Beth was hoping to save herself for marriage.

It proved to be a task that was manageable until

she met Jayne and Mike and she experienced real sex for

And realized just how foolish she had been.

My married name is Elizabeth Mondeaux. I'm thirty five years of age and I'd like to tell you a bit about myself. Mine is a story of decisions about sex that I made when I was younger that I, to this day, regret. I only hope that any of you young female readers can learn from my experience and not, in your future years, feel the same way I do about the poor decisions that one can make.

I was very active as a child. My parents enrolled me in almost everything. My favourites, when I was ten and eleven were ballet and especially gymnastics. I became quite good at both, very good in fact. I had aspirations to be either a world class dancer or a world class gymnast and you know, I could have done it. My coaches told me so and I had a shelf full of trophies and ribbons to prove it. I was of average height (4' 10")and weight (86 lbs.). (Boy, diaries sure are useful things for reminiscing). Then shortly after my twelfth birthday, everything seemed to go wrong. Puberty struck. 'They' started to grow and the rest of me not quite so. Within months, I seemed to blossom directly to a size C, which got me lots of attention. I thought the attention was great. Comments from the boys who would have killed to be able to regularly paw at my chest. Envious looks from the girls, most of whom would have to wait another year or two to get what I had, if their endowments were to be that generous. After that their rate of growth slowed, but I still grew more quickly around my chest than I did my height. A little over a year later, when I was fourteen (a half inch taller and ten pounds heavier) they seemed enormous - at least a D cup. The change in my center of gravity; being top heavy for my size, having seemingly huge, six lbs. Boobs, getting in the way of too many maneuvers; adversely affected my gymnastics.

As I mentioned, my height did not increase noticeably for almost two years after my womanly padding started developing. Instead of growing upwards, I grew outward. By the time I did start my vertical growth, at fifteen, I easily filled a 34 DD cup brassiere. I was a sight back then; at least a head shorter than my peers were at four foot, eleven inches tall, one hundred and seven pounds, prepubescent facial features and build and double D boobs. By now there were not just comments from the boys, pick up lines were becoming daily occurrences, many of them were from guys in their last year of high school, two, three and four years older than I was. There were envious looks from a few girls, but now there were also whispered comments. Some where resentful; others were down right nasty, probably because of all the attention my breasts and I were receiving from the boys. When I turned sixteen; during the gains in height and weight to my present five foot, ten inch stature; I was even bigger and could barely fit into a size triple D bra.

Puberty was still not ready to release its grip on my body. With the gradual slowing of my metabolism near the end of my teen growth spurts upward, the rushing of blood in my knockers intensified until it became an almost continuous throbbing from then all the way through the next year and a half. It seemed that almost all of the additional twelve pounds of weight gain ended up on my chest. During that period of time their rate of growth even exceeded the initial explosion to a C cup at the onset of puberty. I was wearing a 34 GG and by graduation even that was getting to be too small. That change of almost a foot in vertical growth took place in the space of just over a year and a half. The sudden change made me a gangly mess when I practiced my ballet. It was disheartening to have to give up, from a career point of view, two of my favourite things.

The final straw for ballet came while I was practicing. I guess I must have been about sixteen and a half years of age when I came to the realization. Critically, I looked at myself in the mirror. The outfit I was wearing clung to my body like a second skin. I was growing so fast at the time that it was just too expensive to keep buying new outfits for practices. I was proud of my athletic, strong healthy body, but dressed as I was, all that I could see was the ripe body of an underage sexpot with my big boobs. I didn't look like a ballerina and certainly did not look my age. I firmly believe that if I had had the courage back then, I could have gone into any bar in town with out being asked for ID. While I knew that my breasts were healthy, for those three years, from thirteen to sixteen, their size had never pleased me. They had become a nuisance, destroying my athletic career aspirations. After coming to the realization that my ballerina and gymnast days were over and that my aspirations where dashed, I had to change the goals for my life. I reevaluated my options for a career and decided that it would be academically as opposed to sport oriented. It was due to this change in outlook that during the last two years of high school, I finally came to appreciate the endowment that God had given to me.

Despite my burgeoning bustline, I put my ballet and gymnastic skills to good use. I became a cheerleader in high school and managed to perform OK with my boobs bouncing wildly with every maneuver. Looking back now, I know for sure that it was my largess, stretching my school sweated constrictingly tight, that first got me onto the cheerleading squad and allowed me to stay as a cheerleader for the remainder of my years at high school.

I studied hard and managed to maintain an almost straight A grade average through out all of my high school years. I was valedictorian for my graduating class and Prom Queen. I suppose that it's true that blondes have more fun. When I compare my high school stay with others, I know that I did better than all right.

