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The Couch - Part Eight |
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By Dirk Vincento
Wanda’s hand lay motionless, still resting firmly on my crotch. With the heat of my arousal drained out of me, my senses slowly began to return. I looked up at her and she seemed ugly again. The beauty I had seen was gone. She moved her hand and my pants made a wet, squishing sound. “I have to go home,” I told her. A devilish grin spread across her face. “Did you mess your pants?” she teased, squeezing my crotch and making that wet, squishy sound again. “Don’t!” I snapped, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away abruptly. Her grin disappeared and was quickly replaced by an injured, pouty look. “Alright! Jeez, you don’t have to be so snippy.” Watching her sulk, all I could think about was how ugly she was and how much I wanted to get away from her. “Look, Wanda, I have to go home and change.” I spoke as matter-of-factly as possible, trying to sound more like I was talking about changing the tire on a car than taking off my cum stained underpants. Then I hesitated before asking the all important question: “You won’t forget your promise, will you?” “My promise? What promise?” My face flushed with a volatile mix of anger and fear. “Wanda, you said . . . you promised you wouldn’t . . . ” Wanda must have seen the intensity in my expression because she backed down instantly. “Don’t get your shorts in a knot,” she said, sounding petulant now. “I remember what I said. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone . . . if you don’t.” I watched the wicked smile return to her face and knew I couldn’t stand to be with her another minute. She seemed to change emotions every few seconds, and it was driving me crazy. “Whatever,” I said flatly, as I got up to leave. I started across the stage, the wet mess in my pants feeling terribly uncomfortable. “Brian?!” Wanda called out from behind me I turned and looked back “Don’t you want to say goodbye to these?” Wanda had lifted up her sweater, exposing her enormous white bra and the creamy, soft tops of her breasts. It was the last thing I had expected and, caught with my guard down, the image of her shot past my defenses and reached deep inside me, grabbing hold of erotic desires that I was still much too young to fully understand. She had pulled her top back down almost instantly, but the sight of her huge breasts filling that massive bra was still burning in my mind’s eye, etched there like the flash of a camera that persists long after the burst of light is gone. If I hadn’t come so recently (and if she hadn’t pulled her top down so quickly), there’s no telling what I would have done. Even in my sexually depleted state, I could feel the irresistible allure of her breasts taking hold of me again. But now her huge, soft enticements were hidden safely under her sweater again . . . and she was laughing at me. It was a witch’s cackle, taunting and cruel. “You looked so funny!” she screeched. “You should have seen your face!” I turned and left, marching down the steps of the bandstand and stomping out of the park with the sound of her wicked laughter fading into the distance behind me. She was like an insane, uncontrollable animal, dangerously unpredictable and frighteningly irresistible. I remember being filled with so many conflicting emotions that I really thought I was going mad. The only two things that were important to me as I headed home were getting away from her and knowing that I had her promise that she wouldn’t tell. Looking back now, it’s hard to believe that I actually trusted Wanda. But I have to admit that when I got to school the next day, those first few comments took me by surprise. “Hey, Brian, you sure know how to pick ‘em!” “Did you let her lick your balls, loser?” “Hey Peterson, did you slip her your peter? I hope you had your shots first!” By the time I got to my locker and found a picture of a cow taped to it, I knew what had happened. My worst nightmare had come true. Wanda had talked. I remember my mind racing as I tried desperately to think of a way out of this disaster. The only plan I could come up with was to deny everything. Then it would be simply her word against mine. And nobody liked Wanda anyway, so hopefully no one would believe her. I’d still get teased, but it would be nothing compared to what would happen if the truth got out. It seemed like a good plan and I really believed I could pull it off. I collected my books and closed my locker, ready to face the music. But the minute I turned to go to my first class, I knew my plan was about to be derailed. Coming down the hall toward me was Wanda Stevens, wearing not only a broad smile and a precocious twinkle in her eye, but also a thin, white turtleneck sweater that clung tightly to her body, displaying the shape of her breasts in vivid detail. Before I even had a chance to resist the urge, my eyes were gobbling her up ravenously. The material of her top seemed almost transparent. I could clearly see the outline of her bra and even the dark shadow of her cleavage showed through slightly. As she approached, her bosom seemed to grow larger with each step, her huge mounds jiggling provocatively as she moved. Never in my life had I longed for the ability to fight off my attraction to big breasts as I did right then. I would have given anything to be free of my obsession. But instead, my fetish seemed to feed on my desire to fight back, my inability to resist only underscoring the incredible power my craving had over me. Wanda stopped in front of me and smiled. “Hi, Brian.” “Hi,Wanda.” There were a million things I wanted to say, but all I could do was look at her. I had actually managed to lift my eyes to her face when I spoke, but she silently guided me back to her bosom by lowering her own gaze to her