Even without the introduction of special hypnotic possibilities into one’s life, I suppose the summer of high school graduation is a strange time for most young adults. I thought I was ready for it — after all, I'd been counting the days, but when it came it was totally weird. There we all were in class on that final afternoon, and when the last bell sounded, we filed into the school buses, never to return.
Cindy and I had gone to the prom together and we had a pretty good time. What I remember most about that night was the sex afterwards. Cindy's father was away for business and she assured me that her mother and younger sister would not disturb us in the downstairs rec room of their house. The room in question was large, with a fireplace and its own bathroom, and we made love until four in the morning on sheets and quilts that we spread on top of the tiled floor.
The sex was really good. We were becoming familiar enough with each other's bodies that we knew how to tease and satisfy just right, and I think it was also the longest chunk of uninterrupted time I'd ever had to make it with a girl. Sex in the back seat of a car is romantic in a classic American sense, but the logistical constraints took away any chance for complete relaxation. As I discovered with Cindy in the wee hours after our prom, there can be added rewards when lovers are able to revisit each other's desires and needs over and over again. We did it doggy-style and missionary and she sucked me and I fingered her and by the end of it we didn't even want sex any more.
We slept in each other's arms for a short while before I drove home. I remember feeling content in so many ways, the sun just beginning to lighten the eastern sky. I could really only think of one way that the night could have been better, and that would have included wild hypnotic sex with Natasha Hart, rather than languorous willing sex with Cindy.
As Natasha had predicted, I didn’t hear from her for a time. I learned from my mother that the Harts had separated. No one with even one ounce of compassion likes to see a family torn apart, but I had mixed feelings. Natasha would now be on her own, and I was obsessed with having another opportunity to hold that crystal in front of her face. The ending of her marriage could be helpful, but it also delayed things. I had this image in my mind, of Fate, as a cloaked figure, handing me the greatest gift in my life, but just as I reached out to grasp the offering, the fucker whisked it away, hiding it behind his back, making me wait. It was exactly like that.
If Natasha had remained in the old house, the crystal was probably in the same place. I had fantasies of breaking in and stealing it, and other fantasies about showing up and saying that I’d left something at the house, then finding some way to have ten minutes alone in front of that old cabinet. But caution won out. I’d find it, eventually. In the meantime, it was best to stay far away from a dissolving marriage involving a child.
I could only hope that my instructions would remain active, eating at Natasha. Stimulating her. Making her dream of me the way I dreamed of her. I had no idea whether my hypnotic commands were long lasting, but I was hopeful.
She was never really out of my thoughts. It was as though we were two satellites orbiting the same star, and sooner or later one of us was going to catch up to the other, bringing us close enough to touch.
I worked two jobs at the start of that summer, one for an outfit that did renovation work on houses, and the other at a fried chicken fast food joint. I was often tired by the time I got to the chicken job, and the assistant manager, while quite nice to look at, was a man- hating bitch who painted target circles on my face from day one. By contrast, Cindy had a good job for the summer working for a friend who did water quality testing, and between our busy schedules we really only got to spend time together on Sundays and some Monday nights. I liked my girlfriend, I really did, even with my obsession for Natasha. It was frustrating to see so little of Cindy when the time was quickly approaching that she would head off to California. We talked for a time about "staying true to each other" and that kind of thing, but made no firm promises. Cindy was probably too smart to try to predict what would happen once she was living thousands of miles away, and I had my own reasons for keeping things loosely defined.
I can hardly believe that I just bided my time, not giving in to the temptations to go looking for Natasha, or the crystal. I had this weird trust that giving Natasha some breathing space would pay dividends eventually, and it did.
Our orbits crossed again one Sunday afternoon towards the middle of July. It was a nearly perfect day in the low 80's, and I took Cindy to a free afternoon jazz concert in one of the city parks. The bands weren't anything to get excited about, but it felt nice to eat a picnic lunch outdoors with a throng of other people enjoying the rare jewel of a day. As I remember it, Cindy was wearing khaki shorts, a white T-shirt and sneakers, and looked especially fetching to me. The summer sun brought out the reddish hues in her blonde hair, and unlike many blondes she appeared to tan well. What really caught my attention, though, was the fact that her tits seemed particularly impressive. I kept looking at them, gauging their contours and watching them move when she shifted her body. I finally had to ask.
"Cindy, are you, um..." I nodded at her tits with my chin.
"You think I’m gaining weight?"
"Maybe. But just... there."
"I was wondering when you’d notice!" she said. "Newsflash: I’ve hit that next letter of the alphabet."