I grew up in a conservative small town, with conservative parents and I too, therefore grew up with conservative ethics and morals. Up to age seventeen I had not seriously dated. I was scared. Some of it had to do with the horror stories my folks had told me, but for the most part, I was scared of the unknown. "Sex." I knew that I was an attractive girl, but it was my background that kept my knees closed, only to open up for a husband. That's not to say that I did not fool around some. That's when I really learned to appreciate my big tits. They were perfect for titfucks. Because I did not spread my legs, I could not seem to keep boyfriends for very long periods of time. During those two last years in high school I must have had about a dozen guys, 'boy friends' at the time, who straddled my belly and fucked themselves senseless between my mammaries. When they realized that to go any farther they would have to take me as their spouse, the relationships usually ended shortly thereafter.

It was during these escapades that I learned three things about myself. Firstly, I loved the salty taste of semen. Secondly, that with a little practice, it's surprisingly easy to give really good blow-jobs, even managing to master swallowing a rigid dick deep down my throat. And finally and perhaps most fortunate for me, that I was part of that one percent of the female population who could reach full orgasm by engaging in breast play only.

I discovered this last point one Friday night, after a school dance. Max Perry was my boyfriend of about three months and had been my date for the dance. We went back to his place since his parents were out of town for the weekend. When we entered the house, we were all alone. We both had been drinking a little at the dance from a wineskin that Max had managed to sneak in. He felt amorous and most of my inhibitions had disappeared. We went up to his room, decorated in late teen male. He jumped on to the bed and I followed. We kissed, hugged, groped, felt and gradually disrobed. Max was probably the best looking of all the 'boyfriends' I have had and as a result of that and the touchy-feely stuff, I was quite sticky and gooey and my nipples were drawn tight. I think Max figured that tonight he'd be able to dip his wick into my well, because I had never before or since seen his prick so swollen. I was on top and rotated myself around until we made the perfect 'sixty-nine'. He lapped at my pussy, arousing my clitoris to its rigid and engorged state. He was good and had my box leaking in next to no time. I was choking down his man meat, working it down. I gagged and spat up the rod. "Try again, baby." came muffled from my snatch. I resolved to swallow this dog and damn it, I did, on my next attempt. Soon thereafter he had me wound to a fever pitch. I experienced a multiple orgasm for The First Time.

He was loving, allowing me time to catch my breath. "Fuck my boobs." I whispered. "Back in a sec." and he left running and quickly returned with a tube of KY. He greased up my cleavage and put his rod in the cleft. I squeezed my boobs together. Gently he started. His touch was gentle. He played with my aureole and nipples, kneaded my tits and I could feel the electric shocks in my clit. I was riding the updraft towards ecstasy. His pace was increasing as he too came closer to the edge. Despite his own inching to ecstasy, he played upon my jugs, like the caresses of the wind. My nipples ached. My clit was on fire with the electric shocks of his touching my tits. I squeezed the base of my jugs tighter together. I got the reaction from the extra friction on his rod. He started to convulse. I urged him forward until I could eat his meat. The convulsions continued and in short order he had filled my mouth with cum. Lovingly I sucked and licked it clean.

I seemed scant seconds, incredibly he was hard again. Lying facing each other, he renewed his efforts on my knockers. I had only slipped slightly on my ascent to orgasm while he was cuming and he quickly corrected that lapse. Now in addition to his hands and fingers, he added to his arsenal his mouth, lips, tongue and teeth. My sex canal was on fire. His turgid tool was knocking at the door, but I didn't answer and kept the door closed. He was not deterred and kept at my breasts. I could feel the spasms in my abdominal muscles and then all Hell broke loose. I was bouncing and bucking. Gasping and moaning. Max did not let up, on either front. His hands moved with more urgency, plying the mounds of titflesh and the pounding at my front door increased in tempo. Then I peaked. Waves of bliss washed over me. It would have been complete Heaven if Max's dick was not still pounding at my pelvis, awaiting the moment I spread my legs to welcome him in. For he and I that time would never come. Feeling kind of guilty, I went down on him and gave him my best blow-job. I know he appreciated it, as another large load of gizm filled my mouth. Spent, we lay, like real lovers, in each other's arms, whispering of love. Later that same night we made a decent attempt at doing it all over again.

I knew that I couldn't stay the night and got up to leave in the wee hours of the morning. If I had stayed the full night and my Dad discovered it, I'm sure that I would not be alive today to be telling you this, and for certain Max would have had it also. Max was so sweet. He even got up with me and walked me home, at four thirty in the morning.