incredible chest. Then she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air and making her breasts swell to incredible proportions. “Oh my,” I moaned, as I watched her bust growing right before my eyes. The hallway was full of kids on their way to class and gradually they began to notice me standing there ogling Wanda’s chest. A small crowd gathered around us and watched. “Oh my God, look at him,” a girl’s voice giggled. “Holy fuck! Do you believe this?” someone sneered. I could hear their comments and laughter echoing in the distance, like a siren that should have warned me that there was serious trouble afoot. But I just couldn’t stop staring at Wanda’s breasts, no matter how embarrassed I became. They were wicked, erotic sorceresses, unleashing all-consuming, all-powerful sensations and emotions from deep within me; irresistible feelings that acted like a magic love potion, filling me with passionate desire and making me want them more than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life. I felt so completely helpless and so incredibly horny. Looking at her tits made me feel more pleasure than any man could be expected to resist. “Kiss me,” Wanda whispered. (Deja vu) I must have learned my lesson the night before because not for one moment, even with everyone watching us, did I think that I would refuse. I took one last look at her incredible breasts and let the sight of them fill me with overwhelming pleasure. I could feel the spell they had cast over me giving me the strength to do what had to be done. And then I stepped forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips. It was nothing compared to the deep passionate kisses we had exchanged on the bandstand, but it was more than enough to make the point. Wanda Stevens had a boyfriend, and she wanted the whole world to know it. As far as she was concerned, they could all say whatever they wanted now, because she had a man. The hallway exploded the instant we kissed, filling with the sound of hysterical laughter and taunting jeers. As our lips parted, Wanda’s face glowed with triumphant pride. She looked at me and smiled. She wasn’t unaware of the noise that surrounded us, nor was she bothered by it. On the contrary, she was reveling in it! This was her moment of glory, her chance after all these years of cruelty to tell them all they could go to hell. This was her moment to let them know that what they said or thought didn’t mean a thing. My eyes had returned to Wanda’s chest as if drawn by a magnet. The sound of laughter and ridicule was pounding down on me and my mind was filled with emotions; embarrassment, humiliation, fear, apprehension, anger. But none of them were as powerful as the incredible longing and desire I felt as I gazed at the soft, round mounds that filled out her sweater so completely. If ever there was a time when my sense of survival should have overridden my obsession for big breasts, this was it. But it didn’t. “Thank you,” Wanda said softly, wanting only me to hear. I nodded silently and Wanda smiled and took my hand. Together we started down the hall, just as a teacher came out of one of the classrooms shouting, wanting to know what the hell all the noise was about. For the rest of the day, the teasing never let up. Whenever we were seen together, kids would shout and taunt us. It only made things worse that Wanda never missed an opportunity to walk down the hall with me and never failed to turn up at my locker between periods. And in class, she teased me more than ever. Now that she had me where she wanted me, there were no limits to what she would do to draw my attention; posing in her seat so that I had a perfect view of her chest; touching and caressing herself with her fingertips until her nipples stood erect and showed clearly through her sweater; pressing her breasts into the edge of her desk to emphasize their incredible size and spongy softness. I was like a new toy that she just couldn’t stop playing with. Turning me on seemed to bring her no end of delight. And the more she teased me, the harder I found it to tear my eyes away. My teachers saw that I wasn’t listening to the class, but when they noticed where my attention was focused, they were too embarrassed say anything and chose to simply leave me to my own fate. After our last class, Wanda stopped me in the hall. “Are you going to walk me home from school?” she asked me. I wasn’t stupid. I knew I was digging myself a hole and that if I didn’t do something soon, it would be a hole so deep I would never get out. “Wanda, I think maybe . . . ” “My parents won’t be there,” Wanda interrupted. “If you walk me home, you could come in for a little while.” I looked down at her sweater. Instantly, I felt the tingling pleasure rush through me again. I wondered when it would be enough. When would my appetite be satiated and my hunger fulfilled? It seemed like there would have to be a time when her breasts would lose some of their zing and looking at them would be like looking at the same old things again . . . nothing I hadn’t seen a thousand times before. But if such a time existed, it was nowhere to be seen on the horizon. The experience of looking at Wanda’s bosom hadn’t lost any of its potency. If anything, the effect they had on me was growing stronger each time my eyes turned their way. “You won’t be disappointed,” she said, in a soft, secretive tone. The expression on my face must have given away my helplessness, because she proceeded as if I had already agreed. “Meet me down by my locker. I’ll wait for you there.” She turned and went off down the hall, leaving me standing there not knowing what to do, but knowing exactly what I was going to do. When I got downstairs to Wanda’s locker, I felt like half the school was waiting there for me, armed with sharp tongues and cutting remarks: Hey, it’s Brian Peckerson and Wanda Semen!”
