Heather Stevens' face was a portrait of ecstasy. Her eyes were closed. Her head hung back and her blonde hair, gathered in a ponytail, brushed the chenille bedspread beneath her as she moved. Her lips were parted slightly and through them her breathing was punctuated by quick gasps. Naked, she held her shoulders off the bed with her hands below her, her fingers clutching the bedspread, shoulders rolled back as though holding a pose in a gymnastic exercise. Her feet were on perched on either side of a corner at the foot of the bed, and she easily held her boyish rear end off the corner of the bed with the strength of her well-toned legs. Her pink, puffy nipples pointed toward opposite corners of the room as she arched her back with her face toward the ceiling. Her toes curled tightly as she slowly rubbed her pussy up and down the ornately carved bedpost, savoring the bumpy texture as her clit traveled up and down the hard wood.
The bed was an heirloom inherited from her great aunt. It was a large, sturdy piece of furniture from the days when all furniture was made to last generations. It held the mattress so high off the floor that getting into it made Heather feel like she did when she was a little girl and had to climb up on everything. A tomboy from an early age, Heather never felt intimidated by things larger than herself. She saw a world that was, by and large, made for people much bigger than she, as a challenge, something to be climbed and conquered.
While the other children shot up to be tall, lanky teens, Heather did not. At 5' 1", she was always the shortest person in her class. Her weight stayed under a hundred pounds until she was in High School. Then, when she was fifteen, her breasts grew two cup sizes in only a few months. All the rest of that year, they continued to grow. By her sixteenth birthday, she measured a remarkable 39DD-18-28.
Her waist was so slender that it almost disappeared when she turned sideways, and her bottom was the same size as when she was 10 years old. On her diminutive frame, her breasts looked vastly out of proportion. As a sweet-sixteen schoolgirl with a double-D cup size, she had considered them her greatest asset, since they were a boy-magnet that made her competition envious. As she grew older, they had stayed high and firm. During her regular aerobic exercises, they bounced and swayed, but never sagged or flopped. Even so, she still had the same problems that girls with large breasts usually do, but magnified by her short stature. Seatbelts were irksome, she could never get one adjusted so it did not twist her breasts or strangle her. Walking became more hazardous, because she could no longer see things immediately in front of her feet. She compensated for this by changing her stride so that she kicked her feet ahead of her so she feel any obstruction before she tripped over it. This gave her a 'models-walk' and made her look like she was heading down the runway wearing the latest fashion.
Clothes were a major issue, because local stores never carried anything in her size. She would either make-do with something that did not fit, modify it so it did, or buy from a specialty-clothing site on the Internet. Many of the Internet places that carried the best-fitting clothes catered to women with exhibitionist tendencies. Their things were all low, snug, short, see-thru, form fitting, or all of the above. Heather began to see clothes less as coverings and more as adornments, the way most women view jewelry. Once you have that perspective, it is easy to adopt a 'less is more' attitude.
Underwear was one of the first casualties of this mind-set. She had a worse time getting panties than she did bras. Her small rear put her below the normal adult size Small and into the children's sizes, none of which fit properly, and most of which were styled for the pre-teen set. Eventually, she quit wearing panties, even under short skirts, since she would rather chance someone seeing her naked than wearing a pair of panties with cartoon characters on them. She avoided bras as well, except those that enhanced, rather then concealed, her twin assets.
She tried her hand at making her own clothes and managed to create a few simple dresses that were very flattering. Unfortunately, wearing the equivalent of a little-black-dress or skimpy party attire for everyday clothes was not practical. Heather learned that she could take in the seams of some garments much easier than creating something from scratch. For instance, she would take her father and brother's old shirts and cut them down or take them in to turn them into something she could wear around the house or in the yard. Her best results for less casual clothes were from working over maternity blouses because they were designed for large breasts and could be adjusted easily.
Skirts could also be taken in to fit her small waist and hips, but shorts were still a problem. She mostly had to make-do with the selection from the children's department. This meant a lot of tight-fitting knit shorts that would have been 'cute' on a little girl, but bordered on pornographic on a girl with Heather's bust line. Since she refused to wear panties, it gave the term 'camel-toe' a new dimension.
When her breasts overflowed a D-cup, her gym teachers offered to waive some of the class requirements for her, fearing she might injure herself; but she insisted that she be allowed to participate fully, only allowing herself to be sidelined when there was no other alternative. Doing push-ups on the floor was one of the activities she avoided. With her arms extended in front of her and her hands on the mat, her breasts hung down almost as far as her elbows. Lowering herself face down to the ground was difficult and involved so much manual rearrangement that she was allowed to substitute using free-weights while lying on her back instead. She enjoyed swimming, but it was obvious that she could never be competitive in it. Diving was ruled out altogether, when her first attempt from the three-meter board resulted in the destruction of her swimsuit and embarrassment in front of the whole class.
Having large breasts had compensations other than turning heads. Heather found that when she was aroused, her two-inch diameter areolas would puff up like miniature muffin-tops and her nipples would stiffen and stand out like the plastic nipples on baby-bottles. They were very sensitive and she liked to pull on them to see how engorged she could get them. The larger she made them, the more sensitive they were, and the more stimulation they received, the larger they got. She also loved showing them off. Shortly after her blooming chest had altered her appearance so drastically, she began to wear the tightest blouses she could squeeze into to showcase her assets. Sometimes, the stares she received would tempt her to new heights of exhibitionism. With the rush of teenage hormones flooding through her, she would dash into a restroom stall and tease her nipples to attention, emerging with the clear outline of her erect nipples showing through her blouse. She delighted in the rapt stares of all the boys, and many of the girls, too. The attention they received, and some surreptitious tweaks and twists from her, usually kept her nipples erect through the final bell.
Even though she was out of school and a newlywed now, she still enjoyed showing off her body. Her collection of tight-fitting and skimpy clothes made her just as popular with the country club set as she had been in High School.
Her husband, Bill, was an excellent lover. He was patient and considerate and at just under eight inches when fully erect, his equipment was certainly adequate. At least, every time he put it in Heather he made her climax. In Heather's opinion, he was much better than average in bed and she was lucky to have him as her husband Heather's problem was that the first orgasm just got her warmed up. With continued stimulation, she could climax again and again, each time reaching new heights of pleasure, until she either collapsed from exhaustion or passed out in the middle of a spine-cracking, nerve-shattering orgasm. Bill was in awe of her sexual capacity, and he seemed to enjoy their frequent protracted lovemaking sessions during which he would participate in whatever way he could. After exhausting his own stamina, he would carry on using his hands, tongue, various toys, or sometimes just providing an audience for Heather's exhibitions of self-gratification.
It was her streak of exhibitionism and ultimately her scandalous behavior with Evan Kowalski, the owner of the largest company in town, and a notorious lecher; which resulted in her husband's swift promotion to junior executive status and membership in the Mars Hill Country Club. It certainly did not hurt that she had let Mr. Kowalski take certain liberties with her in the coatroom while Bill mingled and networked in the club bar. Her whispered negotiations on Bill's behalf had resulted in a nice raise for Bill, allowing them to buy their dream house much sooner than expected. Something of Mr. Kowalski's had risen quite nicely too, she recalled.
.... There is more of this story ...