Gina Makes Her Debut
- 1 year ago
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Deep Secret Ch. 01 – Debut free porn video
This is the first chapter of a total of thirty.
01 – Debut
Ah, the beach in Hawaii. One of the young women who just walked by with her two girlfriends had wonderfully large and almost perfectly hemispherical breasts. They looked firm, or at least firmer than my wife’s. Not that my wife has floppy breasts, mind you. Hers are really great, not much less firm than when we met more than a dozen years ago.
But, the young woman who just walked by, maybe in her early twenties, had tits like my wife, Amanda, used to have. I’m still enjoying watching her and her friends walking off in the distance, hoping she’ll turn sideways just a little so I can see those wonderful boobs, even from this far away, in profile.
The problem I always have is my memories from before Amanda. There was a woman who, well…
It’s not that I’m not happy. Amanda is a beautiful woman, often heads will turn when we walk into an event together – and they’re not looking at me, unless it’s the guys asking, ‘What does she see in him?’ Plus, Amanda is extremely intelligent, caring, a great mom, and she loves me.
In addition, we have a great sex life. With the kids, of course, it’s certainly less frequent than before they were born, but it’s still good. We fuck a few times a week. Occasionally we do other stuff, too. As I mentioned, I’m not unhappy.
It’s just that I sometimes think about a woman I used to know who was the perfect woman, the most incredible, as in hard-to-believe, amazing woman.
Although, I guess that’s not true or we’d be together, right? Yet, she was the perfect woman in so many ways.
Her name was Simone and I met her when I was 27 and working at a large management consulting and accounting firm. I was working during the day towards my CPA and going to school nights and weekends to get my MBA. It didn’t leave much time for anything else.
One day, though, I saw this vision at the gym and it changed my life, changed it forever.
The urban-suburban area where I lived was not that close to work, but I rented a sweet apartment, my gym was a block away, and it was convenient to many local shops. The gym was a classy place: free towels, both the small ones to wipe up one’s sweat and big cushy ones for after a hot shower. It was expensive, but worth it for the convenience and some of the hot women whom I’d see there.
With the stress of school and work, it was worth it for as much as I enjoyed working out and certainly it was worth it to be able to ogle unknowingly (well, so every guy thinks, right?) the array of good-looking women who were members too.
What’s that old joke? Question: What’s the definition of a perfect woman? Answer: Three feet tall, no teeth, and a flat head so that you can put your beer on it. OK, so I can’t tell a joke. Sue me.
It’s just that this woman I used to know, Simone, had some qualities that sometimes make me ache when I think back…
When I was in high school I had two ‘serious’ relationships. I thought I was so mature and knew it had to be true love. One of the girls was tall and skinny. She wanted to wait and stay a virgin, but loved to suck me. She was OK at it, but, though she’d let me come in her mouth, it always made her gag a little and she wouldn’t swallow. But, hey, I got blowjobs. I’m not complaining. It’s just that when you have a great orgasm in a woman’s mouth, having her almost retch on your semen is not the ideal way to have a good feeling about the whole experience.
The other girl was smaller and a cheerleader, muscular and curvy with big boobs. I played with those babies whenever I could, but it didn’t seem to do much for her. When it came to sex, all she would do is let me play with her boobs and pussy while she jerked me off.
High school, for me, didn’t involve a whole bunch of fucking, but it made me desire or actually hunger for boobs and blowjobs. (I doubt I’m in the minority on this, I mean, the desire for a woman with nice boobs and who enjoys giving blowjobs.)
I remember sitting there at my high school graduation thinking: If only I could get the boobs and the blowjobs from the same girl, life would be perfect. Maybe I’d find someone with big boobs who loved to give blowjobs (and swallow) when I got to college in the fall.
I had a great time in college, met some really wonderful women, and got laid at least some of the times I wanted to. Women who enjoyed giving blowjobs and had great big boobs, less so, but I had my share of relationships and one-night stands. It was all good, even if I never found that perfect woman.
Fortunately, that happened ten years after that realization during the playing of a tune that we all know as Graduation Music (but for those music lovers it’s Edward Elgar’s ‘Pomp and Circumstance March Number 1’).
