Dobrila's Heart Ch. 03

And, for as much as I recognized the entire experience to be really nothing more than just another manifestation of that same kind of loser-ish behavior I was forever berating myself about, I knew in my heart of hearts that I was forever lost to this exciting new form of sensory excess and overload. So, instead of always looking for avenues of thought to temper my lustful loser-isms, I had now accidentally discovered exciting new ways of expressing myself that not only enhanced my lustful loser-ish cravings but even encouraged them.

This was something I knew I would want to experience again and would be as completely unable to deal with the consequences as any junkie needing a fix, I would do it again, and again.

But, beyond the bounds of physical pleasure through masturbation, there was just this one niggling little thought taking up residence in the back of my mind that gave me great pause to consider. Because, truth be told, when all was said and done, it wasn't just SOME woman's nylon panties against my skin to electrify the physical sensation, nor was it the scent of SOME woman's used panties that had so beautifully filled my senses. These were Dobrila's panties, and it was Dobrila's scent inside these panties. Somehow that very personal sense and sensuality had combined to make the entire experience profoundly more intimate and rewarding for me.

Any feelings I had for Dobrila that might have slipped beyond the bounds of platonic friendship were primarily few and far between. Surely there were those occasional glances down her dress to her cleavage to fire my virginal imagination, as well as brief glimpses of her legs whenever her dress occasionally rose higher than normal. But I had never before equated any of those lustful looks I might have given her to be anything more than just opportunistic delights that were occasioned purely by chance and principally because she was basically the only female figure in my life. Of course, I would notice and appreciate her voluptuous femininity, as a twenty-two-year-old virgin, how could I not? And yet in one way or another, those "appreciations" had somehow, and quite unconsciously, transformed into a physical desire for her, and her body, that I had never expected I would ever have.

She was, in complete honesty, the very best friend I had in this world and yet I knew, in my heart of hearts, that my feelings for her had begun to go far beyond mere feelings of friendship. The very minute she left for San Diego that morning, a sense of loss and loneliness descended on me, and, at that moment, I came to realize how much she meant to me and how much I wanted and needed her to be in my life.

Sitting there on her sofa and reminiscing, I thought once again of her body and how wonderful it always felt when she pressed against me while embracing. I smiled and tried to imagine how incredibly wonderful her body might feel beneath her slinky nightgown.

I suddenly sat bolt upright and gasped. Holy shit, I had completely forgotten about her custom-made dress form.

I rose from the sofa, and I quickly made my way to Dobrila's sewing room. My smile of anticipation broadened as I saw the form in the corner of the room on its rolling metal stand.

There was nothing on the form at that moment, no unfinished projects or material of any kind. The form was covered in a stretch-fit sheer black nylon cover that somewhat resembled a woman's one-piece bathing suit.

Without the unfinished dress that I had seen on the form previously, the form's torso was astonishingly realistic, and I recalled Dobrila's words on the day she first revealed the form to me. "See?" she had said as she posed proudly beside the form, "Is same as me, yes?"

And, as God is my judge, I believe truer words have never been spoken. It was as if I were seeing Dobrila's body as she would appear completely unclothed, without a dress to soften the lines of her figure. The flimsy little nylon cover clung revealingly to every magnificent bulge and curve of her body. I wheeled the dress form's stand out into the middle of the room so as to examine it more closely, and discovered it to be surprisingly heavy, which really should have not been surprising at all considering it was constructed from a solid piece of silicone gel.

I carefully removed the nylon cover and gasped aloud to discover the now-bared form was infinitely more realistic than I had ever imagined. The silicone gel was a dark flesh-tone shade, which even added to its surprisingly realistic nature. The breasts had perfectly formed, semi-erect nipples and the protruding stomach had a deep depression at her navel as well as what I assumed to be a very realistic roll of fat below the waist. Most astonishing of all was the dramatic swell of the hips, the broad expanse of her buttocks with a surprisingly deep cleft between the cheeks, as well as a very accurately formed pubic mound below the extended belly.

