Danny s Cleavage Part 5 of 6
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Danny?s Cleavage ? Part 4 Of 6 free porn video
Danny's Cleavage - part 4 of 6
In which the changes in Danny's chest continue, his Mother buys him some
girl's blouses, he learns that Wil is wearing girl's panties, and he
thinks about wearing a bra to school.
By the following spring though, I really could notice a change in my
chest. My nipples themselves were a little larger, and more of a pinkish
color than the brown "boy's nipples" they had been, and they were kind
of, like, "puffy," or something, and stuck out a little more from my
chest. And I'm not sure how to describe it but the area under my nipples
seemed to be a little "thicker," or "fuller," or "fatter" or something.
I noticed that it took a little more of the "ointment" to cover them
when I played with them at night, and it also seemed like it took a
little less of the tissue paper to fill the cups of the bra I wore at
home. But unless you really looked at them, you wouldn't notice the
change so I just chalked it up to one of the changes that your body goes
through at puberty.
Not much happened during the summer between my freshman and sophomore
years. I tried to get a job at a mall - and didn't. Ended up making a
little money by mowing yards, washing cars and walking dogs in our
neighborhood, but that was about it. Plus, when you don't have your
driver's license and have to rely on your friend's parents for
transportation, or worse when you have to beg you Mom to take you
somewhere, it's a pain in the ass. I did notice that when I just wore a
T-shirt on the hot days that you could just barely notice my nipples
pressing against the fabric of my T-shirt. Now, they weren't really
sticking out or anything, but if you looked you could notice them.
Wil and I were relaxing by the community swimming pool one hot summer
day - just kind of lying on our towels on the ground with our heads
propped up on the backpacks that held our clothing. We both had on
really dark sunglasses which were great because we could stare at the
girls as much as we wanted to and they couldn't tell that we were doing
it. Every so often one of us would spot a girl with a really spectacular
set of knockers and we'd elbow the other one so that both of us could
enjoy the view. Because of my fair skin I had to be careful about
getting sunburned so I'd brought a bottle of high SPF lotion and applied
it to my exposed skin every hour or so, and immediately after coming out
of the water when we had been swimming - it got to where I really was
kind of, like, doing it unconsciously.
Then I heard Wil say: "Bet that feels good. Wish I could do that," and I
was like: "What's he talking about," when all of a sudden I realized
that the last time I had applied the sunblock, that I hadn't stopped r
ubbing it on my chest and for the last five minutes or so, had kept my
right hand up on my chest, rubbing and tweaking first one of my puffy
nipples, and then the other. What's more, the pleasant sensations had
gotten me turned on and I had this really big erection straining against
the fabric of my swimsuit. It didn't seem like anyone but Wil had
noticed so I guess that it wasn't too obvious but I quit playing with
myself and quickly rolled over on my stomach till my erection went away.
Later on, as we were toweling off and getting dressed in the pool's
Men's Changing Room, I noticed how long Wil's hair had gotten and how
much time he spent on it as he was getting dressed. Like, his hair had
never been really short or anything, but now it looked as though it
hadn't been cut in a number of years and it hung several inches below
his shoulders. Well, I figured that it's his hair and he can do what he
wants to with it. But when he pulled a brush and comb out of his
backpack and spent about fifteen minutes in front of the mirror over the
sink, combing his hair and then brushing it, I was, like: "Jesus Wil,
can you quit playing around with your hair so we can get out of here and
head home before I miss supper?" He just glanced at me in the mirror and
then replied: "I want it to look nice, and besides, I'm just finishing
up now," and he gave it a few more strokes with the brush and then put
his stuff back into his backpack and we left. As we were riding our
bikes home, I was behind Wil and I had t o admit that his hair did look
really nice - slightly wavy and very full and glossy and blowing a
little in the wind as we rode along.
Around the middle of August, Mom did her annual "back to school shopping
excursion" thing. Now when she shops, it's an all-day event and I
figured that was a waste of time so I pretty much let her pick out my
clothes - well, Mom and I will look through some of the store ads and
I'll show her what I want for shirts and jeans and sweaters and stuff,
and then she'd pretty much just has to get the right size and shop
around for the lowest prices. So anyway when she got home and laid her
purchases out on the bed for me to review, I was pretty much OK with
most of the things that she had bought. There was only this one thing
that didn't seem to fit in - several white short-sleeved shirts.
