Boobs!

FYI. This story includes sex, incest, anal sex, and gangbangs. It's fun! But if that's not your cup of tea bolt now.

^^^

I was standing alone in a crowded room. The person I had been talking to saw a relative and went to speak to them. I was comfortable being alone. I looked around the room and sipped a glass of white wine.

I knew many of the people. We were dressed up. The men in suits; the women in dresses. I knew I looked nice. I was wearing my favorite black dress, heels, and pearls.

I flinched when I felt a hand touch my butt. A man was behind me. He leaned in to whisper in my ear. I felt his breath on my neck and smelled alcohol.

He said, "Hi, Jo. How about throwing me one for old time's sake."

"I beg your pardon!" I said and spun to face my aggressor.

"JTP," he said.

I glared at him.

"JTP," he repeated.

I gave him a look of disdain and held it look enough that he knew I was pissed. I said, "Have you no sense of propriety? This is a wake."

"I've had a dry spell. I need the release," he explained. "I was there for you."

I continued to give him the evil eye.

He smiled and said, "I have a room upstairs. You'll be back before anyone notices. We're talking fifteen minutes. A half hour at the most."

He offered me his arm.

I exhaled noisily, showing that I was annoyed. I took his arm, and we went upstairs.

He pounced on me and tried to kiss me when we entered his hotel room. I pushed him off me and said, "No kissing and back off. I don't want to mess up my makeup or my dress."

"Okay. Okay," he said. He raised his hands as if surrendering.

We both undressed.

"You look great," he said as he leered at my naked fifty-year-old body. He wasn't blowing smoke up my skirt. I was fit. I watched what I ate and exercised. I looked nice.

"I can't say the same about you."

"Yeah. I drink too much," said the pot-bellied, fifty-two-year-old. "I can't remember the last time I was at the gym."

I pointed to his limp dick and said, "Can you still get it up."

He grinned and said, "How about a little mouth-to-penis resuscitation?"

"No way am I putting that dick in my mouth."

I stepped to him, grabbed his penis, and handled it roughly.

"Oh," he moaned. He fondled my tits.

I beat his meat; he got hard. It wasn't as big as I remembered.

I pulled the bedspread off the bed, climbed in, and got on my hands and knees. I spread my legs and offered my backside. I jilled my pussy with wet fingers while I waited for him to take me.

I knew he was ogling me. I glanced over my shoulder and confirmed it. He was stroking his cock and grinning as he studied my nude body.

"You said this would be quick. Mount me, and let's get it done."

"Okay," he said and got on the bed. As he moved into position, he said, "I was enjoying the view. You're a beautiful woman." He caressed my bottom and said, "Your body is as firm and fit as when we first had sex thirty years ago."

"Thirty-two, but who's counting."

He did one thing right; he entered me slowly.

"Oh!" we gasped.

Five minutes later, it was over. He shot his load and lay gasping for air on the bed. I got up.

He said, "Thank you. Did you cum?"

I sneered. I was going to say, 'Are you kidding?'. I held my tongue because I knew he was going through a rough patch.

I went into the bathroom where I peed out his sperm and washed. I got dressed. As I headed toward the door, I glanced at my partner. He was naked, sprawled on the bed, and smoking a cigarette.

I went to him, tousled his hair, and gave him a big kiss on the lips. I said, "I'm sorry Tricia left you. After two divorces, you should have learned not to marry a woman unless you plan to be faithful to her.

"My husband is taking the kids to summer camp tomorrow. Come to the house at noon. I'll cook you a good meal, and we can fuck properly."

I smiled and said, "Bye, Romeo."

"Goodbye, Jo. You're the best."

^^^August, 1999^^^

"One for all and all for one!" I yelled.

In response, my three companions shouted, "JTP!"

'JTP' was our personal battle cry. It was our pledge that we had each other's back. A reminder that we have friends who will be there for us no matter what.

We were children. We ran up a hill with sticks in our hands. We pretended they were swashbuckling swords. Today, we were storming a fortress to free a princess.

We attacked a lot of castles that year as we pretended to be musketeers. The Disney version of the Alexandre Dumas classic, "The Three Musketeers", had come out on DVD that summer.

We watched the movie often and re-enacted it more.

The 'we' were me, a six-year-old girl named Josephine, and three eight-year-old boys: my brother, Justin, my cousin, Wade, and Ralph, who lived next door.

