Chapter 1

Mimi French is a big girl -- almost six feet tall and sized to match all over. She's an olive-skinned brunette with big, placid green eyes in her late twenties. I met her at work; she was a supervisor in the customer service department. Many times while I was fixing some wiring fault in the mess the contractors left when they set up that department's phone and data links, I could hear her calm, low-pitched voice soothing some angry customer. She had a big, comfortable looking ass that swayed and shimmied when she walked down the halls wearing those thin, wide-legged pants that were all the rage a while back and a nice sized, soft-looking rack that drew your eyes to her chest -- probably C cups -- not huge, just big enough to create a serious cleavage.

Now, you need to understand that I wasn't a big girl kind of guy -- probably because I'm not huge myself. I'm five feet ten and weigh maybe one eighty -- and I'm wiry, not Mr. Gymnasium. I have a receding hairline and eyeglasses and while I'm not stone ugly, I'm not handsome, either -- the only two things that are remarkable about me are well hidden, either between my ears or between my legs -- and women couldn't find either spot. Basically, it didn't matter what I was into, I wasn't going to attract anything, anyway -- but in general, big girls didn't set me off.

Except Mimi.

I don't think of myself as an ass man, or a leg man, or a tit man -- every woman has something on her that looks nice, hopefully. Mimi had a nice face, a rack I REALLY wanted to see the nipples on, an ass that more than fit her size and looked hot when she walked and big legs that looked silky smooth and had all of the right curves. She had smooth, long-fingered hands and feet, and her nails were never anything wild, but always perfect -- on both ends -- the default being clear lacquer, but she did apply color occasionally. She didn't have a belly, either -- well, there was a little pooch, there, but it was womanly, not a roll.

Now, in this day and age, you don't say a damned thing to a woman in the workplace, so I kept my mouth -- and my eyes, where possible -- to myself. I figured I'd meet her old man at the company holiday party (God forbid you call it Christmas -- God forbid you say God!) and I'd be able to cross her off the great, long list of women I lusted after at that point. But one fine Friday in August, I was on the floor stringing Category 5 wire between two cubes when a pair of legs drifted into view and a low voice said, "What are you doing for the holiday weekend, Pete?"

The answer, of course, was 'nothing' -- I would go out that night and drink a lot of beer and try -- probably unsuccessfully -- to pick up some dog -- and repeat the effort on Saturday night, and maybe Sunday. In between, I would work on my website and maybe soak up some sun on my little apartment's balcony and download porn and play online fantasy games -- not the stuff of grand adventure. I managed to croak out the short version, "Nothing..." while my eyes refused to be politically correct and wandered up the additional five inches of thigh that my position and Mimi's stance allowed me to see. Eventually, I got control over them and cranked my head back to meet her eyes, and there wasn't any condemnation there for my moment of weakness -- in fact, they pled a bit as she said, "My folks are having a party tomorrow up at their place about sixty miles from here. It would save me a whole lot of ragging if I showed up with a guy -- even just a friend, you know? There'll be plenty to eat and drink..."

I stifled the, "And you want me?" and went straight for, "Uh, sure... sounds a lot better than anything I might have planned..."

"Great! Where can I pick you up?" she asked, and I rattled off my address, slowly coming to the realization that I had a date!

That night, I reluctantly passed up going out and drinking myself stupid; instead, I stayed home and fantasized and beat off to porn, figuring that I needed to be one hundred percent, at least on arrival at Mimi's parent's place. After that, depending on how things were going, I could let things deteriorate as the chances of sleeping with Mimi diminished. I was under no illusions regarding any second date...

Mimi picked me up in a couple of midriff tops over a sports bra and red shorts and flip-flops with sunflowers between the toes; I sat in the passenger seat of her car and tried to memorize all of the exposed skin without getting caught ogling. Fortunately, she was driving -- but I figure I got caught a half-dozen times, anyway. There wasn't a whole lot of conversation; she gave me the lowdown on her folks and her sister Trina. "You don't have to pretend we're an item or anything," she told me, "just be yourself. Having a guy along at all will cause them to call off the dogs -- we don't have to lie to them."

Hell, I'd have draped myself all over her and called her Sweetie Pie and sucked big hickeys on her neck in public! I settled for a simple, "No problem..."

She squeezed my leg and said, "Thanks, Pete! You're a sport!"

I wanted to be a spurt...

