Buoyancy Pt 01

The room was the definition of hot and cold. They might as well have had the furnace cooking on one end and the AC blasting on the other.

It was actually a big laughable game. The men almost universally had a little paunch, no matter how tall or buff they had been back in their heyday. The woman, well, they were all a little too done up. The fake tans were a little too sprayed on, a shade too dark. They wore a little too much makeup and stood comfortably on heels that were a little too high.

And the stone cold stares that they shot to their husbands when their eyes would invariably wander over to the far table lingered a little too long not to be noticed. Each married lady there would have their gaze fall on their husband's face just as his jaw would begin to slacken, just in time for his eyes to lightly glaze over, just as the light of imagination and lust flickered behind those eyes. And the flicker would extinguish just as quickly when the men would turn and see that they had been caught, that their surreptitious glances were anything but. They would look quickly away but not nearly quickly enough and the heat of their eyes would be replaced by the whoosh of cold air that followed the cold stare of women who sipped lightly at their drinks.

Kevin watched the dynamic play out maybe twenty times in the first 15 minutes that he sat there. This was a million times more entertaining than he'd thought it would be. But the one person who should by right be enjoying it most, wasn't enjoying it at all. She didn't even know any of it was happening.

Because she hadn't once looked up from the table since they'd entered the room and sat down and every pair of eyes fought to keep free of her.

Brooke looked like a trope. She looked like a setup on Candid Camera, or a gag from an old Charlie Chaplin silent film where the movie starlet walks out of a film and into real life. She was more than stunning. She was unbelievable. You got the feeling that no one could look that good in a room of people that looked so...middle America...without having planned to upstage everyone for the last 10 years. Her hair was styled, sure, with her little blonde curls like a cloud of gold on her head. Her makeup was light, her blush was especially artful. And the dress was...the dress might at first seem extravagant. But if anyone actually looked at the cut of the dress itself and not the whole package, it really wasn't. It really was just a red dress. It's just that this particular normal red dress had probably never looked better worn by any other woman on the planet. The blood red of it was making blood boil all around them but it wasn't anymore daring or revealing than anything any of the other women were wearing. She just filled it out with her phenomenal figure the way the dress was meant to be filled.

No, Brooke hadn't tried to upstage these women and steal the show. Truth was, she was so terrified of even coming to this 15 year reunion that she only threw herself together this afternoon.

That probably wouldn't get her any faster into the good graces of the women with their cold stares and watered down drinks.

Kevin held her hand on the table and could feel her trembling. "Your missing a treat, babe. This here is...social dynamics at its best. I hope for your sake that these bitches left their knives at home," he said with a chuckle under his breath.

Her worried eyes looked quickly up at him before casting down again. "Wha...whaddya mean?"

She wasn't fishing for a complement like so many other hollow women. She really...really didn't know.

"I don't know how far up your ass your head must be to not already know this...but you are a solid iron clad '10' and I can see only one gal in this room that might break a 7. You know how they say don't fuck your siblings? The mouthbreathers in this room are the reason why. This room is a cautionary tale for fucking inbreeding," he muttered. "You grew up with these people?"

At that she snorted. "Can we just go? I don't need you to say that...make me feel better. We came. Now I just wanna go..."

Kevin's eyes narrowed. "Fuck you, we're not going anywhere! I want to see who's the first hero who'll make the move."

"What move?" she asked.

He smiled. "Man up, walk over here and try to start up a convo without me catching him staring at your tits." His eyes scanned the room. "I honestly don't think any of the James Bonds in this room could walk and chew gum at the same time let alone pull that off. I'd be impressed if they kept from motorboating you the moment their face got within range of your chest."

Finally, she smiled, blushing. "You're fucking sick...Trust me, they don't even know I'm here. I can almost hear them talking about other things. Except for the ones talking shit about me."

Kevin squeezed her hand, hard and long enough for her to catch his eyes. "Baby, you left them speechless. They're too busy trying not to stare."

Brooke rolled her eyes at him. Her beautiful blue eyes stared dejectedly at his.