Gaping in complete astonishment at the realistic replica of Dobrila's body, I reached out to cup one of the breasts in my hand and was astonished to feel the rise of her nipple as well as a supple pliancy as I squeezed the breast and thrilled to the sensation of a breast so large it completely filled my hand. The silicone gel allowed for a great deal of pliant suppleness as well, as the breasts were delightfully pliable and moved when pushed, pulled, or squeezed, adding to the inherent realism of the form.

Impulsively I bend my head to take one of her nipples into my mouth, savoring the sensation as I moved my tongue over the peaked tip. I stepped close and wrapped my arms around the thick waist, pressing my body against the form as if I were embracing Dobrila.

Instantly my erection pulsed with an urgency that surprised me, and I quickly stepped back with a smile. My only thought at that moment was to feel her body through her nightgown. I hurried to the bathroom and returned with the pale blue nightie, and quickly slipped it over the form. I moved my hands almost reverently over the form, caressing the breasts and sighing with pleasure to sense how Dobrila's body would feel beneath the nightgown.

Once again, I wrapped my arms around the form's broad waist and pressed my body tightly against it. I felt the soft rise of her pubic mound directly against my erection and I shivered with pleasure, sensing my orgasm was only moments away.

I dropped my hands to the big round cheeks of her buttocks and her flesh filled my hands completely as I squeezed gently and thrust my erection against her. Just as I had done in the hallway with her panties, I lost control completely and erupted into her pretty white panties for the second time that afternoon. My orgasm had been like a runaway freight train and, like a runaway train, had been all but impossible to stop. And I didn't even try. I continued to thrust against the form long after my orgasm, savoring the sensation of her big body against mine.

With a gasp, I pulled away, suddenly very conscious of her nightgown. Fortunately, her panties had somehow managed to keep most of my semen within its delicate confines, but still, I cringed to see a small semen stain present on the front of Dobrila's nightgown.

I quickly removed the gown, waving it up and down rapidly to hopefully dry the stained area as I loudly reprimanded myself for being such a careless piece-of-shit fuck-nut, and made a solemn promise to be more careful in the future. I returned to the bathroom and hung the nightgown carefully on the back of the door, smiling with relief to see the semen stain had already begun drying almost to insignificance. Sperma, I remembered, mentally correcting myself and also once again thinking how much I preferred the Polish term rather than cum, or semen.

I wiped the front of Dobrila's pretty panties with several tissues from the bathroom dispenser to sop up as much sperma as I could and then I returned to the sewing room.

Once relative sanity returned, I was curious to see if the form might possibly be removed from the stand, where it could be... Oh, I don't know... maybe taken to Dobrila's bedroom and placed on her bed. She had, after all, strongly encouraged me to sleep in her bed that night, and, other than Dobrila herself, I couldn't imagine a more inspiring bed partner. A brief vision of Dolly attempted to intrude on my fantasy of Dobrila, and I cast it aside without even so much as a fleeting afterthought, as I would a spam email or a telemarketer's phone call.

I knelt beside the form and examined how it was affixed to the metal stand. A small metal clip held the form to the stand, and, when I released it, I easily lifted the form and separated it from the stand. I was mildly surprised by the weight of the form, at least forty or fifty pounds I surmised, as I carried it to the bedroom and laid it down on Dobrila's bed.

More than anything, I wanted to climb onto her and surrender to the pleasure of her incredible body for a second time, but I hesitated, realizing I needed to slow down and pace myself. After all, I had all night to explore the fantasies of Dobrila's body as well as her beautifully scented black panties.

I left her lying on the bed while I padded down the hallway to the kitchen for something to drink. I opened a cupboard and smiled to see a half-full bottle of wine and poured myself a glass before returning to the sofa.

Although her white panties were still reasonably saturated with my sperma, (I so loved that word) they still felt absolutely wonderful. Damn, I thought, if men's underwear felt even half as wonderful as most women's panties, I'd probably need to seek medical (or even psychiatric?) attention for my permanent erection.

To clear my mind of sexual fantasies, I settled in to watch a sci-fi movie on Prime Video titled "The Adam Project", a time travel adventure that I thoroughly enjoyed. When it was over and I felt the pangs of hunger, I remembered Dobrila's delicious leftovers in the refrigerator.