That’s when I saw Simone at the gym – and it wasn’t exactly like you see it in the movies. She wasn’t wearing anything sexy, there was no sexy music, no back lighting as she might shake her head and long hair in slow motion. (How retro, huh?)
As a matter of fact Simone seemed to try to make herself as unappealing as possible, though she would never be perceived as unappealing. No way.
The first time I saw her, I was putting weights on a bar to do some presses on a bench. She was just about to sit down, facing away from me, on a pull-down machine. She was wearing baggy long shorts (now that’s a phrase for George Carlin fans, like ‘jumbo shrimp’), running shoes and socks, and a big, baggy long sleeve shirt over a t-shirt.
She had strong, but thin legs like a model. Even with the big shorts you could tell those long lean legs went up to a perfectly formed bottom and narrow, but seemingly long waist.
That was about all I could see from behind, but I remember sensing that there was something wrong with this picture. I just didn’t know what it was. After doing three sets of presses I got up and looked for her, but she was gone.
I made a note of when it was and, for the next week, tried to go back at the same time, but I never saw her. After two or three weeks my mystery woman began to disappear from my fantasy world and I just went when I could.
Fortune had not forgotten me, however, and about a month after I first saw her I noticed her get on a treadmill a few down from one I was using. She had on similar workout clothes and I was able to see her in one of the gym’s mirrors. I was just staring out into space, but if I kept the corner of my eye on this one mirror I could monitor the cute blonde without ogling overtly.
It was after about ten minutes that she had warmed up and had a good running pace going she spread her legs to stand on the outside rails of the treadmill and took off the top that was over her t-shirt. She pulled it over her head and for a second it seemed like every sound in the gym hushed as I – and virtually everyone else, men and women – thought he or she was looking at her surreptitiously. Because of her running she’d perspired a bit and the t-shirt clung to much of her torso.
She was so very slender. Her rib cage was so thin.
Yet, it was huge.
It was impossible!
At first this young woman appeared super tall, but I realized she was simply tallish, perhaps 5’9′ or 5’10’ with the thin body of a ballet dancer or a fashion model.
But then there were the breasts. The massive breasts. After a few moments of silence as she finally got the light sweat shirt over her head, threw it on the floor in front of the treadmill, and got back into her running pace, sound returned – and maybe breathing too – to the room. Heads kept glancing in her direction.
It was surely a joke. She must have taken cantaloupes and gotten some kind of contraption to hold them over her own boobs. Weird. Sexy, but weird.
Well, I said to myself, maybe she’s just a piece of work. Let’s face it: tall, thin women who look like they just left a lingerie modeling shoot
don’t have boobs that large. They have proportionately sized breasts or possibly expensively enhanced, but natural looking breasts.
What was so strange was that she appeared to be very serious and focused on her workout. Unlike many other women there she seemed to wear no make-up, lipstick, eyeliner, mascara, or any of that other crap. She didn’t smile, didn’t make eye contact with anyone. She ran for about three-quarters of an hour, cooled down, and got off.
That was when it happened. It’s a guy thing or maybe it’s just sick, slightly perverted me, but I had to continue looking at her throughout her treadmill routine. Those large whatever-they-weres didn’t seem to bounce much, but they probably weren’t real. Maybe she was a stripper or topless dancer and she’d had them done ‘extra large’ to earn big money.
Truth to tell, though, she didn’t look like a stripper. She looked more like a college student, young, determined, and, even with that impossible physique, sweet and innocent.
But, back to what happened. She got off the treadmill and walked around front to pick up her gray sweatshirt. As she leaned over to pick it up, I had a split second glance down her t-shirt. She was not wearing one of those sports bra contraptions, it was just what, in that quick peek, looked like a regular white bra with huge cups. And, I saw a glimpse of a boob that was unlike anything I’d ever seen except in porn. She had tits the size of her short, blond-haired head and cleavage that, well, let’s just say, if you went exploring, bring a flashlight.
