THE GOLDEN GOOSE 

 

by Some Sort of Dog 

 

 

This is a story mainly about large breasts. There may be a suggestion 

of explicit sexual activity between adults, but although some of the 

characters have not yet reached adulthood, they are not described as 

indulging in sexual activity with adults. The story is a fantasy and 

should not be read by anyone under eighteen, or whatever the age of 

consent is in the place where you live. 

 

 

 

 

THE GOLDEN GOOSE 

 

by Some Sort of Dog 

 

 

Chapter 8:- Lynda In The Country 

 

Geoff gunned the Escort round the town square, bringing glares from 

Saturday afternoon shoppers and slyly admiring glances from the 

teenage girls thronging the ornamental fountain. Where was it she had 

said? The Felix? 

 

He nearly missed his turning just past the Phoenix pub on the corner, 

but screeched round it with a burst of power and a touch of opposite 

lock as the inside rear wheel lifted and spun on the smooth tarmac. 

Down to the church and left. A glance at the clock showed him he was 

more or less on time. Only five minutes late. 

 

And there she was! 

 

Lynda was glancing anxiously up and down the road, shifting 

nervously from one foot to the other. She had been waiting almost 

twenty minutes. He was late. The last thing she wanted was to be 

noticed by too many people as she waited on the corner under the 

trees. She attracted more than enough unwelcome attention anyway, 

which was why she had dressed down, in her oldest jeans and her 

biggest, floppiest sweater. 

 

Another five minutes, she said to herself, and she would have to go. 

Stood up by the smart boy from the big city. What had made her think 

he would drive all the way up here, just to see her. Despite her 

extravagant development and stunning looks, Lynda was still a 

schoolgirl. Geoff must meet dozens of sexy girls every day. Models! 

What would he want with a fourteen year old? She could feel her self 

esteem draining away like dishwater. 

 

A red car had just slewed round the corner at the end of the road. Lots 

of noise and squealing rubber. That's all I need, she thought. A bunch 

of yobs from the housing estate up by the industrial area. It was 

slowing down. Closer. At least, she realised, it wasn't a bunch of yobs, 

there was only the driver in it. The car hesitated, then braked to a halt, 

its wheels locking momentarily in the loose dirt at the side of the road. 

Geoff! 

 

He leaned across and opened the passenger door. 

 

"Hi, kid! Get in!" 

 

She did, slamming the door and tussling with the seat belt as the car 

rocketed away from the kerb. 

 

"Where are we going?" Geoff asked, after about a mile at furious pace. 

 

"I dunno! You seemed to know," Lynda said, relaxing slightly. She 

was trying to grip the seat with the muscles of her bottom, and it 

wasn't working. "Turn down here. Next on the left. It's narrow." 

 

Geoff took that as a gentle warning, slowed and turned where Lynda 

had told him. They were in a leafy lane where the trees met overhead. 

The car burbled along, less frantically now, and she was able to 

untense her knees and sink back into the seat. 

 

"It's nice to see you again," she murmured shyly, the first thing that 

came into her head. "I thought you'd changed your mind about 

coming." 

 

"I never change my mind about coming," said Geoff, turning to watch 

Lynda's face for a reaction. It remained expressionless, or slightly 

puzzled. 

 

"I'd been there nearly half an hour. People were starting to notice me." 

 

"I got held up a bit. Loadsa geriatrics hogging the fast lane of the 

motorway at sixty-five. People will always notice you, though, 

Lynnie." 

 

Lynda thrilled to the sound of the word Lynnie. Somehow, it was more 

acceptable coming from Geoff. If anyone had called her that at school, 

she would have decked them. 

 

"I put my old clothes on. Will these do?" 

 

Geoff looked at her lounging in the passenger seat and felt his insides 

lurch. Even Lynda's loosest and baggiest sweater was under a certain 

amount of stress, and her jeans were pulled interestingly tight across 

her hips. 

 

"You won't be needing clothes, babe!" 

 

Lynda didn't answer, but felt little flutterings in her thighs and breasts. 

She tensed a little, then relaxed as Geoff grinned at her again. 

 

"Jeans and sweater are just fine, Lynnie. On you, anything looks 

great." His hand left the steering wheel and crept across to rest briefly 

on her thigh. It felt like an electric shock. Red hot. Yet when she 

placed her hand on top of his, it felt strangely cool. A bend in the road 

came up and he put both hands back on the wheel again. 

 

"Another mile down here, and we'll be on top of the Downs. You can 

see for miles. We can get out there, if you like." She looked at him 

expectantly. 

 

"I like." He jerked a thumb into the back seat, and Lynda looked over 

her shoulder. There was a blanket draped over something bulky. 

 

"What have you got there?" she asked, excitement throbbing in her 

fingertips. 

 

Geoff looked at her again. Ooh, his eyes! 

 

Camera, of course. But I brought something to eat as well." 

 

"A picnic? Gosh! I mean, fucking hell!" 

 

"Gosh was okay," Geoff laughed, touching her thigh again. More 

electricity. "Some drink, too." 

 

"Drink? For the picnic?" 

 

"A few bottles of beer. You like beer?" 

 

"Yeah. Course." 

 

"What's your favourite lager?" 

 

Lynda's mind went blank. "Oh, I like them all," she said, and Geoff 

laughed as if she'd said something really really funny. "Here we are. 

Up this track. You can park anywhere. Over there looks quiet." 

 

The car bumped and rocked over the chalk track, away from the half 

dozen other cars. They breasted the slope and stopped, with the view 

spread out in front of them across the vale. Cloud shadows chased 

across the patchwork fields. A glider soared overhead, abandoning the 

up-currents from the escarpment and looking for thermals across the 

warm landscape. 

 

"Hey, this is all right," said Geoff. "You were right, you can see for 

miles." 

