: Psych.).

Knowing how irritated I get when guys stare at my tits, I made a conscious effort to look at her face even while I was fantasizing about what it would be like to free her from her brassiere. She was wearing dead white eye shadow this time, blush and powder, but again no lipstick. I wondered if the reason she didn’t wear lipstick was because she was self-conscious her lips were thin or because she didn’t want to draw attention to the beige retainer on her teeth that I noticed for the first time. But then, I thought, Shelly must be pretty used to attention!

Despite myself, I had to at least glance downward at her yellow T-shirt: every time Shelly took a breath: it seemed like her breasts were battling to get out of the bra and take over the room. Her jeans were very tight, powder blue, and faded to cotton white at the knees. She wore thongs on her feet and sat with a leg crossed against the other at the knee; every now and then she bounced her foot’s heel away from the thong.

“My Dad’s a computer programmer. He was really happy with my major,” Shelly said.

“Yeah. It’s practical like Accounting,” I said, aware of my pussy getting moist.

“First thing with me he’s been happy about with me, Rhiannon,” she added, making a sour face and turning her tiny lips down.

“You don’t get along with him?”

“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head.

“I get along with my Mom and Dad OK,” I told her. “But I have a lot of fights with my step-dad. My parents broke up a long time ago and me and my brother went with my Mom and . . . it’s just little things–my step-dad is always so mad if I smoke at home, even though he’s a smoker and . . . he’s just always pissed about some little something.”

“My parents were never married,” Shelly said.

“Oh. Did your Dad ever live with you? While you were growing up?”

“Mom and Dad never lived together–as far back as I can remember–but a lot of summers I spent with my Dad and he took me for weekends and shit so it’s not I’m not like a real . . . ‘fatherless’. . . whatever.” Shelly sighed and shrugged, causing the watermelons to wave. “I know it’s weird, Rhiannon, but my Dad was almost upset with me because I didn’t go out with boys. Isn’t that a switch?” She was facing the TV while giving me a sidelong look with those sleepy brown eyes.

“Yeah.” A very hopeful one, I thought. “Was it because he thought you were lesbian?”

“Actually, I’d already told him I was bisexual and that didn’t bother him too much. But he thought a pretty teenaged girl ought to want to go out with guys.”

“If you’re bisexual . . . why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to rush things, you know. I went out with groups because I didn’t want all the emotion and heartbreak and scenes connected with escort bayan being somebody’s girlfriend, whether it was a guy or a girl.” Again she shrugged, and again those enormities waved at me. I wondered if it was because being “somebody’s girlfriend” would have to mean the somebody was after only one–or two!–things.

Shelly and I kept on talking, mostly during commercials, and then we walked around campus for awhile and decided we’d meet for dinner at the cafeteria. I usually sat with a group of friends and Shelly joined my group because she didn’t belong to one of her own yet.

After that, we started seeing each other regularly without much of anything physical happening between us (though I always masturbated a bunch of times when I got back to my room–I don’t have a roommate because my last one was a big hassle, constantly playing the TV so I couldn’t study).

One time she and I were in my room, just watching VH1 when Shelly placed her hand on mine. I caught my breath–wimp that I am, I was glad she was making the first move. Our hands were about the same size, though mine were just a bit bigger. I had several rings and short unpolished fingernails while Shelly had one large class ring and had put on a sky blue polish. She squeezed my hand and I squeezed back. Her enormous breast brushed against mine. We kissed and she ran her tongue over my teeth, leaving wetness on my lips.

Then we paused. My heart was pounding. She put her hand lightly on my face, around my neck and jaw, and we looked into each other’s eyes for a long time. I saw that Shelly’s thighs were tensed together through her tight, stonewashed denims. She giggled a little as our fully clothed breasts touched. My pulse quickened, I felt my pussy warm and ache.

Again, Shelly went first, slipping her hand under my t-shirt, up my tummy to my breast. I felt my nipples harden and burn and the burning go up my neck and face; I must have blushed as violently as I first saw her.

“I bet you want me to take my shirt off, Rhiannon,” she said in her sweet high-pitched lilt, her smile wide and her brown eyes wide with anticipation.

“Yeah,” I breathed. I must have had a dopey grin on my reddened face.