***

Have you ever had a moment when you were talking to a girl that you'd give your right nut to nail and its just seeming way too easy? Kevin was having that moment. He was never the smoothest talker in his younger days and by thirty, the amount of notches on his belt remained stubbornly short of double digits. But now at 34, with his online retail store finally, 10 years in, moving stock at scale, he at least had some money in his pocket. He could comfortably spend a shitload of money on a date if he saw light at the end of the tunnel and coupled with the fact that he had some boyishness to him and a joke or two when the need arose, the extra dough often paid off in surprising ways: he'd gotten more head in the last year than he had in the five years previous.

It was into this status quo that his compadre Miguel introduced him to Brooke at a party to celebrate Miguel's promotion at Salesforce.

Holy fuck, she's hot...was all he kept saying in his head every couple of minutes. His dick was at full mast just standing next to her...and he'd jacked off this morning. He had no idea what he was saying to her. It was like his dick was communicating to her for him by way of his brain.

For her part, Brooke was nervous as hell. God only knows why but he didn't even notice at first. He was too busy sucking up every curve of her body like his eyes had straws. He wanted to mount her in the worst way. Thoughts of those tits covered in oil wrapped round his lubed up dick trickled though his mind every moment that he stared down into the solid black darkness of her cleavage, the bottomless chasm in the V of her top.

Her dirty blonde hair was conservatively styled and her lipstick and makeup were a touch heavy, like she didn't want to seem lazy. Again, things that only occurred to Kevin in retrospect - the fact that she was trying hard to look pretty.

Damned unnecessary. Because between that black fitted V-neck top that made it clear that she was packing a mind-boggling pair of tits, those skin-tight jeans and the boots, Brooke was a walking wet dream: a 50's pinup model transported into the future. Those magical, gravity defying tits would jiggle every time she laughed - suspended in a bra that was definitely getting a failing grade on the cup size scale (closer to E than to DD). She was the hottest thing that he'd ever been in contact with, let alone spoken to for more than ten seconds. He cornered her the moment she stepped in the door and Miguel introduced them. And he spent the rest of the night ignoring everything else and standing between her and the eyes of every other guy that looked over in their direction. As is usually the case with these things, luck was on his side too. He had picked a stool for her near the bar and the washroom. If he wasn't pouring another drink down her throat, he was busy giving guys dirty looks until she got back from the can.

Brooke was, of all things, a photographer (her precise description was 'A fucking fabulous photographer'). She gave him her card and her job title below her name was actually 'F*cking fabulous photog'. He actually rolled his eyes and laughed out loud at the sight of it. Never mind that she should spend all her time on the other side of the camera - she actually had an incredible eye. She got out her phone and showed him her portfolio and it frankly blew him away. Her day job was framing product shots for online stores, but her real passion was work at weddings and some contract work with Marie Claire. He didn't know much about the industry himself but he knew that he wouldn't have thought twice about seeing her black and white stuff in a gallery. It was top-notch.

She laughed at all his jokes: her big bright smile shining, the lone dimple and those blue eyes each time blew his mind to pieces. He had crossed her past the point where he couldn't tell if she was laughing because he was funny or because she was drunk and she seemed to cross the line happily, eagerly almost. His hand lingered on her waist to steady her now and again and at one point, the heat from her body through the sweater was like a furnace. Her perfume was sweet and summery. He felt light-headed from the aroma of her and feeling light-headed herself, she leaned into him resting her head against his chest.

"You're really warm," she said over the din of the music.

"Don't go fucking passing out on me," he warned half-jokingly. "I didn't bring you that bottle of water for nothing."

Her eyes opened looking up at him and went wide, as if she were trying to comprehend him. And then, the realization seemed to dawn and she smiled & blushed, snuggled back against him, tugging on the front of his shirt in a weary expression and gesture that he didn't know what to make of. His arm came around her shoulder, and he screamed into her ear in a whisper if she wanted to get out of there. "I'm 20 minutes away," he said, heart in his throat. He wanted to fuck her so bad that he would have given anything, so basically admitting as much felt like he'd already lost. But he also just liked the time with her, liked how chill she was, the way she held a beer, the smart and playful back and forth. He wanted her to himself.