We were a tight group formed by unique circumstances. We lived on the outskirts of a small town and were the only children in our neighborhood.

Neighborhood is too generous a word. We lived on a short street called Jaffrey Terrace which had four houses.

The area was going to be a suburban housing development. The developer built four homes. He presented his plan for another thirty, and the county turned him down. There were issues with wetlands and hazardous waste in an old junkyard.

We played together all our lives. As a joke, we refer to ourselves as the Jaffrey Terrace Posse or JTP! We promised each other that we'd be friends for life.

I was the bratty little sister who followed the boys around and pestered them. I became part of the group for a few reasons. The main one was that they needed another body. You can't play sports with two people against one.

It helped that I was a tomboy and could run and climb trees as fast as any of them. I pulled my weight. I could throw a mean curveball and had a deadly accurate set shot.

They didn't look at me as a girl. Neither did I. We were kids, playmates, and members of JTP!

^^^August 2011^^^

"What's Romeo staring at?" I wondered.

It's Josephine again. You can call me Jo, everyone does. I'm eighteen. I graduated high school in May, and I am back on Jaffrey Terrace after a two-month absence. I worked as a camp counselor at a local band camp.

It was a summer camp that I attended. It prepared me for my thrilling days of being in my high school's marching band.

"Go Cougars!"

When I aged out of the camp, I became a counselor. The money isn't great, but there aren't a lot of summer jobs in the boonies.

In the fall, I'll be attending the state university.

I'm sitting at a table on our screened porch playing a board game with my brother and cousin. We're wearing tee shirts and shorts.

It's a hot day. We have shade, but no breeze. Inside the house, it's worse. The a/c is out again.

My neighbor, Romeo, was playing, but he'd been eliminated from the game. He had left the table and paced and bounced a tennis ball on the painted concrete floor.

He said, "After this game, we should go swimming."

Everyone agreed. We were sweating, and the pond would give us some relief.

You're probably wondering who Romeo is. It's not a typo. Ralph is Romeo. We call him that because he's always dating some cute girl. Never for very long, but he doesn't lack female companions.

He has big puppy dog eyes, great hair, and a muscular build. He's good-looking, but that's not his secret. He has an aura about him that attracts women. He looks like someone who needs rescuing, and plenty of women are ready to swoop in and fix him.

Of course, Ralph doesn't want to be fixed. He enjoys his chaotic life of drinking too much, losing jobs, and the constant stream of women rescuers. He bangs them until they realize he's never going to change.

He was better looking before he got in a bar fight, broke his nose, and got a scar on his cheek. Still, plenty of girls think he's dreamy.

I'm the opposite of Romeo. He's outgoing, funny, confident, and gets along with everyone. No one would say that about me. I'm shy and quiet. People don't dislike me; they don't notice me.

I'm happier alone with a good book, something by Dumas or Victor Hugo, than I am attending a party. I don't do small talk well, and I'm not a big drinker.

People have no incentive to engage with me. It's not like I'm witty, vivacious, and gorgeous. I'm an average-looking girl. I have more bad hair days than good ones. I've always been tall for my age, I wear glasses, and I have the breasts of a twelve-year-old boy.

Yeah, I'm flat-chested. So flat-chested that when I graduated last May, I didn't just not wear a bra. I still didn't own one.

Any surprise I didn't date in high school?

The only reason I went to the school dances was because I was on the decorating committee, and I wanted to see what things looked like when the lights were dimmed. Also, I was on hand with Scotch tape and bunting in case there was a decoration emergency.

Now you know how I managed to skate under the radar in high school.

Things began to change for me in late May.

My parents gave me contact lenses as a graduation present, and I rarely wear my thick glasses.

A funny thing happened while I was at band camp. No, I did not have the same sexual experience as the geeky redhead who in the movie "American Pie" confessed, "And this one time, at band camp, I stuck a flute in my pussy."

I didn't abuse myself; I got boobs.

I don't mean fried eggs or chicken cutlets. And I don't mean melons or bazooms. I mean bikini stuffers, blouse bunnies, a respectable B cup.

This whole having breasts is new to me. Most eighteen-years-old have had boobs for five or six years and know the hazards and protocols. I didn't.

That's why when I was bent over in my chair studying the board I didn't react quickly when Romeo stood over me and looked down.

