Life has a way of balancing out all of the factors. There are some things that should be, others that shouldn't be, and some that just are. Eventually, they all balance out most of the time. In some cases it may take a while, but balance wins every time.

Of course, balance can mean different things to different people. It's not all about money, or looks or material things. It's usually about making sure that people get what they deserve in some way or fashion.

I was thinking about one of those factors as we barreled along, down the freeway. I was doing a nearly pedestrian 90 mph with one eye on the road and the other in the rearview mirror, looking out for cops. The roar of my 2013 Boss 302 was music to my ears. My Lacuna Seca model technically wasn't street legal, but most cops wouldn't know the difference.

Now to me, since it didn't have a back seat, it was the perfect road trip car. I could keep our luggage in the area where a back seat would fit. I could even strap fragile items to the roll cage. Heather of course didn't see it. My car's racing suspension was so stiff that we felt every crack in the road. That was great for driver feedback, but not so great for comfort. Every tiny bump we went over caused waves of flesh to move across her chest. And she hated the constant droning of my exhaust system. It was, as mentioned, music to my ears, but she often wore headphones.

As we neared Michigan, the flow of traffic increased. We got to an area where I could no longer weave through the traffic and had to slow down. I reached over and rubbed one of Heather's huge boobs.

"You'd better stop," she said teasingly. "Those are my husband's property."

Heather weighed barely over a hundred pounds. She was as thin as a rail, with huge natural boobs. Sometimes it looked like her boobs came into the room ten minutes before she did. Heather's boobs were one of those things that affect the balance. They were clearly something that shouldn't be.

I started to remove my hand from her chest and her arm reached out like lightning, pressing my hand more firmly to her tit.

"You know I love it when you touch me, Bry," she cooed. I gently cupped and rubbed her boob and her nipple stiffened and began to show through her huge bra and her blouse.

"Harder," she gushed. "We should pull over."

"Sweetie, we're in Michigan, now," I said. "We don't have much further to go."

"As soon as we get to the hotel, your ass is mine," she gushed. "Of rather, my ass is yours, if you want it."

"So you say," I said, sarcastically.

"Bryan Parker, I have never refused you sex," she laughed.

"Right," I said. "I just have to make sure I get mine, before you get what you want."

My wife Heather is a walking wet dream, she's tall, blond, and thin with huge tits. I do wish her legs were thicker and her ass was a little more rounded, but I'm not going to complain. My love for her goes far behind her looks. We are so in love that we finish each other's sentences and after seven years of marriage we still fuck like bunnies.

Heather, as she said has never refused me sex. I can wake up in the middle of the night and wake her up and she's ready to go. She has awakened me first thing in the morning with a blow job more times than she hasn't. Nothing is off the table with Heather. She will literally try anything.

But here's where that balance thing comes in. Heather does have a fetish. I have to be careful with her about it. Heather literally has to be restrained or she would give me blow jobs all day long. Nope you're wrong. Heather gives the best blow jobs I have ever experienced, but her kink isn't oral. The blow jobs for her are only a means to an end. My beautiful blond wife is a cum junky. But it gets worse, she hardly ever swallows my sperm, she doesn't want to waste it.

And no, she's not like one of those women in the porn movies, who love to have you cum in her face. Heather loves to suck me until I'm ready to cum and then shoot it all over her tits. For some reason that makes her cum harder than anything else. She is the first woman I've ever met who would rather give me a blow job, than have me eat her pussy. As a matter of fact, I can't remember the last time I did.

I can pound her pussy all night long. I can be as rough or as loving as I feel like, to no avail. I can fuck her ass, the souls of her feet her armpits or anything else on her body and she will enjoy it immensely, but in order for her to cum, I have to pull out and shoot those huge boobs.

Amazingly, she will suck the skin off of my dick, right after I pull it out of her ass. She will do whatever nasty thing I can come up with and do it with a smile on her face as long as she gets to have those huge tits blasted with cum.

It took me a while to figure it out. Most of us have a go to move or skill. If you're a runner, you may fall into that tuck and kick category. That means that you're not the strongest of runners, but you can hang onto the back of the pack, and just keep pace until the final meters and then use your specialty, a blinding kick to pass them in the home stretch.

My Heather was an ugly duckling. For all of her formative years, she was too tall, too skinny, and too zitty, with Buck teeth and braces. She also wore gigantic glasses and lacked social skills. As recently as her last year of high school her chest was as flat as a board. Her mom and aunts all had big hooters. They kept telling her that she would develop. At eighteen and entering college she still had the body of a high school boy. But her freshman fifteen were all on her chest. Over night she went from flat as a board to "Oh my lord!"

