Award Winning Boobs Ch. 02

"Steve, I'm kind of exposed, all naked out here, could I possibly come inside?" I entreated.

Steve gestured for me to enter.

"Thanks again, Steve," I said. "The date went really well, until I realized the bastard was married."

"Ah, yes. I'm afraid there's a lot of that going around. Sorry you had to endure it. I hope you enjoyed yourself before you realized he was married," Steve said, and I saw his eyes were focused on Sherman's cum trail going down my thigh, it having leaked out of my pussy.

"Yes. We enjoyed ourselves," I said, following Steve's eyes to the trail of cum on my thigh. "Uh, Steve, could I impose on you to borrow your T-shirt and gym shorts again, as well as of course my spare key that you keep for me? Please?"

"Yes, yes of course, I'll get them in just a minute. I want to drink in the view of your body a little first, and also ask you a question, if you do not mind," he replied.

"Well, I guess if a woman shows up at your door stark naked, twice, you deserve to have a good look. Ask away, neighbor," I said. I sat down on Steve's couch. I could not help that my boobs were on full display, but I crossed my legs to hide my pussy.

"Now, now, Baccarelli. The first time you were not naked. You were wearing a suggestive maple leaf, as I recall," Steve said, trying to sound serious, but clearly suppressing laughter. "I guess neither of us has a fig tree."

"Fig trees would not survive our winters," I said, for no apparent reason. "This ain't the Garden of Eden, you know."

Steve sat down next to me. He blatantly looked me over, and muttered how he must have the most gorgeous neighbor of anyone in the state.

"Just the state?" I asked him, giggling. "Now, what was that question?" Steve was sitting very close to me, and the smell of his body was intoxicating. The man effused masculinity. It was arousing.

"Jane," he began, using my first name which surprised me, "This is the second time you have shown up naked. I know there was a good reason each time, having little or even nothing to do with me. But nevertheless, it has had an effect. I request permission to kiss you, and to see where it leads, even if I think it is unwise to get involved with one's neighbor."

I looked at him, as he looked me up and down, still checking out my naked body, seated beside him. He was clearly entranced with me. I like that in a man. Did I like him 'that way?' To be honest, I did not know. He knew I had just fucked a man whom I did not even know well enough to know he was married, so I must have seemed to be, at this point, something of a floozy, or a slut. Did I really want to cement that impression by giving myself to him just then?

These were some of the thoughts that bounced around in my head as I thought about his request. I said, "I'll give you my reply non-verbally, Steve," and I leaned into him and kissed him. His hands were immediately all over me.

At the beginning, I felt as if I were kissing an octopus. But things calmed down, and then as we kissed he was lovingly caressing my boobs, gently tweaking my nipples, and finally his hands went down to my cum filled, soaking wet pussy. His fingers worked some magic down there, eliciting the appropriate groans and moans from yours truly.

Steve, who was both tall and muscular, lifted me off the couch as if I were a child's toy, and carried me up to his bedroom. The man had made his bed! Still holding me in the air, he used one hand to pull back the covers, and then he gently placed me down onto it.

Steve stripped off his clothes, joined me on the bed, spread my legs, and got on top of me. As he did this, I suddenly realized he was going to be my second man that very evening. This, for me, was the nail in my slut coffin. But I pushed that thought out of my mind, as the more important issue of the fact that his rather large cock was entering me at that precise moment, rose inexorably into my active awareness.

I had thought Sherman felt good inside me, and indeed he had. But it was nothing compared to how I felt when Steve entered me. The feeling was so intense, there was only one explanation. Somehow, while being his neighbor, I had fallen for the man. There was no other explanation for why having Steve's cock inside me made me feel this way.

I felt fulfilled. I loved him being inside me, filling me, completing me. I loved his every thrust. And they were great thrusts, too, full of power and passion. I wanted them never to end. My body rose to meet them, and I wrapped my legs around his body, feeling his muscles with my thighs, trying to push him deeper inside me. I wanted this fuck never to end.

As we fucked, Steve with the occasional grunt and me with incessant moans, I felt an orgasm building within me. I've had this feeling before, of course, but this time it was different. It was sort of like comparing a great surfer's wave with a tsunami. This felt like it was the tsunami. Sure enough, minutes later when the tsunami arrived, I was swept away in an endorphin rush like none I had ever known before. This was it. Steve was the one.