I wondered what Romeo was staring at, but I wasn't alarmed. I didn't realize that the twenty-year-old was looking down my shirt at my new boobs.

You might be incredulous, but honestly, it didn't occur to me that he was scoping me out. I'd been a skinny tomboy my whole life. I didn't play with dolls, have tea parties with stuffed animals, or pay attention to my mother's lectures about how a prim and proper lady should behave.

Also, I trusted these guys. I saw them every day from the time I could walk. They were my friends, my mates, and they treated me as their equal. We were members of JTP.

When we got older, I wasn't the girl they tried to kiss or the one they asked to the school dance. Maybe it was because I didn't have boobs or that I wasn't a girly girl. I didn't paint my nails, pluck my eyebrows, wear makeup, or obsess over my hair.

I didn't care that they didn't see me that way. I had no sexual interest in them or any of my classmates. I never went through that 'boy crazy' phase other girls experienced.

That day I had on a relaxed-fit cotton tee shirt with a scoop neck. It was baggy. Other girls my age wear clothes that showed off their curves or flash some cleavage. I don't like wearing tight, clingy clothes. I wasn't confident about my body, and I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

When I leaned over, the top fell away from my body. Ralph was standing in the perfect position to look down my shirt. I wasn't wearing a bra because I hate them. In my mind, my new breasts didn't need that torture device. They were perk and firm, not floppy and bouncy.

He got a good look at the girls and my pink nipples. He stood there quietly and stared at my breasts.

I finally noticed him and noticed where his eyes were focused. I didn't get mad. I pulled on the collar of my shirt, giving him a better look, and looked at them too.

I smiled at him and winked as we shared my secret.

I shouted, "JTP!"

My brother and Wade looked at me. I smiled and said, "I have an announcement." I pulled my shirt up, showed them my new boobs, and said, "Look what happened while I was at band camp!"

I was pleased and excited to share my good news. It wasn't a sexual thing.

"Cool, huh? I have boobs."

I held the shirt up with one hand, touched my right boob with the other hand, and said, "They're really soft, but you know that."

Their jaws dropped. The guys stared at my lady lumps. No one spoke. Looking back, they probably didn't know what to say.

My smile faded when I didn't get an immediate positive response. I said, "Mom's seen them. She said they're nice, but she's my mother, and she has to say that. You have seen boobs before. Are they okay? I know they aren't that big."

My brother was the first to speak. He said, "They're great. Perfect."

"I like your puffy nipples," Wade said. His face was red.

I turned toward Ralph and said, "Romeo, you've seen the most boobs. How do I rate?"

He studied them and opined, "They are a good size and shape. Bigger boobs can be sloppy and saggy like a grandmother's sad set. Smaller ones are disappointing. Sometimes they are different sizes. It's weird when a girl doesn't have a matched set.

"Yours are positioned nicely on your chest. Your nipples are centered and point straight ahead. That's good, and, as Wade said, the puffy nipples are a bonus."

I smiled, thrilled with their critique, and dropped my shirt. I said, "I'm tired of playing this game. It's so hot. Let's go swimming."

"Swimming suits or skinny dipping?" Wade asked.

We all looked at each other and, in unison, shouted, "Skinny dipping!"

We bolted from the porch and raced to the pond. We headed to the shady section, shucked off our shoes and jumped into the water.

I can hear you saying, we weren't skinny dipping. Of course, you're correct. We started this tradition when we were kids. We like the sound of saying we're 'skinny dipping'. It made us feel bold and audacious.

For us 'skinny dipping' meant swimming, not wearing your swim suits. Which is correct in a way. We didn't mean in the nude. None of us, then or now, had the nerve to strip, nor did we have any interest in seeing each other's bits. We wore whatever we had on, our minus shoes.

We splashed, dunked each other, and wrestled. In the course of our horseplay, the guys bumped into and touched my boobs and butt. None of it was blatant or made me feel uncomfortable.

I noticed that they looked at my chest a lot. My white tee was wet. It became see-through. My shirt failed me in another way. I like baggy clothing because it hides things.

When I was flat-chested, my loose-fitting clothes hid that fact. When I got boobs, I was embarrassed and continued to wear oversized clothes to hide my new breasts.

My wet shirt clung to my body. It showed the size and contour of everything, including my breasts.

I felt betrayed by my shirt but got over it. After all, I had pulled up my shirt and showed them my boobs.

