tagSci-Fi & FantasyClara's Cleavage

Clara's Cleavage

byDDDDave©

This story was first posted on another web site several years ago under a slightly different pen name.

All characters over 18.

"Big Tits, Big Dicks, and Fantasy Fucking!"


*

It was pig night at my frat house. As a pledge I had been one of the guys assigned to find a date. For those of you not familiar with this barbaric ritual it involves deliberately asking the homeliest girl you could find to a party at the frat house (a highly prized invitation in our opinion), for the express purpose of seeing who could find the ugliest girl.

I know, I know. Looking back now , I'm appalled too. But at the time I was young, impressionable and wanted to be accepted by my new frat brothers.

Anyway, my date, a young lady from my English Lit class, wasn't so much ugly as she was different. And she was really different!

Clara was not attractive by any stretch of the imagination. But Clara wasn't stone ugly like Matilda Freidrich who was also in attendance. That girl could shatter stone when she smiled. And Clara wasn't grossly obese like several of the other girls my brothers had dragged in.

But Clara had her own "charms". One was a personality and attitude that could be charitably referred to as "whacked out of her mind". Clara was into saving every thing - the planet, people in far away lands, whatever. No cause was too far out, or too wacky to have gained Clara's attention. And none was likely to hold her attention for more than a week or two.

And then there was the witch thing.

As I was returning to her side after getting us both a cup of "punch" I heard her talking to one of my frat brothers and his "date" about how her parents were both white witches.

"Mom's a clairvoyant and dad's a really excellent diviner and a white mage as well. Both Mom and Dad can trace their families back to the Druids in England. Mom has proof she is descended from Morgan LeFay!"

I didn't feel like getting into THIS conversation! So I held back a little as Clara chattered away about her various ancestors with their magic, mind reading, miracle cures and spells. It was all crap. As I waited, I wondered why Clara bothered repeating it. No one believed her. And the more she realized that she was not being believed the harder she tried - her earnest presentation just made it seem all the more ludicrous.

There was one other noticeable facet of Clara that everyone remarked upon: was her lack of any fashion sense. Personally, I had never seen her dressed any differently than she was this evening. Frazzled, reddish air pulled back into an unruly ponytail, bulky man's sport coat (usually corduroy, although tonight she was wearing an old tweed number - probably her Dad's hand me down), bib overalls for god's sake! and a flannel shirt. And sensible walking shoes. Which she did - everywhere. She didn't own a car or a bike.

She was a little shorter than my own 5"7' and looked about as delicate as a fireplug - squat, strong and thick.

The other couple did a fast fade into the crowd as I interrupted Clara to hand her her drink. The punch she got was spiked, of course. Mine was straight fruit punch. Another old frat tradition. Get the date drunk and see what happened. This was Clara's third and her cheeks were glowing a bit from the drink. Her speech was still unaffected but I figured that wouldn't last long as she drank most of this glass without stopping.

"Why don't you give me the nickel tour, Richie?" she asked, turning toward me.

"Sure. " I replied, I hated being called "Richie'. It was another talent of Clara's. Always say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

I gestured around grandly. "This is the main room where we have our parties. And if you'll follow me, around to the left is the study room. Through here is the kitchen. Let me refresh your drink while we're here. And this is another room we use for studying when there isn't a party going on and now we're back where we started." I finished as we regained the living room.

By this time the party was really rolling and the sound level was high enough that I was practically shouting even though Clara was clutching my sleeve as she finished her drink with a flourish.

"I need another drink, Richie," said my date, 'it's all gone." She pouted as she demonstrated by turning the glass upside down to show it was truly all gone. "And I need to find the little girls room, too," she giggled.

I figured Clara was about drunk by this time. So I led her back to the kitchen, refilled her glass, and started to explain that the temporary ladies room was upstairs.

"You show me, Richie." Clara declared as she grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the stairs. She wasn't even giving me a chance to refuse as she towed me up the stairs.

I pointed out the bathroom that was, thankfully, unoccupied at the moment. And heaved a sigh of relief as Clara closed the door behind her. She was getting looped fast and I didn't want to have to haul her back to her dorm room unconscious.

