Chapter 1

This is a long story, but it is necessary for you to understand how I came to live like this. It all started when I met my wife.

My wife Cheri had a very unusual life.

First, she was blessed (and cursed) by an early and extremely enthusiastic visit from the puberty fairy. A few months before her eleventh birthday, she began to develop. She developed a lot, and very quickly.

In just over a year, she grew three inches taller and gained thirty five pounds, with a good portion of that going straight to her chest. Her bust went from 22 AA to 34 C, and her hips had rounded out to thirty two inches. This would have been fine for a high school senior, but for a sixth grader, it was trouble.

Her voluptuous curves made her a target. The boys, including some of the more perverted teachers, wanted to use her, and the girls ns some of the teachers were insecure and jealous of her figure.

Boys constantly drooled over her and made rude comments in the lunch hall, which escalated to trying to grope her tits between classes, and bragging about how they’d ‘gone all the way’ with her. The girls also treated her like shit, complete with name calling, fat jokes, and accusations of being a slut and a whore.

Fortunately, her mother was very supportive.

Cheri’s mother had gone through the same thing when she was a young girl. She looked more like Cheri’s sister than her mom. I didn’t know her exact age, but I know she was young when Cheri was born.

This brings us to the second factor. Cheri’s mom had raised her by herself. Cheri’s father, Patrick, had died in South America when she was only seven. He was a trauma medic with Doctors Without Borders. He was killed when the truck he was driving was swept off the road by a mudslide in a Peru.

Her mom was a Hippie. Not an actual 1960s flowerchild, but that is the only word that describes her. In 1976, at the age of thirteen, Debra Alice Thorne had an epiphany after hearing her parents discussing who she should marry and decided to “drop out” of society. She ran away to San Francisco and changed her name to Flower.

She sold pot for a couple of months and used some of the money to get a well-made fake ID and got a job as a candy striper at the hospital. A month before her fourteenth birthday, she met Patrick who was studying medicine at SFU, and started dating him. She gave birth to Cheri six months after the wedding. Her fifteenth birthday came three months after Cheri was born.

Flower Thorne wore flowing skirts that tended to flare open as she walked and peasant blouses that barely contained her heavy chest. She wore her hair long and loose, and topped it all off with turquoise jewelry and love-beads.

She stayed barefoot most of the time and considered sneakers to be formal footwear. She was easy going, laid back, and very open minded. She was also passionate about civil liberties.

She held a law degree and worked as a legal advisor for a variety of non-profit groups. She and her husband spent their twenties protesting wars and evil corporations, getting stoned out of their minds, and fucking anyone and everyone they wanted.

She was a nudist at home and had a few “special friends” that stopped in, often staying for a night or a week. Flower never said anything negative about Cheri’s weight or her size, teaching her to accept her body and love herself. She also taught her not to settle for the first guy that paid any attention to her. Flower also taught self-defense classes at the local Women’s shelter, and had taught Cheri how to throw a mean left hook, and how to knock a guy’s balls up into his throat if he didn’t take ‘No’ for an answer.

Cheri had told me that her parents would take her to spend a few weeks every summer at a Family Nudist/Naturist resort ever since she was a baby. She’d only had to fight off one guy when she was twelve. She kicked his balls up into his throat and her mom and couple of her friends heard the commotion. The creep, a thirty year old cokehead that had sneaked into the resort, wound up in the hospital after “falling into a ravine after trying to escape” while they waited for the police to arrive.

When we met, I was sixteen and a sophomore at my school. I was one of the ‘Goth Punks’. I read Poe, Gibson, Shelly, and Lovecraft while listening to The Cure, Siouxsie, Bauhaus and The Damned. I wore black combat boots, black pants, black shirts, and a silver pentagram. The church types thought I was a Satanist. My mom was single- more fuel for the rumor mill, and didn’t take any shit from the faculty about my clothes, mainly because she hated the interruption to her work schedule. She was climbing the ladder at her job; an Investment Banking firm that will remain nameless.

I met Cheri a few days after she’d passed her fourteenth birthday. During the first week of the semester, I had volunteered as a student tutor. I needed the extra activities to look good on my college apps. I specialized in English and Literature. Six weeks into the semester, Cheri signed up for study sessions, and had watched the request sitting ignored for a week before I decided to take her request.