It’s a rare day when your girlfriend's C-cup breasts become a thing of the past. I had noticed for weeks that Cindy's breasts were looking especially fine, but I thought I might be imagining the change. In fact, Cindy had been getting better-looking in almost all ways since our first date several months before. Some girls are like that, growing into their features and bodies a little later than others, and it sure did look great on her. But then it hit me that her better looks and blossoming breasts would soon be far away in California.
I stroked her golden hair affectionately and Cindy rested her head in my lap. It was completely intentional when I allowed my elbow to brush against her right nipple. Even over the music I could hear her intake of breath.
"You'd better watch out, young man. They're feeling... extremely... sensitive..."
A blind man wouldn't be able to miss the shapes of her hard nipples poking at her shirt. I was getting hard myself and I think she could feel my cock growing against the back of her neck, because she started to move her head side to side in a way that accelerated my growth. We looked at each other and knew it might be time to head out to some place more private.
"Maybe we should find a quiet spot where you can see whether you like the recent changes," she whispered in my ear.
We were just beginning to gather up our belongings when I heard somebody calling my name in a high-pitched voice, and a few seconds later Josh Hart came running towards us, bounding around other people and their picnic blankets.
"Hey Josh!" I exclaimed, as he ran into my arms. I was going to introduce Josh to my girlfriend when I saw Cindy's eyes go wide, and I instinctively knew that she had gotten her first look at Josh's mother. I followed her eyes and had to concentrate to keep my tongue from falling into the grass. Natasha Hart was looking good as a single mother, as in fabulously, incredibly, super-sexy-good.
It's hard to convey for you the visual impact of a woman like Natasha Hart. We see super models and hot actresses all over the place in magazines and movies, but there are women you've never heard of existing in the world who are every bit as gorgeous as any actress or model you can name, and then some. We're talking crazy looks here, an escalation of female form and vitality that just smacks you in the groin. Bathed in the bright afternoon light, Natasha was smiling, her face in shadow beneath a simple straw sun hat, but it was the grandeur of her body that had me and half of the other people in the park gawking with our mouths hanging open. A steady stream of whistles followed her passage towards our blanket.
Her attire was nothing fancy, just a yellow batik sundress and sandals, but the woman had a physicality that was like a neon sign flashing in a pitch black forest — you just couldn't help but notice and stare. Her shoulders were bare and the dress was just short enough to show off the splendor of her legs without seeming pornographic. I thought I was prepared for the fullness of her rack, but I'd never seen her tits in bright sunlight, their creamy tops glowing conspicuously while casting large shadows down her torso. As Natasha walked toward us, I just couldn't take my eyes off of them.
I stood at Natasha's approach and we hugged when she arrived at our blanket. She pulled me close, squeezing her breasts against my chest for a moment. Was there heat in the embrace, or was I imaging it? I was so lost in hoping that I zoned out and just stood there with a stupid grin on my face.
"Hi, I'm Natasha Hart," she smiled, bending down to shake Cindy's hand.
I worked to recover my social form and made introductions all around. Josh took me aside and told me that he missed his dog now that they had moved, and asked when I would come over to play with him. I listened to him, my mind taking in the fact that Natasha had been the one to move. An obstacle? I glanced at her and saw that she had settled on her knees opposite from Cindy, the two women talking amiably.
It was weird, seeing the two worlds collide. I'll confess to being crass enough to mentally compare my girlfriend's looks with those of this slightly older mega-beauty. It wasn't fair to Cindy, of course, but I just couldn't help it. As I've described, Cindy was a very attractive girl with a nice body, but being in the proximity of a woman like Natasha Hart seemed to accentuate all that was not ideal. Cindy had a pretty face and new D-cup tits and nicely shaped legs, but with her glasses and her body's little bit of extra padding, she almost looked frumpy in this particular context.
And small-breasted. What a fucking turn-around! She had just been expressing her pride in her still-growing tits, but it couldn’t be lost on her that her bigger breasts were totally eclipsed by Natasha’s more splendorous rack. Just one letter, or two at most, separated the cup-sizes of their bras, but it seemed that every alphabetical increase signified an entirely different order of magnitude, like with the Richter scale for earthquakes.
"I've been itching to talk to you, Brian," Natasha said, suddenly addressing me. "I’m sure you heard that Lester and I separated last month."
"Yes, I heard. Where are you living now?"
"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I bought a small house in the Northside. Aren't you working for a renovation company this summer? How much do you know about drywall and painting and that kind of thing? The interior really needs some sprucing up."
I knew enough, but would have claimed the knowledge even if I couldn’t fucking spell “drywall”. I gave Natasha a quick inventory of my skills, agreeing to come over the next evening to give her an estimate. In my mind— bye-bye stupid chicken job, hello hypno-sex!
"Is Brian going to baby-sit for me any more?" Josh asked his mother.
