1. Debbie Do

1 Prologue

 

Debbie was my go to girl at the office. When I needed a session booked, she was the one who could do it. Even better, she would lean over at her desk revealing cleavage that went all the way from Chicago to Cleveland, She was that special kind of woman. Five foot two, with 38DD breasts always barely restrained in a low cut fashion. My eyes always wavered between her large brown eyes and incredible tits. Debbie knew it. She kept her black hair cropped short so as to never obstruct the view with distracting tresses that would thwart admiration of her magnificent breasts. When she would rise to walk to a file cabinet her tiny ass was often sheathed in fabric that would reveal panties lines if worn. Often they were not. This was in the pre-thong days. She was the best. Debbie could get me booked where others would fear to tread.

 

One Friday night after work the whole crew retired across the street to our favorite watering hole. I could only have a few because I still had a cut to do and clients were coming in first thing Monday. I didn’t want to work over the weekend so I left early. I tossed my credit card to Dave the bartender and said “My treat.” and went back to the office to do the rough cut on my KEM.

 

I had spent an hour or two and had the rough cut knocked. I was doing the last playback when I saw Debbie standing in the doorway. She held two cocktails in her hands. “Finished yet?” she asked in her low and soothing voice.

 

Debbie was wearing a sheer orange dress that accented her olive skin impeccably. The plunging V of her neck line barely constrained her overflowing breasts. I wanted to dive into that cleavage. The way the fabric flowed and simultaneously clung about her body was a sight to behold. As she poured into the room and handed me one of the cocktails I didn’t care what was in it. I wanted to be in her. I noted that she had closed the suite door and locked it so I was already plotting, but mindful because we were colleagues.

 

“Show me what you did.” she asked. So I lined up the pix and track and hit the right button and the rough cut played.

 

After the grease pencil fade out Debbie said, “Let me see it again.”  

 

I obliged. As all good editors do, I watched Debbie’s face, not the screen to gauge her reaction. It doesn’t really matter what people say, it is the way they react that counts.

 

I turned and hit the stop button at the end of the spot. When I rotated my chair back to Debbie I asked, “Well?”

 

Debbie had moved close behind my chair and when I turned I was eye to orange silk covered tits. As I tilted my head up to peer past those unbelievable boobs I saw her short cropped black mane and soft brown eyes smiling down at me.

 

“I think the clients will love it. That reminds me.”  She tossed the credit card and the signed bar tab in my lap.

 

“Oh, thanks.” I said and put the receipt and card on my desk.

 

“Now I have something else for you.” I heard her say.

 

When I turned back she began to peel the orange fabric off her shoulders. The dress fell to the floor unveiling Debbie before me in white bra and panties. The contrast between her dark olive skin and the white fabric of her undergarments drew my hand like a magnet. But Debbie slapped my hand away and she said “Uh uh, my treat now.”

 

 

There was nothing for me to do but admire the full figured woman in front of me. Such a compact yet voluptuous womanly figure deserved adoration. The short cropped hair framed a strong jaw line, soft delicate shoulders that supported her full and astoundingly firm white clad breasts that lead down to a flat tummy resulting in pristine white panties. The legs were sturdy and shapely. Compact femininity at its best.

 

“Well this is a treat.” I stammered. “Thank you.”

 

“Oh no, thank you.” Debbie said reaching  for my zipper while dropping to her knees. As she pulled it down she deftly undid the buckle on my belt with her other hand. With one stealthy movement my hips went up, my pants were pulled down, and she was running her tongue up the length of my cock which was already hard and reaching to the sky. The only hitch was at the knee where she had to work the jeans over my prosthetic leg. She knew of it and it didn’t phase her as she looked at the knob on the tip of my shaft as it bobbed in the air before her shimmering brown eyes. She reached up with both hands and  ran her fingers from base to just below the tip. Being a petite woman, except for those magnificent tits, her small hands made my average sized shaft seem longer and thicker to my visual delight. Of course when her hands reached the knob all bets were off. The head of my cock resembled a tennis ball in her small hands.