I was terrified. I felt as if I had suddenly given my body and my very soul to a man and I had no idea how exactly he felt about me. He probably thought I was a major slut. After all, I had appeared naked at his door after dates gone wrong, twice, in as many weeks. Sure, he loved my body; all men seemed to love my body, especially my boobs. But what did he think of me, Jane Baccarelli, the woman?

We lay there in silence, each of us afraid to ruin the moment with speech. His slowly deflating cock was still erotically twitching inside my cunt, and my pussy muscles were holding him tight inside me, as much as was possible.

Steve's wonderful cock eventually slipped out of me, and I sighed as I lost the emotional comfort of it inside me. Steve still lay on top of me, the warmth of his body radiating over me, which felt reassuring, even if it was a warm, even hot, summer evening. I began to lovingly kiss his chest, his chest hair tickling my nose deliciously, as I did so.

The words slipped out of me before I could stop them, as I said, "I love you, Steve." I felt like such a horrible idiot! No good would come out of that. Either Steve would say, "I love you too," clearly not meaning it, because how could he love a slut like me? Or he would stay silent, which somehow would be worse. I was furious with myself, and found myself waiting, holding my breath.

"I'm surprised to be saying this, Jane. Actually, I'm surprised by everything. I've never made love to a woman who just fucked another man before me. What a strange way to begin an intimate relationship. And I have a strict rule against having sex with neighbors. I'm afraid there is only one explanation, and it is inescapable. I love you, too."

"A simple, 'I love you, too,' would have sufficed, you know," I said.

"And it would have been better. I agree. I love you, Jane, you gorgeous wench of a woman," he said, and Steve kissed me, creating another stirring in my loins. More important, perhaps, was that it also created another stirring in his loins!

Steve got off me just then, to my regret, but happily all that he did was to put me on all fours. He positioned himself behind me, fondled my award-winning boobs (shall I tell him? I wondered; no, not now), and aligned his cock with my entry. He did not enter me, he just left his cock poking at my entry. I wiggled my hips, but he ignored my hint.

Just as I was about to ask him if all was okay, he mused aloud, "You know, Jane, I've never before met a woman quite like you. You are my dream woman, the most wonderful woman I could ever imagine. What's surprising is that I never imagined a woman like you even existed, and here you are, the proverbial girl next door," he said, and as he said the word "door" he plunged inside me with such force he moved me up the bed to the point where I banged my head on the wall. Never had a head bang been so erotic as that one had.

Steve apologized, but I told him, 'Just keep fucking me like that. You feel so good inside me! It's amazing. More, I want more! Just never stop!" and Steve did not. He fucked me, and he fucked me, and then he fucked me some more.

I did not see a clock, and I know men last longer the second time, but I'd be surprised if his fuck, always forceful and at times almost violent, did not last a good 45 minutes. My head must have banged the wall at least ten times during that visceral, marathon fuck. It was a side of Steve I had not seen, nor suspected, and I loved it. At that point, anything that came from Steve, I would have loved.

I spent the night. Since the next day was Sunday, and neither of us had work, I spent Sunday with Steve, too. The morning was spent in bed, doing what new lovers do. I think I drained Steve dry, and we wanted so much to fuck, Steve never got to experience my amazing (modesty aside) talent at blowjobs.

Well, if I was lucky, we had a lifetime ahead of us for him to experience that. I idly wondered if Steve ever gave his lovers cunnilingus, too. Not that it mattered; I was hooked on Steve. I also wondered if Steve was the type of guy who wanted to share his woman from time to time?

The idea of monogamy scared me a little, but if Steve wanted it, I could deal with it. Most men wanted their woman not to stray, I knew that, even if they themselves might indulge, from time to time. An example at hand was the asshole Sherman.

All those thoughts ran through my head at the speed of greased lightning. I did not know what Steve was thinking. Like all men, though, he eventually wanted food. I donned his T shirt, leaving aside the gym shorts, and made us some coffee, bacon and eggs, toast, jam, and butter, and I served it to him on his kitchen table. I poured us juice, too. He had orange juice without the pulp. I was trying to notice all his preferences, for when I took over the domestic chores. Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you, Baccarelli? I thought to myself.

After lunch, the doorbell rang. Steve said, "I completely forgot. A few friends are coming over to watch the game." Steve saw the panic in my eyes. "Stay as you are, gorgeous. I want to show you off to my friends. Do you mind?"