Just as I thought this the door popped open and Clara's hand thrust her glass under my nose. "And fill me up again, Richie! This punch makes me thirstier the more I drink!" The door snapped shut almost before I got a grip on the empty glass.

"I gotta taper her off" I grumbled to myself as I wound my way back to the punch bowl. Returning with a full glass of non-alcoholic fruit punch I planted my self outside the bathroom figuring I'd get her downstairs and back to her dorm before things got out of hand.

When Clara finally came out of the bathroom the glow of her skin was readily apparent. Her eyes were sparkling and somehow all of the lines of her face were looser. Her lips were a little puffy and were redder than before. She was visibly affected by the booze she'd unknowingly drunk.

"So what's up here Richie?" she asked, as once again she latched onto my wrist with both hands. "I've never been upstairs in a frat house. Do you naughty boys keep secrets up here?"

Oh yeah, Clara was soused - big time! And I really wasn't that interested in showing a tipsy girl the sleeping rooms of a bunch of frat rats... most of whom had the housekeeping habits of a bear!

But Clara was not to be denied. With a death grip on my wrist, she proceeded to haul me down the corridor. The first room she barged into had the usual clutter; an unmade bed, clothes tossed everywhere and a couple of Playboy centerfolds tacked up on the wall.

She made a beeline for the pictures. I'd have thought a girl like Clara would be (or at least have acted) offended by the site of naked women on the wall of a frat bedroom. I was wrong! She was entranced by the pictures!

"Are these girls real? Do you guys really like looking at these pictures? Have you ever met any of these girls? She's kinda pretty but look at her boobies. They're so big! Do guys like big boobies?" She was chattering away and I don't think she knew what she was saying most of the time. Her eyes were sparkling and the color was rising in her face. I think she was a little embarrassed to be looking at semi naked women but wasn't going to admit to it. And her line of chatter never slowed.

She proceeded to pull me from room to room. If there were pinups in the room she would look at them first. Her flush had subsided by now but she was still suffering from a drunken glow.

In each room she examined all the pictures and pinups and kept up a running commentary. She was analyzing the pictures, the poses and the women's bodies as she went along. "Look at this one. She looks bored in this picture. Her boobies are big too, but not as big as this lady is! This one has bad hair. Why is she pushing her boobies together like that? Wowee, look, this one can lick her own nipple!

"Do boys like women who look like her? Why has she got her finger in her mouth?" As always she was off on another tangent before I could begin to respond.

"All of these pictures are of girls with big boobies!" This seemed to be a revelation to her. She turned to me and demanded, "Do guys really like big boobies?"

I had no chance to respond. Thank goodness. I wasn't sure how to respond to that sort of question.

Once again latching onto my wrist Clara pivoted to the door and pulled me into the hall.

"Where is your room, Richie?" she asked. "Do you have pictures on your wall?"

'My room is right here." I said. I found myself dragged once more by Clara - this time into my own room. There were no pin-up pictures on the wall. I hadn't had time to thumbtack them up. Yet.

Clara suddenly placed both hands on my chest and pushed me backwards. The back of my legs hit my bed and I found myself looking up from my bed at Clara. But as I grasped the situation she toppled onto me like a Ponderosa Pine falling in the forest.

"Umph!" All the breath was knocked out of me as Clara landed full force on my stomach.

"I like you Richie. You're cute," she said as she squirmed around. Her breath was sweet despite the alcohol. I winced as she placed an index finger on the tip of my nose and pressed it flat. "But you don't have any of those naughty pictures on the wall. Don't you like girls?" She paused. "Don't you like me?"

"Hey, I like girls just fine."

"Well I'm a girl. I got boobies." Who could tell under all the clothing? "I got big boobies. Bigger than any of the girls in those pictures."

That didn't seem likely to me. But one of my rules is not to argue with a drunk chick when she's lying on top of you!

"Hey! You're poking me, Richie."

Christ almighty! With Clara squirming around on top of me, my body had done the natural thing... sprouted a boner. Even if she wasn't the most attractive girl, the body of a teen age boy will spring to action at the slightest provocation. And Clara's actions and conversation had been provocation enough.

