To avoid the crowds at a Presidential election, I chose, for the first time, to vote early. Well, it was the last day for early voting, and everyone must have been thinking the same as me, as the lines were nevertheless long when I arrived during the lunch hour. I finally found a parking space on the far side of the giant church parking lot and had just pulled into it when a woman got out of the SUV parked to my immediate right. Since she was so close, looking through my sedan's passenger-side window, all I could see of her was from waist neck. You will note that this region includes the breasts, and they were superb.
They were almost perfectly round, the size of softballs, and tipped with dark, quarter-size areolas. It was sprinkling rain, and as she stood there fiddling with her keys trying to shut the door, the drops made her obviously bra-less boobs gradually more visible.
Tits like that deserve closer investigation, so I quickly hopped out of my car to see just what sort of woman to which they were attached.
I smiled at her and she smiled back, but with a frustrated look. I actually like a frustrated look on a woman's face; it signals there is a problem--a problem with which I may be able to assist--which gives an open invitation and something of substance to immediately talk about. Sure beats the hell out of "What's your sign, babe?"
So, I walked around my car to her. She had dark eyes and a very pretty face, though without a dab of make-up, framed by curly dark brown hair falling a couple inches below her shoulders. Short at about 5'2'' and in her mid-30s, she was wearing a light blue ankle-length thingy made of ribbed knit like a man's undershirt that hugged her dynamite figure. It looked like a nightgown, and frankly, with mussed-up hair and sleep still in her eyes, she appeared to have just got up.
"You've obviously got a problem here. I'm not Click or Clack or Mr. Goodwrench, but I am a car guy, so how can I help?"
She seemed relieved, and the purse she was holding over her head did little to deflect the raindrops from printing through the fabric to her increasingly visible boobs. I forced myself not to stare at them and looked directly into her eyes. "My fucking door won't close, and my pissy husband would kill me if something were to happen to his goddammed precious Navigator while I go vote," she said.
With that opening volley, I had already learned something about her: She was not only frustrated with the car door, but also her hubby—who must be fairly well off to drive a Navigator—apparently thinks more of it than he does of her, and she was also there to vote. I tested the door latch to make sure it was working, then opened the door wide to check for obstructions. "Here's the culprit," I said, laughing as I handed her a rubber Barney bathtub doll that had been wedged in the hinge.
She started laughing, too, saying her youngest girl loved Barney, and I commented that he was also my buddy, as my ex-wife and I would probably never have conceived our second child without Barney videos to distract the first child. See how much information I conveyed in that single comment? I have kids like her (similarity principal); I am divorced (available without complications); and I mentioned procreation, but in a non-threatening manner (a subtle way of introducing my sexual interest in her right away).
It was raining harder, so I grabbed the umbrella from my car, and we walked briskly under it together across the vast parking lot to the polls. The flip-flops she was wearing smacked against the soles of her wet feet, and I made a corny John Kerry joke. She laughed at it anyway.
Holding the bumbershoot with one hand, I wasted no time in wrapping my other arm around her waist--really more like her rib cage due to my being a foot taller than she—which allowed her boob to bounce against the top of my hand with each step. She reciprocated by tightly enveloping her arm around my waist—more like my hips—with her fingers only an inch away from my penis, which had begun to tingle.
You only get one chance to make a good first impression, and apparently, I had.
It was record-breaking warm weather for November, and inside the building, they had the air conditioning blasting. And what did the A/C do to her rain-moistened boobs? Perked up those nips hard as rivets! Every man in there, and even some of the women, were staring at her. I mean, there was a sexy piece of ass under bright lights in a damp, nearly see-through form-fitting thing that shouted louder than a bull horn announcing "Attention all voters: Check these tits out!"
From the right angle, you could even see her dark triangle of pubic hair, but I couldn't tell if she had on thin panties or none at all. Two young guys actually got out of line up ahead and back in line right behind us to get a better, up-close view! Real patriots, those two.
She seemed to be oblivious to everyone else and gave her undivided attention to me as we chat, chat, chatted. She told me all about herself, her two kids, her family, and eventually about her husband, an airline executive, who she was sure was fucking his ditsy blonde 23-year-old administrative assistant he'd recently hired. As we slowly moved toward the voting machines, she said she was getting chilly, looked down at her hard-as-bullets nips, squeezed her boobs together with the insides of her arms, looked up, and asked, "You do like 'em, don't ya?"
