By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2004 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

Charlie Rook eased his slight frame off his side of the bed and walked around to peer down at his sleeping wife. She was lying on her side, breathing deeply and evenly and a gentle smile played at the edges of her full lips. Unclaimed by conscious life, she looked like the girl he’d married just out of High School so many years ago, a woman who still hoped, still seethed with passion. The woman he lived with now was different, a somber and unresponsive forgery. He missed his real wife, his carefree, loving Laurene. In fact, he hungered for her. And here she was, a gourmet meal set in front of a starving man, a man not allowed to eat. Well, at least he could look.

He gazed enraptured as her gargantuan breasts crested and fell, calling out to his psyche like Lombok Island waves beckon the most ardent surfer. The hair on the back of his neck saluted, his skin tingled and his heart drummed an eager beat. He guiltily fondled his early morning hard-on, welcoming the surging currents of pleasure that threatened to pull him under. His knees buckled as he fought the urge to reach out and experience the spongy resistance of her smooth tits, to nibble and tease the erect nipples that protruded against her cotton nightgown. He wanted to play with her tits, adore them, and then bury his tiny head deep inside their cleavage. He wanted to lose himself between Laurene’s legs and in the folds of her generous flesh. He needed her to wake up and overwhelm him with her lust, with her heat and need. He wanted to be needed, to be taken, to be loved by her. Charlie Rook was more than lonely. Charlie Rook was crazed with frustration and need.

What would happen if I knelt down, took her face in my hands and kissed her,
long and lovingly. . . like I used to?

What would happen if I ran my hands over the cheeks of her ass,
pinched them playfully . . . like I used to?

What if I squeezed in beside her? My raging cock would seek out her pussy. Would it arouse her . . . like it used to?

Would my desperate horniness inflame her
. . . like it used to?

Don’t kid yourself, Charlie’s inner voice cautioned. And he listened. His fear and loathing of rejection had long ago made impotent any decision to reach out to her again.

What had happened to them? Back in the day, she was the most free-spirited and popular girl in Berkeley High. She had every guy’s eye with her ultra large breasts, voluptuous body and teasingly tight sweaters. Charlie was the shy guy, the sweet boy and a nerd. She picked him off the shelf of gawking, pimply boys casually, as if she were impulse shopping, but kept him as her sweetheart. They were adoring and inseparable and it didn’t take long before everyone respected the fact that they would someday marry.

That was such a good time and recalling it tugged at the string that attached his heart to his cock. What had happened? Through the years, he’d tried not to think about it, but this morning looking into Laurene’s relaxed and unusually happy face, he needed to remind himself, to understand the vastness of their separateness. His recollections were muddy, buried deep under the silt of time and repression. As he struggled to recall, his hard-on shriveled and sagged under the strain. He remembered being proud and happy, dancing at the prom. He remembered after it was over, sitting in front of her house when she told him she was pregnant. And their fortunes collapsed somewhere in between. After that there were meetings with parents and wedding plans being made, but it was now all a blur. What was all too clear was a grave sense of disappointment, disillusionment and loss and he was feeling it now: a need to be close to his wife, to feel safe and warm, both needs being denied.

A month after they were married, he came home to find Laurene in bed. She’d lost the baby. She recoiled when he tried to hold and comfort her. She stared in stony silence when he found the receipt that proved that she’d lost the baby at an abortion clinic.

She started to go to church after that and spent all her passion there. She didn’t want a divorce, and Charlie didn’t begin to have what it took to ask for one. Besides, he still wanted her. And that left him married, faithful to the ghost of a love and desperately, desperately lonely. Laurene asked him to join the church, move to that place where human feelings and frailties had been displaced by some spiritual radiance. But Charlie’s life had always been fuelled and directed by his love and lust for life in general, for Laurene and her breasts in particular. And while his religious faith was firm, it had always lived in compatible ease alongside an equal passion for the beauties of the human world and flesh . . . and always would.

