Tribute to 'my Boobs'

This is a tribute to Zipado321, based on her story "My Boobs" and some of her other writing. It is my sincerest hope that my story can bring her out of retirement.

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Sunday Morning, 6:00 A.M.

I bet you'd be surprised at how much I've thought about you over the years. Especially considering when we met, I was giving you and the other incoming freshman your first tour of the school. Some of the freshmen girls on your tour were trying badly to flirt with me - I was, after all, not just a senior but also the tailback on the football team, and they'd no doubt seen my picture in the paper. So I flirted back, albeit harmlessly.

But you weren't like them. In fact, you didn't say anything (at least to me) the whole time. But we kept making eye contact. Do you remember? You were what, 3 years younger? But I couldn't stop stealing glances. Yes, part of it was that even then you had a really impressive chest, but there was something about the way you carried yourself that really captivated me.

I was still in that fucked up, on-again-off-again relationship with Dana. I'm sure you remember her. Cheerleader. Black hair. Pointy nose. A real bitch. We'd been dating and fighting for 2 years. But she was the first (and up until then the only) girl I'd ever been with, and though no one ever would have guessed it, I was too insecure to break up with her for good.

I still remember the first time you and I spoke. It was after school - I was heading to the locker room after football practice and you were sitting on the stairs with one of your friends. You saw me looking at you. I said "hey." You said "hey." It wasn't much, but it was enough to make me notice my heart beating just a little bit faster. As I went in the building I heard your friend ask "Do you know him?" I didn't hear your reply.

It was a few days later that I had a fight with Dana in the cafeteria. I went for a walk to cool off and saw you at your locker.

Side note: It's funny what school does to a person. In any other setting, I probably wouldn't have approached you. But in that little world, I was a celebrity. I could do whatever I wanted.

"Hey," I said again. Some opening line, right?

You didn't see me coming, and I made you jump. "Oh my god, you scared me," you said.

"I'm here to announce the prettiest girl in the hallway award," I said. Of course, there was no one else in the hallway. "But the winner wasn't here to collect, so I guess I'll give it to you."

You brushed your hair aside with your hand. You were a little nervous. "Funny guy," you said. Which is exactly what I meant about you being different. I think a lot of the other girls in your class would have acted ditzy or embarrassed or something. You were, well, just you.

"Where 'you going?" I asked.

"English," you said.

"Can I walk you there?" I asked.

"If you want."

"I'm Eddie," I said, extending my hand.

"Laura," you said.

And that's how we "officially" met. We stood outside your classroom until the bell rang. I admit, the conversation was a little awkward, but neither of us seemed to mind.

"I'll see you around," I said.

"OK," you said. Then you smiled at me. It made my day.

It's funny the role that fate plays in things like this. We might never have talked again if we both hadn't signed up for that trip to go see Les Miserables. On the way to the theater, I sat in the back of the bus with some of my friends, and you were up front. But once again, we kept catching ourselves looking at each other.

I actually had butterflies when I walked up to you in the theater. I never told you that. "You know," I said, "this is supposed to be very scary. I can protect you - but only if you sit next to me."

You laughed. I smiled. We sat next to each other. It took me 20 minutes after the show started to get up the courage to reach over and hold your hand, but I'm so glad I did. I don't remember a thing about that play, but I remember exactly how you smelled, I remember every time you looked at me, and I remember how both of our hands were sweating with an electric mix excitement and nervousness.

It hurt me to not say anything to you on the bus ride home. But it would have attracted a lot of attention - I was a senior, you were a freshman, I had a girlfriend, et cetera, et cetera. That's why I knew I had to offer you a ride home.

Life changes a lot in those years. You had to call your dad from the payphone to tell him you had a ride home. Meanwhile, I could have driven my car to Alaska and my dad wouldn't have cared as long as I was at school the next day.

We held hands again in the car. Our conversation was a little more natural, and your personality really started to come out. We got to your street and you pointed out your house to me, but I intentionally drove one house past it. I parked and unbuckled my seatbelt. My butterflies had really picked up - I could feel them beating against my stomach. I put my hand on your cheek and kissed you. You kissed back.