First, I hadn't asked for anything like that, and there was something
about the style that looked a little funny. It wasn't till I looked at
the label and saw the "Becky Thatcher" and the "7" size that I realized
that she had gotten me several white girl's blouses. "Mom, what's with
these," I asked, holding one up. "Well," she re plied, "One of the
stores was closing out a section that sold boy's and girl's school
uniforms. I know that the style wasn't something that you had asked for.
But the 7 size is right for you and they only cost me $1.50 each. So if
you want to wear them fine, and if not, well, we'll just use them for
cleaning rags. Why don't you try one on and see what you think."
Well, I figured that if all I had to do was try one on, and then tell
Mom that I didn't like it, and that was the end of the case, that wasn't
too big a deal so when I came down to supper that night I did wear one
of the blouses. And the funny thing was - I Liked It! Well, it's not
like I was going to wear it out of the house, but the thin cotton fabric
did feel nice and soft against my skin, and the loose cut made it
comfortable to wear in the summer's heat. So I told Mom that I'd keep
them in my closet, and maybe wear them occasionally, but: "Please, no
other experimenting with my clothing."
Oh, and when I was putting on a blouse for the first time, I found that
there was an unexpected "bonus" with each one. Tucked in the front
pocket of each was a small string of fake pearls. They weren't fancy or
anything - I guess they were sort of a promotion to induce girls to buy
that particular brand. So I showed one to Mom and her comment was: "Oh,
they're pretty. They'll look nice on you." "Nice on me," I said, "Come
on, boys don't wear stuff like this." But you know Mom, once she gets an
idea in her head, there's no talking her out of it. So she insisted that
whenever I put on one of the blouses, that I also wear at least two of
the strings of pearls. On well, since I was only wearing the blouses
around the house I guessed that it really wasn't worth fighting over.
And eventually I found myself just unconsciously putting on the pearls
whenever I wore a blouse.
Wil and I were up in my room after school today and I was putting on one
of my bras and Wil saw me putting some of the ointment into each of the
cups and he asked me what I was doing. "Oh, this is just some stuff that
my Mom got me and it just, well, it makes things feel better," I said
without going into a lot of detail of what "things feel better" really
meant. I guess that didn't satisfy Wil as he kept asking questions and I
finally had to tell him that I used it as well when I played with
myself. "Man, that sounds neat," he said and before I could say anything
more he grabbed the tube, squeezed a big gob into his hand, and stuck
his hand down into his shorts and began rubbing the ointment on his
crotch. Huh, I'd never tried that before and I wasn't sure what was
going to happen.
For a minute or so nothing happened and then Wil got this smile on his
face as he said: "Wow, maybe this stuff does work. I can feel something
happening." But a minute later he asked: "Uh, Danny, is this stuff,
like, supposed to itch?" And he began scratching his crotch through his
shorts and then a minute later: "Oh, wow, it's beginning to feel really
..... ow, this stuff is burning..... I gotta wash this stuff
off," and he ran to the bathroom. I could hear the water running and Wil
was making these moaning sounds, and it didn't sound like they were
happy moans, and I was wondering whether he was really in trouble and
what I should do, when he finally turned off the water, came out of the
bathroom and returned to my bedroom. As he walked into my bedroom I
could see that he was carrying his shorts in one hand and something else
in his other hand and it was - OH SHIT his balls and dick were a bright
red and they were all swollen and puffy looking and at least twice their
usual size.
"Man, the cold water helped but they still itch like mad. You got any
Vaseline," he asked. I got my jar of Vaseline out of my dresser drawer
and handed it to him and watched as he applied a thick coating to his
swollen private parts. Then he gent ly pulled his shorts back on and
said that he was going to go home and take a very long, very cold
shower. Yeah, he really needed to do something because he was so swollen
up that he could hardly fit into his shorts and he had this huge bulge
in his crotch, and he was walking kinda funny.
When I saw him at school the next day, the first thing I did was check
out his crotch, and yeah, it was still kind of swollen but nowhere near
as bad as yesterday. "So," I asked him, "You want to come over after
school and try some more of that stuff?" "Go fuck yourself," he
responded. Well, so much for that experiment. But at least I now know
where NOT to apply the ointment - or, at least not in such a large
amount!