I rationalized that I should expect they'd be curious because my breasts are something new and different. Just as I was scrutinized when I got braces or whenever someone got a new haircut. They'd stop looking once the newness wore off.

I showed my playmates no mercy. I touched, tickled, dunked, and grabbed them as usual. One thing was different this time. I felt firm cylindrical objects bump into me. At first, I was confused and wondered, "What is that?"

I grabbed one and squeezed it. My brother froze. He looked shocked, and his face turned red. I realized I was gripping his penis, and for some reason it was hard.

I giggled and said to myself, "The guys have erections. "

We played more.

When I was gassed, I said, "I'm tired and going to lay in the grass."

No one came with me. I said, "Aren't you coming?"

"We'll be there in a sec," Wade said.

I walked to the shore alone. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that they were looking at me. My wet clothes clung to my body and showed my curves.

An image of Peter Pan popped into my mind. I thought of the story about the mischievous young boy who can fly, has great adventures, and never grows up. I told myself, "Jo, you and your lost boys have grown up."

I was sad for a moment.

I turned, faced my childhood friends, and shouted, "JTP!"

The boys looked at my face. Justin asked, "What's up?"

"I'm calling a meeting," I said. "Come on shore."

They didn't move.

"You swore an oath," I said. "You have to answer the call when any of us shout JTP."

"That was something we invented when we were kids," Wade said. "It's not a real thing."

"It can be if we want it to be," I said. "You're my best friends. I think of you as my brothers. I don't want to give that up because things are changing in our lives.

"We have many changes ahead of us. We'll marry and get jobs. Maybe we'll move away or have kids. I'll always love you and want the best for you. I'll be there if you need me and want to know that I can call on you for help."

"I want that too," Justin said. Ralph and Wade agreed.

"There's an elephant in the room, and we are pretending it's not there," I said. "I know why you're staying in the water. You have erections. I get it. You're embarrassed or you're worried that I'll be angry with you.

"It's because I've changed."

I pulled off my wet top, exposed my breasts, and said, "I've grown up."

I unsnapped my shorts and stepped out of them. I said, "I no longer wear underwear with cartoon characters. I'm wearing a thong; half my ass is hanging out. I guess you find the front troubling too. You can see my pubic hair through the wet fabric.

"We are no longer kids. My newly developed body has caused a physical reaction to the beast between your legs. It's okay."

I walked into the water and grabbed the front of Ralph's and Wade's shorts. I touched their erection, and said,

"None of us needs to be embarrassed by a natural biological reaction. In fact, it's a good thing because I have a problem, and your erections will allow the three of you to help me."

I crooked my finger and beckoned Justin to come forward. He came to me. He too had a lump in his shorts.

"I'm comfortable around you guys. We laugh, and have fun. At school, it's a different story. I'm self-conscious. My lack of confidence makes me quiet, and shy, and I avoid the spotlight.

"I didn't have one date in high school!" I choked up with emotion, cried, and said, "I'm a virgin. I haven't even been kissed!"

The boys came to me, offered words of encouragement, and hugged me. I sniffled, wiped away some tears, and said, "That was the old me. The flat-chested girl with few friends.

"When I go to college in the fall, I have a chance for a fresh start. It's going to be different, and you're going to help me make it different."

"What do you want us to do?" my brother asked.

"I have a new body. I need a new confident attitude. I plan on putting myself out there, making lots of friends, and dating like crazy."

"That sounds good, Jo," my cousin said. "How can we help?"

"I can't show up at college as a know-nothing, done nothing virgin."

The boys looked at me with wide eyes and slack jaws.

"You're all going to sleep with me."

"What?" the three of them screeched.

"I'm not showing up at college as a virgin," I said.

"I'm your brother," Justin said, horrified.

"I'm your cousin," Wade said in disbelief.

"So?" I said, putting my hands on my hips. "Romeo has known me forever. He's family too."

I looked them square in the eyes and said, "Tell me which scenario is likely to be successful and which is likely to end badly.

"There's this sexually inexperienced young woman who doesn't want to come off as a complete rube at college. Option A is to go to a bar and have sex with as many strangers as possible. Option B is to go to some men she knows, loves, and trusts, and who know, love, and respect her."

"Option A seems like a surefire way of getting an STD," Ralph said.

"Or murdered," Wade said.

"The men at the bar will be glad to fuck you. They aren't likely to answer questions, or to teach you anything," Justin said.