I've truly missed Max, as he was my first real true love, who could play my breasts like at professional musician and have me singing. This was a memorable First Time for breast play initiated orgasm Our relationship lasted only about another month. After about another five or six attempts to get into my pants, Max gave up. Soon after he started seeing Tara Oberg, one of my friends. She confided in me later that he was a master cocksman and she had experienced orgasms every time that they had sex. I felt jealous and was having serious second thoughts about maintaining my virginity. Looking back in retrospect, I had a good thing within my grasp, but didn't realize it or exploit it. I always feel a little blue when I think about the poor decision I made that night. To make matters worse, after graduation from high school Max and Tara married. Now, about fifteen years later, they are still happily married, faithful to each other, have five kids and STILL have great sex. OK, I'm romanticizing a bit, but, damn, sometimes life sucks.

It seems to be true that birds of a feather flock together. Jocks stick together. Nerds stick together. Fat girls stick together. And the stereotypical 'brainless blond bombshells' stick together. Most of my friends were bustier than the average, generally tall, thin and tended to be (natural) blondes, like I am. The type who turned heads and could get their way with a smile. I have used these guiles, although I did not quite fit into the same mold that they did. Most of them scraped through school, but I, as I already mentioned, was straight 'A's'. I heard all kinds of stories, most of which were true. Bawdy and lusty tales of leading on a guy and rewarding him for his persistence in the girls bathroom, under the bleachers, in the back seat of cars or on the stage in the cafeteria, (with the curtains drawn shut) during the lunch hour, just to name a few.

Dawn Barber was a real mattress-back. But despite that drawback (for a conservative girl like me), she and I got along famously. With the exception of our differing views on sex, there were few, if any things which we disagreed on. She could have been my best friend in high school if it were not for the sex thing. And she did stuff I could never do, not even to this date. Almost daily she would arrange some place for her and her boyfriend to engage in some sexual act. She was only ever caught once, in one of the seminar rooms in the back of the library. From a wealthy family that had doted on their only daughter, she was generally bored with her life and sought excitement in sexual situations in risky locations. By the time she was seventeen, she decided to have breast augmentation surgery. Not so much because she was disappointed with her natural endowment, but rather whether, as a minor, she could get away with it. With a forged birth certificate and an overnight bag full of cash, she crossed the state line and had a doctor pump in 600 cc of silicone per side, and that changed her C's to triple D's. After graduating from high school she made her way to the west coast, had her chest pumped up to a G cup and entered the sordid world of porn videos. She wrote to me and told me that after pumping up her chest the first time to the triple D, she discovered it was even easier to get HER choice of men. She said that her newer 'gigantic G jugs' only made it all that much easier, and it also increased her pay cheques. I've seen two of her videos, but I'll tell you, she didn't seem to be having as much fun in either of those movies as she had being slammed by our quarterback, Dan Maxwell, on the stage of the cafeteria.

I'll never forget that day when Dawn and Dan copulated on the stage of the cafeteria, during lunch. She had told me that morning that she was going to take Dan there at lunch. Another friend of ours, Sara Potsen, and I both stated our doubts that she could seduce Dan into sex in the cafeteria, during it's peak usage time. But Dawn was so self assured that she told us to be on the stage and hiding at the start of the lunch period as she expected that she would only have to take a couple of minutes to persuade Dan. I should have guessed before hand what the incentive was. Three weeks earlier she had been a C cup and now she was a DDD. In the intervening time she had not let Dan even so much as see her new hepped-up hooters, as she had been waiting for the pain of the enlargement to subside. And today was to be Dan's lucky day. About five minutes into the lunch period found Sara and I hiding behind the backdrops, with a clear view of center stage.

Dawn lead Dan by the hand up the back stairs onto the stage. There was nothing but lust in his eyes and a bulge in his pants. Stopping at center stage, she indicated to him to wait. She pulled a up chair and told him to sit. He started to protest and she advised him she would call it quits if he didn't follow her instructions, exactly. Dan sat down immediately. She started to hum 'The Stripper' loudly. The din of the diners on the other side of the curtain ensured that she could not be heard by them. Undulating to her own music, she started by peeling off her pants. Dan was squirming on the chair. In a series of seductive moves, which she must have been practicing, she removed her T-shirt. Gyrating in bra and panties, she slowly slid the panties down her thighs. In one quick move they had dropped to the floor and daintily she stepped out of them. Dan's eyes roved up and down the length of her frame. He was sitting so close to the edge of the chair that if he were to inch forward; he would have fallen off of it.

