I'm flat-chested. When I say "flat-chested," I don't just mean that I have small boobs. I mean I have no boobs. I found on the Internet a description of a girl like me. It said, "If she takes off her clothes, stands sideways, and sticks out her tongue, she looks like a zipper." That pretty well sums it up. I am seriously flat-chested.
I could have told you other things about myself. That I'm 5'5" tall and brunette, that I'm an assistant manager at a deli downtown, that I still live with my parents and brother and they're very nice, and that I love roller coasters and any kind of ride that makes you think you're going to throw up. And I'm saving up money to buy a motorcycle.
All those things about me are true and they're important, but none of those was the first thing I told you about myself, were they? The first thing I told you was that I'm flat-chested. That's me. Flat-Chested Jill.
Not everybody knows that I'm flat-chested. I always wear a bra with silicone inserts, so I look more like a small B-cup. I compensate in other ways too. I dress like a girlie-girl, with rings and necklaces and bracelets, with my hair and nails done up and just a little makeup. I wear pretty skirts, frilly tops, high-heeled sandals. I'm really very cute.
Here's something else about me that's important-- I really like old movies. I have a DVD and Blu-ray collection that takes up 5 feet of my bookshelf, and I have most of the Oscar-winners from the 70's and 80's and a bunch that are much older too. Mom says I spend all my salary on DVD's, but she's just kidding (I think).
Most of my friends have never seen these old movies before, which is a shame because a lot of them are better than most movies you see in the theaters. They give me someplace to live for a couple of hours, outside of my own head, and sometimes I learn something. I watch a movie almost every night, sometimes the same one two or three nights in a row if the characters are interesting. For example, I watched Groundhog Day four times in a row (how's that for irony?) thinking about what the girl sees when she looks at Bill Murray, and how he finally learns the right way to behave and make a relationship with her.
Which brings me to another topic-- I have a boyfriend, Matt. This is a big deal because Matt is my first real boyfriend. I used to think that boys wouldn't want me because of my flat chest, but now I know it was my own fault. I was so self-conscious about my chest that I drove them away. If a boy was nice to me, I'd be afraid he'd find out about my chest, so I'd act like I wasn't interested and he'd think I was mean or stuck-up or something. Pretty soon, word got around and boys stopped asking. I really screwed that up. I wasn't doing it on purpose or to be mean like Bill Murray did, but the effect was the same. That's why I'd never had a boyfriend before Matt.
That was high school. That was then but this is now. Bill Murray learned from his mistakes and so did I.
I met Matt at the deli where I work. The deli is close to the community college where Matt goes to school, and he stops there every day on his way to class to buy a sandwich for lunch. Every day, he'd order a different sandwich. I like that. It's adventurous.
I'm adventurous too. Not too long ago, I wanted to be a cop. I wanted to run down perps on sidewalks, drive wild car chases through crowded city streets, and hold unshaven suspects at gunpoint and ask them if they felt lucky today, or maybe tell them to make my day. Dirty Harry. Dirty Harriet. That's what I wanted to be—someone with an adventurous life.
I never understand people who order the same turkey-on-white-hold-the-mayo every day. A big adventure for them is when they ask for two iceberg lettuce leaves instead of one. How do they live like that? I bet they've never puked on a Twirl-a-Whirl ride. Matt wasn't boring like that and I was glad.
Matt and I would flirt a little at the deli. One day, he told me to invent a sandwich for him. He said I could make whatever I wanted and he was sure he'd love it. So I made him a smoked turkey on pita with hummus and cucumbers and bean sprouts. He didn't even ask me what it was—just took the wrapped sandwich and paid for it. The next day he told me how great it was, and every day after that he let me choose his sandwich for him. Roast beef with Boursin on French roll with baby spinach and watercress. Sliced chicken with mango chutney and shredded carrots on 7-grain. I even made him peanut butter and jelly once, but I put it on toasted Jewish rye and used expensive whole-cherry preserves instead of cheap grape jelly. And I gave him a bag of potato chips. You have to eat potato chips with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Every day, something new, and every day he told me how good it was. Every day his lunch was a small adventure.