"Steve, if I sit wrong, or reach for something, your friends will see my pussy, and maybe even your cum inside it. There's a lot of it in there," I said, giggling, but the fear in my voice palpable.

"If they do, I'll be proud, Jane," and Steve gave me one of his absolutely wonderfully sexy kisses right there, while he fingered my pussy, causing me to moan. Unintentionally, my moans were in perfect harmony with the charms of his doorbell, as it rang, insistently.

Surrendering to Steve's wishes, I went to get to the door dressed only in my T shirt. Steve's friends, all men, were shocked not only by my appearance, but at my presence, in the home of such a confirmed bachelor. "I'm Baccarelli, Steve's friend," I said, to introduce myself and simultaneously to explain my presence. The men each gave their names. They were Mark, Chuck, Brian, and Sanders.

The men introduced themselves, and apparently Steve had used this time to throw on some clothes. I knew I must smell of sex, and there was no hiding what had just gone on before the men's arrival. Steve said, "Hey guys. I'm glad you're meeting my fiancé, the lovely Jane Baccarelli."

"She certainly is lovely," Steve's friend Mark said.

"And sexy, too!" his friend Chuck said. Then all the men congratulated Steve on hooking such a gorgeous woman, while I stood there, stunned. What a strange way to propose marriage, I thought! Then I realized, I love this man, and he wants to marry me.

When I awoke from my reverie, Steve was saying, "Jane and I plan to select a ring this week. I need to lay my claim to her clearly, since every man in town is after her," he laughed.

Everyone laughed, and Mark said, "I can see why."

I played hostess to the men as they watched the game, getting them nuts and beer, and whatever other appropriate things I found in Steve's kitchen. I'm sure the men checked out my bare ass, and probably my pussy and bush, as I would bend over to put down the munchies. If they were positioned to face my front, they got a nice look down Steve's too large T shirt at my bare boobs, I'm sure.

Truth be told, I bent over deeper than necessary, deliberately giving them some very nice views. My nipples at least, however, remained hidden to their prying eyes. At least I think my nipples stayed hidden. I hope they did.

Eventually I had to pee, and I went upstairs to use the master bathroom, as befits a fiancé. I saw Steve's camera there on his little desk in his bedroom, and I also noticed it had a quite long telephoto lens. I figured he was a bird watcher, and I knew such people were called birders. Curious as to how talented he might be, I turned on the camera to see some of his recent pictures.

To my surprise, I discovered he was very talented. But his photos were not of birds, or at least not the kind of birds that have feathers. No, his photos were all of the same subject. They were all of his neighbor, in various stages of undress, a woman known as Jane Baccarelli.

And that time I had sunbathed topless in my backyard, tanning my award-winning boobs, and thought that he was at work? Well, I guess he was not at work, after all, because there I was, in all my glory, in his camera. I was also there when I was outside, stark naked, both when I shooed away Quinn, and the previous day, when I shooed away the very married Sherman.

I was engaged to my voyeur! How does one react to such a shock? I don't know. To my surprise, my reaction was positive, even very positive. I decided not to hunt around for Steve's gym shorts, but just to stay in my T shirt.

I knew he liked to "voyeur" me, and I was pretty sure he wanted to "exhibit" me, too.

As I descended the stairs, quietly due to my bare feet, I heard the end of a sentence, "...just as sexy as the pictures you showed us, if not more so." It was coming from Mark's mouth. So, Steve had shown these men pictures of his naked, sexpot neighbor, whom he was now claiming was his fiancé.

To realize these men had all seen me naked in pictures already, really threw me for a loop. I froze on my spot on the stairs. Nobody could see me, nor I them, but I could hear them talk. "How is she in bed?" one of them asked. "A gentleman does not say," I heard Steve reply. Thank goodness for that. "I'm not asking a gentleman, I'm asking you, you asshole," came the reply. Steve then said, "She's passionate. She's amazing. And she fucked me to heaven and back, the same night she had fucked another guy on a date gone bad. Can you imagine?"

Okay, this was too much. Steve had no business telling his friends details like that! I was about to storm in, when I wisely decided to listen to a tiny bit more. Another of the guys there, this one was named Brian, piped up suddenly, "I guess we won't see any more movies of her fucking men and masturbating? Too bad."

Steve said, "I have the movie of her yesterday with her date Sherman. That one I can show you when she's not around, if you like?"