As her boobs grew, so did her popularity. At the same time her braces finally worked and her teeth straightened out. Her zits, faded away and she lightened her hair. The change from "OH hell," to bombshell was surprising. She naturally started with guys near the bottom of the social register. They were the first to notice the changes.

Most of those nerdy guys were so astounded when they first got the chance to see her naked, that they never had sex with her. More than one of them just blasted her as soon as she took off her bra and let those twin rockets free. Those early experiences let her realize the power that her tits held over men. And even to this day, she loves to have men cum on her tits. So, I oblige her every chance I get.

You have to understand that Heather and I are deeply in love. There is nothing we won't do for each other. Starting it in the later years of college when we got together, her transformation completed itself. She learned to use makeup to enhance her features. She learned to dress in a manner that while no slutty or whorish, shows off her assets. For example, Heather would never wear a mini skirt or shorts, because her legs are just slightly too thin. Longer looser skirts, give her the illusion of size from the waist down, while tighter tops enhance her bust line while making her body seem less disproportionate.

But whatever she wears, Heather's jugs draw a lot of attention. It has its benefits though. She has never gotten a traffic ticket. She rarely ever pays for drinks and we get the best service in the house no matter where we go. But Heather makes it plain, that she belongs only to me. On our wedding day, right after the ceremony, after all of the vows were spoken, she took my hand and whispered three other vows to me.

"Bryan Parker," she said solemnly. "I swear that I will love you forever. No other man will ever get into my pussy and we will grow old together. From this moment forward, I belong to you, body, and soul. And you belong to me." At first I thought that she was joking. But when I looked into her eyes I saw how serious she was. And since we've gotten married, I've done my best to be worthy of her promises and her love.

Immediately after I graduated, we got married. I'm no dummy. I knew that Heather was out of my league, so I wanted to bind her to me as soon as possible. The funny thing was that strangely enough, she thought that I was something special too.

My first serious job offer, after college was from an auto plant just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. We moved there right after the honeymoon and have built a great life there over the past seven years. We love our home, we love our life. We have plenty of friends and neighbors and feel really strongly about our community.

Heather grew up in New Jersey, and I grew up in Michigan, where we went to school. So the more moderate climate and more laid back lifestyle of Tennessee, seems magical to both of us.

The first time stopped for gas back in Michigan, both of us noticed the differences. People looked us over. And it wasn't just the curiosity that comes from encountering a person who is clearly not a local.

The people, although friendly, were also more wary, and the closer to the metropolitan areas we got, the more intense the scrutiny became.

And then suddenly, we were there. We were in the area of cities like Flint, Pontiac and then the outskirts of the big D. Detroit. The rednecks call it Deeetroyit. The French who settled here pronounced it "Day twah."

Whatever you call it, being here made me remember that Detroit was as much a state of mind as a place. Detroit is a city that's known for roaring Tigers, crippled Lions, wild Mustangs, and a giant metal fist. Detroit gave us, Joe Louis, Motown, and most importantly ... Cars. During the war, Detroit picked itself up and gave us the planes and other things that helped the Allies emerge victorious.

Less than a mile away from our hotel, I stopped at a traffic light. Four teen-aged boys with skateboards noticed my car and started talking about it. They all had that lean angular urban look. Three of the four wore baseball caps with various logos on them. Most of them wore the caps backwards or sideways, barely hanging onto their heads. One kid had his hat on upside down, with the bill pointing skyward at a thirty degree angle.

None of them seemed to even know that belts existed. They all wore tank tops and board shorts that were perched precariously just beneath their lower hip bones. Large displays of both butt crack and colorful boxers were clearly on display. Every time they took a step they had to clutch the tops of their pants to keep them from falling to the ground. They all also seemed to walk hunched over and pigeon toed.

"Day' um, Son. Dass a fine ass ride," said one of them. One of his buddies got up from the curb and started duck walking himself closer to the car to get a better look. Unfortunately, he got a look at Heather first. Once he saw her boobs, he started drooling, and forgot where he was and crashed into a telephone pole.

"Did ya see dem titties?" he said when he got up holding his face. As the light changed, my Mustang roared away from the light and headed towards the hotel. Heather looked at me and shook her head.

"How old do you think those boys were?" she smiled. Her smile covered her unease. The boys had clearly made her feel uneasy. I hadn't been afraid, but I had been ready to pull the tire iron from beneath my seat to beat to the fuck out of those little predators. The scary thing about the whole scene is that we were nowhere near Detroit. We were in Troy. The four boys were white kids. Most of them had probably never been within a mile of the inner city. Eminem's influence was clearly in effect here.