The party was all it was cracked up to be and a lot more -- and the place seemed to be the collection point for hefty honeys in the northern hemisphere that weekend. Females in the older generation were all good-sized, and there were sisters and cousins and in-laws, and who knows what. Several of them brought girlfriends and when I looked around it seemed like there were four women for every guy -- and except for a dude named Ray that Mimi's cousin Polly had brought along, there weren't any males my age that weren't married to someone. There was some variety, but they all seemed to have big asses; on the other hand, they all tended to have nice, soft-looking racks and sweet faces. In family, the girls all seemed to have green eyes; I dunno why, but I've always been captivated by green eyes... I spent the afternoon trying to keep my eyes in my head; every damned one of them, including a couple of Mimi's aunts, had blouses on that I wanted to reach inside the neckline of and palm the contents. This stuff wasn't my usual fare and it had its downsides, but it was plenty hot...

Mimi's sister Trina had a yard of ass covered in cellulite and thunder-thighs to match, but grapefruit-sized tits -- and hot eyes. There was no chance that I was going to look at her and not catch her looking back. I was sitting at the picnic table sucking my fourth beer -- which was probably two too many -- when Mimi's Aunt Betty plopped down beside me and started plying me with questions, "So, have you and Mimi been going out long?" she asked, putting her hand on my thigh.

I glanced down at it but left it; Aunt Betty had the family rack and the family eyes and she was divorced. "This is our first date," I replied honestly.

"Where did you meet?" She started rubbing.

"At work. We work for the same company."

"And you waited this long to ask her?" More rubbing; my cock was starting to pay attention.

"Well, you know how it is these days -- it isn't politically correct to ask a woman out at work -- or even tell her she's hot..." 'Too much beer, ' I thought, 'I need to shut up.'

"Yes, that's so sad..." Aunt Betty murmured, leaning against me.

Mimi settled in on my right and said, "Aunt Betty, are you bothering Pete?"

Aunt Betty turned and planted my left arm between her tits while she told Mimi over my shoulder, "I was just asking him why we haven't seen him before..."

Mimi eyed me. "What did you tell her?"

"It's our first date," I said simply.

Mimi's face went through a couple of expressions, but settled on satisfaction. "That's right," she told Aunt Betty, "and you're hogging him." She took my hand and pulled me up and away; I held onto my beer, but followed meekly. "Aunt Betty is a tease," Mimi related. "Are you having a good time?"

"Oh, yeah -- it's great!" I bubbled.

"Well, things will thin out later -- we usually escape the older crowd and the kids in a couple of hours and go over to Aunt Betty's -- is that okay?"

"Sure," I croaked. Maybe, if Mimi wasn't going to bed me, Aunt Betty would...

Except for periods when eight to twelve women of various ages were sitting around the dining room table gossiping, Mimi stayed close for the rest of the afternoon; when she did wander off, I occupied my free time by playing with somebody's pooch or helping one of the cousin's husband corral their kids. I remember thinking that it was odd that the skinny, titless twelve- year-olds that bounced here and there were going to grow up to be Amazons -- they just didn't look it. But they had those eyes...

There were women in my generation of every color in the rainbow; a couple of them were doing Goth shit, and a couple looked like dykes, but they all had decent tits and bigger than decent asses, but were otherwise okay. Some of them had that duck thing -- big jugs and a big ass made them lean forward to walk -- but a bunch of them just stood up tall and proud... The blondes seemed to be the smallest, oddly -- there were two who were cousins from somewhere. There were two black chicks -- somebody's girlfriends -- but one of them could have been family, genetically, aside from color. I stopped drinking beer, but Trina wandered over with this malt beverage for me to try, and then somebody else brought me something and someone else, and someone else, and "Hey, would you finish this? I really don't like it, but I hate to waste it..." By eight o'clock, I could hardly stand.

Mimi tugged me gently by the hand, saying, "We're going over to Aunt Betty's now," and I followed willingly, watching the world tilt this way and that and pretending I was flying a fighter doing aerobatics to make the cockpit view look like that. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"No," I slurred honestly, "I'm blitzed. People kept handing me stuff to drink..."

"I'm a little tipsy, too," Mimi giggled, "we'll probably stay the night at Aunt Betty's, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Even drunk, I didn't want to wake up in a car, dead.

"I'll tell the girls to lighten up on you, okay?"

"Okay." I passed up a comment that I didn't have the body mass to keep up with them -- even drunk, it didn't seem politic.

Aunt Betty had a swimming pool; I only remember bits and pieces of using it with a half-dozen women who were wearing wet tank tops and who knew what below -- it all happened after playing some card game with four or five giggling girls. I don't remember the game, only that I was losing, regularly, despite the fact that Mimi was helping me by standing behind me and holding my cards. I couldn't hear very well; her sports bra was gone, along with one top, and she would lean forward and a breast would slide along my neck on either side. I didn't give a fat fuck WHAT the card game was... I'm sure my face showed it, because the girls just giggled and giggled and giggled...