Still humming, she sauntered up to him and turned her back to him. "Undo it." she ordered. He fumbled with the clasp on the back of the bra, eventually undoing it. She held her hands to her breasts and with one quick motion she had the shoulder straps hanging loose around her wrists. With her back still turned towards him, she removed the bra and it dropped to the ground. Arms by her side, she wheeled around abruptly to face him, her huge newly minted jugs bouncing. Dan's jaw dropped open as he reached out to touch the golden chest globes. She playfully slapped at the outstretched hand. His hand withdrew.

"Stand up…and don't touch!" He stood with his arms, unmoving, at his side. His eyes looked like twin ball bearings in a pinball machine. Certainly if his hands couldn't be used to touch, he was making a valiant effort to do so with his eyes. Dawn inched her way forward until her erect nipples touched his shirt. She dragged them across his chest while her hands were busy undoing the buttons of his shirt. With that complete she ordered, "Take off the shirt." Which he did. She continued her snake like motions, now dragging her tits across his bare chest. She undid the on the pants and pulled down the zipper. "These too." And he removed his pants. Standing in his underwear, the front tented, she pulled them down. The prick, freed of the constraints, bounced once before stopping, pointing straight, the tip scant inches from her belly button. His eyes were fixed on her tits, unmoving; Sara's and mine were transfixed on his shaft.

Dawn dropped to her knees and with both hands lovingly grabbed his dick and guided it into her mouth. She had only been pulling and sucking on it for a minute at most when he came. Dawn worked at keeping his dick in her mouth as it bucked and bounced with each throb and each thrust of his hips. Soon it was over. Now she lovingly worked his meat back to it's former glory. He recovered quickly. "Now you're ready for me." She spread her T-shirt out on the floor and was on her back, legs spread waiting for him. He needed no prompting and quickly positioned himself between them. She guided him into herself. To me, he looked like a master, plunging deep then teasingly shallow. By resting the weight of his upper body on his left arm, he had freed his right hand to finally explore the expanse of her new chest. Dawn was soon gasping. Struggling, she rolled the two of them over. Dan, now on the bottom, was more than pleased. He grinned a devilish grin and positioned a hand on each of her newly bloated knockers.

Dawn rode herself to ecstasy, humping the Hell out of his tool. I'd never seen live sex before and the 'show' really affected me. My panties were soaked. I rubbed my sex through the heaviness of my jeans and I glanced at Sara. She had hiked down her own pants and was beating the Hell out of her own pearl. Dawn became spasmodic at her climax. Dan started to cum again too, and for the first time he took his hands off her chest and gripped her firm butt. Sara, biting her lip, moaned quietly, also reaching orgasms. The two on the floor lay there, spent, for about a minute or two, reveling in their joining, while Sara pulled herself together. "we better go." he said and they quickly dressed and exited arm in arm out the same way they had arrived. Sara and I waited about a couple of minutes longer, whispering to each other. We were making innumerable comments about the sexual exposition that we had just beheld and discussing the dare. We exchanged comments on how Dawn had Dan wrapped around her little finger; how impressed we were with Dan's endowment and his resilience; what a dramatic difference there was in Dawn's appearance with her new augmentation. D cup Sara even suggested that because she liked the look of Dawn's new largess, she'd do it too, if she could afford it. And as we were leaving, I said, "And you got off too!" "You bet. It was great!" came the reply. Just before I opened the door to leave the backstage area, I realized just how noisy the other side of the curtains really were. During our observation of Dawn and Dan I could have sworn that there was not a sound coming from the crowded lunchroom.

I entered University to study Architecture. I was living in the University residence, sharing a room with two other students. For them Friday and Saturday nights were ritual drinking fests and their first year Arts programs allowed them the time to indulge in their flights of fancy. Bacchus would have been proud of these two. Five foot two inches, chestnut haired Joanne Tyson was skinny as a rail and less than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Most men have better definition on their chests than she had as breasts. And, Laura Francis was, well, average. Mousy brown hair, five foot five inches, C cup, one hundred twenty five pounds. These seemingly dour appearance drawbacks never put a damper on their weekend routine, and the routine never failed. These two went out to the pub, got pissed up and dragged a stud each, back to our room to spend the night and service their needs, on both Friday and Saturday nights, every weekend. Me, I still retained my quiet, restrained lifestyle, promising myself that I'd be able to save my virginity until I married. During that first year I learned more than I ever did before or afterwards about positions, lubrication, anal, oral and vaginal sex without ever having to actively participate. These two seemed to put Dawn to shame. Certainly they had no shame as, like it or not, we shared a dormitory style room and privacy ranged from being at a premium to nonexistent.

