Testing, Testing, 1, 2, 3, Testing...
By DDDDave
"Big Tits, Big Dicks and Fantasy Fucking"
(o )( o) (o )( o) (o )( o) (o )( o) (o )( o) (o )( o) (o )( o) (o )( o)
Sitting on my favorite bench I watched as college cuties paraded by. Short skirts, tight shorts, cut off tee shirts, skin tight knit tube tops. All the girls were wearing sexy clothes to class. And none of them seemed to be sporting anything smaller than a D-cup. And that particular girl was under five feet tall and those beauties jutted from her chest as if rocket propelled!
I love watching women parading proudly in public, showing off all that they have to offer. I'd never seen so much quivering, jiggling, bobbing, jostling and generalized movement under blouses, sweaters and crop tops than I had in the past weeks. And there was more than exhibitionism going on. We were experiencing a return to the days of free love that I had heard so much about.
I'd had my share of hot women in the past couple of months. Alice and Jillian had been only the beginning. I had had randy, enthusiastic sex with over half a dozen women. It seemed that there was a steady stream of willing eager, well built women looking to share their bodies with me. And those bodies, with out fail, were stacked! It was amazing! And the women on campus were still changing. Inches were being added here and subtracted there. It all added up to having the average bra sale in town rise from a B cup to a D cup! And Double D's were catching up fast!
And I was also changing. The nerd was history. I was now a fit, mid-twenties stud. I had a six pack. A constantly rampant dick that stretched over 9 inches when hard. And that stretched every cunt it penetrated since it was over 3 and 1/2 inches thick. I'd never had a complaint from the women I'd fucked. They all seemed to love it!
I was enjoying life!
Sitting on that bench, I felt something odd, like a subtle dimming of the light. There was no outward change. The sun continued to shine brightly. It was as if a filter had come between me and the rest of the world.
"Hows it going, sport?" It was The Presence, back again.
"Really, really well, thanks," I replied.
"So glad to hear it", there was a tinge of something in It's voice.
"What brings you around," I asked.
"Well, its a little embarrassing, sport".
"Don't shilly-shally, get to the point," no way to address a God but I hoped he would get to the point and leave me alone. Things were going so well. I was afraid it might get screwed up. Messing with Gods can get you in trouble!
"Well, I made a little bet with another of my peers. You know, for fun." He really did sound apologetic.
"I guess that I'm somehow involved in this little bet?" I hazarded.
"Well, yes, sport, you are. So you are going to be tested in the next couple of days. Now don't worry," he hastened to add, "nothing bad is going to happen to you, it's just a little game. And I'll be backing you up, helping out, so to speak. You have nothing to worry about. Just play along and don't freak out. Everything, you that is, will be fine!"
I wondered what was really happening. But I knew that there was nothing I could do about it now.
I was about to ask further when the filter lifted and I was once again along with my thoughts and my girl-watching.
Two days later I got a notice from the administration. One of the more generous alumni was thinking about endowing a chair in ancient and comparative religions. He wanted to interview me as a potential recipient.
On the appointed day Mrs. Anderson, that mountain of a woman, barely acknowledged me while directing me to meet our benefactor at the Chancellors'.
So Wilbur "Will" Brubaker and his wife met me in the Chancellor's office for the interview. He was about what I expected. Over weight, pompous and older. His wife was not expected.
Apparently many, many, years younger than her husband, Mrs. Barbra Brubaker was obviously a trophy wife. And what a trophy! Over six feet tall even without the stiletto heels she was wearing, she towered over her husband. Even with the co-eds getting hotter and hotter thanks to The Presence, this was a spectacular specimen! It took all my concentration to remember that her husband was even in the room!
Her riot of blonde hair cascaded midway down her back. It contrasted with the skin tight, black knit dress she wore. Her minuscule waist was emphasized by a white belt, four inches wide. The hem ended almost equidistant between her hips and her knees. The fabric clung desperately to her unbelievable curves. A zipper strained to hold the halves of the top together over a pair of enormous bowls of flesh that powered outward obscenely. Her hips flared dramatically below that tiny waist. Her lips were plush pleasure pillows, her expertly applied make up emphasized sultry brown eyes behind long sweeping eye lashes.
They sat on the sofa while I occupied an arm chair across the coffee table from them. Mrs. Brubaker made a production of crossing her mile long legs while smiling benignly at me. I made a point of not glancing at her legs. I was sure that there was more thigh being exposed than would be good for my libido to admire.
None the less I felt a stirring in my loins. This was not going to be an easy afternoon to get thru.
It got no easier. Mr. Brubaker launched into a long, drawn out explanation of how he had amassed his wealth and how he intended to improve things at The Institute of Technology and Science. He was a very long winded, pompous individual.
As he yammered on and on, Mrs. Brubaker recrossed her legs several times. I could not help but notice that each time she did there was more and more toned, tanned thigh on display. I caught her smiling at me when she noticed I was glancing at those legs. There was a flicker of amusement in her smirk, a devilish look of enjoyment in the way she was drawing my attention. She arched her eyebrow at me while favoring me with a dazzling smile.
Despite my best intentions I found I was giving more focus to the remarkable Mrs. Brubaker and her amazing pulchritude than to Mr. Brubaker with his amazingly dull tale of business success.