Her hands hovered at the bottom of her pink Magic Happens t-shirt, pulling and playing with it. She wet and pursed her tiny lips; her tongue played at the corners of her mouth. Slowly, she pulled her t-shirt up and off, then walked–her watermelons swaying–over to her closet and put the shirt on one of the hooks that was on the wall beside it. Shelly turned around and looked at me, smiling a broad, open-mouthed smile. “The big moment,” she said, lifting her eyebrows. Then, still in jeans, she removed her bra.

The enormous breasts fell clear to Shelly’s thighs. She walked back to the bed, allowing those awesome pendulous breasts to swing in slow arcs.

Dumbstruck, I placed a hand on each nipple: the pastel pink areolas of the nipples were as big as the surface of a B-cup. I placed my hands under her breasts, enjoying the odd sexy sensation of my flat hands actually disappearing, being swallowed between the flesh of her breasts and that of her ribcage and stomach. The throb of arousal eskort started in my pussy; my cunt warmed and moistened.

“Shelly,” I said, almost reverently, “Do you like them?”

“Sometimes I do. Like now.”

She put her arms around me. I felt a shock like electricity as our breasts directly touched. We hugged and the sensuality of my sponginess on hers was beyond description. I was in a place beyond words. Each moment, my flesh seemed to discover a new and spongy spot on hers.

We were kissing and my heart was pounding. Shelly ran her tongue along my earlobe, then down neck, and asked, “Do you like to eat pussy, Rhiannon?”

“Yeah,” I told her. “I like to get eaten too.”

“Sixty-nine?” Shelly asked.

“My favorite flavor,” I replied.

Shelly slid out of pants and panties; then we lay beside each other, faces to pussies.

Because Shelly was so short and her boobs were so enormous, they sensuously rubbed against my face even as I licked her pussy. It seemed like some kind of miracle, smelling and tasting that funky female scent while feeling the awesome sponginess against my face cheeks, running my tongue up and down those wet warm pussy lips, then immediately sucking a hard-ridged pink nipple–all the while my pussy getting sucked and licked. The hair of Shelly’s pussy was rather straight and, compared with mine (I’ve got a very thick, and curly, bush), sparse. “Oh . . . ah,” sounds escaped my throat as I licked on the jet black hairs, then along the area between the lips. Shelly’s inner lips were quite a bit lighter in their pinkness than her outer lips and they did not connect with her clitoral hood.

“No teeth, Rhiannon,” she remonstrated. “Only tongue. But, ooooo, you’re on the right place. Yeah, between the lips, yeah.”

“I like a bit of teeth, Shelly,” I informed her. I kept licking, slowly, up and down, up and down, from the hood of the clit to just above the asshole. “Hmmm . . .” I moaned, as Shelly nibbled along my own pussy lips.

Shelly was dripping and sighing, “Ah . . . ah . . .” and rolling her pelvis and boobs around my face. My breath was speeding up, I was getting more excited but I thought Shelly was closer to coming than I was and sure enough–

“I gotta stop eating you, I’m almost there–lick around my clit, yeah, yeah, not on, yeah, right around it . . . Oh! Yeah, keep licking! Yeah! OH YEAH!” She let out a shrill scream as she bounced all over.

After she came, I tongued her nipples, no longer hard but soft as pudding.

“Keep on licking me,” she said in her sweet, soft voice. “Like you were, between the lips, I like the feel of it afterward.” She re-commenced on my pussy, licking and biting. “Is this how you like it, Rhiannon?”

“Yeah,” I said, “And kind of blow on it, on my clit . . . yes, like that. . . . ohhh . . .” Then I kissed Shelly’s flattened nipples gratefully and licked her soaking pussy. My pelvis squirmed around and around, I could feel the pressure building. Inside myself, I pushed down and began taking deeper breaths to make the orgasm last longer. “Ohhhh! Ohhhhhh!” I gasped as my orgasm waved through me.

We straightened around so we lay face-to-face. We started idly kissing some more, tasting pussy juice from each other’s mouths. Shelly’s breasts again overwhelmed mine and spread all across my belly too. “I think I can come again,” I told her.

“You’re not the only one,” she replied through half-closed eyes.

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