"Yes, just like the rest of the males, and even a few females, in here," I answered, quite honestly. She said, "You know, to be quite honest, I enjoy giving a little show, but, I swear, I didn't plan on doing that today. I slept in and just rolled out of bed to come vote, thinking I'd avoid the crowds by early-voting here today. I guess I'm doing my civic duty by providing a little titillation to keep voters in this god-awful long line." She had a point there, actually two points—right on the tips of her breasts.
Seeing she was not the least bashful, I wrapped an arm around her to cup her left orb and, as surreptitiously as possible in such a densely packed place, twiddle its nipple between index and middle fingers. She continued gazing into my eyes, whispered, "I like that," licked her lips and bit the bottom one, and clamped an open hand on my buns. Blood rushed into my penis, and a little voice in my head said, "You're gonna get laid, dude."
After 45 minutes in line, we were finally up to the voting booths, and the poll worker asked for our IDs. We cracked up when we saw his nametag: Hi, my name is BARNEY. I heard him confirm the address on her voter registration card and noted that she lived only about a mile from me.
It took practically no time to vote on the new touch-screen computers; I purposely lingered a couple minutes to finish at the same time as she in order to rendezvous with her outside. By then, it was pouring rain, so I raised my umbrella, and we ran together under it across the wide lot back to our vehicles, her big, nice boobs bouncing alluringly up and down. I do dearly love to watch a woman with big nice boobs run, and she definitely had very big, very nice ones.
We jumped in the luxury SUV, had a smoke, and she began talking frankly about her husband. "He's a great provider, wonderful with the kids, and fucks me most every morning, and, though he's real good in bed and I get off every time, he's always in a hurry, and I can just tell he can't wait to go screw his young little lame-brain secretary. I've found the shade of lipstick she wears on his undershorts countless times, along with cum stains."
There are times when the best thing to do is say nothing and do something, and I sensed this was just such a time—she was ready for a revenge fuck. So, I leaned across the console and planted a wet kiss on her voluptuous lips. She answered by plunging her tongue into my mouth, and I reciprocated by wiggling a finger into her pussy. Already moist, it slid in easily, and, no, she was not wearing any panties. She responded by spreading her legs wide, so I slipped in another finger and thumbed her clit. With one hand, she expertly unbuckled my belt, unfastened my khakis, unzipped them, and fished out my turgid organ, caressing it while continuing to grind her crotch on my busy hand. "I like your cock," she said.
Moments later, she'd gotten all my clothes off but socks, and we hurdled into the back of the Navigator, where she got on top of me in a 69, sucked my dick deep into her mouth while licking and humming, and presented her pussy to me for our mutual oral pleasure. I tell you, she had the thickest, curliest shrub of pubic hair I've EVER encountered! I badly felt the urge to crack, "Looks like Bush is in the majority here," but somehow I managed to suppress it.
I prefer shaved or closely trimmed pubic hair, as that usually provides the best visual and tactile access. I momentarily had an image of myself donning a pith helmet, machete in hand, hacking through her crotch jungle like some 19th-century explorer of deepest, darkest Africa, yelling in a thick British brogue, "Pubica, Ungowa!" However, oddly enough, her pubes were SO long that I could easily peel them back to expose her pussy with its dark, puffy lips, and her extraordinarily rigid clit, which I licked and sucked with relish while parting its hood back with both thumbs.
Holding her pubes out of the way as I was doing pulled her labia apart to reveal the inside of her vagina, a wonderfully slick, bright red, deep hollow tube just the right size for my 7 X 2 inch tool. Thanks to Ford and its excellent interior lighting on the Navigator, I could actually see her G-spot! While lick-sucking her clit, I could simultaneously rub that slightly rougher patch resembling the texture of the tongue with my fingertips to bring her to orgasm after orgasm.
Her whole bottom was sopping wet with delicious pussy juice, and as I was sucking her scrumptious pussy lips, the tip of my nose was quite inadvertently rubbing against her teeny-weeny anus. At first, I didn't know what she was doing, but she had rocked her hips so that I would be rimming her bottom hole with my tongue. Oh, what the hell, why not?! So I did that while my chin was in her pussy and I vibrated fingers across her clit from below. Yep, she came again! It's just so wonderful to bring a girl to climax, and it was incredibly easy with this one.