Apparently, the rumor mill had followed her from middle school and none of the other volunteers wanted to associate with her due to her (unearned) rep as the school bicycle.

I didn’t give a shit. My friends were the outcasts in the school anyway, and we were too busy dancing, reading, and writing dark poetry to pay much attention to the high school rumor mill. All I saw was a request for help that was being ignored.

When the other tutors found out that I’d accepted her request, they gave me ‘the lowdown’ on Cheri: bullshit rumors, rude jokes, and outrageous stories that sounded like they came out of Penthouse. They also threw in lots of suggestions on the quickest way to get into her panties. I ignored them. I figured that that it was a load of crap, like all the other gossip I’d ever heard.

We met in the lunch room for our first appointment. I sat waiting at a small table when I heard a sexy contralto voice call my name.

“Morgan? Are you Morgan Caldwell?

My jaw nearly broke the table when I first saw her. She was fucking gorgeous! I immediately twigged to the reasons for the rumors about her. She was high school freshman with a body that a porn star would envy! She was wearing a black men’s shirt that barely contained her generous chest, a dark grey skirt, dark green tights, and Doc Martin saddle shoes. Her hair was a mass of copper colored curls that kept falling into her eyes, which were a hypnotic jade green. I almost lost myself staring into them.

I managed to get control of my speech center after a really awkward delay.

“Y-yes. I’m Morgan.” I managed to croak. I stood up and offered my hand.

“You’re Cheri Thorne, right?”

She looked a little surprised at me for some reason, but I ignored it. I was used to getting odd looks too. My mom’s family is Romanian. She claims we have Gypsy blood, but can’t prove it. My father is ‘Black’ Irish. My eyes are dark brown, my hair is black and I wear it long. My paleness makes people stare. My ears are pierced, and I’ve been compared to Dracula too many times to remember.

We only had about forty five minutes to talk, but it felt like it was only five. She had me laughing before I knew it. In addition to her gorgeous face and body, she was also very smart, and got most of the literary references I made, and dropped a few of her own. She seemed to have the subject down cold.

“So...” I said, realizing we had spent half an hour talking about everything except her tutoring request. “Why do you need tutoring in English? I can tell that you get the material, and you should be way ahead of anybody in the class from what I can tell. What do you need from me?”

She smirked at me before answering. This led me to hope she’d need all kinds of things, most of which had nothing to do with English.

“I can’t write.” She sighed. “I mean I can write, obviously, but I keep failing my essays and creative writing projects. I can read and comprehend, I can discuss a book, a poem, or an essay. I can infer the meanings and theme in a play. I can psychoanalyze Walter Middy, Hamlet, or Batman, but I can’t write a good story or essay to save my life, and Chaney (the teacher) is not pleased. I’m getting a C minus in the class.”

I wasn’t surprised. Writing was a weak point for a lot of people.

“Well, let’s take a look at your stuff and maybe I can help. We can meet after school and go over your stuff. Did you want to meet at the libr-?”

I was cut off as the bell rang, letting us know we had five minutes to get to class.

“Sounds good!” she said, gathering her things. “How about Friday? Oh, but not at the library. We can meet at my house, four o’clock. Here’s my address.” She handed me a card.

That Friday, classes seemed to drag on forever. I had zero interest in anything the teachers were saying. The final bell rang at three, and I stuffed my books into my bag and bolted for the parking lot.

When I arrived, I found myself parked in front of a 1950s tract house. There were flowers and herbs taking up most of the yard, and they looked more like wild plants than a manicured garden. Cheri came to the door in her usual oversized shirt and an ankle length skirt. Even under her loose baggy clothes, it was impossible to hide her luscious curves.

“Come on in.” She said and I followed her through the door. The house was cluttered with books and magazines, and there were framed movie posters and several paintings on every wall, along with photos of friends and family. A huge mandala painting occupied most of the wall behind the couch. I noticed an old but expensive stereo system between bookcases that were crammed with old vinyl records, cassettes and CDs. I think I even spotted a few 8-Tracks scattered in the collection. A bead curtain hung at the hallway, and I noticed the lingering smell of patchouli, incense, and pot smoke.