Laurene shifted and a mewling, plaintive sound funneled out of her. Her large breasts heaved. Charlie reacted immediately by groping his balls. He looked at the giant orbs that made his cock sing. His hard-on had returned and he stroked it, stoked the erotic flame that was beginning to burn inside him. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was 6AM. Laurene wouldn’t be up until 7:30AM, just in time to send him off to work like a child to school. With a peck on the cheek she’d remind him to clean off that grease before he came home. Charlie loved grease, loved working alongside his dad in his family’s garage. All through school, he carried the best grade average in his class and was made well aware of his career options. But he loved engines. What made him happy was touching, fingering and manipulating an engine’s parts until the whole thing purred like a satisfied woman. Before she got pregnant, he’d kept Laurene purring. Charlie smiled wistfully at the stranger in his bed and quickly left the room.

He was down the stairs, across the short hall and small kitchen in a flash. He opened the door to the basement almost reverently. The cool morning darkness wrapped him in welcome familiarity. He didn’t need light. This was his space with his messy work bench, his tools and his computer corner. It was all his and time spent here made life bearable. Laurene was repulsed by the untidiness, the musty smell and, most of all, the feeling darkness.

“How can you stand it down here?” she asked Charlie. “It’s like evil spirits live here. Why don’t you build onto the garage, make yourself a bright place to work in? Look you’re on your own. I can’t have this place disturbing my serenity.”

Charlie was relieved to have a place to call his own, a place where he could pursue his pleasures without fear of interruption. He padded barefoot across the room, turgid erection leading the way and settled in front of his computer. He punched the power button. A wicked, electric guitar vamp played in Charlie’s head and his hips popped, his cock bobbed and his shoulders twitched in a spastic unselfconscious dance that was raw and beautiful to see . . .even more raw and beautiful to feel.

Who will love me today?     Who will love me today?

He clicked his mouse, typed his TopHeavy password and entered his favorite Huge Breasts site, the place where his dreams lived, his women lived.

Click! Click! Click!

He perused an endless catalogue of enticing possibilities, examining the images as if he were seeing them for the first time. He felt like he was judging his own beauty contest, but it wasn’t about beauty, at least not in the traditional sense. It had to do with the meetings of his mind with his mood with his fantasy of the day. He opened the top drawer of his desk and glanced confidently at his meticulously organized stock of lubricants, ribbons and assorted toys. He looked back at the screen and chose his girl, blonde hair falling softly over her shoulders, her ballooning breasts threatening to escape the confines of her tight purple, scoop-necked sweater. He imagined her breasts floating out of the screen and onto his face, suffocating him. What a way to die! A dribble of pre-cum escaped his overly-excited cock-head and he knew he’d soon have to touch it, please it. But he’d wait. His girl as yet had no face, no reason to be and he didn’t know who she was. He’d wait.

It came to him whole cloth. And he could feel it’s rightness in his mind and in his cock, in his nipples and in his mouth that had run dry. While the woman, Sandy as he’d christened her, was certainly attractive, her deeper appeal lay in the daring, animal magnetism that she exuded. Her mouth was a bit too wide, as was her rather ferocious brow and her blue eyes were threateningly piercing. She was a take charge woman. Whatever happened between them wouldn’t be his fault. He’d be helpless, guiltless. She was perfect.

Where would they meet? They would meet in the supermarket on a Sunday morning while Laurene was at church. Charlie hated shopping. He was afraid of that so specific list, afraid that he’d trip up and buy the wrong thing. He worked six days a week and resented getting up Sunday morning to shop for groceries. But he knew that it was his punishment for not joining the church and he accepted it, the pay-off being that he could return home and do just what he was doing right now. He stared at Sandy, imagined her coming alive, moving and speaking, and then he closed his eyes.

Charlie was standing in front of the frozen foods. He felt her presence even before she spoke.

“Having trouble? Why don’t I help you?”