I scooched back just a tad to give my neck a rest and just look at her magnificent bottom flesh flex, slap-squeeze it a few times, and enjoy the sight of her vulva at work on the thumb I held rigid on my chest. As I shifted, I heard something go "squeak." It was my old buddy, Barney, the rubber bathtub doll that had caused her door problem! He looked beat and in need of resuscitation, so I substituted the little dinosaur for my thumb, turning him upside down and sticking his nose in her pussy so that the tip of it would massage her G-spot while the top of his head rubbed against her clit.
I repeatedly squeezed him to make it feel good for her, which, of course, caused him to squeak every time. Barney's squeaks were especially happy ones; it was the least I could do to repay him for the introduction to this extra-fine, horny housewife. Not unexpectedly, she quickly came.
All the while I was going down on her, she was giving me absolutely great head, alternating between true deep-throating, in which I could feel her throat muscles swallowing around my shaft, and licking and sucking my dick inside her mouth, coordinating her hands and fingertips on my balls and base of my rod. When she'd cum, she'd stop moving and just suck hard on it until she wound down, then get back to full blow-job duty.
The funny thing was that, though she was making all kinds of this-is-good-sex sounds, the only thing that she'd actually say was the occasional, "I like your cock." Not a problem, just amusing to hear the same phrase over and over against the background noise of the rain splattering on the roof and Talk of the Nation on the radio. The only time she said something different was when she orgasmed with the little rubber dinosaur, "Good Barney." I laughed out loud at that one!
We went at each other in that 69 for a really long time until she pulled her high-vacuum mouth off my dick with a loud "pop," twirled around, mounted me, and began to fuck me at just the right pace—not too fast and not too slow. In just a few minutes, I could hear some people were getting in their car beside us, but the smoked glass and the dark clouds kept us under cover—I thought—until I heard a kid say, "Daddy, Daddy, there's some people in that car!" Maybe the SUV was visibly rocking. At any rate, she kept on fucking, and no one interrupted us.
She still had on that undershirt-material gown thingy, and up until then, I had intentionally left it on her, though, of course, it was pulled up around her waist. With a very pretty face and beautiful, soft, dark hair; slender arms and legs; a slim, sexy tummy and navel; a gorgeous, sink-your-teeth-into-those-muscular-buns ass; the fabulous pussy I already described; and covered in exquisitely smooth, medium-dark skin, this woman did not have any parts that were not excellent. Yet, her lovely breasts were the first thing I'd seen, and I had just fixated on them from the get-go, deciding to "save the best to the last."
Since the rain had made them pretty visible, and she had subsequently perspired through the gown thingy inside the SUV to make them real visible like a wet tee-shirt contest, it was not as though I could not see and feel them, but they were still covered by the thin fabric. With her now atop me, it was the right time to reveal them to myself in all their completely unobstructed, bare glory.
So I lifted up the gown, and she took it the rest of the way over her head. Wet with perspiration, it hung on her face, so she snatched at it and bonked her head HARD on the roof. I knew it was painful, but she got over it in a few moments, and started rocking up and down on my banana again. Note to Ford: Offer the Sexual High Performance Package option, which includes a raised cargo-area roof, built-in auto-inflatable mattress and neck pillows, and custom rear storage bins for lube, sex toys, and, of course, Barney.
Anyway, oh my Lord, her yabbahoes were glorious—even better than I thought they'd be. They heaved up and down and up and down as she fucked me, so firm yet so pliable, almost as if they were in slow motion. Softball-size on her small frame, they were close together so that there was always cleavage, made even deeper when she'd squeeze her upper arms together, which she often did. When she was still, they stuck straight out over her rib cage, the nipple/areola assembly precisely in the middle of each one.
She bent forward to offer them to my mouth, and I eagerly accepted. Though her nipples were already rigid, when I sucked them they got even harder and longer, drawing up nearly the entire surrounding areolas to make dark missiles seemingly posed to fire directly from the launching pads of the olive skin on her boobs below. I wondered if famous rocket scientist Robert Goddard might have been inspired by similar such nipples.