 

"Which way's London?" Lynda wanted to rest her head on his 

shoulder, to feel the hard warmth of him. But he moved, looking out of 

his side window. 

 

"Out that way," he pointed. "But it's too far to see." He turned back 

and looked at her again and she wet her lips with her tongue. "Have a 

beer," he urged her. 

 

Why did he have to be so restless? Lynda wanted to just sit with him 

for a while, but he was up and down like a jack-in-the-box. He reached 

over into the back seat, opened a big orange cool-box and took out two 

bottles, the sort with a stopper retained by a kind of spring clip. Her 

bottle was icy cold and beaded with wetness. Geoff took a swig from 

his and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 

"What's the matter, don't you like it?" 

 

"It's all right, I ..." 

 

Geoff took the bottle from her and opened the stopper. "I thought you 

liked beer." He handed it back to her and watched while she raised it 

to her lips. It was cold and fizzy, and it tasted vile. How could people 

drink this stuff? She pulled a face and lowered the bottle, resting it on 

the seat between her thighs. 

 

"It tastes better when you get used to it, honest. You've never had any 

before, have you?" 

 

"Lots of times. It's just ... no, it's my first time." She took another sip. 

It was refreshing in a way, and the cold bottle felt good against her hot 

cheek. "It's not bad," she said, after another gulp. "It just doesn't taste 

the way I thought it would. Not sweet." 

 

His arm reached around her shoulders. Wow, she thought, and took a 

deep swig of beer. It made her eyes water, and felt funny when it went 

down her throat. 

 

"Hello, Lynnie!" 

 

"Hello, Geoff!" It seemed to be the response expected of her. And 

when Geoff's lips brushed her cheek, she made another response. This, 

she decided, was all right. All Right! And she opened her mouth as 

Geoff kissed her again, and turned her body toward him, feeling her 

right breast squash against his leg as he leaned over to her side of the 

car. 

 

"That calls for another drink," he announced, some minutes later, and 

finished his bottle. Lynda was slower, still finding it an acquired taste, 

but she upended the bottle at last, and found another being pressed 

into her hand. It was colder, and tasted fresh and crisp. Lynda took a 

deep, deep gulp, belched and sat back in her seat, smiling up at Geoff. 

 

"I thought we came out here to take some pictures!" she said. "You're 

a photographer and I'm a model!" 

 

"That's right. I was so busy looking at you, I forgot what we came out 

here for." He reached across into the back seat and came up with a big 

canvas case festooned with pockets and clasps. He patted it. "I'm 

ready!" 

 

"You like looking at me?" 

 

"Of course!" 

 

"You want to see some more?" 

 

"I want to see all of you. Come on!" He flung his door open and came 

around to her side of the car.  

 

Lynda downed her beer while he watched. "Bring another!" she 

ordered. Geoff fished two more bottles out of the cool box and slipped 

them into a compartment of the camera bag. Then he gently took 

Lynda by the wrist and helped her out of the car. She swayed slightly. 

Surely she couldn't be drunk after two little bottles of beer. Her 

forehead felt numb. Was this what being drunk felt like? It felt weird, 

but not altogether unpleasant. 

 

"You might have to carry me. If Lynnie falls over, Geoffwey, will you 

cawwy Lynnie?" She tried not to lean against him, but it felt so nice, 

she did it anyway. 

 

Geoff disentangled himself, picked up the camera and the lunch 

basket, then draped the blanket over Lynda's shoulders. 

 

"Come on, Lynnie. Over that way looks quietest." 

 

 

********** 

 

"Help me get it off, Geoffwey. Lynnie can't get her jumper off." She 

tugged at it in a helpless way. "It's stuck, look!" She sighed 

dramatically. "Lynnie's boobies are too-hoo-hoo-hoo big!" 

 

"I'll give you a hand." Geoff was finding things a little uncomfortable. 

He had loaded the camera and was watching Lynda as she sat cross-

legged in the long grass fumbling with her sweater and pouting up at 

him. He eased the hem of the sweater up until it was clear of her bra 

cup, then gave a series of little tugs and jerks until the girl took the 

hint and pulled it up over her head. She dropped the sweater on the 

ground and flashed him a dazzling smile which ended in a hiccup. 

 

God, the kid was immense! That bra was huge, yet the cups were only 

just big enough. 

 

"Now your jeans," Geoff insisted, concentrating hard. "We're taking 

pictures of you in your underwear, not your jeans. Stand up." 

 

"Can't stand up. Lynnie fall over. Lynnie take them off down here." 

 

She unzipped them and started a shuffling movement with her bottom 

in the grass. It wasn't very effective at getting her jeans off, but it set 

everything else in motion. Wobbling massively, she inched closer to 

Geoff. 

 

"Ooh, look," she squeaked. "Lynda's over here!" And her head flopped 

down into Geoff's lap, followed by all the rest of her. It was the last 

thing he needed at that moment. 

 

"Ouch," he grunted. "Lyn-DAA!" 

 

"S'matter?" Her eyes sparkled. "Did I land on your pwick, Geoffwey? 

Naughty girl, Lynnie! Shall I take my jeans off, now?" She stood up 

quickly, and with neat movements, pulled her jeans down, then 

stepped out of them. She stood upright, towering above him, not even 

swaying in the breeze, in her bra and panties. Matching pink, they 

were, although they matched only in shade, not in size, despite the 

generous girth of her hips and bottom. She squatted down again, so 

close that Geoff could smell the beer on her breath, the faintest hint of 

sweat from her armpits, the musky, fishy smell of her sex. Her various 

leg muscles rippled as she made little movements to keep her balance. 

"I need another drink," she whispered, gently running her fingers up 

and down his thigh. 

 

Geoff said nothing. He couldn't trust his tongue. Slipping a still-cold 

bottle from the camera bag, he opened it and handed it to Lynda 

without a word. 