That first day, we spent three hours going over her papers and showing her how to improve her writing. She was good at the technical parts, her spelling and grammar were fine, but her papers were boring. I gave her some suggestions and pointers, as well as a few writing prompts to sharpen her skills at improvisation.

We set up a schedule. I spent two or three hours at her place after school every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. I had been very interested in her from the day we met, and after the first week, I found myself fantasizing about her almost constantly.

Spending time with her became delightfully difficult over the next few months as I found myself increasingly attracted to her.

I noticed that she sat a little closer to me each day, and she seemed to be more relaxed with me as the semester progressed. We spent as much time talking and joking as we did studying. She also had a habit of leaning close to me and pressing her breasts against my arm and shoulder when I went over a passage, or pointed out a possible change of phrasing. I was getting beautiful views down her top as buttons seemed to magically undo themselves, and she never seemed to mind that her knee would touch mine when we sat at her kitchen table. I would help her with her writing, while trying not to lose my cool as I admired her wonderful form. After the session, I’d head home and take a shower and jack two or three loads down the drain as fantasies of her danced in my mind.

This was our pattern for the rest of the semester, until her final project.

We were working on a short story. It was an important project, and if she passed it, it would bring her grade up to an A for the class. She had gone to get a drink from the kitchen while I was proof reading her latest draft.

“This section here needs some work.” I said as she walked away.

“Let me see.” She said as she stepped behind me to read over my shoulder.

I pointed to the paragraph in question. “This sentence right here needs some changes.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.

“It’s boring.”

She tilted her head and gave me a raised eyebrow.

“Go on...”

“All right, look at this line here, instead of saying ‘He was very tired from work’ try ‘He was exhausted after hours of hard labor’, or ‘He was bone weary from hours at the construction site’. Strong descriptors make it more alive.”

“Hmm, I think I see what you mean. Let’s see...” She said.

She leaned closer, and I felt her soft, heavy breast press against my shoulder. My dick began to swell immediately, pressing against my zipper. She pointed to another paragraph.

“What about this one here?” she asked ‘Jane was ‘thrilled’ to see him as he climbed out of his truck’ instead of just ‘happy’. Does that work?”

My breath caught in my throat, and it took a few seconds to answer.

“Ah- Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.” I croaked.

“Did you need some water or something?” she asked. I could swear she was laughing at me.

I’m alright, but thank you,” I answered.

“Well, I do need some more. I’ll be right back. She stood up, and stepped toward the kitchen. I gave a mental sigh of relief and disappointment.

“I just thought of something.” She said as she came back and set her glass on the table.

She stepped directly behind me and leaned forward to reach for the pages I’d set aside. As she leaned in, I felt her breasts press against my shoulders. She stretched forward, but couldn’t quite reach the page. She pressed further, and I felt her hair against my cheek. I started to move aside.

“Oh you don’t need to move.” She said, and shifted to the side, dragging her breasts across the back of my neck and shoulders. She leaned in again, but this time her cleavage was right next to my cheek, all I had to was turn my head and my face would have been buried between her incredible breasts. I took a deep calming breath. I wanted this girl like no other that I’d even met!

I ached to grab her and nuzzle my face in her neck. I longed to kiss her beautiful breasts! I press my face into her beautiful breasts, to strip her clothes from her body and drag her to the couch! I needed to taste her and feel her and fuck her until we couldn’t move!

But I didn’t.

I liked her. I mean really liked her, and I did not want to push things and find out that that she actually had no interest in me.

She grabbed the papers and returned to her chair. Only this time she scooted closer to me and let her knee brush against mine as we went over the passages she wanted to review.

“Aha! here it is.” She said, pointing at the page. “See? This paragraph here doesn’t need this line at all!” she set the page in front of me and began going over the section. My dick was getting harder than steel, and I was barely listening, just giving the occasional affirmative nod, or one word answers at the right time. I could fell a wet spot forming in my briefs.

I nearly lost it when I felt her hand on my leg as she leaned over to point out a particular sentence. She was talking, but I had no idea what she was saying.