Debbie rose up on her knees just high enough to maneuver her mouth over the top of my cock and ever so slowly let her lips part as she slowly slid my dick into her mouth and as far down her throat as it would go in that position. I felt her tongue work teasingly side to side almost reaching my balls till I felt her throat open a bit with a reflexive gag.

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Debbie raised her head slowly leaving a stream saliva along the shaft as her tongue slid up the length to the tip releasing the now shimmering orb. She looked up at me with watering eyes. She swirled her tongue around the large knob and murmured, “I have heard about this,” as if speaking to a microphone, then wrapped her lips around the engorged head and sucked on it like a Tootsie Pop.

 

She paused just long enough to look at me and say, “I guess I have my work cut out for me.”

 

Debbie then proceeded to fuck me with her mouth as I have never been skull fucked before.  She was slurping, humming, and making quite a spectacle as her short black hair began to glisten with perspiration. She worked me mercilessly with lips, tongue and hands till I could contain myself no more.

 

As I spurted wildly in her throat she slowly raised her head gliding her lips tightly along my ejaculating length. When her mouth freed me she gave a last flick of her tongue to gather a bit of semen from the tip. She looked at me with her deep brown eyes while using her pinkie to pull the last bit of come from her lips to her mouth and said, “Now you owe me one.”

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November 1

Of all my nineteen years, last night was the strangest Halloween ever. As my brain reels from memories lost, repressed, or other. Only one question roils through my brain:

How did I end up in Spain when all I really wanted was to be in Tami?

Tami finally said yes and we went to a concert last night. Sure it was with her two friends Jo Jo and Maryann and there two friends, Ralph and Joe. But after a whole summer of leering at her tiny little frame as she would pass through the warehouse where I worked, her delivering papers to the shop from the front office where she worked finally paid off.

She had to be the smallest, yet perfectly femininely proportioned, woman I had ever seen. Frizzy shoulder length hair, two perfectly firm and round breasts just right for her frame, and the roundest, smallest keyster I had ever viewed, often clad in tight jeans with a large star detail etched in denim on each buttock. Oh, the possibilities I imagined as she would swish through the warehouse en-route to Annie’s office.

We had taken my huge Pontiac Bonneville so we all could go to the Cow Palace to see the New Barbarians. We had some apple wine. Tami being twenty one had bought, I and others had brought the dope and we had rocked out with Uncle Keith. Of course he was on stage, we were not.

I had dropped everyone at home and driven Tami back to work so she could pick up her car. She had keys and said she had to get something inside and wanted me to come in. Something about Halloween and all and then things just broke weird and foggy.

There was a flickering light coming from the shop. Candles were laid out on the big production table, lighting only the table and leaving the rest of the shop and it’s machines in murky shadows.

The usually distant and standoffish Tami took my hand and using stools as stairs we climbed to the center of the candle ringed table. She wrapped her arms around the back of my neck, puller herself up on her tip toes and kissed me as I had longed for her kiss these many months. I was lost. Up was down, right was left, and there was rustling in the shadows and I did not care.

Tami was naked, on her back, legs spread, arms reaching up toward me, beckoning me to mount her. As I fell towards her I perceived it as falling up. As my hands found the svelte Tami I perceived mounds and ripples of flesh. Huge encasing thighs and I was immersed in a mountain of flesh.

But it was all so soft, warm wet and inviting I entered deeper than I have ever gone before. Deeper than my dear tiny Tami could have endured on first thrust.

Because below me now I saw the thick lipped, heavily jowled  fleshly framed and many chinned Ms. Spain. Office manger, largest and sweetest woman I had ever seen. Called me her Pumpkin when ever I delivered things to her office. I was pumping in her now, her hands guiding me as I merrily bounced upon her abundance. I was loving it. All of her. The scent of her was sending me to raptures I had ever known. Her voluminous flesh fold delighted me to oblivion.

I was hearing other things though. Moans from the murky shadow. Catching fleeting glimpses off cowled and robed forms in various stages of disarray and undress,

When I awoke, here, alone in my bed, my hips were still thrusting and grinding to the sounds of Spain’s siren song.

I must work through and remember. It is just flashes. I must piece what transpired for my own sanity.

But now.

Sleep