 

"Geoffwey have a sip first. Then Lynnie finish it off. Make it ALL 

gone! Then Geoffwey take Lynnie's pictures. Wude pictures of Lynnie 

with her wude bits showing!" She leaned closer and murmured 

confidentially, "Lynnie got HUGE wude bits!" 

 

"Ooooh, shit!" Geoff took a sip of the beer and gave the bottle back to 

Lynda. She took a deep swallow, her throat rippling like a feeding 

python. Her eyes met his and she began to laugh, then, disastrously, 

the beer came flooding back down her nose as she choked and 

spluttered, coughing, her eyes streaming. Beer and froth dribbled from 

her nose as she crouched on hands and knees looking forlornly at 

Geoff. 

 

"It came down my nose," she explained. "It hurts." 

 

"I know. It's happened to me a few times. I hope it never happens 

again. Come here, Lynnie." 

 

Wonderingly, wide-eyed, Lynda crawled over to Geoff and sat next to 

him on the blanket, so close that her left breast rested on his lap. He 

wiped the snotty beer from her face with his hankie. She shuddered, 

and her lips felt cold and lifeless as they were crushed by his.  

 

"Geoff? When we've done the pictures?" 

 

"Yes, Lynnie?" 

 

"Could you ... I want you to shag me, please." 

 

"You mean ...?" 

 

Lynda nodded, and Geoff's erection, temporarily at half-mast, sprang 

to attention. If I play my cards right, he thought, I could be on a 

winner, here. And he took up the Hasselblad, slammed the magazine 

on the back and whipped out the slide. 

 

"We'd better take some pictures then!" 

 

 

********** 

 

Geoff had seen bigger breasts. Only the day before, first Kay Archer, 

then, amazingly, that Davenport woman. Debbie said her father was a 

Sir, and Charlotte, that was her name, was an Honorable, whatever 

that was. She certainly had an honorable set of tits on her. Charlotte's 

even made Kay's look ordinary. 

 

Lynnie's weren't quite as big as those, but once that enormous pink bra 

was off, and she was on her hands and knees, they certainly dangled. 

They almost reached the ground. And when she stood up - at least, just 

before she fell over again with a disoriented yell - they had reached 

down well past her navel, and they were plump and massive. The 

areolae were broad and puffy, crowned with thick, rubbery nipples. 

 

Fourteen, he thought in amazement, picking the girl up and balancing 

her on her hands and knees again, like a prize entry at a dog show. It 

was more than he could do to keep his hands off her impressively-

rounded butt, her powerful thighs, and everything that lay between 

them, so he helped her off with her pink panties. God, Lynda was a big 

girl! Her bottom was noticeably bigger than Kay's. How big would she 

be when she stopped growing? 

 

Geoff began firing off shots as Lynda posed, somewhat unsteadily. She 

swung her massive breasts around like great pendulums, she thrust out 

her chest, her buttocks and her well-furred mound by turns, 

maintaining a sultry eye-contact with the camera. She's a pro, thought 

Geoff. 

 

She only fell asleep once, halfway through the fifth magazine of film, 

but Geoff woke her up and gave her the last bottle of beer. She drained 

it in seconds and became curiously animated, dashing off a selection of 

poses of bewildering and increasing lewdness. And as Geoff finished 

off the last of the film, she lay on her back with her knees pulled up 

and masturbated noisily with several fingers of each hand. 

 

Then she keeled over on the blanket and began to snore softly. 

 

Bloody nightmare, Geoff thought. The most luscious kid he had ever 

seen in his life, stark naked on a blanket, and she goes out like a light 

on him. What a bastard! 

 

And she wasn't showing a sign of waking up, either, even when he 

gathered up the remains of the picnic, the empty bottles and the 

camera bag and hurried off to lock them securely in the car. Then he 

came back and sat her up, grumbling to herself, and succeeded in 

getting her sweater on. The jeans defeated him, so he wrapped her 

underwear and jeans in the blanket, somehow hoisted Lynda to her 

feet and half carried, half dragged her to the car. 

 

By that time, he was as ready for sleep as she was. 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9:- Something Special 

 

Duncan laid out the transparencies on the lightbox and Maggie leaned 

forward to have a look. At one or two, she took the magnifier and 

studied them more closely. 

 

"Incredible!" Maggie's eyes shone behind her specs. "Kay's not a 

natural, but once she warmed up ... Jeez! That last roll, wow!" 

 

"There are more," said Duncan. "After she took her drawers off. Nasty 

little girl!" 

 

"That's what I was looking at with the glass. That wet patch! The 

punters will love it, Dunc!" 

 

Duncan shuddered. "Philistines, pearls before swine. These are better 

..." he laid another four strips on the lightbox and stood back waiting 

for applause from Maggie. 

 

"Excellent. Excellent. Those are great. Not as good as the ones in the 

panties, but we'll be able to use them. Tremendous titties, too! Love 

those titties, Duncan?" 

 

Duncan rolled his eyes in mock despair. "I'll get the prints up to you 

by tonight. You'll be wanting to show your BJ, no doubt. The other 

ones, Charlotte's, will be done tomorrow, same time. Geoffrey's 

working on them now, but we shot a lot more film on her. No doubt 

she's going to be on your front cover, with those udders?" 

 

"As soon as she's eighteen, Duncan. You know the rules. Anyway, 

thanks. I'll drop by later tomorrow and pick up the whole lot, prints of 

both girls. Save getting Kay's shots biked over." She kissed Duncan's 

proffered cheek and swept out, smacking Debbie lightly on the bottom 

on the way. 