"They looked like they were about fifteen," I said.

Amanda

People had been coming in all morning. I went over to the registration desk the hotel had set up for the reunion for the third time in an hour and scanned the list of names. Sarah Hill, the woman signing in the people for the re-union looked up and me and smiled.

"Amanda, who is he?" she asked.

"He who?" I asked back.

"The guy you're so hot to see," she said. "You've been checking this list so often you might as well be doing my job."

"Sarah, I have no idea what you're talking about," I said. "I'm a married woman. I'm only concerned because as reunion coordinator, I need to know how many people are here." She stuck out her lip and nodded her head. Her whole expression dripped sarcasm.

"That was really convincing," she said sarcastically. "But if you were so interested in numbers, you'd have simply looked at the last number on the list to give you a total. You read every name on that list. That means that you were looking for a person." She was too smart for her own good. I just smiled at her and walked away. Or at least that was my intention. I turned and crashed right into a person. At just under six feet tall she was one of the largest and thinnest women I'd ever seen. And she had the biggest boobs I'd ever seen. From what they felt like as we struggled together to avoid falling, they were real too.

"Sorry," I mumbled as we disengaged our mixed up limbs.

"Oh, no problem," she replied in a high pitched, breathy voice. For the life of me, I couldn't remember her. But then I recoiled in shock when I noticed who she was with.

"Bryan Parker!" I gushed. My mind went back to my college days then. For three of my four years in school, I had the biggest crush on Bryan Parker. The problem was that he was so shy and so busy all the time. Bryan was the kind of guy who was everywhere and did everything, but no one really knew him. Everyone knew of him, but he had a few close friends and everyone else was just an acquaintance.

Bryan ran track. Our track team had won several meets every year that he ran. Bryan was on the engineering team that won the robotics challenge. I was dying to have him ask me out. I was too old fashioned to ever ask a guy out. I did go out with some of his friends, hoping to double or get a chance to hang out with him so he'd notice me. Then in our senior year, he just disappeared. I saw his name everywhere, but didn't see him.

That made sense though because I was a business major and he was in engineering. During the first two years most programs had some degree of overlap in Math and English and general studies type classes. But during the later years and especially senior year, most students only had specialized classes that pertained directly to their own programs. From what I heard Bryan was working off campus in some sort of co-op program and already had a job lined up for after graduation.

He also moved out of state immediately after graduation and hadn't been back to town very often. Whatever he was doing, he must be very successful at it. His girlfriend looks like some sort of porn star. It's funny that he ended up with someone like that. I mean, I know how men are, but somehow I expected more from him.

I was almost dizzy being that close to him. Over the past seven years since college, Bryan had filled out a bit. Looking into his big brown eyes was making me dizzy. He still seemed to have that shyness. The look of concern on his face for her after our tiny mix up was intoxicating. It was as if this cartoonish woman was the center of his world. But then women like that are like trophies or prized possessions. He probably spends all of his time either working to buy her things or pampering her.

He smiled at me and nodded, shyly and I was too tongue tied to say anything. Then they turned to leave. I am not an evil woman. I'm not catty or judgmental but when they turned around it was all I could do not to laugh.

Apparently Bryan was only interested in what his women looked like coming towards him. I chided myself mentally for even thinking something that evil. What should matter the most is that he clearly loved her. So if he was happy with her, what right did I have to question it?

"Bryan are you going to register?" I asked.

"Oh yeah!" he laughed. "That's what I came for. But after the mini crash, I forgot."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "You can just sign your name on the list and grab your badge. And you can just put your name on your wife's badge and put 'Mrs.' on it."

"Why can't I put my own name on my badge?" asked his girlfriend. The woman was clearly a natural blond.

"Well Honey," I began, keeping my tone as sugary as possible. Okay God dammit, I had stepped over into the catty bitch zone. "Your name would only matter if you had actually attended our school. But as Bryan's girlfri..."

"Well Sweetie," she interrupted me, her voice as hard as glass and as high pitched as fingernails on a chalk board. "I did go to OUR school. And I'm not Bryan's girlfriend anymore..."

"He dumped ya, huh, Petunia?" I interjected.

"No, Sugar plum," she spat. "He married me. Now can I have my God damned name tag?"

"He ... You're ... You... !" I sputtered.

"Close your mouth. You're letting the flies out," she said nastily. I tried to recover my sanity. My life wasn't nearly as good as it appeared on the surface. For seven years I'd had several things from college that I had always wanted a do over for. Now, I had discovered that one of the major things that I wanted to do differently was no longer possible.