"What's poking me, Richie? What have you got in your pocket? Oh, Richie, are you being rude? Is it my fault? Did my talking about my having big boobies start you poking out like that? I've never seen a... you know...a...ah...guys...ah..." she was winding down in confusion and embarrassment. But then she gathered all her courage and as she wriggled to a sitting position on my stomach she finished her sentence. " a guys THINGIE."

"It's not a "thingie". " I said in exasperation. "It's my cock. Or call it a dick. Or anything but "thingie". Good Lord! How had I gotten into this? Could I get out with out becoming more embarrassed?

"Okay, your dicky..." She started

"Not dicky!" I practically shouted. "Quit adding a "y" to everything! My name is Rich, not Richie! You just about crushed my dick. Not my dicky, not my cocky. Christ, how naive am I supposed to think you are?"

"Oh Rich, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Or your ...em...dick." She leaned over me and planted two little kisses, one on each cheek.

"I know," she declared, "I'll make it up to you! I'll show you my big boobies if you'll show me your dick! You like girls, right." She was talking a mile a minute. "Do you like boobies? I mean boobs! Do you like big boobs? I hope so! Do you like mine?" And as she said this she shed her sport coat revealing her bib overalls and green flannel shirt.

She waited a moment. Hands on hips, still straddling my stomach. All I could see was blue jean coveralls and flannel.

"Well?" She asked.

"Well what?" I responded.

"Well, do you like my boobs?" she asked in exasperation.

"What are you talking about?" I said. "You're sitting on my stomach, fully dressed and asking me if I like your boobs! I can't see anything with the light coming from the door behind you and with you still fully dressed. So no, I can't see your boobs and I doubt you have any idea what big boobs are! Now stop being silly and let me up so I can take you home!"

"NO!" in a blink of an eye she bounced off my stomach - knocking the air out of me once more - slammed the door shut and turned on the bed stand light. In one motion she kicked off her shoes, reached up and popped the clasps off of her overall's straps. Her overalls were so big they fell right to the floor. Not even slowing as they passed her hips. And then, and just as quickly, she had regained her seat on my stomach. Of course, I had just about regained my breath which was once more forced out of me with the impact of her firm butt landing on my abused stomach.

As I struggled to relearn to breath Clara placed both hands on her hips, looked down at me, and once again demanded, "Do you like 'em?"

Truth to tell, it did seem that Clara might have a pair of breasts under her flannel shirt! The bib overalls and sport coat had done a good job of disguising her boobies... I mean boobs. Her flannel shirt was really loose though so it was difficult to tell what kind of shape might be hiding under all those clothes. But it sure didn't seem likely that she had a big pair of tits. A big pair would show through the shirt she was wearing, I was sure.

With the light now shining from behind me I could see Clara very well. She didn't look half bad with her hair mussed, color in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes that I had never seen before. But I was pissed enough at her for knocking the breath out of me that I wasn't about to give her any satisfaction.

"Like what, you crazy woman?" I demanded. "You knock me down, jump all over me and demand to know if I like something that I still haven't seen and which probably aren't near as big as you think they are. Those pinups are some of the best built, prettiest girls in America. You are a college freshman who's had too much to drink. Now let me up and let's forget this ever happened."

"NO! Richie, I mean Rich. You don't mean that. I can still feel you poking me, you know. And I do so have big boobs. See?" She put her hands on her waist and pulled her shirt taut. Suddenly there were gaps between each button and stress lines all over the front of her shirt. She did have tits!

"Well , maybe." I said doubtfully. I was suddenly much more interested in where this was going. Truth be told, I loved big tits. And I had never dated a girl with large tits I was always intimidated when the girl I was talking to had a big rack.

"Oh yes, I do. Bigger than any of those old pinups. You watch." She unbuttoned the lowest button and moved up to the next. "If I show you my big boobs will you show me what's poking me in the butt right now?" She squirmed on my stomach as she said this. "I can still feel you Rich!" She had unbuttoned four of the seven buttons by now.

"Yeah, sure. You show me yours and I'll show you mine" I responded.

"There!" She cried in triumph as she whipped off her flannel shirt and tossed it over her shoulder to flutter to the floor.