 

As soon as the coast was clear, Geoff emerged from the darkroom, 

slipped out of the side door and tucked a bulky envelope into the 

glovebox of his car. Lynda's panties and bra were still in there. His 

stomach turned over as one of the bra's enormous cups sprang out at 

him and he had to stuff it back out of sight. Bloody great thing! No 

proper size marked in it, he had been disappointed to discover. Just a 

label with the one word 'Danby' and the figure '32'. Geoff didn't know 

much about brassieres, but he knew there was no way in the world that 

Lynda was only a thirty-two inch bust! Double it, maybe! His jeans 

were getting tight as he slammed the glovebox shut. Then, heart 

racing, he scuttled back indoors again and slid the darkroom door 

shut. 

 

End of Stage One. The next part would be fun. 

 

 

********** 

 

"What did you say your name was, son?" The harsh voice had an 

accent. Not Australian. Not like Richie Benaud. New Zealand, was it? 

 

"East. Lester Forrest East." 

 

"Sounds familiar somehow. Haven't I seen you somewhere before, 

man?" That's it, Geoff thought. South African. 

 

"No, Mr Paark." 

 

Hilton Paark glowered at Geoff suspiciously. Finally he shrugged. 

"What did you say you had to show me?" 

 

"Some pictures I took. Nudes." 

 

"Let's see," Paark sighed, sounding deeply bored. Geoff opened the 

envelope and took out the first three eight by tens. His fingers shook as 

he laid them down, then quickly fanned them out. Hilton Paark picked 

up the top one, and stiffened abruptly. "Who the fuck is this!" 

 

"Just a girl I know." 

 

"JUST a girl you know?" Paark took the other two and looked at them, 

wide-eyed. "Jeesus H Chraast," he opined at length. 

 

"You like them? I've got more. What do you think of her?" Geoff 

clutched his envelope and sat back in his chair, oozing pride. 

 

Paark looked more closely. "How old did you say she was?" 

 

"I didn't. She's ... she's eighteen." 

 

Paark flung the prints down. "Don't give me that shit! Eighteen, my 

rotten hairy arse. You seen her birth certificate?" 

 

"No," Geoff improvised. "But I went to school with her. She was in my 

class. I'm eighteen." 

 

Paark looked at Geoff's fresh face with suspicion and loathing. 

"Bollocks!" 

 

"I could get you my birth certificate if you like ..." 

 

"Get fucked. Let's see the others of this kid. What's her name?" 

 

Geoff hadn't thought of one. How stupid could you get. 

 

"Leigh. That's her name. Leigh Delamere." 

 

"What sort of a name's that, for Chraassakes? Leigh Delamere?" 

 

Geoff shrugged. "That's her name. Not my fault." He shook the rest of 

the prints out of the envelope. He had kept the best until last. Lynda, 

looking only slightly drunk, was on her hands and knees, totally 

naked, looking back over her shoulder at the camera, sticking her 

tongue out. Her sex glistened wetly. Geoff had seen the photo fifty 

times since his first glimpse of it in the darkroom. It still did things to 

his loins. 

 

Hilton Paark shook his head. "Is that the lot? Bloody hellfire!" He 

stared at the hands-and-knees shot again, licked his lips and put it 

down on the table. Two seconds later, he picked it up again. "What are 

her measurements?" 

 

Geoff had no idea. "I can find out. I'll ask her. Or ... or measure her 

myself. You've seen about half the shots. I've got the originals. Colour 

trannies. A lot more like that one, completely nude. Nothing more 

revealing than that, though. No pink." Geoff was keeping the last roll 

for himself. 

 

Paark looked slightly disappointed. "Her first time?" 

 

"Yeah." 

 

Paark made a decision. He gathered up the prints into a pile, with the 

hands-and-knees shot on top. "Can you leave these with me? Call me 

tomorrow. Here's my home number, right? I think we can probably do 

something. She'll have to change that fucking name, though. Leigh 

Delamare! Chraast!" 

 

 

********** 

 

As Hilton Paark watched through the window, Geoff crossed the street 

and got into a red Ford Escort. 

 

"Sammy! Get me Walt, straight away, there's a love. What's the time 

over there?" 

 

"Two pm. He'll be back in the office." Samantha tucked the phone 

under her silky blonde hair and looked up at Paark as she tapped out 

the number. 

 

"Did you see that guy who just left? Name sounded familiar, somehow. 

Lester Forrest East? Heard of him?" 

 

Samantha sniggered, then realised Paark was serious. "No, Hilt, not 

seen him before." She put the phone down. "Busy. I'll try again. What 

did he want anyway? Nice looking boy." 

 

"He had some shots of a girl. Fucking huge tits on her, for a kid. Leigh 

Delamere? Bloody weird name, if you ask me. Sounds like a bloody 

motorway service station." 

 

The blonde girl again glanced at Paark, but saw no reaction. "Nice 

name! It is a motorway service station, Hilt. So is Leicester Forest 

East." But with a name like Hilton Paark, she reasoned, her boss might 

not appreciate such subtleties. She studied the photograph Paark gave 

her. "Nice tits, too." 

 

"He says she's eighteen. I reckon fifteen, tops!" 

 

"With boobs like that, Hilt? You don't get tits that size on a fifteen 

year old. She's got to be at least eighteen. Not that it ever worried you, 

anyway," she added, almost loud enough for Paark to hear. She picked 

up the phone again and listened, then raised a thumb and nodded 

vigorously. "Putting you through, Mr Paark," she shouted, and listened 

to the first few words of the conversation. 

 

"Hey, Walt, old mate. I got something for ya. Something special, for 

the August number of GROSS. Yeah, real special, man ...!" 

 

 

********** 

 

"Geoff? Hello!" Lynda sounded breathless and child-like over the 

phone. "I sneaked out of English to call you. I haven't got much more 

money on me. Was that Debbie who answered?" 

 

"No, it was the receptionist. What do you want? I'm not supposed to 

have calls at the studio. We're in the middle of a session, Lyn. Duncan 

will be mad at me." 

 

"What's she like? Is she as nice as me? Has she got big tits?" 