Sarah recognized my shock and came to my rescue. "You can sign in here," she said, pushing the clipboard to the woman. She signed the list and gave the clipboard back to Sarah.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Sarah. "You're Heather Glenn? But..."

"No, it's Heather Parker now," said the woman. "And yeah, I know. I used to be built like a tall, skinny, ugly boy. Times change."

"Are those ... uhm?" hinted Sarah.

"Absolutely genuine," sighed Heather. "I was a late bloomer. Do you need to feel them or can you take my husband's word for it?"

"Uhm, I'm not quite a lesbian, and the smile on Brian's face tells me everything I need to know," smiled Sarah. Several people had gathered by then and were extremely interested in the conversation.

"Good," said Heather. "Come on Honey, let's head up to our room, and uh ... recover." I noticed then that her nipples had become very prominent. That only increased the attention on her breasts.

"Uh, the ice breaker get together starts at five," I said to their retreating backs. I felt so stupid. I had practically gotten into a cat fight with a woman that I barely remembered, over a man that I had never actually spoken to. Was my dissatisfaction with my own life so bad that I was allowing my fantasies to bleed into real life?

I spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between getting things ready for the ice breaker and helping Sarah get everyone registered. We did have a few problems. There were several last minute arrivals that hadn't made reservations for rooms in the hotel. We had to find them accommodations in nearby hotels and motels because the main hotel was booked to capacity.

I thought all afternoon about whether or not I should apologize to Heather about what had happened. On one hand, I was responsible for organizing this year's reunion. That mean that I needed to be able to go beyond my personal feelings and make sure that each and every person has a good time. On the other hand, something deep inside of me was revolted by that woman and her huge boobs. She just looked unnatural to me. Despite the fact that I felt those tits and knew they were real, there was just something off about her. Of course, I did have to admit that there was a chance that the reason I felt so upset about her was that I wanted to be where she was.

On paper, my life was as good as hers. I had spent the afternoon reading though her file. She had married Bryan right after he graduated. She hadn't actually graduated herself. She was a couple of credits shy. She had simply run off with Bryan instead of taking a summer course to qualify for her degree. The course she lacked was a silly 2 credit Humanities course. They'd probably give her credit for life experience and give her the degree nowadays, because the course was no longer even taught.

Bryan is an engineer, and a highly respected one already. She was apparently his house bunny, or whatever you call women who don't have any kids but also don't have a fucking job.

I felt a shadow looming over me and then an arm draped itself around me. "Hey babe," said my husband Michael. After greeting me he leered at Sarah.

"Babe is here any truth to the rumor that Heather Glenn has grown huge jugs and gotten married?" he asked. Before I could even answer, he pumped out another question. "How big are we talking? Who did she marry? Am I still the most successful of all of our classmates?"

Michael and I had gotten lucky. Mike was on the football team. He and I had dated in college. I guess, we had gravitated towards each other afterwards because we'd stayed in the area and been left behind when a lot of our classmates had spread across the country for jobs and other aspects of post educational life.

Mike's business degree, like mine wasn't specialized enough to get either of us high paying jobs. I ended up working as a personal assistant. That's pronounced secretary. And Mike had been given a sales trainee position. We had continued to date and eventually he asked me to marry him and although I had reservations, I finally said 'yes.'

We had been married for five years and we'd had a few issues. Mike had begun picking up work on weekends mowing lawns, to make extra money so we could buy a house. After a while he had so many clients that he had to take on extra help. I began doing the books for him and a couple of years later we added winter services and our business became a full time year round concern. Mike tended to make it seem like a bigger thing than it was. We made enough to pay our bills and we had a comfortable life, but we weren't raking in millions.

Mike had also cheated on me. I had proof of one woman, but I was sure there had been more. I had been ready to leave him and get a divorce, but even my parents had convinced me that it was a case of 'Boys will be boys' and that he'd never do it again. I guess I had just been lazy. My life was relatively comfortable and it just seemed easier to forgive Mike than to go through the divorce thing and shake everything up. There was also the fact that even if I did divorce him, what else was out there? How would my life be any better without him?

I needed to face facts. Mike was an asshole, he had always been an asshole, and he would probably always be an asshole, but he was mine. The woman he had been caught with had clearly been the aggressor. She was probably drawn to the fact that all through college Mike got a reputation for having a huge dick. And his reputation was well earned. That thing was a monster. Women were always staring at him when he wore tight shorts or pants. Unfortunately for me, it looked impressive, which meant that Mike had never really needed to bother to learn what to do with it. Or if he had, he certainly wasn't using his knowledge on me.