I wasn't sure if you'd ever been kissed before. You didn't open your mouth a whole lot, and you were a little tentative with your tongue, but you were so soft and gentle. I could feel you breathing in my mouth. Then you made an inadvertent little moan and we busted up laughing. It was the best kiss of my life.

"Thanks," you said, getting out of the car.

I was really hoping you didn't mean "for the ride."

I had a lot to think about after that. Actually, that's a lie. There was nothing to think about, except for you. I wanted to spend time with you. So I broke up with Dana. She flipped out, of course. I didn't tell her about you.

Later that week I invited you to go to a party with me. You said you probably wouldn't be allowed to go. I told you to make something up. Whatever you said, it worked.

The party was weird at first. You were uncomfortable because everyone looked at you like "who's she?" I was uncomfortable because everyone looked at me like "who's he with?" We ended up going down to the basement where some people had a movie on.

You sat on my lap in one of those loveseat/rocking chair things. We talked quietly with our faces real close to each other for a while. Then we started kissing again. Then I put my hand on your sweater. Then I put my hand under your sweater, on your stomach. We stopped kissing and looked at each other. I slid my hand up. My fingers ran across the bottom of your bra. I moved my hand up tantalizingly slowly. I cupped your breast and ran my fingers over the silky bra. Your breathing became more rapid. I slipped your bra strap down your arm, releasing your breast from its confines. I rubbed your skin. I traced my fingertips all over your nipple. I massaged. I caressed.

Then Dana and some of her friends stormed down the stairs.

"What the fuck, asshole?" she said. "Who the fuck is this?"

"Laura, Dana; Dana, Laura," I said, making eye contact with no one.

"You just couldn't wait, could you?" she said. "You're a fucking asshole, you know that?"

"Just get the hell out of here," I said.

Dana turned to leave. "By the way," Dana said to you. "He only likes you for your tits."

"Doesn't say much for you, bitch," you said. I was so proud of you. That was such a great comeback.

We left the party and I drove you home. I apologized like 500 times. I was sure you were never going to want to get together again. But the way you kissed me before you got out of my car told me otherwise. I fought the urge to touch your chest. I didn't want you to think Dana was right – it wasn't the only reason I was with you, but god damn it was amazing.

The worst day of my life was right after that. Literally the very Saturday after it was announced I made All-Conference at tailback, I tore my ACL. I left the field in an ambulance. You had a friend drive you to my house Sunday night. You brought me a pint of that cookie dough ice cream.

We were in my room, sitting on my bed. I had my (now) bad leg draped over the side in that stupid knee brace. You tried to cheer me up, but you knew how much I loved football, and I told you I had probably played my last game. So you pulled at the top of your blouse and tore off a button. My blood started stirring. I stared at you.

"What?" you said. You pulled again and another flew off. To use a bad metaphor, I went from zero to 60 in record time.

"It's hot in here," you said, and another button was gone. You were destroying your shirt right in front of me. I was captivated. Paralyzed. Then you tore it off. You were just in your bra. I stared.

"Can I help you with something?" you said.

"Uh... I was just wondering if, um, that was the end of the show."

"What, you want me to take this off?" you said, and unclasped your bra. You were sitting on my bed, naked from the waist up, with your de-buttoned shirt on the ground next to you, and my parents were still in the house. I had never been so turned on.

And of course, this was the first time I got to see your most prominent features. I was totally awed. I couldn't look away - memorizing their fullness, their every turn, and those sexy nipples. You had curves that grown women would pay for, and you were 3 years younger than I.

To the extent that my hobbled self could attack you, I attacked. I'm sorry if I didn't kiss you long enough before I had my mouth and hands all over you, but you can't imagine the effect you had on me. I didn't play with your tits - I worshipped them.

I didn't think you would have gone any further on your own. You weren't experienced enough. But I had just been in a relationship where every fooling around session ended in sex, a blow job, or a hand job. And I was extremely aroused.

"Do you want to touch me?" I asked.