 

"Not as big as yours, Lynnie. Of course not. Yours are the third biggest 

I've ever seen. What do you want? Duncan will be coming in a minute. 

Hurry up!" 

 

"My bra. I've lost it. Remember how I took it off, and my pants. And 

when you took me home at eleven o' clock at night, I got in deep shit. 

I'm grounded for a month and it's all your fault. My Dad  said I ought 

to be ... Geoff, you still there?" 

 

"Yeah. Hurry up, Lynnie, please!" 

 

Anyway, I put my jeans on in the front garden, but I didn't have my 

bra and pants. Have you seen them? Only that bra was the only one 

that fit me properly. My others are too small and I stick out all over 

the place. The one I've got on today is really obscene! You'd like it, but 

then you're a pervert. My boobs are practically exploding out of the 

thing, over the top, round the sides, underneath ...!" 

 

"Lynnie. I haven't got your bra. It must be still up there on the hill, 

unless anyone's found it." 

 

"It would be no use to anyone else, Geoff. It only fits me." 

 

"Maybe someone will find it and bring it home. They're sure to know 

it's yours." 

 

"Shit, my Mum will murder me if they do and they say where they 

found it. I'll be grounded until I'm twenty one! Do you love me, 

Geoff?" 

 

He couldn't keep track of her sudden changes of direction. Even when 

she was sober, she still did it. 

 

Yeah, sure, I love you, Lynnie. Gotta go!" 

 

"Call me, Geoffwey, pwetty pwease!" 

 

"I'll call you, I gotta go, Lynda!" 

 

"Don't go! I've still got another fifty pence left ..." 

 

She was talking to an empty phone. Rotten pig, she said to herself, but 

she had a little smile on her face as she left the phone box and bounced 

across the road back to school. Her bra was strangling her. She ducked 

into the girls' toilets. Five minutes later, she emerged, her bra tucked 

in her bum bag, her breasts shifting heavily from side to side in her 

blouse. 

 

She couldn't go back into class looking like this, she thought. The next 

bus was in ten minutes. She would catch it and ride all the way to the 

end of the journey. Then it was only a ten minute walk up on to the 

Downs. If her bra was there, she would be able to find it. 

 

 

********** 

 

"Yeah, Walt, man! Got your fax. You saw the scans of that Delamere 

kid? See what I mean, huh? No problem, no problem. I'll do a deal 

with the guy. Yeah, her agent. It might cost you a bit over the odds, 

but it's worth it for a pair of sixties, right?" 

 

Hilton Paark picked his nose as he yelled into the phone. Below him, 

the streets were already clogged with traffic crawling home at the end 

of the day. 

 

"Shit, how would I know her measurements, man? Fifty? A hundred? 

But those tits have got to be the biggest ever. After this babe comes 

out, fucking HUMUNGOUS! can roll over and die!" 

 

The voice at the other end asked another question, the big one. 

 

It's a good job this isn't a video phone, Paark thought, shuffling his 

feet guiltily. Trust Walt to get suspicious about the kid's age. Paranoid, 

these Americans. 

 

"Like I told you, Walt. She's eighteen. She was at school with her 

agent, trust me! Yeah, young love story, I know. But she's legal. She 

just looks younger, that's all. Well, most of her, anyway! Hey, maybe 

next time, we can get her into school uniform, huh? And she can give 

us a bit of pink, as well. Yeah, hot, huh? Hey, Walt. I got ta go, 

someone at the door, man. See ya!" 

 

 

********** 

 

"Lynnie? It's me! Is it safe to talk?" 

 

"Geoff? Hi! Yeah, I'm in my bedroom! I'm wearing a T-shirt and 

nothing else. Those big dark bits on the ends of my boobs are really 

sticking out! I wish you could see me. When can you come and see me, 

Geoffwey?" 

 

"That's what I wanted to tell you. I sold some of your pictures." 

 

"Sold? For money? Somebody bought pictures of ME?" 

 

"Of course it was for money. I haven't got it yet but it's being paid into 

my bank." 

 

"How much, Geoff? That's fantastic. Pictures of me! Who bought 

them?" 

 

"An American magazine. It's not sold over here, so nobody will 

recognise it's you. How much pocket money do you get a week, 

Lynnie?" 

 

"Three or four pounds most weeks, why?" 

 

"You're going to be rich, then! How does fifty sound to you?" 

 

"Fifty pence?" Lynda sounded crestfallen. 

 

Geoff laughed. "Pounds, Lynnie!" 

 

"Fifty pounds?" Lynda thought of the money. Three or four months' 

pocket money. It made her wet just imagining that much money all in 

one go. She bit her lower lip and touched herself beneath the bottom of 

her T-shirt. "I wanna see you, Geoff!" she whispered, close to the 

phone. 

 

Geoff lay back on the bed, the phone tucked under his chin, he 

swallowed hard and said nothing. 

 

"What are you doing, Geoff?" her voice said in his ear. 

 

"Lying on my bed, why?" 

 

"What are you wearing?" 

 

"Boxer shorts, that's all." 

 

"Oooh, Geoff!" There was a long silence, punctuated by heavy 

breathing from both ends of the connection. 

 

"Have you got a bra on, Lynnie?" Geoff could have bitten his tongue. 

 

"No, it's too small. I didn't find my best one up on the hill. I daren't 

tell Mum. She's bound to find out." 

 

"You could buy another, when you've got money!" 

 

Lynda pulled a face. "Buy my own? Yuck! Anyway, they cost loads. 

Mum said the last one was forty quid." There was a moment's silence, 

and Geoff knew what was coming. It came. "You could buy me one, 

Geoffwey," she wheedled. 

 

Geoff lay back and pressed the cool satin to his face. Each of the 

enormous cups felt big enough to put his head inside. Such a tiny voice 

at the other end of the phone, yet it belonged to the owner of these vast 

bra cups! 