The most amazing thing was that, in that stimulated, wet-with-my-saliva state, her nipples looked almost exactly like her clitoris, and even more amazing, they were nearly as sensitive! With my dick inside her pussy yet perfectly still, I could lick-suck her nips just as I'd done her clit, and less than a minute of doing that, she'd cum. Then I'd go to work on the other boob, do the same thing, and she'd cum again. When she rode me hard while I sucked both nips at the same time (They don't call me Big Mouth for nothing!), she had an Earth-moving orgasm with her whole body twitching and writhing for several minutes, followed by the familiar "I like your cock."
I came within a hair of cumming, saved only by an imaginary dialogue with trusty Barney, who coached me through it to maintain control.
When she finally wound down from that mother of all orgasms, we were literally dripping wet with sweat, confined as we were to the warm and humid SUV without any air circulation. I was watching perspiration trickle between her heaving breasts when she said, "I have a special request. Let's have a smoke, then, would you please titty-fuck me? I simply love that!"
Was she a mind-reader? That's exactly what I was thinking! I mean, you look up "titty-fuck" in the dictionary, and her boobs with my cock between them are right there. "I can think of nothing I'd rather do more, but can we crack the windows and get some oxygen before we both suffocate?" So, that's what we did, climbing back into the front and thankfully finding a couple half-full bottles of tepid but wet Dasani water to quench our thirst. On my bottle, I noticed a smudge of bright pink lipstick—not a color compatible with her complexion—and figured it must be from hubby's young "fuckretary." No point in bringing that up now.
I sat in the front passenger seat, and she straddled my lap. As we smoked and drank and talked about the weather, she caressed my dick while I played with her boobs and fingered her twat.
There in the front cabin, the side windows and, of course, windshield, were not smoked, which meant that she was on display from three directions. The wire fence in front of us did nothing to block the view from the windows of the house on the other side—the rectory, no less! The tall SUV put the cabin above the roofline of my car to the left, so that anyone could see her from that way. Same thing to the right, and the now vacant adjacent space positively invited spectators. But she didn't give a care, sitting proudly erect in my lap, waggling those spectacular tits in my face. She was just so damn relaxed about sex, notwithstanding that we were in her husband's Navigator parked in a church parking lot!
Finishing our smokes, she wonderfully French-kissed me, then kissed my ears and neck and down my chest and stomach, dragging her breasts with nips at full attention against my skin as she did so. Kneeling in the floorboard, she first kissed my cock and balls, then licked them to get them very wet, and then literally slobbered between her boobs to get them very wet, too. Actually, we were still wet with sweat, but you know, the wetter and slipperier, the better.
She leaned slightly forward so that my dick nestled in the deep cleavage with her boobs dangling around it. Tossing her sweaty brown hair back over her shoulders and arching her back, she looked straight up into my eyes so that I could easily see her pretty face and my cock between her glistening orbs. I slowly slid up and down, and she matched the pace with her own rocking motions while tickling my neck and chest with her fingertips. Once again, she uttered the familiar refrain, "I like your cock."
To say this felt—and looked—terrific would be a gross understatement. We gradually picked up the pace, but I was a long way from cumming. Before things would get dry from friction, she'd take a titty-fuck time-out to re-wet everything with her prodigious saliva by way of agile lips and tongue. During one of these time-outs, I reached into the back for Barney, which I placed between my feet so I could rub his nose into her pussy and against her clit. Upon resuming the titty-fuck, I got my hands around her tits so I could press them together and twiddle the nipples between my fingers. She loved that!
"Slish, slosh, slish, slosh" went my cock between her boobs; "I like your cock" came the words from her mouth; "Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak" went Barney in her vulva. I guess you could call it a three-way, but that might be a stretch! Sweat streamed down our faces.
She came 2 or 3 times, and though this felt fantastic and despite that I was squeezing her boobs tightly around my shaft, my own orgasm was not yet on the radar screen. Sexual mind-reader that she was, she pulled my hands away, replaced them with her own, bent her head down, and began giving me an SBJTF, a simultaneous blow-job/titty-fuck, if I may coin a new term. A woman has to be built just right and have the technique down pat to do an SBJTF, and she had both: very large breasts, firm yet pliable, high on her chest; and the ability to suck dick with her chin on her chest while using both hands to coordinate up-and-down breast motions. Though I've had SBJTFs before, this woman added a first-ever dimension—tickling my balls with her fingertips on the under side of her tits.