A couple of months into my sophomore year, the continuing changes in my
chest were more noticeable. First, my nipples were even puffier and now
stuck out about a half inch. And there was more thickness in the tissue
beneath them - maybe another half inch or so. The result was that I had
these two tiny "cones" sticking out about an inch or so from my chest.
It took less tissue to fill the cups of my bras now, and in fact the AA-
cup bras fit pretty well with almost no tissue at all. And when I was
lying in bed at night and playing with them, there was really enough
"there" to grab and cup with my hands. And a tiny little dab of the
ointment wasn't enough to cover them; it took a larger sized "glop."
Even though I had to undress in front of the other boys during gym
class, it wasn't too embarrassing for me. There were at least several
other boys who had enlarged nipples at least as puffy and large as mine
- I think it was some condition they called "gyneco-something" - so it
wasn't like I was really unusual or stood out or anything.
Wil was over at my house last night after supper and we were just
watching TV. I was wearing one of my white blouses and at one point Wil
asked: "That blouse really looks pretty on you. And those strings of
pearls go nicely with it. Where did you buy them?" Well, I had to
explain that my Mom had bought the blouses, and I didn't know what store
it had come from, and it was a closeout and there probably weren't any
left. He sounded a little disappointed at that. Then the conversation
continued on the subject of who buys what clothing in both of our
houses. I was, like, a little surprised to hear that Wil's Mom is now
just giving him a couple of gift certificates and letting him buy his
own clothes.
"Isn't that a hassle?" I asked him. "Yeah, but it means that I can buy
whatever I want," he answered, "Here, let me show you a sample," and he
looked around to make sure my Mom wasn't in the room and then stood up,
unzipped the khaki shorts that he had been wearing, and pushed them down
so that I could see that he w as wearing - PANTIES! And not just plain
ones, but white ones with pink lace trim. "Your Mom lets you wear THAT?"
I gasped. "Oh, after she got past the bras, she pretty much lets me wear
whatever I want," he said. He explained that he really liked the feel of
the sheer fabric against his skin, and that he wore them all the time
now.
"I could bring along a pair the next time I come over and you could try
them on," he offered.
"Uh, ummm, well, uh, I think I'll pass on that," I stammered. Wil looked
a little disappointed at that, but there was no way I was going to wear
girl's panties. The funny thing, though, was that as I was staring at
Wil in his white panties, I was, kind of, like, well, uh, getting turned
on and I was glad when he pulled his shorts back up so that I didn't
have to see him in his panties anymore.
Sometime after that, I noticed was that my chest area was, well, like, a
little "softer." Now some of the guys that were into gymnastics had
these really well developed pectoral muscles, and when they'd flex their
biceps their pecs would get really hard and well defined, and since
there was little fat or soft tissue over their muscles, you could see
the veins clearly defined under their skin. Well, I remembered how I
used to be able to do that - except, of course, that I wasn't as well
developed as they were. Lately though I had noticed that my pecs seemed
to have gotten bigger, or something - like, mine were at least as big as
those of the better gymnasts - and maybe even bigger than theirs. But
when I flexed my biceps my pecs didn't get hard and stand out - they
just kept their softer and more rounded look. Well, that wasn't quite
right - like, when I flexed my right bicep and then felt the right side
of my chest with my left hand, I could feel the solid muscle, but there
was this layer of soft rubbery tis sue, almost an inch or so thick
between my skin and the muscle. As I was rubbing my pecs and checking
them out, I realized how good it felt to be rubbing their warm softness,
and pretty soon had a big hard-on - and of course, there was only one
solution to that.
Wil and I had pretty much given up on his older brother's girlie
magazines for a couple of reasons. The first was that his brother had
been getting more and more of these really weird magazines - like, ones
with pictures of girls and animals - and that really turned us off. The
other reason was that we had found a number of web sites and user groups
that had the kind of pictures that we liked to look at. So whenever we
felt the need for a little stimulation, like, almost every day of
course, we'd end up over at his house or at my house browsing the
Internet and downloading pictures.