Her face was flushed and her eyes a little glazed when she looked up at him and screamed back. "I'm a five minute walk."

***

Shuffling her along the sidewalk like a mad man, Brooke's place was more like a three minute walk away. Let's just say he was motivated. Kevin worried that the walk would sober her up and would have happily sprung for the Uber. But Brooke tugged him along in the direction of her place before he could get his phone out.

She threw him a look over her shoulder now and again - a lascivious, sultry smile that spread slowly across her face. It was a dirty smile that had Kevin feeling like he was going to melt into a puddle of cum in his shoes. She could have told him that she was a black widow, man-hating serial killer and he'd still be basically racing her to her apartment. He was actually having a hard time coming to grips with it all - that smile was an enormous, unmistakable green light written plain as day on her face. And if he had any doubts, there was even one time as they waited before jaywalking that she turned to him pressing her full, phenomenal body against him and running her hand up along the front of his jeans.

Needless to say, his dick was giving his intentions away. He tried to kiss her but she turned on her heels and darted across the street with him in tow.

They took the stairs up to the third floor and on the landing, he'd had enough. Kevin turned her around just before she opened the door and went for it. His hands fell on her waist and then hips and he forcibly turned her to him. She did a strangely graceful half-pirouette, and let out a startled chirp before feeling his arms closing around her waist and smiling. Her lips were like an opposing magnet and she didn't resist in the least, going just a little limp in his arms as her head tilted back and her eyes closed. Their lips touched and introduced themselves, her hot breath flooded his mouth as she sighed and her arms came up over his shoulders and around his neck. They kissed and hugged and snuggled there for a wonderful moment, simply experiencing each other, savouring one another. It was the best first kiss either of them had ever had.

Breaking the kiss was like sawing off his own arm. His hand was on her cheek, his thumb brushed against those full magical lips. Those blue eyes were staring up at him, into his soul, like she had just taken a pull on a joint. He felt just as high and she saw something on his face that made her bite her lip and smile. Brooke swung the door behind her open and backed her way through pulling him closer by the front of his shirt and giggling as their lips met and parted. Then she just upped and turned and ran the last few feet to her door, Kevin in hot pursuit.

She fiddled with the keys and his head swam from the blood pooling in his dick. He had too much booze in him and too little blood left in his brain to be subtle or bashful. He had to go for it. His hands came up from behind her and gently squeezed those tits in front of her. His eyes went wide.

He almost got fucking carpal tunnel right there. They were so goddamn heavy that he thought that she had fallen forward. Instead, the sensation of his hands on her chest, gently groping her, caused her to freeze and her head to fall back against him. Her breath hitched when his fingers dared to fiddle about her nipple through her top and bra. She dropped her keys and tilted her head to the side, settling against him, gently arching her back.

Kevin's dick was jutting out of his trousers in an obvious and obscene way, poking into her wide flared ass. Her neck bared to him, his mouth fell there and he groped and dry humped her in the hallway for maybe a minute before they could hear the sound of someone approaching from the stairs. Brooke picked up her keys in a panic and open the door in a flash.

He wanted to pounce on her and in the moment of truth he missed his shot. Because Brooke took hold of him behind his neck and forcibly pivoted, throwing him against the door. Kevin wasn't the biggest guy - at 6'1" he was only 195 lbs. But her strength still surprised him enough to knock the wind out of him.

And then she blew his world to smithereens when she jumped on her tippytoes and shoved her tongue down his throat.

In that moment - cornered and backed up against her apartment door, her balloon tits threatening to burst mashed up against his chest, her hands on his neck pulling his mouth to her, her lips devouring him like he was both the first man she'd ever seen and the last man left on Earth - Brooke was everything that he'd ever dreamed of in a woman. He had made fucking her tonight his mission in life, but now, tasting her, smelling her, feeling the soft weight of her in his space, he didn't want anything else. He didn't care about his dick, or tomorrow or anything for that matter. All he wanted was to keep on kissing her, keep on smelling her, groping & grasping every inch of her body within reach.