I heated up some of her pierogies and cabbage rolls and ate at the kitchen table, very much missing her presence there. I then cleaned up after myself by washing, drying, and putting away all of the dishes and cutlery before returning to the sofa once more with a fresh glass of wine.

Looking at the time, I quickly set the television channel to the local CBS affiliate, knowing it would soon be time for Jeopardy. In doing so, I felt yet another distinct pang of loneliness and regret that Dobrila was not here to watch it with me, as it was one of the things we especially enjoyed doing together in the evenings after dinner.

I had just begun to conjure a thought that perhaps she might also be watching the show from her hotel room in San Diego when my phone rang.

"Hello, Jimmy," said Dobrila when I answered.

I laughed aloud, relief coursing through me to hear her voice. We chatted cheerfully for several minutes about how the day had gone for each of us. I, of course, was not completely honest about the events of my day and spoke mostly of Malenka and how she was faring.

"So... I am here in my hotel room and thinking I would watch Jeopardy," she said, "and am very sad because my best friend and I are not together to watch, yes?"

"I KNOW," I responded enthusiastically. "I was just thinking the very same thing when you called. I'm sitting here with the television on, missing you and wishing you were here. It feels so strange to be here in your apartment without you, Dobrila."

"I feel the same, Jimmy, but...we can maybe watch together while on the phone, yes?" she offered hopefully.

I smiled broadly, "Absolutely, we can," I said, mentally smacking my forehead for not having thought of it first and calling her. "Let's do it."

"Is almost perfect solution, yes? Go and get the vodka from the freezer," she said, laughing aloud. "I have many, many tiny little bottles of vodka here in the hotel room with me, so we can toast to all the fucking bullshit again, yes?"

I laughed aloud in return and quickly leaped up to retrieve the vodka and a glass from the kitchen. I put the phone on speaker, placing it on the coffee table in front of me and, as I did so, I could distinctly hear Dobrila pour her drink into a glass. When the opening theme for Jeopardy began, I held up my glass to the television, "Here's to fucking bullshit," I said, giving our nightly toast.

"Yes, yes...to fucking bullshit," she replied with a hearty laugh.

It was wonderful to be with her during Jeopardy and we chatted back and forth as we usually did, making comments about the questions as well as the contestants, and laughing together at the humorous things that happened or were said.

We drank several more toasts during the length of the program, raising our glasses to Ken Jennings, several of the Jeopardy questions, as well as the Daily Doubles, especially when someone bet everything they had on the answer, and then also to the final Jeopardy showdown.

When the program ended, I turned down the volume. Dobrila and I continued to talk about a variety of things, and I could tell she had had more than a few drinks because she tended to giggle girlishly while under the influence and even occasionally slurred her words.

"How late will you stay up tonight?" I asked, wondering if she possibly had another show or a movie to watch.

She laughed, "Stay up? Jimmy, I am in my nightgown and already in my bed," she said. "I dressed for bed even before Jeopardy, right after my dinner."

"Right after dinner?" I responded with a little laugh. "How come so early?"

"Is not early for me, Jimmy," she responded with a giggle. "I maybe tell you little secret, yes?... Before I met you and we became such good friends, I would always dress for bed a long time before dinner, sometimes even in the afternoon."

That surprised the hell out of me, I would have never imagined her doing such a thing.

When I didn't immediately respond, she continued, "Is for me... sometimes feeling just too uncomfortable to wear normal clothes, especially tight clothes like bra and panties. My dresses are very nice to wear, but they are never as comfortable as when I wear a nightgown. Mój Boże, (my God) especially in summer, a nightgown is much cooler to wear also, yes?"

I nodded thoughtfully, it certainly made perfect sense to me how wearing only a filmy nightgown would be cooler and more comfortable in the summer heat. But her words also bothered me a little because what she was inherently saying was that, because of me, she wasn't able to dress as comfortably as she wanted in her own home.

"Damn, Dobrila," I responded, "that kind of makes me feel bad."

"Why you should feel bad?" she said, sounding a little surprised and slurring her words.

I smiled to hear the sound as she poured herself another drink, realizing the more intoxicated she became, the heavier her accent became as well.

"Because Dobrila, what you're really saying to me is that because... because I'm coming to dinner every night, you aren't able to dress to make yourself comfortable. I feel bad about that. You should be able to feel comfortable in your own home, right?"