"Um, I guess," you said. Once again you came off as confident in the face fear. You don't know how sexy that makes you.

"Why don't you start, and if you don't like it, you can stop," I said.

"OK," you said.

I had athletic shorts on, so I pulled up the leg and pulled my cock out that way. The way you took it in your hand looked almost scientific, like you were seeing some new species for the first time.

"Put your hand around it, like this," I said, wrapping my hand over yours. "Now go up and down. Slow at first, then get faster."

And you did. When it comes down to it, a hand is a hand, so to say that it felt any different than any other hand would be kind of stupid. But it was your hand, and it felt so amazing knowing that you were doing this to me. I fondled your left breast as you worked on me.

A couple of times I asked you to go faster, but other than that, you were great. Some girls complain about arms getting tired or wrists hurting. But you were perfect. It took maybe three minutes. I exploded in your hand, and it flew everywhere. It got in your hair, on your arms, and mostly your pants. I showed you how to bring me down slowly. I kissed you and asked you how it was. You said it was fine.

I gave you one of my shirts - long enough to cover the marks on your pants - and told you not to rely on water only to get the stains on out. Best to just put it in the wash.

We had a few more trysts like that one before the Homecoming dance. What a disaster that almost was. You heard a rumor I was asking Dana to go with me and we had our first fight. Then the Homecoming committee selected Dana and me as homecoming king and queen, and we had to dance together. She and I didn't talk the whole time but you were totally pissed anyway. The dance was in the auditorium of the old town hall so we walked upstairs to discuss it. I explained to you that there was nothing between her and me anymore. You were upset because you thought I didn't want people knowing we were a couple and it seemed like the only thing we did was make out.

I told you that wasn't true and took your hand. We danced, just the two of us, alone on the second floor. Then we kissed. Then we found a bench to sit on and I felt you up over your dress. I unzipped my zipper and you took my cock out. I kissed you and then asked if you wanted to try something new. You said sure. I asked you to get on your knees and take me in your mouth. You did.

I was in heaven. Somehow, you knew exactly what to do. With a heavenly view down the front of your dress, it wasn't long before you had me. I gripped the sides of the bench as hard as I could, and then heard that familiar wet, sloshing sound, and I knew I had filled up your mouth.

You pulled off me slowly. There was no gagging. You smiled at me, and then swallowed - twice, actually, before you got it all. I never told you this, but you did that so well, I had the most eerie feeling that you'd done it before, like some dark secret that you'd never told me.

We went back down to the dance, and held each other close. I told you for the first time that I loved you. You said you loved me too. I don't know if we really knew what we were talking about, but I know at that moment I could have just given everything up and run away with you. You made me feel so alive. We left the dance holding hands – the first time we really did so in front of other people (I don't count the time in the theater since no one could see).

The next few months were the best in our relationship. It was sad but true: it took other people getting used to seeing us together for us to feel comfortable being seen together. That's school.

Remember the Christmas (or should I say "Winter Holiday") dance? In my car in the parking lot? That was the first time I touched you "down there." We were in the midst of doing our usual thing when I told you I was going to touch you. Up until then I didn't know if you wanted to (I know, I know, I was naïve). You let me put my hand up your dress.

You went crazy. You kept grabbing my wrist (you even put nail marks in me) because your clit was so sensitive. I thought I was doing it wrong or something, but you assured me you were just really stimulated. You talked me through it, though. You had me go much slower than I would have on my own. You also had me make tiny little circles around your clit.

When you came, it wasn't what I was expecting. You didn't yell or cry out. You kind of bit down and pushed. "Ungh" is the best onomatopoeia I can come up with for how you sounded. But you said you were done.

You finished me of by hand, albeit unfortunately, as watching you come got me so excited that I blew my sperm in your hair, on your face and on your chest. We had nothing to clean it up with, so you just kind of rubbed it in. I asked you if you were OK, because you looked kind of, well, humiliated. But you told me you were the happiest girl in the world.