 

"It was your fault I lost the other one," she whined. "You ought to buy 

one for me. Hey, you could come with me to see Mrs Danby. We could 

get another pink one same as the one you lost, only a bit bigger so I 

can grow into it. Will you come with me, Geoff?" 

 

Geoff felt his orgasm approaching. Why not go with Lynda to see her 

Mrs Danby? It would be fun. He would be able to find out her bra size, 

and her bust measurement so he could tell Hilton Paark. And they 

could make love afterwards in the car. She wanted it, after all. She had 

begged him for it. It wasn't his fault she had fallen asleep. "Lynda-

aaa," he groaned, as the sensation overcame him. He stopped moving 

his hand, just softly caressing himself until he came, letting it flood 

like a raging torrent. 

 

"Geoff? You still there?" 

 

"Lynnie!" He could only pant her name. 

 

"I have to go," she gabbled. "Love you ...!" 

 

The dial tone brrrr-ed in Geoff's ear as he sat up and wiped at the icy 

splodges of semen on his chest and stomach. There were tons of the 

stuff. A great dollop of come had landed in Lynnie's bra. He pressed it 

to his face, feeling the cold, slimy wetness, the sensation of loss and 

defeat. 

 

He decided. He would call her tomorrow. After all, what was forty 

quid for a new bra? He had four hundred to come from Paark. Fifty for 

the girl, forty for her new bra, and she'd be eating out of his hand. Or 

anywhere else he cared to think of. 

 

And next time he took her photos, he would sneak her into the studio 

and do it without the beer. He let the fantasy build, and to his surprise 

and delight, found himself getting hard again already. 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 10:- A Chance Meeting 

 

Maggie placed the layouts proudly on Wilma's desk. 

 

"What do you think, chief?" 

 

"This is Kay? She's massive!" She turned over the sheets one at a time, 

until she came to the last couple. "Jeez! Is that what I think it is?" She 

peered closer. "I don't think we've showed a girl getting wet before. 

Not with her knickers on, anyway. It looks really really rude!" 

 

"That's one way of putting it, yes. Kay got really turned on, Debbie 

said if they hadn't been running late, it might have led to something in 

the dressing room. But the Honorable Charlotte was there and it 

cramped Debbie's style." 

 

"One can imagine it would. Any word on how Charlotte's pictures are 

coming along?" 

 

"Not seen them yet. Duncan said it was rather unlike Geoffrey, but he 

seemed to be a bit slow this week. Must be lurve!" 

 

"Teenage boys! You'd think he would see enough ravishing women to 

cure him of getting crushes on spotty little bitches next door. Unless 

he's knobbing one of the models!" 

 

Maggie stifled a snort. "Geoffrey? Apart from wanking into the 

bleach-fix tank, he's pure and innocent as the driven snow. One day, 

when I find myself at a loose end, I might take his body unto myself!" 

 

"That ought to be worth watching. Save me a ringside seat, Mags!" 

 

 

********** 

 

Lynda was practically dribbling at the breakfast table. Geoff had called 

her. 'Meet me at the usual place,' he had said! The usual place! Their 

special place. He was going to take her to see Mrs Danby. A whole 

hour in his car, then he could wait outside while she went in and got 

measured. Probably, Mrs Danby would be able to make her a bra 

straight away. Then a whole hour back again. 

 

I want him, she thought. Today would be as good an occasion as any. 

She shuddered as she thought of it. 

 

"You all right, Lyn," her mother looked at her with concern. "You're 

not cold, are you? You ought to wear a vest these cold mornings. Or a 

nice cardy." 

 

"I'm all right, Mum. I don't need a cardigan. And girls do not wear 

vests these days." 

 

"Well don't catch cold in the playground. If you get a cold and it goes 

to your chest, you know how hard it is to shake off." 

 

"Yeah, Mum. Look, I don't fancy scrambled eggs, right? I'll catch the 

early bus. I need to catch up on some work before school. I'll just grab 

a slice of toast." She did, and made for the door before her mother 

could recover her wits. 

 

"Bye, Mum! Love you!" And she was gone. And wearing her old bra 

again. It really was awfully tight, now, Mrs Sutcliffe, thought. The 

poor girl would do herself a mischief. 

 

 

********** 

 

Geoff was on time. In fact, he was early. As Lynda rounded the corner 

of the road, with a hundred yards still to go, the familiar red Escort 

swung into the other end of the road and slowed down by the vicarage. 

She waved, and the car accelerated to meet her. 

 

It didn't matter who was watching, she leapt in and immediately 

hugged Geoff, pouring wet kisses all over his face. It was a while 

before he could recover sufficiently to respond. 

 

"I've never seen you in your school clothes before. You look different." 

 

"I'll change in a minute. I've got some other stuff in here." She patted 

her bulging bag.  

 

"No, it's all right," said Geoff. "You look sexy in that stuff. That shirt 

is so tight on you." 

 

"I can hardly breathe in this bra. I have to wear one, though, or I'd get 

sent home and get in the shit." 

 

"Are you allowed to have skirts as short as that?" 

 

She giggled and showed him the top of her skirt. To Geoff's acute 

discomfort, she had to lift her breast out of the way to reveal it. "We 

turn our skirts over at the top. Most of the girls do. We have a contest 

to see who can pull her skirt up the highest. I usually win. Do you like 

short skirts, then? Are you a dirty old man, Geoffwey?" 

 

He felt like one in the company of this busty kid. He put the car in gear 

and drove off, quietly and without his customary wheelspin. 

 

"We'll be about an hour. Does Mrs Danby know you're coming?" 

 

"No. Should she?" 

 

"Don't you have to make an appointment?" 

 

"Shouldn't think so! Why? I'm a regular customer." 

 

"I just thought she might be busy, or have another customer in when 

we arrive." 