The most shocking situation I recall occurred in mid February, just before Mid-Term Exams. There were no classes as staff and students were supposed to be gearing up for the exams. None of us had any commitments the following day, Monday, except to study. Joanne and Laura had both just become detached from a Sunday morning romp with their Saturday night studs and had shooed them out the door. No sooner had the door closed than the stereo was turned up and a half-filled gallon jug of wine was pulled from its hiding place and ample quantities doled out. It was hidden as a result of one or two occasions in the past where the visiting 'studs' had cleaned out our booze supply.

Laura first went into the shower and before she had finished, Joanne had joined her, taking the wine jug with her. This had never happened before. I was sure that these two were steadfast heterosexuals only. Both finished their shared shower at the same time and spent substantial amounts of time drying each other off. I was buried in my books, not paying particularly close attention to the two of them, slowly sipping my wine. By the time those two finally emerged, giggling, from the bathroom I could tell that they had consumed another two coffee mugs of wine each and were quickly being overcome by the effects of it. Giggling, drinking and fondling each other, completely oblivious of my presence, they gradually became more and more interested in each other and less interested in the wine.

I seemed rather odd that the more masculine of the two, boyish built Joanne, fell into the passive 'female' role, while Laura, the one with tits and ass, assumed the dominant 'male' role. The towels had been dropped outside of the bathroom door and the two of them were tightly embracing, each with their hand down on the sex of the other. Slowly they had inched their way to Laura's bed, groping each other each step of the way. Laura sat down, legs spread wide. From my vantage point, less than ten feet away, my eyes traced their way up her thighs to the coral butterfly. Joanne squatted, facing Laura and her face disappeared into Laura's muff. Laura gripped a handful of Joanne's hair and held her head firmly against her box. With her other hand she caressed the neck and shoulders. Joanne had her own hand playing over her own clit. Laura started to breathe heavily, close to the edge of orgasm. Her small breasts bounced . Joanne's head bounced. A low deep guttural moan, unlike any I had heard all term, on Friday and Saturday nights, worked its way from deep inside Laura, growing in intensity and volume. She reclined on to the bed, her pelvis now starting to take on a life of its own. I still have yet to figure out how Joanne's face could stay attached to that muff. It looked like it was glued there. Joanne only stopped when Laura, spent, had finally settled back to a slow rhythm.

Laura rolled onto her side and opened a drawer on her bedside table and extracted a strap-on-dildo, still in its original packaging. This was no small job either. After tearing it from the package, Laura stood and strapped it on, In the meantime Joanne had stretched out, spread-eagle on Laura's bed. Forcefully, Laura flopped on top of Joanne, who then guided the dick into her hole. It was a good thing that Joanne had been masturbating and lubricating, as Laura was anything but gentle as she rammed the dildo completely into Joanne in a single thrust. Joanne's hips raised to meet the thrust and she grabbed the sheets and hung on, her knuckles growing white. Laura was relentless, pounding without mercy into Joanne. With each thrust Joanne moaned, and the volume steadily grew. Her hips rose to each thrust, with the sound impact of the two pelvises sounding like a muffled clap. Laura started to cum again and started to falter and loose rhythm.

Joanne now became aggressive and bodily rolled Laura over so that their positions were reversed. For such a small scrawny woman she displayed extraordinary strength. During this flip, Joanne did not even lose a stroke, in fact her pace increased and the depths of the thrusts were even greater, as she sent the spike ramrodding deep inside herself. What a view I had. I looked directly straight on and gradually could feel myself becoming soaking wet with my own lubricants, as I watched the dildo become almost completely extracted only to be thrust deep back into Joanne. She carried on at this rapid pace for over three minutes. By this time she was sweating. Her body glowed with a sheen and her little ass was almost a blur. I was thinking that by this time I would be raw from the friction, but she carried on at this unbelievable pace. Then she came. She straightened and started to lean backwards, the dildo now as deep in as it could possibly get. Laura tweaked the nipples on the almost nonexistent breasts and Joanne almost screamed. Then abruptly she stopped and literally collapsed on top of Laura. If it were not for the heaving of her breathing, I would have thought that she had died and collapsed dead on Laura.

It was then that I realized that my hand was inside my panties and playing a tattoo on my clit. Laura lazily glance over. "Enjoying yourself, Beth? I hope that you enjoyed the show, we sure did, putting it on for you! I think that Jo' and I've discovered something new. We've never done it before , but I'm sure that this won't be the last time; right Jo'." "Uh hu" came the lackadaisical reply. "Would you like to join in?" "I don't think so." I replied.