"I suppose so, yes. But..."

"So, from now on...," I interrupted, "I just want you to know that it would be perfectly all right with me if you wanted to dress in one of your nightgowns in the evenings. Even while we have dinner."

Dobrila laughed softly and then giggled girlishly, "I think is maybe more a kindness I do for you, Jimmy. I do a favor for you I think by not showing you my fat ugly body bouncing around under my nightgown. You would maybe even lose your appetite for my dinners then, yes?" she added with another laugh.

"Now you're just being silly," I responded with a broad grin. "I mean, look...I know you're fond of referring to yourself as being fat...and I also realize you are probably carrying more weight than you would like, but I certainly never think of your body as being fat or ugly. I think you have a wonderful body, Dobrila. And I'm a guy, remember? I should know," I added with a laugh of my own.

"Besides," I continued, "your nightgowns probably aren't all that terribly transparent, are they? I mean, I probably wouldn't be able to see all that much of you anyway, right?"

"Oh, Jimmy," she replied sounding a little sad, "is not completely transparent my nightgowns, no. But is enough to show more of me than I would want you to see. Móje piersi... my breasts are heavy, Jimmy, and... without bra, is easy to see them..." she sighed heavily as she searched for the correct words, "moving and bouncing under my nightgown."

I laughed softly, "Gee, Dobrila, you're making it sound like that would be a really awful thing for anyone to see. I mean, personally speaking, I think it would be kind of a beautiful thing to see."

Dobrila giggled, "What you say is, I think, flirting with me little bit, yes?"

I paused, I hadn't thought of it quite that way, I was merely trying to be honest with her. But there was definitely a flirty aspect to what I said, especially when the visual fantasy of her heavy breasts swaying and bouncing beneath one of her nightgowns took hold of my conscious thoughts.

"No...Dobrila...I didn't mean, I..."

She interrupted me in a mid-apologetic ramble by laughing aloud. "Is all right, Jimmy. Is perfectly okay. Was teasing you, yes? Is very nice of you to say such nice things about me... Is very pleasing to hear, yes? So, thank you for such nice words, Jimmy, you make me smile and feel better about myself. You also make me blush a little bit too."

I smiled in response, relieved that she didn't seem at all offended by what had been a moderately inappropriate compliment.

"You're very welcome, Dobrila," I responded. "And, just so you know...I have never ever thought of you as being fat and ugly, I wish you would stop saying things like that about yourself. I think you're a beautiful woman, Dobrila, and I think you have a beautiful body too. You never have to worry about showing more of yourself in a nightgown when I'm with you. It would never offend me, it would only make me think how beautiful you are."

"Oh, Jimmy," she murmured softly, her voice low and a little breathy, "Is very nice for you to say, thank you, again. You make this old woman blush, yes:"

I could distinctly sense how my words had pleased her, and that pleased me. I reached down to lightly touch my erection beneath her panties and felt my arousal level rise dramatically. At that moment, I couldn't help but wonder at the possibility of masturbating while talking to her on the phone. Might it even be managed without her noticing?

"I kind of envy women," I continued, "you know, being able to wear such nice soft things, like nightgowns, especially in the summer heat."

I quickly went on to relate my contention that women, purely because of their gender, were able to wear the style and fabrics of fabrics that were smooth and delicate to the skin, while men's clothing was, by comparison, often stiff and uncomfortable.

"Yes, yes," she quickly responded, "I know this too. Is sad but true, yes?"

"I think it would be nice if they maybe made nightgowns for men. They don't do that do they?"

"I think maybe yes, they do. But is maybe not be the same kind of material. If you would like, I can very easily make something like this for you, Jimmy. You would like this maybe if I did, yes?"

I smiled broadly. "Wow, yes. That would be great," I said. "I mean... If you did, I would at least then know what it might feel like to wear something like that."

Dobrila laughed softly, "Is easy for you to see, Jimmy, even without my sewing," she responded with another laugh and a slight slur of her words. "You can just put on one of my nightgowns, yes? There is even one hanging on the bathroom door, yes? Go and put it on. Then you can see how it feels and you can tell me if you like the feeling, yes?"