A 'B' or not a 'B'

I came over, encouraged by her enthusiasm. "I like the bigger ones, the ones that go up higher."

"Grannies? Really? She may not have any." She rummaged through them until she found a pair, white. Then she searched through until she found a white bra that seemed much bigger than most others.

"Will it fit?" I couldn't imagine her getting in to just any bra.

"We're the same size, or close. You'll see." Then she jumped back on the bed, pulled on the panties then quickly did up the bra. "Now, let's make love, Mike. Let me show you how much I love you."

I don't know if I was more amazed or shocked. When I came into her, our, bedroom the next morning after showering Marta was standing nervously in the middle of the room in jeans and a thin green short sleeve top hugging her fantastic breasts with a low enough neck to show a considerable stretch of cleavage -- very un-Marta. I grinned. After a moment she did, too.

My life got back to a semblance of reality as I took the bus to school. And that reality was all positive. I loved my classes, loved what and how much I was learning about the fabulous prospects of computing. And I found for the first time in my life I was a very good student, usually heading the class. So learning was an absolute pleasure and so were the sessions after class with three friends as we worked on our 'secret project,' building apps. But this part of the day could be time consuming, often lasting from four to late into the night.

I knew they were coming today so I made a special effort to get 'home' by 6:30. Even so, I was late. When I rang the bell Mrs. Glock answered with a cheerful if questioning smile. What do you say, "Hi, I'm Mike. I live here now?"

Marta quickly stepped in and introduced me to both her parents and followed a somewhat awkward pause by announcing, "Mike and I live together now. We'll live here for the next two weeks then we're going to move into an apartment on Frobisher Street."

I could feel the instant chill. I had not gone over well. What do you do? I chose to almost literally hide behind Marta who acted as if the tropical bliss of the reunion had been unsullied by my presence.

I shut up and observed. First and most obvious, Gloria is the inspiration for her daughter's new sartorial expression: they were wearing similar tops, with strikingly similar cleavages and strikingly obvious abundances. Fred, the father, seemed like a mellow, quick to smile kind of guy who may well be the willing lackey of two strong-willed females. The two parents appeared barely in their 40's; they were obviously glad to be home; they clearly adored their daughter and, even if they were apparently irritated by my presence, they were polite about it.

They had been in the Bahamas for two week on a much need break for Fred. Gloria gave an enthusiastic de-brief over a quickly prepared supper and a few glasses of wine. I was politely ignored by the parents but Marta was holding some part of me all the time she didn't have both knife and fork in her hands.

We went up to bed early which was great because I wanted to talk to Marta about a re-think on my staying over until the move. I didn't get it out. She attacked me the moment we got into the room and we flew at each other to make up for the long interruption of the celibate day.

Two hours later there was a knock on the door. "Can I come in?"

My balls froze but Marta calmly pulled the sheet up on the covers-strewn bed and said, "Sure."

Gloria Glock is a beautiful woman with a fabulous body, now barely concealed in a grey neglige. When she came in she didn't look around, didn't inspect me, cowering under the sheet. She came in and she sat down and looked anxiously at her daughter. "I had you when I was 18 for a reason. I wanted to still be young when you grew up because I wanted us to be friends, I wanted us to be together, to do things together before you got married and started your own family. But we haven't been friends, not really. You hid in your room, dressed like you hated yourself and sneered at the world. You're not doing that any more. Now you've grown up. And now you tell me you're moving out. Why Marta? There's no reason for you to leave. You have everything your need here. I don't want you to go. Please. Don't."

Marta reached out and took her mother's hand. "I've got to go some time, mum."

"Yes, of course, but not now, after you graduate ... a year after you graduate." Then she turned to me. "Don't take her away from me, Mike. Please, don't do that." There were tears in her eyes. I felt like a complete prick.

"He's not taking me mum, I want my own place, we want our own place. We're starting our life together; it only makes sense."

"Don't. Please. Only another two or three years. It's way too soon for you to go."

Was it me or her moving out that was the real issue? I couldn't tell but it was easy to see that Marta was feeling her mother's obvious angst. As was I, with a quick (and shameful) glance at a wonderful breast nicely sagging behind the thin neglige. Marta caught my glance as she looked at me. "What do you say? Can you live here?" She waited for my decision.

My own mother didn't make such a fuss when I told her I was leaving but her pain was pretty much the same ... and I'm a guy. This mother clearly did not want to lose her daughter, especially to some unknown jerk she couldn't trust. "I'll be happy with you wherever I am," I said, neutrally, but truthfully.

This perked Gloria up enormously. It seemed she was under the impression that whatever I decided carried some weight. "We'll do over the basement," she said, with excitement, "put in a suite. You two will have all the room you want."

Marta hesitated, then reached for my arm. When she did the sheet fell away and she pulled my arm against her naked breast as she continued to think. "Done," she said after a few moment's thought then she lit up.

Gloria all but lost it. She threw herself across the bed at me, grappled me into her arms and kissed me fiercely on the edge of my mouth. Then she was in her daughter's arms and they both hugged and giggled for a moment before Gloria sprang to her feet, leaned over the bed and brought the cover up on us. "I'll leave you alone. Sorry to bother you. I'm really excited to get to know you, Mike. It's obvious you make Marts really really happy." Then she and her flowing neglige were gone.

After the door closed Marta said nothing for a full minute, then she turned and moved into me and held me. I cuddled as I had done countless times with her during the day.

The plans were carefully explained the next day at dinner. The basement would be converted into the promised suite, the rough drawings had already been made ... and looked really neat. And I would start to learn how to drive ... "it's ridiculous to take the bus; takes too much time." She said Fred would start me off. Those plans were the short term. Long range planning included our graduating and our buying a house (in the neighbourhood) and, within a few years, our starting a family. I wasn't much consulted during this discussion, which didn't involve Fred either but he took me into his den after dinner.

"You'll always get your own way if you just shut up and listen. Basically, what they're trying to do is make our lives as productive as they can but as comfortable as possible. It has worked for me for 23 years and it will work for you. They're smarter than we are, they're more thoughtful and they are a hell of a lot more caring. I've had it made since the day I met Gloria and you may not know it yet but the day Marta chose you was the luckiest day of your life." He laughed. "And I'm not just talking about the breasts."

Later that night after the friction burns on my skin started to cool off and I was about to nod into another form of bliss, I thought about the Marta Glock who had been looking down on me from Biff's couch, the Marta Glock with the pouting mouth and the sour disposition, the Marta Glock I had known from afar for most of my student life and I wondered whatever happened to her.

I pushed my face into the offered breasts, those fabulously soft mammies that hang so wonderfully in the gossamer thin bras that excite and entice me so much ... on both the residents. And I pressed back at her wonderfully responsive pussy that was snuggling wet into my lucky thigh, and I wished the old Marta well. This one, the one I cling to all night ... and all day, I think of as my reward: I'm a good guy: I always knew I was going to marry the only girl I'd fuck.

Hey, I'm a B. She has always known it and now, so do I!