“You insulted my friend,” my sister Alice was saying for the hundredth time, loud and angry. “You were pissed and you insulted her. You embarrassed me you cretin. Look at you… you can barely open your eyes you were so pissed last night.”
Alice wasn’t wrong. I was in a bad place. Way too much beer was taking its toll on my body and the pain only got worse when the sunlight crept between my eyelids. I was clinging to the small kitchen table in Alice’s apartment, wishing I could reach the coffee that was next to my hand.
Somehow my first weekend away from my new job had come to this – rather than a relaxing weekend walking the city streets and taking in the sights with my sister, I’d gone with her to her friend’s party, had no one to talk to and drank way too much. Apparently the really bad part was when I asked her friend and my host, Molly, if her tits were real. Which, probably wasn’t such a bad thing to do, or outlandish, considering Molly’s rack, had it not been the first thing I’d said to her all night beyond, “Hello, nice to meet you.” There it was - me, at my inebriated, tactful best.
“I’m sorry, okay.” I tried to quell the onslaught of a scorned sister. It was a small gesture that was received with more scorn.
“Sorry,” Alice shrieked, “It’s not me you should be sorry to, it’s Molly. You should go round there, right now, and apologize. She doesn’t deserve being talked to like that by her friend’s idiotic little brother.”
I sort of half-nodded, turned away from the volume and wondered how to make the pain go away.
“Have you got any Aspirin?”
****
In the end it was just after lunch when I felt well enough to do something about the requested apology. I didn’t feel sober enough to drive round to the scene of the previous night’s party and Alice refused to drive me, so I tapped the address into my phone and set off on foot, happy to be out of Alice’s audible range for a while.
I knocked the door of Molly’s apartment and backed away, down a couple of steps, when I heard some movement behind the door.
Molly opened the door to her apartment and scowled down at me. Way to make me feel better.
“I… I just came to say sorry… for last night.” It was like I had a stutter now, another affliction to add to my broken head.
Molly gave a quick “humph” and then a thin smile spread across her face. “Yes, you were a bit of a dick.”
There wasn’t much to disagree with there, so I kept quiet.
Molly stood aside a little and motioned for me to enter her apartment. “Come in. It looks like you could use a few minutes to sit down and maybe some coffee.”
Again, there was nothing to disagree with; Molly’s assessment was totally accurate.
Molly had probably spent most of the morning tidying up the apartment because it looked a whole lot better than I remembered it. Not a single piece of glassware was left on view and there was no evidence of that big bowl of chips that someone had tipped over and then been stomped into the carpet. The air didn’t smell of alcohol and smoke, but was heavy with some kind of air freshener that she’d obviously used to obliterate the odors of the previous night.
I sat on her sofa and leaned back while she asked from the kitchen how I wanted my coffee. I managed a weak, “Great.” when she suggested straight-up black.
When Molly brought the coffee in she pulled up a small table to my side of the sofa and placed a steaming cup on it for me. She got her own drink, sat sideways at the other end of the sofa and pulled her feet up in front of her. She looked content and, despite the circumstance, I didn’t feel the least uncomfortable.
“I expect Alice made you come over.” Molly sipped from her mug.
“Kind of,” I admitted, “but I think I probably was a bit of a dick, and you do deserve an apology. I’m really sorry. I was really drunk.”
Molly nodded. “Alice can be a bit prim and proper at times but, yes you were a bit out of line. I can’t imagine where you found enough beer to get in the state you were in.”
I sighed and recalled, “I’m pretty sure there was some wine involved too. It’s hard to be sure. There was a lot of booze around.”
As I had observed the previous evening, Molly looked spectacular to my strained eyes. I knew that she was a few years older than Alice, who was six years older than me, so that put Molly closer to 35 than 30, but she was looking good at whatever age she was.
The first thing you noticed about Molly was the huge bush of curly locks that she wore long and cascading around he shoulders. Her brown hair framed her young-ish features and ready smile but the casual observer might not get to those deep hazel eyes before the noticed her figure. While not exactly a stick insect, Molly was thin with a layer of latent puppy fat that filled out her jeans nicely and probably added to the impressive size of her breasts – the subject of my ill-advised comment the night before.
As I sat and cradled my coffee I glanced frequently over at Molly, trying not to let my gaze linger on her boobs, but knowing I was failing miserably.
Molly was more relaxed about the whole thing than I could ever have expected, but I guess that she’d lived with the “problem” every day of her adult life so maybe it wasn’t so surprising. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it before,” she said matter-of-factly. “Men, and boys, seem to be infatuated by breasts, and these are… noticeable, I guess.” Her eyes darted down to the breasts in question.
They sure were that, I managed not to say it out loud. “We are a little… predictable, at times. Men, I mean.” I managed a limp smile.
“Anyway,” Molly reached around to place her mug on a table, “Consider yourself forgiven. It’s not like I haven’t made a few verbal mistakes in my time. It’s nice to meet you by the way, Alice has told me about you a little. She’s very proud of her little brother, so I hope she gets over her outrage soon.”
“She will,” I assured Molly. “She’s okay, just a little uptight at times. And not sympathetic to hangovers.”
Molly laughed and shared a few stories about when she first came to town and met Alice. It was obvious that they were good friends, but more and more I was realizing that they lived at the opposite ends of of the stress scale. The more time I spent with Molly the more relaxed she came across.
As an hour sped by my head started to clear and I found myself turning on the sofa to face her more and more. Molly continued to have her bare feet up on the sofa, her knees under her chin, almost like she was hiding her breasts, but the outline of her bottom and the soft mounding between her legs was easy to see between her ankles in the lines of her jeans.