He found out that I liked old movies, and one day he told me that Little Big Man was playing on campus and invited me. Have you ever seen Little Big Man? It's got a young Dustin Hoffman growing up among Indians in the old west. Very funny. The old Indian chief is a hoot. The campus shows it every year, and it's a tradition that the audience smokes weed while they watch. The auditorium is so full of smoke that you can get high just breathing.
So we went, and that's how we started going out. He held my hand at the movie, just like people used to do at movies. Very romantic. That first time we went out, I promised myself that I wouldn't drive him away and I've kept my promise.
I have sex with Matt. That's also a big deal because he's the first boy I've ever had sex with. When we first started going out, we'd go back to my house and do some heavy kissing. I really liked it and it got me all horny and I really wanted to do more with him, but I wouldn't let him. Guess why? That's right-- because I was embarrassed for him to find out that my bra was fake B-cups and I had no boobs. So I let him feel my (fake) boobs outside my shirt, but that was all.
Lucky for me, Matt understood what I was doing. In the middle of one of those make-out sessions he just stopped kissing and said to me, "I know your boobs are fake."
I was stunned, partly because he knew they were fake, but mostly because he came right out and said it. I don't remember what I did then. Probably, I just stammered something incoherent.
So he went on, "I can tell by the way they feel. Don't worry. I like small boobs. It's ok. Really. Don't be shy."
His smile was so sweet and so sincere that I just melted. I think I knew then that I loved him, even though I'd only known him for a few weeks. Nobody had ever understood me like that.
He saw that I was worried so he hugged me and held me and it felt so good. Then he broke the hug and pulled back and said, "Can I see them? Let me take off your top and see those pretty little boobs. OK?"
I had never let a boy see them before. Hell, I'm not even sure I'd ever let another girl see them. I wanted so much for him to do it, but then I remembered -- he'd said he liked small boobs but he hadn't said he liked no boobs, so maybe this wasn't such a good idea. One part of me really wanted to, but the other part -- the stronger part—was afraid. So I shook my head. "You'll laugh," I told him.
Matt didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. He looked me in the eyes and crossed his heart. "I promise not to laugh. I promise to touch them, and to kiss them, and to admire them, and to make you feel very nice." He was very solemn, very sincere, and told me again, "I won't laugh." Then he smiled and added the clincher, "You know what I always say?"
"More than a mouthful is a waste."
It was an old joke, but he smiled, then he laughed, and I laughed too, and I knew that he was my friend and I could trust him. I was scared, but I really wanted to do it and I remembered my promise to myself, that I would not screw this up. It was now or never. So I held my breath and nodded and lifted up my arms, and he took my top off. Then he reached around to unhook my bra, and my heart was racing, partly with excitement and partly with fear -- what if they were too small even for him? More than a mouthful might be a waste, but mine were hardly even a mouthful.
He unhooked the bra but I still held it in place, covering my non-boobs. Matt smiled sweetly and took his hand, and gently moved the bra away, and he could see. He looked at them, then he put his hands on my nipples and touched them. Then he moved his eyes away from them to me, smiled again, and said, "They're beautiful." I melted again.
He laid me backward onto the couch and leaned over and began licking, first one nipple, then the other. I felt them grow hard and pointy in his mouth, and he started sucking on them. I thought for a brief moment that he might just be pretending to like them, but he was so enthusiastic that it couldn't be fake. He really did like them, and he really did like me, and it was a wonderful feeling. He licked and sucked, then he fondled them and he massaged them with his thumbs, both nipples at once, and I felt sexual sensations all the way down between my legs.
Then he laid down next to me and we kissed some more, with his fingers on my nipples. It was so perfect and I didn't want him to stop, and it lasted a long time, kissing like that and having my nipples appreciated for the first time.
I didn't have to say anything. Matt understood what we wanted and spoke for both of us. Very quietly, he asked me, "Do you want to make love?"
Of course I did. I had no qualms about sex. Every girl I knew was having sex and I'd been wanting it for years and years. My hesitation had always been about my boobs, not about what came after. But now that Matt was asking, I was afraid that I didn't know how to have sex. I'd never done it. How would I know what to do?
Once again, Matt knew just what I was thinking and knew just what to say, "It's ok if you've never done it before."