"We'll see, sweetie. Brian may be doing more exciting things for us soon."
They left us then, and Cindy and I finished gathering our things. Walking the several blocks to my car, my girlfriend was very quiet.
"That little boy adores you," she finally said.
"Yeah," I replied. "Josh and I got along really well when I sat for him."
"Do you go for women like that?" Cindy suddenly asked.
I felt heat in my face. "Like who? Natasha?"
"Yes, Natasha. You must do a lot of staring when you baby-sit over there. You were staring enough five minutes ago."
I knew enough to keep my mouth shut.
She repeated, "So do you go for women like that?"
My reply was so defensive that I must have sounded like a lawyer. "What do you mean 'go for'? And what do you mean by 'like that'?"
"Oh come on! I'm just asking whether you're attracted to huge-titted fitness babes like that. What is she, a ballerina on steroids? She certainly looks like a real nutcracker.”
I almost took the bait by laughing, but held it in. This conversation was making me very, very nervous. Thinking that it might move things in another direction, I said that Natasha taught yoga.
"Well, do you find that kind of body attractive?"
I thought of lying, but the lie would have been so preposterous that Cindy would have seen right through it. "Of course," I answered. "How could a guy not find a body like hers attractive?"
"Her legs are just incredible," Cindy stated.
"I guess so."
"I don't think I've ever seen legs like that in my life. What does a woman have to do to get a body like that? Sell her soul to fifty devils?"
Join the circus, I could have said. Have great genetics and then heighten it all by training your body to do amazing things. I remembered something that Natasha had said, that the troupe magician hypnotized her into performing especially dangerous stunts. After what I had witnessed in her house, I could imagine her walking on hot coals in that kind of state.
We walked further in silence, and then Cindy suddenly exclaimed, "So what about those boobs?"
"What about them?"
"What about them? They're huge! Didn't you hear all the whistling in the crowd? The woman's boobs look like something out of Playboy!"
Actually, I thought that Cindy's boobs looked like something out of Playboy. Natasha’s breasts, on the other hand, looked like they would be a hell of a lot bigger and a hell of a lot nicer than most playmates I'd seen. Hiding my fascination with them, what I said was, "Ms. Hart has boobs?"
Cindy punched me on the shoulder. "Dork!"
It felt as though the appearance of Natasha and her very large boobs had popped Cindy's balloons, so to speak. And she didn’t even know how often I fantasized about getting my hands on Natasha’s body, nor about my real chance of making it happen.
Since the mood had changed and we weren't sure where to go on a Sunday afternoon to have sex anyway, we ended up driving out into the country to watch the sun set. We talked vaguely about the future and ate dinner at one of those quaint ice cream/burger stands, then saw the moon rising over the city as we drove back towards town. Cindy was unusually quiet, but also horny, leaning in close to me to slip her hand into my pants. I put my arm around her and she adjusted her position, making her tits accessible for my free hand. By the time we were tooling down River Road towards our secret parking spot, Cindy had half of my cock in her mouth and her tongue was driving me insane.
Her tits were looking great. They filled my hands more than in the past and even her nipples seemed to have a larger presence than before. I was feeling them up through her top when she sighed, and whispered, "I want my body to be as tight and fit as hers."
I kept silent, feeling Cindy's nipples harden between my fingers. I knew whom she was talking about.
"I mean, even I find a body like that exciting. I think I'm going to make a point of being more physically active in college.”
"That's nice," I replied, nuzzling one of her breasts with my cheek.
"I'm serious," she said. "I have a really nice shape, overall. I'm going to lose these extra pounds, you watch."
"Um-hmm," I said, licking at her nipple through the cotton of her blouse.
"You just wait, Brian. Remember what I look like right now, and compare it to the hardbody you see this Christmas."
"Keep these soft," I said, giving her breast a long swipe with the underside of my tongue.
She hissed with pleasure. "Ohhhh…"
More licks.
"I…I'll bet you wish that my breasts were as big as hers, too," she added.
I could be mean sometimes, even then. Maybe the right thing would have been to praise Cindy's dimensions, which would have been easy enough. Instead, what I said was, "Don't worry, Cindy. We do just great with your itty-bitty things."
She punched me on the arm, hard, then laughed and called me a monster. Arching her back to make her tits as full as possible, she pulled her top over her head and let her improved assets wobble right in front of my face. They were divine, and I got to experience the measure of their greater mass when she pretty much mashed them right into my face.
"Itty-bitty, my ass!" she giggled. "’D’ stands for damned big, and don’t you forget it! Now, where's that baby carrot that you call your dick?"
Strange how my "baby carrot" had her moans echoing through the trees as its mass stretched wide the walls of her pussy.