“Looks like the farmer’s gonna walk his cow!” “Don’t forget to put a bag over her head!” I almost turned and ran, but it was too late. Wanda’s breasts had already recast their spell over me and there was no turning back now. I walked up and gave her a kiss (I knew that was what she both wanted and expected), which brought a fresh round of laughter and jeers from the crowd. She handed me her books and took my arm and we walked out of the school together, hand in hand. A number of the kids followed us down the street, but the time we got to Wanda’s house, only a few stragglers were left yelling insults and crude remarks. “Would you like to come in?” Wanda asked the question as if it was the first time the idea had come up. “Yes,” I answered obediently. I followed her up the walk to her house, watching her tits jiggling under her sweater and dreaming of what lay ahead. Once inside, Wanda made good on her promise, putting the finishing touches on her seduction and removing, once and for all, any question of my not going along with whatever she asked. She took me up to her bedroom, sat me in a chair and proceeded to pose for me, displaying her massive bosom from every conceivable angle. I watched with awe and growing arousal as she pranced before me, squeezing her giant tits in her hands, squishing them together between her arms and then stretching out on the bed with her breasts laying spread out before her like two flowing mountains of flesh. By the time she sat up on the edge of the bed in front of me, I was perspiring and speechless. “Do you want to see them now?” she asked coyly. “Oh God, yes!” The words blurted out of my mouth involuntarily. “Does that mean we’re really going steady then?” Something inside me had snapped and suddenly words were pouring out of me in an unstoppable torrent: “Oh yes, Wanda! Yes! We’ll go steady! I’ll hold your hand in front of everyone and I’ll carry your books home from school. We’ll go out on dates. I’ll take you to the movies. We’ll do anything you want. I’ll do anything you want!” “Calm down, calm down,” Wanda said patronizingly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get to see them.” She was the picture of smugness as she sat smiling at me with her hands resting on the sides of her breasts, pressing them together until they formed one unbroken mass across her chest. I watched and waited while she stretched out the moment, milking it for all it was worth. Finally, she reached down and took hold of the sweater and ever so slowly began raising it up, little by little exposing the wonders that lay hidden beneath it. My eyes were riveted as the smooth white material of her bra gradually became visible. As her sweater continued to rise, more and more of her appeared until I thought it would never end. By the time she had rounded the peaks of her breasts, my mouth was hanging open in utter disbelief at the actual size of her incredible bosom. They were as big and round as beachballs. Eventually, the creamy white skin bulging over the top of her bra peeked out, the exposed mounds of flesh that spilled out of her cups larger than most women’s breasts by themselves. By the time she pulled her sweater up over her head, I was in heaven, my mind swimming in a whirl of mammary bliss. Now wearing only her bra from the waist up, Wanda began posing for me all over again. She pressed her breasts sides, just as she had done before. Only now the incredibly long line of cleavage that formed between her two gigantic mounds was completely visible, making me tingle uncontrollably from head to toe. I could feel myself falling into the deep, dark valley between her tits . . . I wanted to fall in and never be found. She leaned forward, letting her breasts fall away from her body and making them look even bigger. Their spell was growing stronger and the love potion they had slipped me was flowing through my veins like alcohol. I could hear the taunting voices of the kids from school and I knew that they could never come between me and this. When her hands reached behind her back, I knew what was coming and braced myself. My heart leapt into my throat and my eyes grew wide, as if they were desperately afraid of missing something by blinking at the wrong moment. The instant the clasps of her bra were released, her breasts fell forward, pulled down by their own weight. Without the bra to restrain them, they seemed to expand, reaching down further and protruding outward even more than before. Wanda slipped her arms through the straps and then gingerly removed the cups from her orbs, finally exposing the most incredible breasts I had ever seen up to that point in my young life. “Do you like them?” she asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. “Oh, yes!” I