Despite trying to maintain some semblance of physical fitness routine; copious quantities of beer, the residence meal plan and the sedentary lifestyle of a student is guaranteed to cause weight gain. By the end of the first year Joanne was still less than a hundred pounds, albeit dry now and surprisingly had developed apple-bud breasts, like I had at age eleven or twelve. Perhaps there was hope for her yet/ Laura didn't fair as well and complained of weighing one hundred and fourty pounds. Most of it had settled around her middle, but she was pleased that some of it landed on her chest, giving her a nice D set. Me, I'd gained about ten pounds, probably as a result of my spotty workout schedule. The additional weight seemed to all have settled in my boobs. I went looking for a triple G bra before I went looking for my first summer job in the architectural field. This 'problem' would plague me throughout the next three years of sedentary student life, although my first year proved to be the 'worst'.

I completed my undergraduate studies, fourth in my undergraduate class. The graduation robes should have been called capes instead. For the rotund, the robes would in no way be able to circumvent them. I too, in a sense, fell into this 'category', you see, by graduation I had 'fattened' up to double H.

Summer students are generally paid slave wages. I was due to return to University to begin my graduate studies, however the only thing preventing my return to the hallowed halls of learning was cold hard cash. I discovered late that I would not and could not earn enough money to even cover the costs of tuition, much less accommodation and food. Desperate, one Friday in the third week of August, I was struck with a crazy, long shot idea. I made a late night visit to the corner variety and smoke shop and scanned the magazine racks. I quickly picked up three magazines with pictures of scantily clad busty women on the covers and feeling rather embarrassed carried them to the cash. Blushing severely, I told the pimply faced B cupper cashier, "They're for my boyfriend. He likes 'em big." I wasn't sure that she believed me, although her eyes moved from the covers of the magazines, to my face, to my chest, back to the magazines before settling again on my chest, which may have just convinced her. I almost ran out of the shop after paying for the mags. Jeez, was I embarrassed. Back in my, now private room, I looked through the pages. A lot of the women pictured in the magazines had substantially smaller bustlines than I did. I undressed and mimicked some of the poses and stances that the women took. "I can do this." I drafted three short letters and addressed them to the editors of each publication.

In the umpteen moves that I had made since leaving home, each time it came to pack up my stuff, I always decided to keep the old Polaroid Instant Camera that my Dad had given to me for my tenth birthday. After some searching I found it, complete with film still in it. I hadn't used it in about two years and hoped that the film was still good. I really did not want to go back to the smoke shop just yet, it would be too embarrassing. Think about it. Skin magazines and Polaroid Film. I don't think so. I gotta love my Dad. He had bought the camera with a thirty second timer, which meant that I could do this all by myself. I took nine pictures of myself and put three in each envelope along with the letter. On Monday morning I mailed them Special Delivery. By mid-afternoon on Wednesday I had received phone calls from ALL three magazines, All requesting the opportunity of a photo shoot of me. Boy, was I flattered that I could garner so much positive professional attention. And they were talking cash, lot's of it! I critically reevaluated the look and appeal of the three mags and decided to accept the offer from the middle bidder. Their offering to the public seemed to me to be more tastefully done than the other two. I called all three publications and declined the offers from the first two and made arrangements to meet a photographer from the third.

The shoot took place in a rural setting by a small covered bridge, which crossed a small creek. The setting was depicting a solitary lazy type of picnic lunch, under a large tree that leaned over the excuse for a watercourse. I was to be enjoying the sunshine and the solitude, while working on my suntan, undressing in order to eliminate the possibilities of tan lines. The day was beautifully sunny, but there was a slight breeze that created a chill in the air and throughout the shoot my nipples were rock hard marbles. I was surprised by the professionalism of the photographer. Only once did he suggest anything risqué not related to the shoot; you know - he and I - but when I stood my ground he respected my "No." for an answer. He took three rolls of film and coaxed me to become gradually less nervous and therefore less inhibited. From the beginning until the end, he asked me questions about myself, which I was free to choose to answer or not answer. By the end of the shoot I was very relaxed and responsive to his direction and as a result he was able to persuade me to allow him to take a few 'beaver' shots. He took my measurements at the end of the shoot. He did not question my statement that my knockers were double H cup. By the way, since I know you're interested and incase you didn't see the layout, the stats he took were H cup, 34" (chest / band) 23" 35" and each of my breasts weighed thirteen pounds. I became very nervous after the shoot when the reality of the situation sunk in. These photographs were soon to become public. Steve Mondeaux, the photographer, reassured me and told me that if I wanted copies, all I had to do was ask. After receiving my cheque, I decided that I, indeed would like copies. I was assured that they would be forwarded to me by courier. Then the come-on lines started. He said that he made it his policy never to date any of the 'models'. (Can you believe that he called ME that!). He said that there was "something special about me" and gave me his business card and said that if I ever changed my mind about he and I…I learned later that he was, in fact, being truthful and sincere.

