"Hi Jim," said the phone to my ear. Jess's voice was unmistakable but it always surprised her when I recognised it after only a few words. It was a cross between a smokers cough and the receptionist at a massage parlour. She could make a fortune at telephone sex, the gravelly voice and the sexy breathing could stir even the coldest of cocks.
"Hi Jess."
"Christ! How do you do that? Two words uttered and you know whose calling, you got caller ID or something?"
"Jess, you know you've got the sexiest voice this side of the Urals. It's not that hard really." Which was true, the base tones clearly came from deep within her cavernous chest, and it was truly cavernous. The rest of her was built to match, a truly big busty woman. "That voice could replace viagra."
"Ha fucking ha. Anyway it's obviously not working on Paul." Sniff.
"Oh shit, not again babe?" I'd called her babe for years, I really can't remember why. We'd only ever been friends, good friends, but no benefits, if you get my drift.
"Yes again." Another sniff, "Can I come round for your unique brand of psycho therapy later?"
"Sure, say about 8. I'll chill the sauvignon and find the kleenex, poor babe."
"Fuck the kleenex, just a jumbo kitchen roll: twin pack! See you later." Jess was clearly having man trouble again and I was usually the obvious shoulder to cry on.
We'd known each other since secondary school, when those massive boobs had started to make an appearance. She'd always been a big girl but her boobs were truly spectacular. We all teased her mercilessly, just like the evil brats we were, refusing to see the loveable, warm, caring person underneath. Somehow the rest of her kept growing to balance her proportions and, equally inexplicably, we became friends, just friends, hence her call.
The bell rang and I opened the door to be confronted by a rather upset looking Jess. Her long dark hair was tied back in a pony tail, her light cotton summer blouse fell loosely from her spectacular chest revealing a circle of bare flesh just above her skirt. She threw her arms round me and gave me a hug.
"Where's that fucking wine, Jim. I need wine and I need it now!" We poured a glass or two down our necks, via my cheap wine glasses, and I waited for the monologue. I'm a good listener and Jess knew it.
"The fucking fucker's gone and fucking fucked off!" She never pulled her punches with men who displeased her, actually Jess just never pulled her punches.
"Will he be back? Or do you want him back?"
"No to both!" I then got the full story on what had caused the bust up. I had to admit, it did sound terminal and she'd been brooding over the carnage for over a week.
"Why can't all men listen like you?" She said rhetorically, as we polished off the first bottle. This was always going to be a two bottle problem.
We tucked into the second bottle, with a little less verve that the first, and slumped on the couch in front of the telly. We weren't drunk by any means, just mellow, and the movie was getting raunchier by the minute.
"Oh my God that's so hot! Lucky bitch getting done by him... He can do me any time he likes!... Do you think they're only acting?...Or is he actually doing her?...Shit that's hot... Surely he must have an erection?...He couldn't be doing that without getting one unless he's gay... Oh fuck, I do hope he's not gay. Such a fucking waste!"
"No I haven't heard any rumours about him, I think he's straight, babe." And she snuggled up close.
"So what's he doing with his cock, that's what I want to know. Has the lucky bitch got it deep inside her? They just have to be fucking for real. Nobody acts that convincingly." She was getting quite turned on and, I have to confess, so was I.
The snuggling got closer, I put my arm protectively around her shoulder and felt the warmth of her unfettered breasts. She'd always said that the first thing she did on getting home from work was to remove her bra. She claimed it was such a relief. 'Big tits,'she'd said, 'come at a price.'
Anyway, I was benefiting from the warmth of her massive chest when she shot me a glance.
"You're getting turned on, aren't you?"
"A bit," I confessed, "but who wouldn't? Those two are at it like rabbits and your boobs are resting on my chest."
"Oh poor little Jim. I have to carry them round all day and you moan about having them resting on you for an hour or so."
"I'm not moaning!"
"You always made fun of my tits at school. I though you didn't like them."
"That was just kids being cruel, we were all just gaging to get our hands on them, literally."
"Really?"
"Yes really!"
"Well, I just love having my boobs massaged while watching a hot film."