Her voice was deep, teasing and amused. Charlie turned toward her and his breath caught in his chest. Her sweater should have fitted, would have covered her belly were it not for her out-sized breasts that had stolen both length and width from its contour. Through the over-stretched purple wool he could see a black lacy bra and an obviously outlined nipple. They were bigger than Laurene’s and he gaped at them helplessly.

“Why don’t you just give me your list while you enjoy the view?”

Sandy shifted her shoulders jauntily and her breasts jiggled and swayed with reckless abandon. Charlie almost died of embarrassment at Sandy’s awareness of his obsession, but he was helpless in the face of it. He couldn’t stop staring. The temptation was too close to resist and besides, Sandy had taken the list from his pitifully trembling hands and was already perusing it with mock seriousness.

“Why don’t you hold on to this for me?”

Sandy passed Charlie her shoulder bag and took over his shopping cart. He looked around to see if there was anybody he recognized. Negative! Relief rushed over him. He grasped the purse to his side with his forearm, hoping that its feminine stylishness would be less conspicuous. Why hadn’t she put it in the cart? She wanted to embarrass him. Charlie was no exhibitionist. And he wasn’t bold. He wasn’t comfortable following this incredibly powerful creature around the store like a needy puppy. But looking at her, being with her excited him so much that he would have done anything, anything she asked. Horniness rushed through his veins like a narcotic, surged along his shaft and began to fill his balls.

Charlie had slunk down in his desk chair and was coating his cock with Baby Oil. It smelled good and made him feel young and innocent as his foreskin eased back and forth, as sensations as powerful as the life force they were claimed his consciousness. He concentrated for a moment on his pace, the dangerous height of his pleasure. He slowed down, waited a moment. He felt so horny. He wanted to rush things, forget the fantasy and beat the proverbial meat. But he wanted more pleasure. He wanted it all. He looked back at the screen, at Sandy, and then closed his eyes again.

Sandy had produced a pen and was ticking off items as she flew along the aisles like a woman possessed, a woman in a hurry. Charlie had to almost run to keep up with her. She suddenly whirled on him, without breaking stride, pushing the cart backwards. Her tits bounced, beckoning Charlie as she went.

“You wife should take better care of you,” she said. “A lot of women would love to do her job. Do you realize that?”

She stared into Charlie’s face and her gaze induced a blushing redness just under his skin. Goosebumps spread like a wildfire. Charlie had forgotten what a compliment sounded like and this one made him feel as vulnerable and unsure as an adolescent.

“Do you know my wife?” Charlie managed.

“Yeah, from the church. Everybody knows Laurene. Ever since she lost the baby, she’s gone a little around the bend. Takes care of everybody’s business but her own.”

They had reached the butcher’s counter and Sandy wheeled the cart behind it and handed the butcher the list.

“Mike, get these things ready for me. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Sure thing, Sandy,” the butcher said.

“The only things left are the perishables. Come with me,” she said to Charlie.

It was an order. Sandy turned on her heels and headed for the back of the store.

“Where are we going?” Charlie asked.

“Does it matter?” Sandy answered, and continued on their way.

Charlie followed, worshipping the sway of her hips and the peeping of her enormous globes that appeared and reappeared, side to side, as she walked.

Charlie stifled a groan as a burst of pre-cum warned him that the end was near. And as much as he wanted to stay in the basement all day, he had to go back up soon, grab a bite to eat and get ready for work. He pulled a black ribbon from the draw and breathing heavily, tied up his balls carefully, loving the enhanced erotic rush that flowed out of them. He applied more oil. He glanced at the screen, at the face he now knew so well and closed his eyes again.

Sandy pushed open a door marked Security. Come in,” she said, and closed the door after Charlie.

The room was empty except for a long table surrounded by metal chairs and an area that resembled the dressing room in a department store.

“I’m head of security here and I need to check you out.”

“Me?” Charlie asked, suddenly frightened, suddenly worried and confused. “What have I done? You got my groceries. I haven’t paid yet, but they’re still in the store.”

“Settle down,” Sandy said, motioning to the table. “What I have to check on is what shape you’re in, whether you’re getting enough attention. You know, being neglected is very bad for your health. Just lie down.”