 

"That's all right, darling! We can wait in the car, can't we!" Lynda 

made no secret of what they might be doing to while away the time 

while they waited. 

 

It sounded acceptable enough to Geoff! He might even get to fuck the 

girl twice today: once outside Mrs Danby's and once on the way home! 

 

"You've got a hard-on, Geoffwey," said a tiny voice from close to his 

ear. "Have we got time to stop on the way there?" 

 

 

********** 

 

"Is this it? It's a house. I expected a shop." Geoff drove into the front 

gates of the Victorian villa and parked next to a sports coupe. One 

other vehicle was in the parking space, a dusty-looking small blue 

Citroen van, one of those with a high roof and one window at the 

sides. 

 

"Are you going to wait outside?" Lynda asked. She got out and stood 

uncertainly by the car, her damp knickers feeling chilly as the breeze 

flirted with her skirt. She had never been to Mrs Danby's on her own 

before. It had never occurred to her that it might be a good idea to 

make an appointment. Mrs Danby had always been here before. She 

felt insecure all of a sudden, and reached back into the car to touch his 

hand. "Come in with me, Geoff. I'll get lonely on my own." 

 

Geoff didn't need a written invitation. He leapt out, grinning, and took 

Lynda's hand. It felt as if he was taking a little sister to school, except 

that when he looked down at her, he got a lump in the groin just 

looking at her long legged womanly body and amazing bosom. He 

reminded himself that they were just going to get this girl measured 

for a custom bra. 

 

At least, he had managed to avoid having to stop and have sex with 

Lynda on the way. Too much traffic, he had told her, and promised to 

make it up to her later. She had sulked for the next twenty minutes, 

although she seemed to recover her good spirits when he placed a 

hand on her wondrously muscular and well-fleshed thigh. 

 

There was no reply at first when they rang the bell. It took a couple of 

minutes before the door opened. 

 

"Lynda?" Mrs Danby's face clouded in confusion and she looked from 

the girl to Geoff and back. "You obviously need a new bra, Lyn, but 

your Mum didn't say you were coming. Did I forget an appointment?" 

 

Lynda blushed and shuffled her feet, not daring to look at Geoff. Her 

heart overflowed when he rescued her. 

 

"We're sorry, Mrs Danby. I'm Lynda's boyfriend, and I just called on 

her as I was passing her way, and I thought it would be easier to drop 

in without calling first. I really am sorry if it's inconvenient." 

 

"Well, as it happens, I do have a client at the moment, but she'll be 

done in another half hour. Do come in ... Mr ...?" 

 

"Geoff. Just Geoff!" 

 

"We'll find you a cup of coffee. It's a bit chilly this morning, as Lynda 

can probably tell you in that skirt!" 

 

The two youngsters followed Mrs Danby into the house, and though 

into the workroom at the back. 

 

"Help yourselves to tea or coffee, Geoff. I'll get on, then I can get 

around to Lynda that much sooner. Do you have to get back to school, 

love?" 

 

"Not today," said Lynda, blushing. 

 

"Day off? You get so many days off these days. It never used to be like 

this. Still, as long as you're learning." 

 

"Yeah," Lynda said. 

 

"She's definitely learning, Mrs Danby," said Geoff, regretting it 

instantly as the bra lady raised an eyebrow in what is generally called 

an old-fashioned look. He busied himself with coffee cups. He had 

recovered his composure a little by the time the kettle boiled, and he 

mixed two mugs and carried them carefully over to where Lynda had 

perched herself in a temporary manner on a stool. 

 

The curtains covering the doorway of the fitting cubicle in the corner 

twitched, and a tall, red-headed woman came out. Her eyes met 

Geoff's. 

 

"Geoff? Here's a surprise!" 

 

"Charlotte!" 

 

Lynda looked at them both in horror. She could see that Charlotte was 

older than she was, quite ancient, probably more than twenty, and in 

her underwear. She couldn't miss seeing that Charlotte was 

gigantically endowed. Not many women could make Lynda feel small-

breasted. Charlotte made her feel instantly concave. And the woman 

knew Geoff! Lynda wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. 

 

Geoff wouldn't have minded the same thing happening. Everyone 

seemed to be waiting for an explanation from him, but his tongue was 

tied. 

 

"I brought Lynda," he explained lamely. "She's my girlfriend." 

 

That's something, at least, Lynda thought. I'm still his girlfriend.  

 

"Hi, Lynda," said Charlotte. She sounded like a television newsreader, 

or a princess. The Queen, even. But at least she was friendly. If she 

was a rival for Geoff's affections, Lynda felt less than confident. 

Charlotte looked as if she could easily have torn her limb from limb. 

 

"Hello," she said. 

 

"Gosh, you're a big girl, Lynda. I shall have to watch out. How old are 

you, then?" 

 

"Fourteen," Lynda blurted. "Nearly fifteen." 

 

"We'll have to get her modelling for girlie mags, won't we, Geoff?" 

 

Geoff went scarlet as Lynda looked at him. So, this huge redheaded 

woman was one of his models! 

 

"Maybe," he said lamely, "in a couple of years, anyway!" 

 

"Geoff works at Duncan's studio," Charlotte explained to Mrs Danby. 

"We met last week." She winked at Lynda, and adopted a convincing 

American accent. "You hang on to him, kiddo, this boy can get you 

into the movies," she said out of the corner of her mouth. "I'll wear it 

now, Mrs D. It feels perfect. Do me another two, if you will, they 

should last a couple of months. Any emergencies, of course, I'll give 

you a bell ..." She was shrugging into a shirt and fastening what 

seemed like a thousand buttons down the front. 

 

"It looks fine, though I says it as shouldn't," said Mrs Danby. "What 

shall I do about the other two? The usual colours, I suppose?" 