She rubbed her hand down my thigh to my knee before moving back up my leg. ‘I think I need to redo this section here as well.” She said, and leaned closer. I felt her boobs press against my arm as she gently squeezed my leg, inches away from my aching cock.

That was it. I had to release some pressure!

“Hold that thought please, nature calls!” I said, interrupting her words. I stood up and carefully turned way, hoping she didn’t notice the bulge in my pants. I heard her trying to stifle a laugh as I bolted to the bathroom and locked the door.

I dropped trou and yanked my aching dick free. I was so hard it actually hurt! The head of my dick was almost purple as I closed my eyes and stroked my cock as I remembered how wonderful she felt against me. I could still smell her perfume on my shirt, and I imagined how she would feel in my arms, pressing herself against me, mashing her big boobs to my chest.

I remembered how her hand felt on my thigh, and that drove me over the edge! I let out a groan of pleasure and exquisite relief as I spurted. My orgasm came fast, way faster than it did in my nightly spank sessions. It seemed to last forever, and I managed not to groan out loud as I hosed the sink with baby cream!

I opened my eyes to see that I’d made a huge mess in the sink. I was glad I managed to get most of it into the basin, but there were spatters on the faucet, the counter, the soap dish, and even a few spatters on the mirror! I took a moment to collect myself and clean up, rinsing my load down the drain and grabbing a wad of toilet paper to wipe up any stray spatters of cum before tossing the wad into the toilet and flushing it away. I washed my hands and splashed cold water on my face to cool down.

I took another minute to let my breathing go back to normal before walking back out to the kitchen table. I regained my composure and headed back to the kitchen.

“I thought you’d fallen in.” she smirked as I returned.

“Well, I’d have found my way out eventually.” I answered.

She laughed, and I couldn’t help watching as her chest jiggled. I noticed that yet another button had somehow slipped open, allowing the edge of her bra to peek out of her top. I found myself staring again. After a second, I realized I was gawking and shook my head to regain focus and looked at her eyes.

Cheri just smiled.

“I think we’re finished with writing today.” she said, shuffling the pages together and setting them aside.

“Okay.” I answered.

I was disappointed. We’d only been working for an hour, and she was cutting our session short. I figured I’d blown my chance, but I was not about to show it.

“I guess I’ll just get my”-

“Why don’t you go into the living room while I hit the bathroom and get us a couple of beers from the fridge.” She said. “It’s four thirty. My mom isn’t due until around seven, and I know your mom works late, even on Friday. We can just hang out for a while.”

I felt my heart start beating gain. “That sounds great!” I said, trying not to grin like a complete idiot. I managed to look relaxed and calm as I went to the living room and took a seat on the couch. In my mind I was screaming “WAHOO! OH HELL YES!” at the top of my voice!

I sat and waited, taking a good look at the living room. I made a decision then. I was going to ask out for dinner! I had no clue that she already had plans for us.

I stood up and looked over the bookcase that dominated the wall, scanning the title. There was a ton of sci-fi and fantasy, as well as shelf after shelf of psychology texts, self-help books, eastern religions, and books on weird shit like crystal healing, UFOs, ghosts, reincarnation, Atlantis, Bigfoot, and regression therapy.

I had started to wonder what she was up to when I heard the refrigerator open and close, followed by the clinking of bottle caps hitting the counter.

I turned as she came into the living room, and I was struck dumb. She had lost the baggy button-down shirt and skirt, and replaced them with an old, threadbare, v-neck t-shirt that was so worn I could easily see her thick nipples and wide, pink areolae, and a short, denim skirt that barely covered her magnificent butt.

I admit I stared. I was captivated by her beautiful thighs, soft, rounded belly and of course, her amazing chest. I was proud that I didn’t drool before I forced myself to look at the two jumbo sized brown bottles she was holding right in front of her tits.

“Here ya go.” She said, handing me one.

“Those are bigger than any I’ve ever seen.” She frowned and looked down.

Oh shit! I thought.

“Um, the bottles, I mean!”

‘Oh yeah, that was so very smooth.’ I thought, cringing.

She glanced down again and smiled. “This is home-brew. One of my mom’s friends brews it in her basement. I hope you like dark beer; we were out of the IPA.”