Life was to change dramatically for me in mid-December. In mid-September I had been informed when the publication date was to be. I knew the magazine would publish my pictures in their January issue, which would be on the newsstands December 14^th. I soon realized that this mag had a wider distribution than I had ever imagined. In the last week before Christmas break I had become somewhat of a celebrity on campus. I discovered that it was not only the men who recognized me, but a lot of the women. This is when I met Jayne MacMullen and subsequently, later Mike Marias.

Jayne was an undergraduate in her last year, finishing off an honours baccalaureate in physics. She had coasted through her three previous years and had maintained her full scholarship. Already she had been offered a scholarship to complete her Masters even though she had not yet even finished the first half of her last undergraduate year. Her glossy, jet-black hair, when flowing freely, fell to her waist in back. It was always parted in the middle and framed an elegant face, like the carved wings of a Gothic arch, but it was usually pulled back in a loose pony-tail. The only give away indicating that she was a serious academian was the large dark framed eyeglasses she wore. The glasses themselves framed long lashes; top and bottom surrounding her green eyes that sparkled like emeralds. Her eyebrows were dark brown, almost black and slightly arched giving the initial impression of a look of surprise. A pert ski-jump nose separated high cheekbones. Her straight strong white teeth were framed by full sensuous pouty lips over a square chin. Her neck was slender yet well muscled like the rest of her frame. She was elegant, supple had long legs and arms, slender hands and feet. Despite the fact that I considered myself to be fairly attractive, beside her I felt like one of Cinderella's ugly step-sisters. She was truly beautiful. I learned later that she was a DDD cup, 32" 23" 32", and that she stood a tall 5' 6", 118 pounds.

The first time that she approached me, it was late afternoon in one of the cafeterias, three days before the break. The magazine had only been out for two days. As a complete stranger she opened the conversation with: "I saw your layout. Very nicely done." I blushed and thanked her for the complement. She had a magnetism about her that prevented me from brushing her off. She was down to earth, frank and honest. I immediately liked her. Since both of us were only on campus to do research, which could wait, we lingered in the cafeteria until it closed. To this day I still don't know what possessed me to invite her to my place for coffee. Once there we reexamined HER copy of the photo layout and critiqued it. I also took out the rest of the photos from the shoot that did not make it into the published layout. The discussion deepened and became more intimate. Before we knew what was happening, we were exploring each other.

Jayne dug her fingers into my jugs. It hurt and I winced in pain, but I could feel my nipples becoming ball bearing hard. Currents of electricity zapped straight to my clitoris. She kissed me roughly. Her tongue chased mine around my mouth. I followed her lead and slipped my hand into her brassiere, cupping and squeezing her full tit. Her aureolae and nipple were as aroused as mine. We seemed to sense the same urgency of purpose and within no time at all the floor around the couch was strewn with clothing. I sat back for a second or two to take in her beauty. Her hooters were full and firm, with next to none of the sag that big boobs get. Her belly was tight and she looked incredibly toned. I never thought that I could get so turned on by looking at another woman, but the sight of Jayne was doing just that. Jayne now became incredibly gentle. Her fingers played upon the butterfly of my sopping vagina, spreading the wings to access my nub of pleasure and my cunt juice dribbled down the inside of my thigh. I gently directed her onto her back. I drew my tongue down her neck, into the valley between her mammaries. With a hand on each peak of her full tits, I kneaded the nipples between my fingers and alternated between sucking on each teat. She played with my hooters, concentrating especially on my dugs. "They're so big!" she gushed, absolutely amazing." I felt proud and surprisingly very much a woman. I dug my tongue into her belly-button and her belly twitched with the anticipation of my moving farther down her frame. I stopped at her pubic patch, nuzzled and gently pulled at the hair. Jayne was enjoying the teasing. I could smell the sweet, musty scent of her muff. That in itself started the rippling vibrations of the onset of an orgasm in my own belly. I parted her lips with my tongue. She was flooded. I teased at her cunt lips, pulling slowly, licking deeply into her, gently nibbling and nuzzling her cunt trigger. I put my tongue on the little man-in-the-boat and started a tongue massage, lapping up the pussy juice. I felt her convulsions becoming more sustained and frequent. I worked with greater urgency licking, lapping and lashing her clit and I was rewarded when she was racked by a series of orgasms.