If he had asked me "Have you ever done it?" I would have worried about what was the right answer. I wouldn't have known whether he wanted me to be a virgin or whether he wanted me to have experience. But he didn't ask. He just told me it was ok whether I'd done it or whether I hadn't. He'd said it just right, and I was comfortable answering honestly. I just shook my head, "I haven't." I was The 40 Year Old Virgin, except younger.
"Do you want to?"
I closed my eyes, took a breath, and nodded my head, then opened my eyes and looked at him, and he was smiling and kind. He started to unbutton my jeans, but they were tight and he had trouble, so I opened them and unzipped and lifted my butt and he took the jeans off. I kept my butt up and he took off the panties too. I wasn't hesitant about taking off my bottoms like I was about taking off my top. I had nothing to be embarrassed about down there.
Matt stood up and took off all of his clothes, all at once, with no embarrassment. His dick was hard and wet at the tip, tilted off to the side a bit, tangled in his pubic hair, and he took his hand and straightened it out. It was the first time I'd ever seen a real adult dick and I was surprised that it looked just like the photos on the Internet. I guess that shouldn't have been a surprise, should it? I opened my legs, ready for him, but he laid down next to me, not on top of me, so I closed my legs. I guess it was too soon.
Now we began kissing again and our tongues played together, his thumbs on my nipples, just like they'd been before we took our clothes off. Then he broke the kiss and moved his mouth to my nipple and his hand went between my legs. I opened my legs for him, and he touched me and even put his fingers inside of me, and I could feel how wet I was. He stayed there for the longest time, touching me ever so gently inside and stroking the wetness using his thumb, and his mouth moved from one nipple to the other, licking and nibbling and sucking.
He moved a little and took my hand and put it on his dick. It was so hard -- harder than I expected-- and I knew now why they called it a "boner." We kissed now. I could feel that his dick was wet at the tip and I touched the soft head, then held the shaft, and we were kissing so heavy. The wetness was slippery, just like the Internet said it would be. So slippery and so soft.
Now Matt kissed me on my cheek, and moved his mouth to my ear and whispered, "Are you ready?"
I was ready. God was I ready. It felt like I'd been ready my whole life. So I nodded, and I opened my legs for him. He got on top of me and held my legs in his hands, moving them back a little, and he entered me slowly at first, stopping just at the entrance a few seconds. I felt myself stretching. It was a little uncomfortable down there-- not painful, just uncomfortable-- but I didn't want him to stop, and we kissed hard as he slowly went all the way in. He let go of my legs now and started moving in and out, his face down close to mine, kissing me.
I didn't say anything about the soreness but Matt knew, so he didn't try to make it last. It was just a minute or two before he broke the kiss, pulled out of me, closed his eyes, and stroked himself two or three times, squirting onto my tummy. It was hot and surprising and shot all the way up almost to my nipples, just like you see on the Internet. He opened his eyes and looked at me, and I felt a wave of warmth and calmness like I'd never felt before. I'd done it. I'd really done it!
It felt so good and so right, and I put my hand on his face and stroked his stubble and we were quiet for a long while, still in the same position, with him over me, looking into my eyes. Why had I never done this before?
Then he rolled off of me, saying "Stay there, I'll get something." He went to the kitchen and I heard the sink run, and he came back with a warm wet dish towel and washed me off, and he laid down beside me again. We kissed some more, for a long time, then just held each other and I could feel his wet dick, soft against my thigh.
I must have started to fall asleep, so I startled a bit when I heard him say, "Your parents will be home soon. I'd better go."
I didn't want him to leave. "Don't go. Can you stay overnight?"
"Wouldn't your parents find out?"
"It's alright. They're ok with sex. You can stay."
He smiled and kissed me on the cheek, then reached for his phone and powered it on. "I'd better text my brother so he'll know where I am."
I waited while the phone powered up, and after a minute or two he began to type. "What are you going to tell him?" I said.
"Just that I won't be home tonight."
I thought for a moment, then had a fun thought. "Tell him you got lucky," I said.
Matt looked at me, thought for a moment, then looked sweetly at me. "I got very lucky indeed," he said and kissed me again. What a perfect thing to say! And that's what he typed. He showed me the message before he sent it. His brother sent back some sort of message but Matt didn't look at it. He just turned the phone off.