“I’ve haven’t had anything besides the stuff that comes in cans, so this will be a new experience for me.” I said, taking the bottle.

“I also like new experiences.” She answered, looking directly into my eyes. She smiled and I suddenly had a swarm of butterflies on my stomach.

She raised her bottle. “To new experiences!”

I raised mine and was happy to see that my hand was steady. Her eyes stayed on mine as we drank. The beer was beyond any brew I had even tasted. There were layers of flavor- dark chocolate, vanilla, coffee, and a bit of caramel.

“You’ve ruined me! I’ll never drink canned beer again!” I said, grinning.

She laughed.

“That’s two things I like about you, Morgan. You don’t hide your delight in things and you’re not afraid to admit that a woman can ruin you!” she said, laughing.

That line made me start thinking about the many ways I’d love to be ruined by her, and I felt my cock stir in my jeans again.

She moved to the couch and sat down. I was still processing that when she patted the cushion next to her. “You look like you are having thoughts.” She patted the cushion next to her. “Come and sit with me.”

I moved to the couch and sat down, placing my beer on the table.

Cheri looked at me and smiled again. I liked seeing her smile like that.

“This is nice.” I said.” I wanted to just hang out with you for a long time.”

“Me too. I loved working with you this year. I love how you were so patient, and that you encouraged me.

You helped me more that Mr. Chaney ever did. I really needed a good grade in that class. I know I’ll pass now. Chaney agreed to let me rewrite my last three essays for full credit, and I know my story will get an A.”

She grabbed her beer and took a long pull.

“I am just glad I got be with you.” I answered. “Being able to help with you was the icing on the cake!”

I took another pull from my own brew. It was a lot stronger than I was used to, but I could get used to this.

“I’m actually getting a buzz from this.” I said, holding up the bottle. “This is great stuff!”

“Yeah, Auntie Hazel makes all her beer strong.”

“Auntie Hazel?”

“Mom’s friend. They’ve known each other forever. I think they started hanging out after they met at some big political rally way back when.”

“That’s pretty cool, actually.” I said

“Yeah, it is.” She agreed. “To Auntie Hazel!” she said holding up her bottle.

I held up my own. “To Auntie Hazel!” We clinked bottlenecks and drained the last of the brew.

We set the bottles on the table.

She turned and regarded me seriously, her green eyes boring into mine.

“Morgan, do you know what the best part of this year was for me?”

I shook my head.

“You treated me like a real person. You didn’t leer at my tits or try to feel me up. You surprised me! I knew you weren’t gay, I know about the girl you dated last year, the one that looked like Fairuza Balk in that witch movie.”

“Drusilla, and yes, that is her real name.” I said.

She smiled. “I was gonna ask...”

“I saw you watching me.” She continued. “I saw how you would shift in your chair and ‘adjust’ yourself when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

I felt my face get warm. “I- um I wasn’t-

“Oh yes you were. It’s okay. I’m flattered!”

“I also know you weren’t just taking a piss earlier. And that’s also flattering.” She said.

“I was hoping to get a reaction from you today, and I did.”

I found my voice. “Yes. Yes you did!”

She grinned. Her hand rose and she began racing the neckline of her shirt. I watched her fingers for a moment before forcing my eyes back to her face.

“I loved watching you when I pressed my tit against your arm. You were so cute! Trying to stay all cool and collected. You even stopped breathing for a second when I pressed my boobs on your shoulders! I thought you were going to grab me and throw me on the table when I rubbed your leg! But you didn’t, and I was afraid that you weren’t interested.”

“Oh I was interested! I mean I still am, but...”

“Yes? Go on.” Her eyes were drilling into my own.

“I didn’t want to be like all the other guys that would have spent more time drooling over your chest and trying to grope you than help you.”

“Oh.” She said in a small voice.

She reached over and took my hand.

“I’m so sorry I teased you. I thought that after you heard about me that you’d...”

I cut her off. “Yeah, I heard an assload of stupid bullshit from the second I picked up your request. I heard nasty things from the bitches on the pep-squad and the guys in the locker room. I won’t even tell you what kind of shit the churchie types were spewing!”

She gasped and her eyes started to water.