After she toweled off the treadmill’s display she quickly disappeared. I – and many other eyes in the room – followed her, but she turned a corner into the area where classes are held. It was not terribly surprising that the tenor in the room rose slightly as some, who’d been as diverted as I had been, went back about their business.
The guy on the treadmill next to me said in a hushed voice, ‘My wife says they’re real.’
‘Huh, what?’ I asked him, still a little preoccupied with the images I was now trying to burn into my brain. Talk about jerk-off material!
‘That girl,’ he went on, ‘those are real. My wife’s seen her in the women’s locker room. She never talks to anyone (apparently quite shy), but my wife’s just caught a peek or two at her when she’s seen her in there.’
After a moment, I thought to ask him how she’d know, but I think women just know. I replied to him in such a way as to show how my mind was not in the gutter like his with a classy, ‘Amazing! Those are the biggest tits I’ve ever seen, but on a skinny thing like that…’ I paused for effect, ‘Jeez!’
You see. Classy, right?
It was the following week that she and I spoke. It was not a ‘meet cute’ moment. I just made an ass of myself when I was staring at another woman while doing a set of flies. She came up on the other side of me and asked, ‘Can I please have the 25s when you’re done?’
I started to say to whomever was being a pain in the neck, ‘Why don’t you just find – ‘ and then I turned, ‘ – your – oh my god!’
Then I dropped both of the 25s. They hit the floor with a loud crash causing everyone who wasn’t already looking at Simone to turn our way.
‘You could have handed them to me, jerk,’ she said, picking them up and walking over to a free bench.
I attempted to excuse myself, but I couldn’t manage to get anything coherent out of my mouth. Anyway, what the heck was this skinny thing – with the largest boobs in the world – going to do with a pair of 25-pound dumbbells?
I moved to another machine, but kept an eye on her as she did some controlled curls and similarly controlled shoulder shrugs. The shrugs caused those massive breasts to move up and down like water balloons on a bungie cord in slow motion. It was mesmerizing, virtually impossible not to stare.
A half-hour later I saw her in the lobby, dressed in boots, jeans, and a short, leather, zippered jacket on her way out the door.
Throwing caution to the wind – as I did not like being rejected – I ran up to her I said, ‘I must apologize for dropping those weights. It was simply that you startled me. I’m just glad I didn’t drop them on your foot.’
‘Well, you came awfully close,’ she replied. ‘You should be more careful.’
Then she paused, eyeing me as if to see if I was a jerk. It seemed that this had happened often.
‘And the way you – and almost everyone stares at me in there – I find it hard to believe that I’d startle you!’ she finally said, daring me to come back with some snide comment about her body.
Fortunately for me, I managed to bite my tongue. Maybe it was because the jacket was partly unzipped, but quite large, it was really hard to know what was jacket and what was her.
So, forgetting for a moment that she was a one-in-a-million woman, I managed to stay away from anything to do with her body and said in my most deep, manly, mocking voice, ‘Well, uh, we men, you know, we hunt to provide nourishment for our womenfolk and we work hard to see to their safe keeping – um, and the young-uns, o’ course. The future of the race depends on our knowledge of what goes on around us. So, it’s important for us to be vigilant.’
‘What a bunch of sexist bullshit,’ she said, cracking an adorable smile and ultimately laughing as she said, ‘but I will give you points for originality, albeit, stupid originality.’
Realizing that I was actually breaking the ice here, I said, ‘I’m sorry, uh, my name is Ed Spectere.’ In an instant I thought about and dismissed the follow-up: ‘And you are?’ I wanted to make sure to get her name, but this would leave me open for the old ‘…not interested’ response (as in ‘I am … not interested.’) Instead I just smiled, hoping she’d tell me her name.
‘Simone Ponte,’ she said. Then added, with a tad of contrition, ‘I’m sorry if I lost my sense of humor.’ With a slight hand gesture at her body and a glance of her beautiful blue eyes, she added, ‘Occasionally the staring just gets to me.’
Thinking I was probably moving too fast and – wishing I could take back what I said, the moment I said it – out came, ‘Well, Simone, do you have plans for dinner tonight?’
Alma
- 23.11.2022
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