I don't know why I put on my clothes before we moved to my bedroom. Nobody was home. I guess it was instinctive to not walk around the house naked. So we went to my bedroom and I took my clothes back off, and we went to bed, curled up together again, Matt's hand on my nipple and mine on his dick, and we slept the whole night through.
In the morning, we made love again and it wasn't as uncomfortable that time. I told Matt that it was ok to finish inside me, so he did. I really wanted him to finish inside me. It's so much better that way, isn't it?
After we'd made love, we got dressed and went downstairs to find something to eat. Mom was there getting ready for work and I introduced Matt to her. When he turned his back to pour coffee, she caught my attention and gave me a quizzical look, with her eyebrows raised and her head tilted. I knew what she wanted to know so I held up two fingers and silently mouthed "two times." She gave me the biggest smile and I wanted to go over and hug her, but that would have to wait.
That evening, Daddy brought home a bottle of champagne, and all four of us -- Mom, Daddy, my brother Jacob, and I, celebrated. Daddy got the camera, put it on self-timer, and took a photo of us. Daddy had his arm around Mom, I had my arm around Jacob and everybody was holding a glass of champagne. I took the phone and looked at the picture of four smiling people. Guess whose smile was the biggest? Mine, of course.
I transferred the photo to my phone and set it as the wallpaper. Matt wasn't the only lucky person.
That's how Matt and I started having sex. Once we started having sex, I really liked it (there's a surprise!) and I was thinking about it all the time. You know how they say that the more you get, the more you want? That was me. Now that I was having sex, I wanted it more than ever. Hormones were swarming through me, all day and night. It was a wonderful feeling.
Matt came over two or three times a week and usually stayed all night if I didn't have to go to work early the next morning. Mom and Dad were happy for us, just like I knew they'd be, and promised to give us all the privacy we wanted in my room. Even my brother Jacob got the message to leave us alone and didn't give me any crap, even when he heard noises coming out of my bedroom or when he saw us coming out of the bathroom together wearing only towels. Jacob really is a good guy, even if he is a brother.
When Matt came over, we had sex of course, but we'd sometimes do other things, like watch movies. Matt had never seen old movies, which is a shame, so I showed him some of the best ones out of my DVD collection. Forrest Gump. Jaws. Back to the Future. Sometimes we watched them in the living room and Jacob joined us, and Matt and Jacob would memorize bits of dialog and act them out, with accents and everything. They learned the entire "Quarter Pounder with cheese" riff from Pulp Fiction and did the "You jump first" scene from Butch Cassidy, complete with jumping off of the couch into fake water. They tried to do the "I speak jive" scene from Airplane but couldn't do it and Jacob ending up rolling on the floor in laughter. It turns out that Matt is pretty good at imitating actor voices and does a fair Bogart and a great Hannibal Lecter.
Some of my favorite movies are the first Star Wars. I don't mean that Phantom Menace disgrace. I'm talking about the real originals, starting from the 1977 one they call A New Hope. When we watched those, Matt would wheeze Darth Vader or mangle Yoda quotes and Jacob would be Luke or C-3PO. The special effects aren't quite Avatar, but I love the story and especially Princess Leia. Every Halloween, I dress up as Princess Leia. Yes, I know I'm supposed to be a grownup now, but on Halloween I'm dressed up like an 8-year-old.
The only part of those movies I don't like is toward the end, when Leia tells Solo she loves him and, instead of saying "I love you" back, he says "I know." What a schmuck. I scream at the TV every time we watch it. I'd rather kiss a Wookie than have Han Solo for my boyfriend, even if he is kind of cute. Calista Flockhart can have him.
I was glad that Matt enjoyed my movies, but, to tell you the truth, the sex was the main attraction, so we spent a lot more time in my bedroom than in the living room. Matt had more sexual experience than me, but not a lot, so we decided that we'd experiment together. We started porn-surfing on the Internet, looking for ideas of things to do. I'd been a porn-surfer for years, so I knew all the best free places, especially the ones that gave long free tours. In the evenings, Matt and I would get naked and I'd sit on his lap, on the desk chair in front of the computer in my room. He'd play with my nipples or between my legs and I'd drive the mouse. I could usually feel his hard dick against my butt.