“But I knew it was all bullshit. I know how the sheeple talk shit, especially if someone is ‘different.’ Dru had to put up with the same thing and most of my friends have to deal with it too.”

I squeezed her hand, and brought it to my lips. I kissed her each of her knuckles before turning it over and dropping a kiss in her palm.

“I knew it was just talk.” I met her eyes. “I knew that the minute you met me in the lunch room.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “oh.” She whispered.

I hadn’t let go of her hand.

“I know I’m still officially your tutor for another month, but I figure you’ve got that A locked up tight, and I don’t have any more to teach you.”

I took a deep breath and squeezed her hand again.

“So, I’d like to ask you something.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

“Would go out to dinner with me tomorrow? The Golden Tiger is this cool, old Chinese place, and the food is great.”

Cheri didn’t answer.

“Okay.” I said looking away. “I mean you probably have plans, and your mom probably wouldn’t be happy, and...”

I stopped as her fingers tightened on mine.

She remained silent, her eyes searching mine. After what felt like an eternity, she leaned over and kissed me.

An electric shock ran through my body, and I pulled her into my arms. I opened my lips and her tongue slipped between them to meet mine. I pulled her into my lap and her arms wrapped around my neck. I pulled her closer, almost crushing her as I felt her heavy breasts mash against my chest. I was amazed as I felt her nipples harden against my chest as she wriggled against me. She pulled back before turning and throwing her leg over mine so she could straddle my lap.

“That’s much better!” she cooed as I pulled her back and kissed her again. I caressed her back as we kissed, and slipped my hands slipped under her t-shirt. Her skin was smooth and soft, like silk under my fingers. I started kissing my way down to her neck and she shivered when I nibbled her collarbone. I moved slowly, leaving a trail of kisses around her neck. Her hands were busy to.

“I want to feel you” she whispered as she ran her hands down my chest and began undoing my shirt buttons. She tugged it free of my jeans and yanked it open leaving my chest exposed.

She looked me over and smiled. “You must work out.” She said, tracing her fingers over my bare chest.

I smiled up at her, and let my hands rest at her hips. She straightened up; pushing her chest out and I nuzzled her cleavage, planting a kiss between her breasts.

When I looked up again, she bit her lip and smiled, then crossed her arms and grabbed the hem of the shirt and whipped it over her head and tossed it aside. Before I could say anything her hands were tangled in my hair as she pulled my face to her chest.

“Kiss them Morgan!” she hissed. “Kiss my big, fat tits!” I did. I kissed all over her chest, licking and nipping, but deliberately avoiding her nipples, making her groan in frustration.

“Please suck me! Please, I need you to suck my tits!” She pleaded with me, but I decided to tease her. After a minute or so, she growled and grabbed my head, holding me still as she pushed her hard nipple against my lips. “I said suck dammit! Suck my tits!” she yelled.

I opened my mouth and sucked as hard as I could, letting my tongue swirl and tease. She shuddered in pleasure. I grabbed her other breast and squeezed it, rolling her other nipple between my fingers. She let out a long moan and pressed my face against her wonderful fat boob. “That’s it!” she moaned, “Bite them! I’ll tell if you if it’s too much! Come on, bite them!

I did as she asked, biting down on her thick nipple and she hissed and groaned in pleasure. I switched and attacked her other nipple, biting down hard. She squealed and grabbed my head, crushing my face against her tit.

I ran my free hand down her back as she groaned again and shivered in my arms. I was hard as steel and I grabbed her luscious, meaty ass and thrust my hips upward, grinding her crotch against my cock against her as I made love to her boobs.

She responded in kind, spreading her thighs and rocking her hips, pressing her hard against my bulge. I switched to her other tit, sucking and biting her rock hard nipple while squeezing and caressing the other.

I forgot about time as I worked her over, making love to her tits. I ran my hands over her body, caressing her belly and feeling the muscles in her back as she moved, hearing her heartbeat when she wrapped her arms around my head and pressed my face against between her breasts. I grabbed both of her tits and squeezed hard while giving her nipples a vicious pinch, and she groaned and shuddered against me, her thighs tightened around my hips and she let out a groan that quickly became a scream of pleasure.