"Well, duh, of course we want to see that! Your fiancé is piping hot," Brian said.

"I'm flattered you think so," I declared as I entered the room, still wearing only Steve's T shirt, but no longer dripping cum. "Will I be invited to the movie screening?" I said, looking directly at Steve, trying to keep my face inscrutable. The men let out "whoa" sounds, realizing that Steve was in hot water.

Steve impressed me, when he said, completely calm, "Would you like to be?"

"Yes. Why don't you show it now, lover?"

"Sure. Excuse me everyone, while I load the movie onto a flash drive. Be right back," Steve said, and he left me alone with the four men, who were now all looking at me hungrily. Two men were on the couch, with a space between them, and one patted the cushion, indicating I should join them.

I did, and I said, "Don't get the wrong idea, boys. I don't gangbang. I'm Steve's financé, or so I hear." I figured that made things clear. Sometimes though, I knew, men hear only what they want to hear, and I had stupidly put the word gangbang into their minds.

Steve returned just in time, I suspect, because Chuck was working up the nerve to try to finger me, I was fairly sure. I know the signs. It's just a question of computing probabilities based on my observations of men's behavior, gleaned from my extensive field work while an undergraduate. My Bayesian probability that Chuck was going to try to molest me was, at that point, 0.80, or 80%. I planned to shut him down dramatically if he actually tried. I wanted it to be a surprise, however.

I could not believe Steve had taken movies of Sherman fucking me. How could he have done that? I'm pretty sure my blinds were down. This also was not new. Apparently, he had been spying on me for some time, and titillating his friends at my expense. I wondered if this whole fiancé thing was just a ruse? Maybe his whole love protestation was just part of his sexploitation of me? Suddenly, I felt insecure. I felt very insecure.

"Maybe this is not a good idea. How about another time when I'm properly dressed?" I said.

"Baccarelli, you could dress properly now, if you like. Why don't you take off your T shirt and come sit over here with me?" Mark said. This was met with cheers, morphing into a "Take it off, take it off, take it off!" chant, that gave no signs of letting up. I looked at Steve. Thank goodness, he was not joining the chant. I mouthed 'help?' to him. Tears were forming at my eyes.

Steve held up his hand, and he stopped the chant. "Men, I am in love with this little woman. I know she's a sexpot, but she's also a wonderful woman, and a human being. Please treat her with respect. She is not a good-time fraternity moll. Maybe it's not a good idea to share these movies anymore. Anyway, I have not edited this last one yet. Perhaps it's time to call it a day."

The men all looked properly humbled. Steve said, "Maybe Jane will be willing to kiss each of you goodbye. What do you say, Jane?"

I looked at him. Did he want me to kiss them? Given I was almost naked, was that wise? I decided not to guess. "Would you like me to kiss them?" I asked.

Steve seemed practically to be drooling at the prospect. At that moment, I knew he was a dyed in the wool voyeur. He wanted them mildly to molest me while they kissed me, and he wanted to watch. The men seemed to know it, too. Steve said, "Yes." It was a one-word reply with immense meaning in it, and I understood completely.

Mark went first. He took me in his arms, standing there at the open front door. He kissed me, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him, and crushing my boobs against his chest. As we kissed, and our tongues played with each other, his hands went up my T shirt, fondling my bare ass, and showing it off to the others. I was getting aroused. I pulled away before things went too far, and I pushed him out the door, waving goodbye.

Chuck was next. He went for my boobs, and he pushed up my T shirt until it was over my boobs as we kissed. I was completely exposed to Chuck as he did that, as well as to the others. He continued and soon my T shirt was covering my face, making kissing me no longer possible. I just took it off and resumed kissing him, now completely naked. He pushed me away, saying he wanted to drink in my naked beauty.

I looked over at Steve. After all, I was now naked in front of three of his friends. spoke for the first time. "Never have I seen such a beautiful woman. God, you're a lucky man, Steve."

I love flattery. I wanted to say "You need to get out more, Sanders," but I wisely just stayed quiet and accepted the praise. Chuck pulled me in, and he resumed kissing me, and playing with my boobs. Finally, I had had enough, and now stark naked I pushed him out the door. He pulled me outside, and Mark, who was lingering outside, got to enjoy the sight of me naked, trying to escape from Chuck's clutches. He was clearly enjoying the view. So too was Mrs. Dietrich, who lived directly across the street. She had to think I was a harlot at this point. Maybe I was?