exclaimed. She stood up and moved toward me. I watched her breathlessly, my eyes never leaving her bosom. Her breasts hung down further than I would have believed possible. And yet there was so much of them that they still seemed to jut straight out from her body, standing up proudly and filling the space in front of her completely. She kept coming toward me, bringing them closer and closer. They seemed to grow even larger as together from the she approached, becoming more intimidating, more irresistible with each step. And then the next thing I knew, they were pressing against me. I could fell their firm softness and their incredible weight. As she leaned hard against me, they swallowed me up, first mashing against my body and then wrapping themselves around me until I felt like I was being completely devoured. That was the first time I came that day. But it wasn’t the last. For the next hour, Wanda and I frolicked on the bed. She let me hold her breasts and fondle and caress them. I kissed them and sucked on her huge nipples. She buried me under them, letting me feel their weight pressing down on my head. I came two or three more times before we were done, something only a teenage boy could do. I remember her kissing me, her face somehow looking incredibly beautiful and hideously ugly at the same time. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight, just to feel the mass of her bosom squeezed between us. I reveled at the feel of her soft, malleable tits pressing against my bare chest, the warmth of her skin penetrating me, filling me with uncontrollable adolescent passion. We were two young people basking in the glory of discovering each other . . . and ourselves. Things carried on like that . . .
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. . . for the rest of the school year. Wanda took advantage of every opportunity to show the world that she had a boyfriend, and I continued to let her put me on display in exchange for the chance to feel the pleasure her breasts gave me. The teasing and name-calling carried on unabated, but somehow I managed to turn a deaf ear. In some perverse way, the more the other kids tormented me, the more aware I became of the power Wanda’s breasts had over me, which in turn made the effect they had on me even more intense. My attraction to her big, round mounds was so much stronger than any embarrassment or humiliation anyone could possibly inflict that the kids in school never had a chance.” Brain paused briefly, the vividness of the memories having taken him back to that time and all the emotions that went with it. “I walked Wanda home from school every day, and when her parents weren’t home, she’d invite me in for awhile and reassert her hold over me.” “How long did your relationship with Wanda go on?” Dr. Hasslett asked. “You aren’t going to believe this,” Brian answered, chuckling remorsefully, “but two weeks before the end of school, Wanda dumped me.” “You’re kidding!” Dr. Hasslett exclaimed. It was the first time Brian had seen Dr. Hasslett caught off guard by a response. “It’s true,” Brian sighed. “I guess she noticed some other guy ogling her breasts, and the chance to show everyone that she could get two boyfriends was more than she could resist. At that point, I suppose, I’d outlived my usefulness.” “How did that make you feel?” the doctor asked, having quickly regained his composure. “I was devastated,” Brian said. “I remember wondering how I was going to go on without her. Without . . . well, you know.” The door having been opened, the memories of that time kept flooding back with stinging intensity. “My God, I made a fool of myself. I begged her not to stop seeing me. I wrote her letters. I cried. It was pathetic.” “Not at all,” Dr. Hasslett interjected. “Rejection is hard to deal with at any time in your life, but during adolescence, the pain of a broken heart can be particularly intense. Don’t belittle yourself for the things you felt. Your reaction was quite normal.” Brian looked at Dr. Hasslett, at his clear gray eyes, and felt that he had found not only a therapist, but a friend. “We’ve run out of time for today,” Dr. Hasslett said, getting up from his seat, “so I have a little homework assignment for you. Between now and our next session, I’d like you to think about the story you’ve told me and see if you can figure out at what points you might have made different decisions, in spite of the feelings you may have been having at the time.” “I’ll do what I can,” Brian promised. He got up and shook Dr. Hasslett’s hand firmly. “Thanks for everything,” he added earnestly. “That’s what we’re here for,” Dr. Hasslett replied. “I’ll see you next week.”
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