“So,” she looked at me with a coyer smile than I’d been used to, “are you one of those guys obsessed by boobs, or was last night just an isolated incident?”
Suddenly I felt the heat of embarrassment and excitement as I took in the topic of her question. “I’m not obsessed…” I offered, trying to come up with an appropriate elaboration.
“So you just singled out mine for your attentions?”
“Well, not exactly…” I stumbled, “but they were hard to miss last night.”
“And you really thought they were fake?”
“Not exactly…” I felt like the moment was running away with me now, Molly was cornering me for some reason. “I guess I just wondered if they had been… enhanced.”
Molly smiled. “Do you still want to know?”
My mind raced, immediately thinking of a hundred different ways she might offer to prove their authenticity. “Yes.”
“Well, they are real.” Was all she said, dropping her knees a little to allow me to see more of their shape beneath her t-shirt and looking down at them herself. “All real.”
My mind had been racing and predominant among my thoughts was that Molly was going to offer to show me, or let me feel, how real they were. When she simply said, “They are real.” it was a deflating moment. It had no right to be deflating, but the prospect of seeing her boobs was exciting. My mind had just been way ahead of the moment and I figured I’d misread Molly’s intentions.
“Let me get you another drink.” She stood up and took my mug.
“I should be going,” I semi-protested. “I’m feeling a whole lot better now, thanks.”
Molly dismissed my protestations. “Hang around,” she insisted. “I have a few questions for you. Unless you need to get back to Alice, of course.” Molly smirked.
I waited a couple of minutes and wondered what Molly could possibly want to ask me. I was enjoying her company now though, so an imminent exit wasn’t something I wanted. Who didn’t like having fun conversations in the company of a beautiful woman?
Molly placed my refilled mug on the table next to me and retook her position at the other end of the sofa. “So…” she began, giving her question a big verbal build up, “tell me… is that bulge in your jeans real?”
Before I could summon an answer I felt my face flush and was suddenly super-aware of the erection that had developed in my jeans. Molly’s face wore a wicked grin now that I couldn’t discern as playful or depicting revenge. She calmly sipped at her drink and enjoyed my discomfort as I shuffled a little, hoping to hide a little of the bulge.
I was left with nowhere to go. “It’s real.”
“All of it?” Molly’s eyebrows rose. “Looks impressive. You sure it’s not padded?”
I shook my head and gulped away the lump that had come into my throat. “It’s real.”
Molly didn’t say anything for a few moments. I could kind of see now that she was having fun rather than being cruel, but she was an expert at raising tension. When she did speak it was after a sip of her drink and in a very measured tone, “Prove it.”
I took a deep, involuntary, breath and let her words sink in. It was a moment when I could easily have made my excuses and leave, but it was also a moment that had suddenly charged with more sexual tension than I’d known in my life to that point.
“You mean…”
“Yes.” Molly was matter-of-fact and positive. “Prove it. Take it out.”
I could have simply walked out, no doubt about that, but I didn’t want to. The desire to stay and see what happened was overwhelming and I think that was exactly what Molly thought she had engineered.
I stood up from the sofa, my eyes fixed on Molly, and started to unbuckle my jeans. Pulling apart the snap, I then slid down the zipper and slid the jeans half-way down my thighs. The bulge in my underwear was impossible to miss. There was very little expression on Molly’s face and when I looked to her for confirmation she simply made a small nod of her head towards my crotch that said, “Go on.”
I pulled the waistband over the head of my erection and down to reveal my throbbing cock. The head was a deep red color, flushed with excitement and my shaft pointed straight up. My cock twitched as she started at it, her face inscrutable.
“Certainly looks like it’s all yours, I’ll give you that.” She conceded. “I guess you were telling the truth.”
“Were you?” I smirked and nodded at her chest. “Can you prove it?”
“I don’t need to,” Molly dismissed. “I’m not getting my boobs out just to appease your curiosity. You can sit down again if you like.”
I moved to put my cock away and she interrupted. “No need to put it away,” she advised. “It’s fine as it is. You might want to pull your jeans all the way off though. You might be more comfortable like that, and we don’t want you uncomfortable.”
By now I was happy to go along with whatever Molly said, despite her tease of refusing to show her breasts. I pushed my jeans down my legs, followed by my underwear, and then stepped out of them. I sat back down on the sofa, my cock standing to attention between my legs and up the front of my lower belly. Molly nodded. ”That looks more comfortable.”
“Comfort” was relative at that point – I was physically in no discomfort, but the tension in the air was stifling and my desire to know what happened next was enormous.
The conversation that followed – about my job and where I lived – was so mundane that I wondered if the whole situation wasn’t a strange dream. Molly was calm, and matter of fact as we talked, not paying any particular attention to my naked thighs and happy cock as it pulsed and occasionally twitched. As the conversation moved around to Alice and her friendship with Molly I felt the pressure in my cock subside a little and my member start to deflate. Maybe it was me getting comfortable with the situation, maybe it was thinking about my sister that caused the deflation, but I was softening quickly now.
Molly noticed. I watched as her eyes switched down to my lap a couple of times, then she shuffled her position a little, presumable to get a better view of my shrinking manhood.
“That’s interesting.” She broke the thread of the conversation and from the way she was staring at my crotch there was no doubt what she found interesting. “Looks like you’re having a blood flow problem there.” She chuckled.
“I…” It was hard to know what to say, I was young and not used to relaxation like that in the presence of a beautiful woman.
“Shame,” Molly shuffled her leg out towards me, planting her bare foot in my lap. “I kind of liked seeing it standing up there.” Her foot started to gently massage the soft skin of my semi-hard cock. “You think we can do anything about that?”
“You already are.” I observed, the touch of her skin starting to revive my erection.