I just saved all my image files in a password-protected folder buried
within "My Documents" on my computer. But man, Wil was so organized that
he created a whole catalog structure for his photos. Like you start out
at the top and then choose either "Man," or "Woman" or "Other." And then
under "Woman" you could chose "Breasts" or "Ass" or several other
categories. And then under "Breasts" you could choose "Small" or
"Videos" or "L arge" or "Enormous" - that last category was my favorite
one. I was over at his house the other day, sitting in front of his
computer and checking out his latest photos when he came up behind me.
We'd been trading bras and checking out our most recent purchases and
when I sat down at the computer, I hadn't put a bra or a shirt back on,
I was just "topless."
Wil stood behind me for a moment, then leaned forward and rested his
hands on my shoulders. After several minutes of that he bent down till
his head was almost resting on my shoulder and his long hair was
brushing against my neck and shoulders, and then he reached around in
front of me and gently cupped my "cones" with his hands. Gosh, did that
feel good to have someone else touching them while I just relaxed and
enjoyed the sensation of someone else's hands fondling me. But then I
realized that first, I'm getting this erection, and second, I'm, like,
being fondled BY ANOTHER BOY! I reached up and pulled Wil's hands from
my chest and matter-of-factly said : "You can look but you can't touch."
Wil didn't say anything but backed away from me as I continued browsing
through his files.
The biggest problem I had with my nipples was that as they had gotten
larger, they had also grown more sensitive, and it could be downright
painful if the shirt that I was wearing was made of a fairly rough
fabric. After school yesterday I stopped off at Wil's house and a couple
of our buddies came over and we spent an hour or so playing basketball.
Well, as I was running around and jumping I could feel my nipples
rubbing against my shirt. Didn't feel too bad at the time - kind of a
turn on, actually. But by the time I got home for supper they were red
and swollen and irritated. In bed that night they were painful enough
that I couldn't even play with them. The next day I tried to protect
them by putting a large Band-Aid over each nipple. That helped a little
but the Band-Aids kept coming loose. During gym I was jogging around the
track and I felt one Band-Aid come off, and then the other and my
nipples were soon even more irritated than they had been the day before.
At supper that evening, Mom noticed that I was hunched forward and
shifting around in my chair constantly, trying to keep my shirt from
touching my irritated nipples. "Problems?" she asked.
"Well, yeah, like, my chest is irritated, I guess," I said. She had me
remove my shirt and examined my red and swollen nipples.
"Well," she said, "Some Vaseline on them will help, and it'll also
reduce the friction, but you really should wear a bra."
"Yeah, but I'm not wearing a bra to school," I shot back.
So we compromised, Mom got the container of Vaseline and applied a
liberal coating to each of my nipples, and took several minutes to
massage it into them, and then I put on one of my softer bras, wearing
it all night, and taking it off before I went to school the next
morning. The Vaseline and the bra did seem to be helping a lot and
within several days my irritated nipples were back to normal - well,
back to their "normal" large size, of course. But then one day I had a
problem - I guess when I'd gotten up and dressed for school that
morning, I had put a lot more Vaseline than normal on my chest. And the
weather was a little warm so I'd put on one of my white cotton blouses.
Well, while I was walking through the hallway to my first class I
noticed that I was getting a lot of stares from the other kids. Well, it
wasn't me so much as my chest.
I looked down and realized that with the Vaseline I'd applied to my
chest that morning, the thin fabric of my cotton blouse was stuck to my
chest - like, it might just as well have been painted on and the fabric
was almost transparent from the Vaseline. So there I am, walking through
the halls with my "cones" clearly visible for all to see. And what was
worse, as I looked down at myself, my nipples stiffened up so that I now
had these two inch "mounds" sticking out from my chest and bouncing up
and down a little as I walked along. Man, I clasped my books to my chest
to cover up as much of it as possible, ran to the Nurse's office and
convinced her that I was sick to my stomach and n eeded to go home. That
night I decided that wearing a bra to school was going to be
embarrassing, but less so than what had happened to me at school that
day, so ever since then I've been wearing a bra to school every day.
And, like, it wasn't a surprise as so many of the kids had gotten a good
look at my chest in the hallway that day anyway. Yeah I did get some
stares the first time I undressed in front of the other guys in gym
class, and then some whispered comments behind my back later on, but
after a week or so the other kids stopped bothering me and things were
pretty much back to normal.
(End of Part 4 - to be continued)
Libbie
- 29.11.2020
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