Chapter 1

Over the years, I had developed many friends through my hobbies of CB radio and auto racing. Many an evening was spent enjoying one of our coffee and bullshit gatherings that seemed to spontaneously develop. Someone over the radio would suggest meeting at a Sambo's for coffee, and before you knew it, twenty or thirty people, sometimes more, would show up at the local Sambo's.

Most of us also ordered something to eat while we were there. So, the manager at the local Sambo's allowed us to freely use his back room and help ourselves to the coffee. We were a sober but boisterous group. But, since we had the back room to ourselves, the restaurant manager didn't mind the noise. He often assigned his best waitress to work exclusively with our group. She, in turn, usually received a very nice tip from us. She frequently picked up a couple hundred dollars in tips for just a couple hours of easy work. Once we all had our food, she, more often than not, joined us. Due to the nice tips and fun atmosphere, Sambo's waitresses were usually eager to serve us.

All but one, that is.

There was one particular waitress who didn't like or appreciate us at all. She was an older lady who just wasn't up to the noise and bustle of serving so many people at once. She was also a bit on the crabby side. We started referring to her as Granny Grump. While most of the waitresses laughed and joked with us, and returned our smart remarks with comments of their own, Granny Grump hated our racket. She especially didn't like our self-help with the coffee.

Granny Grump was indirectly responsible for my meeting Carol and her family.

On the fateful night I met Carol, she and her family had, for the first time, joined our CB group at Sambo's. Carol was a large woman. She stood about 5'8", and she weighed well over 400 pounds. She was married to Bill, also a large person. They had four children, two boys 6 and 15, and two girls 11 and 13. Carrie, the 13-year-old girl, was seated directly across from me at our large table.

Granny worked our group that night. She quickly became nervous, and her hands trembled. As Granny served soft drinks and water to the children, a glass of ice water fell off her tray. Carrie, with a shriek, caught most of the cold water on her head and chest. Most of our group began loudly laughing after we realized no one was hurt. Nobody was upset over what was obviously an accident. Well, except maybe Carrie.

Granny, instead of getting a towel to clean up the water, just stood there. She repeatedly denied any fault. "I didn't do that! I don't know how that happened." She protested.

Being a natural born smart-ass, I asked Granny. "You have ghosts in here, or what? Oh, I know, that glass just jumped off your tray and onto Carrie's head, all by it self." I said, with just a touch of sarcasm.

Wagging my finger at the offending glass, I scolded it. "Bad glass! Bad glass! Don't do that again." The glass was thus duly admonished.

I then teased Carrie by asking. "Carrie, why did you pour that water over your head? Is it that hot in here?"

Carrie began laughing about her wet head with the rest of us.

When Granny didn't seem to be making any effort to get a towel, I took the initiative, grabbed a towel from the waitress' station, and gave it to Carrie. Carrie dried herself, and our evening continued.

With his apologies, the manager quickly replaced Granny with another waitress.

Over the next, few months, I became friends with Carol, and her family. They soon were joining me when I raced my car at the local dirt track.

As it turned out, Bill was a workaholic. He put in sixty to eighty hours a week, every week, at his job as a machinist. Though he made good money, he was never available to his family. He was either working or sleeping. Only the racing seemed to give them an opportunity to be together as a family.

After a while, I had begun attending the kids' sporting events and school activities in Bill's place. One night, Bill told me he appreciated my help with his family activities. Little did he know, Carol had been giving hints that she wanted me to assist Bill in other family duties, as well.

For several weeks Carol had been making comments and doing things that indicated she could be easily had. She made comments such as, "I haven't had a sex life for such a long time." Or she'd say, "I wish I had a lover like you." She frequently asked intimate questions about my activities with my dates. Whenever she passed by me, she always let a hand brush my back or my ass.

One Friday night, after a tough evening at the race track, we went back to Bill and Carol's home, and I had a few drinks. Neither Bill nor Carol drank that night. Bill was getting ready to return to work. He said they had a rush order to get out. Carol convinced me I had been drinking too much to drive home, and suggested I stay there. She said I could sleep on their couch. Before leaving for work, Bill also told me I should stay.

They were probably right. I had consumed a good deal of alcohol. Very soon after that, I removed my clothes under the blanket Carol had provided. I quickly dozed off. I was fast asleep even before Bill left for work.

The next thing I knew, Carol was on her knees in front of the couch, kissing all over my face, and rubbing my flat, hard belly. My job helped keep me in excellent condition. As I slowly awoke, I noticed Carol had changed into a white, see-through, nightgown. I could easily see her huge tits.

With a smile, I asked, "Carol, what are you trying to do?"

Just above a whisper, she answered, "I've wanted you for a long time. Will you make love to me?" She then passionately kissed my mouth.

Without saying a word, I reached out and cupped one of Carol's tremendous tits in my hand. One hand was not enough for a boob that big. When I firmly squeezed her tit, Carol groaned, thrust her tongue into my mouth, and let her hand slide down to cup my balls through my underwear.

When we broke our kiss, Carol suggested we get on the carpeted living room floor. There was no way we could both fit on her couch. Carol lay on her back, and I simply rolled off the couch, and gently landed on top of her fat-bloated body.

In short order, Carol's nightgown had been pulled off her shoulders and arms and lay in a wad under her tits. Her massive tits were fully exposed and her nipples hard as stones and centered in dark pink silver dollar sized aureola.

I had come to enjoy big girls and their big tits. With the alcohol I had consumed earlier still affecting me, my inhibitions about doing a married woman faded away. I massaged, sucked, pinched, and nipped those tits with great enthusiasm.

Carol instructed me as to how she wanted her tits handled, "Work my tits hard, Baby. I like it when they're played with real rough. Just don't leave any marks."

I didn't leave any marks, but my enthusiastic attack of Carol's tits continued for quite some time. The rougher I treated her tits, the more Carol moaned her approval. It became a challenge for me to see if I could get her to admit that her tits were hurting. After about twenty minutes of rough attention to her tits, I took each nipple between my thumb and forefingers, pinched very hard, and pulled straight up.