My torn ACL also meant no basketball, so I had nothing to keep me from spending most of the next few months with you. I remember so vividly the time we pretended to be brother and sister at that restaurant but kept getting fresh with each other. That was hilarious. I remember you getting the worst cold of your life and missing school and I would come visit you during lunch and we'd fool around. Then I remember getting the worst cold of my life. I remember being in the back room at a party with two other couples while we were all making out and how they all stopped and watched as you aimed my cock at your tits while I came. I remember my buddy Mike saying "holy shit" as you sat there naked and covered in my come while I looked for some tissues.

That was the beginning of the end. It was after that night that Mike first started talking to me about switching partners. He was dating our friend Holly and everybody knew Holly was up for anything. I told him you and I weren't like that. But sure enough, at the next party the four of us were all in the same room and Holly, who had been buddy-buddy with you all night, brought it up in a way that made me think you couldn't say no. She said something like "Hey hon, let's show these guys what they're missing."

Before I could say anything, Holly was climbing on top of me and Mike was leading you to the other side of the room.

Holly went down on me, and she was really good at it, but I couldn't focus. I kept watching you and Mike. He had taken your shit off and had you on your knees in front of him. You were sucking him off with your usual grace and dexterity, and he was completely mauling your tits with his hand. I mean, he was not being gentle at all. He kept saying "You've got such a sweet mouth, baby. Sweet mouth and sweet tits." Mike didn't know a lot of adjectives.

When I came, it was not so much what Holly was doing but from watching the two of you. When you pulled Mike out of your mouth, he kept saying "face and tits, baby, face and tits." You let him blast away, and as I watched, you got another man's come all over your hair and down the front of your chest. You knelt there for a minute looking at him, rubbing sperm into your tits.

"Eat it, eat it off your tits," he said to you. I could see from your eyes you were thinking about it, but Holly interrupted.

"Don't be an asshole, Mike." Holly had swallowed my remains, so there wasn't any clean-up necessary for her. She took your arm and led you into the bathroom off the bedroom. As horribly guilty as I felt, I started getting hard again watching the naked senior Holly carefully attending to the removal of her boyfriend's spunk from your naked (but more voluptuous) freshman body.

Things changed for us after that. You never said anything was wrong, but I noticed you weren't as exuberant or playful as you used to be. I also couldn't get the image of my friend fucking your mouth out of my head. Sex can get to be some heady stuff.

We started spending less and less time together. Maybe we both needed a break, I don't know. It was during a period of about a week where we didn't say much to each other that I stared talking to Dana again.

To make a long story short, she convinced me that it would be better for us to go to Senior Prom together since it was the culmination of our four years and we owed it to each other. It was stupid logic, but I was a stupid guy.

It didn't take you long to hear about it either. When you told me you knew, you didn't even seem mad. But I could tell there was some hurt in there. Something in the way you told me to "have a good time."

I wish I could have told you that nothing happened with her, but you know differently. After the prom we went to someone's beach house and I had sex with her a couple times. When we got back to town, she started up with all the relationship crap all over again and I couldn't take it any more. I missed you. I told her I just couldn't do it.

My life had taken a totally unexpected turn. Everybody knows that even the most worshipped senior loses all status after graduation. But I never thought I would have spent the few months between graduation and starting higher education trying to make up with you. I followed you, I called you, I wrote to you. It was damn near stalking.

Finally I must have said something cute or pathetic enough that you granted me one date. It was a week before I was leaving town. We went to a Chinese restaurant, and you wore a yellow summer dress that could have paralyzed a renaissance painter. The dinner conversation, to my surprise, was really easy and fun. It was so nice to be able to talk to you again. I was shocked when you reached over and held my hand. I didn't deserve it.

We went for a walk after dinner. We found a patch of grass in the trees at the park and sat until it got dark. It seemed to me you were not in the mood for any funny business, so I finally said that we should get going. You said something about not wanting to walk through the park in the dark with your sandals on, so being the gentlemen I was, I started to carry you piggy-back. I picked you up and walked with you on my back. I was dying from the contact with you. Then you rubbed my nipple through my shirt.