Charlie climbed onto the table and did as he was told.

Charlie tightened his ribbon and his hand began to move faster. The feeling of skin against skin against skin – hand against foreskin against the steely hardness of his cock. He felt so good that he felt insane. “Oh God,” he groaned loudly, before he could stop himself. “Ohhhhh God!”

“Let’s start here,” Sandy said, leaning over him, giving him an almost motherly peck on the forehead.

Her tits lay weightily on his chest as she began to massage his temples.

“Does your wife do this? Does your wife help you to relax after a hard day’s work?”

“No,” Charlie said.

Charlie was in the zone now and he hoped he was talking to himself, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything he was doing.

“Does your wife do this?” Sandy asked, unbuttoning his shirt and scratching his nipples lightly.

Charlie’s nipples were ultra sensitive and he pinched and twisted them with one hand while he pumped his pulsing cock with the other.

“Or this?”

She began rubbing his cock through his pants. She was leering at him, licking her lips and blowing teasing bubbles with her own saliva. “Does your wife suck your cock, real soft and sweet, like I’m going to do?”

Charlie was really going at it. He’d stretched his body so long, so tensely that he almost fell out of the chair. He wanted to make it last longer, but his balls were about to burst, his body was convulsing involuntarily and he could feel the sperm army marching resolutely up the hill.

“Oh God! Oh Fuck! Please help me, Charlie.”

Charlie gasped. Laurene! Cursing?! Her voice was a cocktail of moans and gasps and pitiful need.

“Help me Charlie.”

He turned to see his wife propped against the edge of his workbench. Her legs were spread obscenely wide and her fingers were moving feverishly over her cunt.

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” she moaned. “Come here, Charlie.”

Shock had rolled Charlie off the mountaintop and his cock’s pressure had eased. He looked aghast at the sight of Laurene, horny Laurene. She pulled her nightshirt up over her head exposing her giant tits, and gathered them in her arms swaying them, lifting them, offering them to Charlie. Charlie felt displaced. Gone was Sandy. Here was Laurene, the old Laurene. He felt smoky wisps of anger, surprise and confusion, but they were no match for the all encompassing feelings of love and desire and downright horniness. He had to hurry. He felt all man and his woman was calling.

He took her doggie style, pumping her hard and then soft. Fucking her with short and then long strokes and finding control that he didn’t know he had. He was adrift on her waves of relentless horniness.

I’m sorry, Charlie …
That’s good, Charlie …
That’s right, fuck me, Charlie …
Squeeze those tits, Charlie …

And then she twisted away from him and dropped to her knees. She undid his ribbon and used her own hand to pressure him. She sucked him sweetly, nibbling, drawing lazing circles over that spot that drove him mad. She remembered everything and added her instincts to drive him beyond any pleasure that he’d ever experienced in his life. She stopped, climbed onto the table and opened her legs wider than Charlie knew she could. It was a welcome and Charlie climbed aboard. He fucked her and she met him stroke for stroke. She made her breasts dance for him. She sucked her own tits because she knew that it drove Charlie wild. And it did, sent him galloping for the finish line. They were a fucking, climaxing mess of pumping cock in cunt, fingers on clit and tits and balls. There was no space between them. No place where she ended and he began. And they fucked themselves into oblivion.

“Oh my,” Charlie said, exhausted, folding himself into her . . .just like he used to.

Finally, they gathered themselves together and made it off the table in a spent and weary haze. Charlie didn’t even bother to turn off the computer. They climbed the stairs slowly, hand in hand, wobbling against each other.

“I don’t think you’re feeling too well today,” Laurene cooed. “You’ll have to spend the day in bed. I’ll call the garage and be up in a flash.”

Charlie listened to the sexy, coy and conspiratorial tone she used on his Dad. “Charlie’s not up to coming in today. I’m going to keep him in bed.” She wanted the world to know what they were up to.

Charlie swaggered up the stairs like Casanova after a good lay, after a very good day indeed.