Who could tell how long they went at it kissing there? His mind was swirling - Brooke was like a tornado that he'd been swept up in. When she finally broke the kiss, coming up for air, she was panting hard, desperately short of breath. Her forehead rested against his and their eyes met and at the sight of those shimmering pools of blue water and her kiss-swollen lips, Kevin could only pray that he wasn't drooling. Her eyes fell to her fingers as they set to the task of undoing the front of his shirt. Her lipstick was all but rubbed clean from her mouth. Kevin's lips were immediately on her cheek and then her temple and neck, anxious for all he could get and more. She squeaked out in a husky whisper, her voice deeper still because she had no air behind it - "...the couch...over...on the couch..."

She was full bodied and voluptuous, at least 170 lbs of pure woman in her 5'9" frame. But none of that mattered - Kevin was more man than he'd ever been in his whole life. He reached down, grabbed hold of her full ass in both hands and lifted her clear of the ground. Her legs came up and her boots crossed behind his lower back in time to the return of her lips to his and he trudged off in the direction she indicated resting her down on the arm of the loveseat. He was kissing down into her up-tilted mouth, hands gently on her flushed cheeks, keeping the kiss playful and her neck was nearly vertical as she finished taking off his shirt.

Kevin backed away for a second as she pulled his shirt down and behind him. Her pouty lips were parted, her eyes remained closed and she had a dazed dreamy look on her face, like she was an actual angel. She licked her lips, as if remembering the taste of him from just a moment earlier and shook her head & shoulders in a fantastical little shrug, like she was trying to shake the high away before giggling and opening her eyes. She peered up at him through her eyelashes and whispered, "You're...you're a really good kisser..." biting her lip in anticipation.

There wasn't a drop of blood left in his brain - it all just sounded like gibberish to him. So he just started kissing her again.

Her hands were busily roaming his sides before venturing to the front of his pants once more, running along the mahogany trunk of wood tenting the waistband of his trousers. It was the busy hand feeling his hard-on that woke him from the dream of her and brought him back to the reality that she wanted to fuck him! He stifled the urge to moan and broke the kiss, hands shooting beneath her waistband for the hem of that maddening skin tight Lycra top. Brooke's arms came up and he pulled the clingy material up and clear of her in one motion, barely even touching her hair in the process. He caught only the barest glimpse of her bra before she forced his mouth back down to hers but that small glimpse was more than enough confirmation...

This wasn't a girl that he was messing with. This was a goddamn WOMAN!... and he needed to man-the-fuck-up RIGHT NOW!

There was stacked...and there was whatever the hell she was. She wasn't a contender or even the number one contender. She was the goddamn heavyweight champ! They were E's for sure; the bra looked like an engineering feat akin to the wonders of the world. He'd seen whole dresses that had less material than that bra had. It looked like it had been designed for the purpose of cupping a pair of bowling balls. The thrill of the present that he'd get to open made his head swim and he pushed her back over the arm of the loveseat and followed in hot pursuit, falling atop her, not once breaking the kiss.

What came next was a haphazard, somewhat dangerous dance of mutual undressing, kissing, groping, moaning and shuffling in the small space of the loveseat. Somehow his belt got freed and somehow her fly got undone. Somehow her boots got kicked off and somehow his pants and hers were pulled off, but to ask them afterwards who did what, they'd have no idea.

They tussled and made out like a pair of teenagers that had no idea what they were doing. Despite her bouts of bossiness & the fact that he was nearly naked in her apartment, Kevin was weary of pushing too fast or assuming too much. The last four hours of his life seemed like a hard & definite break with everything that had gone before in the previous 34 years - just a whole other level of 'too good to be true'. His hand was squeezing her tits in that artless, desperate way in time to their kisses and she just kept on moaning and gasping for air beneath his weight upon her. Her legs were parted to the sides of him and his dickhead was peeking out from the elastic waist band of his boxer briefs. Snuggled in between her thighs, his fabric covered dick was rubbing on the sinkhole of her fabric covered pussy and from the look in her eyes and the way she bit her lip at the friction against her clit, he could have probably taken a chance to just slip it in. It was as the thought passed through his mind that he reached for the pocket of his pants on the floor, to fish out the rubber...