CHAPTER 6: TITANESS
Introduction: The next chapter in the supposed adventures of a prep school teacher in the 1950s and 1960s.
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So, the New Year began, it seemed, without potential entanglements. Bianca's replacement was a middle-aged man, and it was not till I took a football team to a near-by school that I came across a possibility. For presiding over the tea that followed the game was a woman whose size was impressive. I'll call her Carmen, because she was Hispanic in appearance.
She was as tall as me, about six feet, and probably weighed more, because she was built on a generous scale. A mass of shining, dark, naturally curly, hair hung down over her broad shoulders, beneath which jutted out, and out, a massive bosom. Beneath that, her waist was surprisingly small. Beneath that, her hips swelled into an enormous bottom.
It was tempting to regard her, wielding the big enamel teapot, entirely in terms of her voluptuous proportions, and to be daunted by her size. But our eyes met as she handed me my tea, and a rapport was sparked, which left me restive, anxious to learn more about her. I have found that sex usually begins with eye-contact. And the opportunity arrived when her school's team took my boys off to the gym to play table-tennis, under the supervision of their PE teacher.
Carmen invited me into the staff-room, empty late on a Saturday afternoon, where there was a roaring fire. Once settled in armchairs we began to talk without hesitation. I gave her my brief history and she outlined her own. She was thirty-four, unmarried, fresh from working in the Far East. I sensed there had been intimate, and sad, events in her life, and I wanted to know her more, and was wondering how I was going to manage this. I had no car and our schools were twelve miles apart.
I was pretty sure she found me interesting, too, probably because she knew that I was attracted to her and undaunted by her size. She asked me if I would like to stay for supper. My boys would be taken back or home by the parents that had brought them, and me, over there. She would drive me back after the meal.
It was a pleasant evening, dining with three colleagues at the top table, and afterwards we adjourned to the staff room fire for coffee. Carmen and I were relaxed and communicative, she narrating stories of her adventures abroad. Then we were in her little car heading back, and then we were sitting still outside my school and I was wondering if it were all right, so soon, to kiss her. But we turned to each other naturally and began to kiss.
We began with a good-night sort of kiss and progressed into something much more passionate, and inspired by this I plunged my hand inside her coat and felt for her breast. The kissing continued and I began to undo the buttons of her coat. The kissing still continued and I was dealing with the next set of buttons, on her dress.
I was not hurried or furtive or fumbling. This was as it should be. She flinched and laughed, breaking the kiss, as my cold hand rested on her stomach as it sought the lower edge of her huge bra.
'From the top,' she suggested, and I sank the questing hand into her deep, deep cleavage and spread my fingers across a breast.
'Sorry my hand's cold,' I said.
'It'll warm up in there,' she replied, 'But it's a bit awkward in here. Could we adjourn to your room?'
Late on a Saturday evening there was no-one about as we entered and made our way upstairs. My room was warm and we needed to continue from where we had left off outside. So we resumed the long, deep kiss, and, with her help, I removed the dress and blouse and there was the bra, with the great cleavage above the cups. They were rather bowls than cups.
And at this point she said, 'If you go on you need to know I don't play at this kind of thing. You, would be starting something. Is that understood?'
'Yes,' I said. 'There is something to start, though, isn't there?'
'That's why I'm here,' she said, and with a smile, 'About to bare my bosom.'
She reached behind, undid the bra and drew it off. Released, her breasts sagged a little, but remained firm. They were, of course, the biggest breasts I had ever seen, in works of art or in real life. The nipples, hardening with the change of temperature, and the areolas, were dark brown. I lifted the left one in my hand. How heavy it was! I licked the nipple.
She put a hand behind my head and drew me closer, and asked, 'Do you like them?'
I detached my lips long enough to say, 'They are so beautiful I can hardly believe them.'