Maybe it was just me. Maybe growing up as a little girl, I dreamed of being everything to my husband. Maybe I just wanted to feel like I was in love. As it was, I just felt like we were enjoying the same type of partnership in our marriage that we had in the business. We each did what we did and got what we got. I was still stinging over the fact that my car had been on its last legs earlier in the year. Mike had solved the problem for me. He had borrowed every cent he could get against the business and bought himself a brand new Camaro and then given me his old car, which wasn't much newer than mine.

When I brought it up, he looked at me with a really stupid look on his face.

"What's wrong Mandy?" he asked. He was wearing some of those stupid orange lensed sunglasses that were supposed to improve your vision by blocking out some of the light frequencies. Most people wore them either at night or at least in very bright sun. Mike was wearing them even indoors because he thought they looked cool.

"Mike my car was in far worse shape than yours," I said. "I'm the one who needed a newer car."

"Well you got one," he smiled. "I gave you my old one. So what's the problem?"

Since he got the Camaro, Mike is always trying to get someone to race with him. He looked forward to the reunion, not as a chance to see old friends, but as a chance to be seen by them and rub HIS, not our, success in their faces. In college, Mike was on the football team. He wasn't a starter, but he was on the team. He even played in a couple of games while we were there. No one from our college team had made it anywhere near the professional level. So this was Mike's chance to see where he compared with our peers in the game of life.

I guess that truthfully, I can't blame him. I'm as bad as he is. I've enjoyed seeing that more than half of the women I went to school with are already overweight and look much older than our age. Some of them are already divorced and very few of them are happy.

"So is it true or not?" he asks, intruding on my thoughts. "I mean she had just started sprouting our last year in school. It was amazing, one year she was as flat as a board and the next, she was on her way to some serious hooters. Half of the guys on campus were trying to get into her pants just so they could get their hands on those boobs."

"Yes, her breasts are pretty big," I said. "But she's married and apparently happily. So don't start anything."

Just then a couple of Mike's idiot friends who worked for him ran up. "Mike, you won't believe what we saw in the parking lot, dude," gushed one.

He suddenly noticed that Mike and I were talking. His excitement morphed into a very serious smiling face as he regarded me. "Good Morning Amanda," he said in a really smarmy voice.

"What?" asked Mike.

"A hopped up Mustang," said Eddie. "You have to race that guy. He's probably some jerk who's here for the reunion and doesn't know about you or the Camaro. Should be easy pickings."

"You two idiots go watch the car," said Mike. "Find out which one of our old classmates is driving it."

I saw Mike's smile and knew that it didn't bode well for some poor sap. And as much as I felt bad for whomever it was. I was glad at the same time for myself. If Mike was busy playing with his car, it would keep him from going after other women.

Bryan

After going up to the twelfth floor to check out our hotel room, Heather and I had decided to check out the rest of the hotel as well. We may as well know what amenities were available to us over the weekend before deciding what to do.

We checked out the gym, the pool area, and the restaurants. Heather of course wanted to check out the stores in the hotel's lower levels but I assured her that we'd have plenty of time for her to shop later. We did have malls in Tennessee, but she was excited over the chance to see the selections in the malls in a larger more urban environment. There were places that she remembered from her time in school here that she wanted to visit while we were in the area.

Finally, we got into the elevator to go back up to the room. I smiled at the people on the elevator as they made room for us. As she snuggled next to me in the elevator, Heather captured my upper arm between my chest and one of her boobs.

"Mmmm," she moaned. The contact had apparently started her up, because after a few seconds I could feel a rock hard nipple boring its way into my arm. I looked over at her and she smiled up at me innocently. As I looked around at the people on the elevator, I noticed that most of them were looking at us.

More than likely, they, like most people were wondering how a woman that thin, had boobs that big. There was an older woman with a decided frown on her face and several men whose jaws had dropped.

We got off on our floor and headed towards our room.

As soon as we got into the room, Heather started. "Bryan, those men were staring at my titties," she said.

"Everyone stares at your boobs," I said. She opened her blouse and made me wonder how the hell that tiny bra was supposed to support those massive orbs. Her nipples were already partially erect and she cupped her boobs and offered them to me. I was across the room so quickly that it seemed like I had discovered a way to prove Einstein's theory on space and time.

I lifted them gently from their elastic hammock and licked their rampant tips. As I caressed and licked her boobs, Heather's moans grew louder. She pushed her hand into my pants and began rubbing my rapidly inflating dick. She unzipped my pants and freed it. And then pulled the rest of her blouse off.