Jayne rolled us over and assumed the dominant top position. Spreading my legs, she climbed in between. With the skill of an expert she aligned our pelvises and started to use the friction to stimulate our already angry sex slits. I'd never felt anything like that before, amazing, but it didn't last long enough. She swung around and we were in the 'sixty nine'. Her face became buried in my snatch. Her large breasts now mashed into my stomach and I could feel the nipples pressing into me like marbles, they were so hard. My own jugs were mashed into her belly and I could feel every vibration through my sensitive dugs. Her pearly butterfly was fluttering just above my awaiting mouth. When it alighted, I was again treated to her nectar. I glued myself to her clit and Jayne had done the same with mine. She was a master eating pussy, because it seemed like only seconds before she had me climaxing. And she maintained the intensity. Sparks flew from my cunt throughout my body. Like I had been electrocuted, my body bounced and bucked, muscles tight. It just didn't stop. Blood pounded in my ears. My breathing became ragged and in gasps, the aroma of her gash only intensifying the sensations. Jayne started to cum again. Her cunt pushed down onto my mouth. I was still on the razors edge after she had finished. I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. Slowly I came back from the edge. I was exhausted and my muscles ached all over.

It was The First Time I had engaged in an intimate occasion with a woman. It was fantastic. I think this was a turning point in my outlook of my sexuality. We agreed to meet again on Friday afternoon. She stayed the night and we explored each other again. I reveled in her sensuality and she reveled in my knowledge of lovemaking and sex. (Thank you, Joanne. Thank you, Laura. Thank you, Dawn.) As we both were planning to the University before classes resumed in order to research and study, she invited me to her place on the second of January. She shared a single bedroom apartment with a guy named Mike.

Mike was in his second year, not entirely sure whether he should continue into English or into History. He was six foot tall, ruggedly handsome in an odd sort of way. But what had really sold Jayne on Mike was his performance in the sack. That, his unflagging stamina and the fourteen inches of dick that Jayne insisted made her feel like she was being split in two when she was riding it. January second will be a date that I will never forget. We made an interesting threesome, as I had not yet succumbed to vaginal penetration and was still reluctant to do so. But as the night wore on my resolve was eroded away with each of my own orgasms, stimulated entirely by the sight of Jayne's, while she was riding Mike's ramrod. I had just reached another orgasm, stimulated entirely from Jayne giving my tits a workout. Mike had been using the chasm between my mammary mounds as a fuck channel and now lay by my side.

With my eyes closed in the throes of ecstasy, all I could think of was Max and how good it had been back then and how this was as good or even better. Panting and heaving as I was in yet another orgasm, Mike had asked me if he could dump his load deep, deep inside me. The deep regrets that I had felt after Max and I split welled up in my mind. Jayne coaxed me on by quickly trying to describe the feeling. The filling of a void that lead to feelings of Heaven on Earth. I acquiesced and agreed to their request. Slowly and gently Mike spread my legs, lined up his spike and with it parted the lips of my love box. His tool felt huge as he stretched the opening of my vagina. I was surprised how my cunt took on a life of its own. It felt it was grabbing his prick, swallowing it and refusing to let it go. I felt the muscles in my belly vibrate. Abruptly there was pain. Mike stopped. Jayne whispered "Relish the moment." I could have killed her for what she did next. She slapped Mike on the ass and he jerked forward. In a flash all that I had tried so hard to protect was gone. The pain peaked, reduced and eventually almost disappeared. The feeling that crept up to replace the pain came in the form of growing waves of increased pleasure. Mike slowly pushed deeper and deeper until he had buried the full ramrod deep into me. It felt like it was pushing up between my lungs. Then I was wracked by waves of another orgasm. Mike slowly started the piston like motion, gently driving into me. Then I felt his convulsions begin and his dick hammered harder, deeper and faster and it triggered more convulsions in myself. It seemed like he dumped a gallon of his sex sauce into me.

That was The First Time for me for intercourse. What a fool I had been, with my narrow conservative outlook on sex and sexual relations. Needless to say, I made an about face in my opinions of premarital sex. I feel disappointed in myself for passing up on over ten years of sex. I haven't discussed too many of my past decisions with very many people, due to the shame I feel for my narrow-mindedness. I have embraced the world of sex and, although I am still somewhat conservative, I was very particular about whom I engaged in sex with. Today I am a partner in an architectural firm, pulling down well over six figures. I have engaged in four other flights of fancy in the big bust magazine, each being more thrilling than the last. During the second shoot, I took Steve up on his offer and that also changed my life. After seriously dating him for over a year, we married. At first I had some concerns about his fidelity, but they proved to be unfounded as Steve loves me dearly and proves it, almost daily. I'm now, as I stated at the outset, thirty five and am no longer envious of Tara for 'stealing' Max from me as Steve and I now have two kids and our marriage at least equals or betters theirs. Pregnancy increased by bustline by one cup size, to a triple H and by belly rebounded to it's flat prepregnancy tight shape, so I'm seriously considering doing a fifth layout. I'll be looking for ya' from the glossy pages.

With love to you all, Beth