What ever I had expected to see was not what was revealed. Instead of bare flesh or a bra being revealed, what I saw was a dark blue tube top that stretched from just below her armpits to cover the rest of her body. It was only after puzzling over this for a few seconds that I noticed it was fully packed by her pot belly.

"Gotta get this off" Clara mumbled as she reached up and hooked her thumbs under the top of the tube top. "It gets damn uncomfortable after a long day!"

With a grunt of effort she pushed both hands down, bunching the tube top at her hips.

And out rolled her tits.

I have read somewhere that in order to describe something that the other person has never seen and do it successfully, there must be a well understood common reference point from which to start. To describe Clara's now revealed breasts I had to start at ... well, big. No, BIG. No, past BIG even!

Really, now that they were out from the confines of Clara's restrictive top, I couldn't imagine that they had ever fit into it. They were bigger than past BIG! I had never seen, never imagined, a set of breasts could be this large. Softballs were much smaller. Volleyballs? That was closer. Somewhere between basketballs and volleyballs I decided. What made them seem even larger was their unusual placement.

Clara's boobs started low on her chest. The top slopes swelled gently at first, well below her armpits, and then exploded out and away in a startlingly abrupt swoop that ended at a pair of chewable looking nipples and then slowly curved back to meet at her lowest ribs. Each breast was quivering firmly, still shivering from having been so abruptly revealed. Her nipples were centered on a pair of aureoles that most closely resembled a baseball cut in half and pasted on the upper slope of her immense breasts. Basketball sized I decided. Her nips pointed slightly upwards and outwards at a 45 degree angle.

She was still sitting on my stomach with her hands back on her waist. But I could not see her waist, her hands, or the first part of her arms. All were blocked from my view by these massive breasts that protruded beyond the side of her body by several inches. And yet they still rubbed against each other, forming a cleavage that appeared to be able to swallow up a major city yellow pages.

"My God", I croaked. "You're immense!"

"Told ya so!" the breastacular Clara said triumphantly. "Now it's my turn."

Before I could react, before my shaking hand could make contact with the incredible sweep of breast flesh before me, it vanished in a tangle of arms and legs as Clara spun around and plopped herself back on me facing my feet. This left me with my arms pinned under her legs, looking up into the closest view I had ever had of a young girls nylon covered, slightly moist, crotch. Which smelled, well, delicious in a funny sort of way.

Remember here that my experience with women had, until this moment, ranged from the fantasy to the hypothetical. Now I was pinned underneath a girl with the most spectacularly huge breasts imaginable! Me, Richard King! Aside from a few half hearted good night kisses I was a complete and utter virgin.

But maybe not for long. Clara was making short work of my belt and zipper, exposing my tented underwear.

"Ohhh, what did I find?" Clara cooed as I felt her fingers gently caress the length of my cloth covered dick. She stroked from base to tip. "Is this the nasty thing that was poking me? I want to see!" If I had thought Clara was shy that thought was disappearing over the horizon on a fast horse. This was no shrinking violet!

Grabbing pants and shorts in both hands Clara simultaneously lifted her top half up off me and stripped me naked to the knees, exposing my stiff erection in all it's glory!

Now before I go on I have to admit that I wasn't what I'd call "hung". Just under five inches long (yes, I'd measured!) it almost completely disappeared in Clara's hand as she grasped it gently in a full fisted grip. At the same time that I felt her hand clasp my hard dick I became acutely aware of the warmth of her insanely large breasts as they squashed out all over my stomach and her nipples that were trying to poke holes in me.

All I could see was her crotch. Her panties were slowly becoming more and more transparent as her lubrication continued to flow. It was beautiful I thought. I could clearly see her cunt because Clara had a sparse growth of pubic hair with well defined labia and ... my observations were interrupted.

"Oh, it's pretty! And so warm," Clara's breath bathed my twitching cock as she tried to look at it from all angles. Pushing and pulling at it. One moment stroking it up and down, the next giggling as she tried to force it to point toward my toes and watching it spring back to point right at her.

I knew what was going to happen next! And as she stroked my cock one more time, sure enough...

"Look out," I cried as I did what any red blooded college man would do when finding his abdomen buried under two gigantic tits while the possessor of those tits had her pussy inches above his nose and pushed and pulled on his cock.

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