 

"Yep. And have them biked down. I've put another twenty on the 

cheque to cover the cost of the greebo ..." She ripped the cheque out 

and waved it exaggeratedly in the air to dry it. She used a fountain pen 

with real ink. 

 

"Lovely to see you again, Geoff. Look after this girl of yours." She took 

one of his hot cheeks between thumb and finger and shook it playfully. 

"You're a little dark horse, you know. I shall have to tell Duncan about 

you and your girlfriend! Only kidding," she added hastily, seeing 

Geoff's expression of stark terror. "Your secret is safe with Charlotte 

fforbes-Davenport." 

 

And she was gone. 

 

 

********** 

 

Mrs Danby had enquired politely whether Geoff would like to watch 

television in the lounge while she measured Lynda, but his expression 

was so crestfallen that she let him stay. 

 

"If she's feeling lonely, you can stay in here," she laughed. "Grab a 

magazine to read. We don't want you getting bored. I expect you see 

naked women all the time, in your job." 

 

"No, not too many," he said hastily. "Well, maybe a few. But not many 

like Lynnie!" 

 

"There aren't many like Lynda," Mrs Danby said. "Come on, then, 

girl. Get your kit off, we haven't got all day!" Lynda obliged, wincing 

and giving a little squeak of relief as she released the last hook of her 

suddenly inadequate bra. 

 

"This isn't your latest one, is it? Didn't you have a pink one that fitted 

you better?" 

 

"I lost it. That's why I need another." 

 

"Lost it? How can you lose ...?" 

 

"I lost it, actually. It was my fault," admitted Geoff. I can't believe I 

just said that, he thought, a moment later, as he caught the old 

fashioned look again, along with a pained glance from Lynda. 

 

"It will turn up somewhere," Mrs Danby said reassuringly, running the 

tape around Lynda's chest. "You're still just about a thirty-two band 

size, but you're really in between. Your next might be a thirty-four. I'll 

give you a standard thirty-two and extend it slightly." 

 

"Will it be ready straight away?" Lynda asked anxiously. 

 

"You can have it in an hour. You can't wear that old one again 

anyway. You carry on wearing that and you're going to explode. None 

of my girls has ever exploded, and I don't intend to start now. Arms 

up! Good. Let's put this bra on you. Don't worry about the fit, it's just 

to hold you up while I measure your boo-boos." Mrs Danby busied 

herself with the tape. "Good grief, girl, what have you been having for 

breakfast?" 

 

"Only toast," Lynda protested. 

 

"You're two inches bigger than last time, the pink one you lost. Or 

Geoff lost." She placed the stiffened brass end of the tape into Lynda's 

cleavage and measured out to the nipples. They hardened instantly at 

her touch. "You're much fuller. Do they usually feel heavy at this time 

of the month?" 

 

"A bit." Lynda nodded, wondering how Mrs Danby knew all these 

intimate secrets. Geoff pretended not to be listening. He supposed this 

was what women talked about all the time when they were together 

alone. Periods and stuff like that. It was so complicated, being a 

woman. Even Lynda was one, and she was only fourteen. Nearly 

fifteen, thought Geoff, with a feeling of tenderness. He smiled at 

Lynda and their eyes met. 

 

"Right. That will do. You can take it off now and finish your coffee. 

Aren't you going to put your blouse back on?" Mrs Danby asked in 

alarm as Lynda sat down next to Geoff, so close one of her huge 

breasts lay on his prick. "No, I suppose not. Right, be good, you two, 

I'm just going to the store room." 

 

"I'm getting bigger," said Lynda, unnecessarily. 

 

"How big are you now?" Geoff's voice was strangled. 

 

"This big! Look, you can see how big I am!" 

 

"No, how big is your bra? Your bust? Your cup size?" 

 

"Dunno about the cups. She makes them specially. And she uses 

inches. We only do centimetres at school. And I can't measure myself 

at home, the tape's been too short for months. I know I used to be 

sixty-something, when I got the bra before I got my pink one, whatever 

that is in centimetres." 

 

"Sixty-something? And you're two inches bigger than that, even? 

Christ, Lynnie. That's gigantic!" 

 

"I'm always a bit bigger when my period is coming up," Lynda 

explained, not realising the effect she was having on him. Then she 

felt a movement under her breast. "Geoffwey!" she scolded him, 

wagging her finger. "You mustn't have an ewection in here! Mrs 

Danby wouldn't like it if Lynnie fucked you here on the table, would 

she!" 

 

Mrs Danby came back with a pile of material. "Pink or black? I've got 

more black." 

 

"Black would be nice," Geoff started. 

 

"Pink," Lynda said firmly. "The one I lost was pink." 

 

"It won't be the same." Mrs Danby looked at her shrewdly. "Does your 

Mum know you lost it?" 

 

"No!" 

 

"Well, the shoulder straps will be wider, for a start. And you're so 

much bigger now, she'll know it's not the same bra. Mums know these 

things, Lyn!" 

 

"I still want pink!" Lynda was stubborn. 

 

"As you wish, m'lady." Mrs Danby had plenty of pink material 

anyway. She sat down at her machine and started busily sewing. A 

pair of alarmingly large cups took shape. To Geoff, they seemed 

massive, compared to the pink bra he wanked into six times a day. 

 

 

********** 

 

The wait wasn't exactly comfortable. Fifty minutes crawled by while 

Mrs Danby machined away, not saying a word to the two young lovers. 

They, in turn, found little to say to each other. They could hardly do 

anything. To kiss would have been embarrassing. As if it wasn't 

embarrassing enough for Geoff to have to sit there with a raging hard-

on and Lynda's breast resting in his lap, and nothing to do but watch 

the absurdly heavy thing pulsing slowly up and down. 

 

He was sure there was a wet patch on his jeans by now, but there was 

no way of finding out until Lynda moved away and took her breast 

with her, and she showed no inclination to do that at all. 

 

At last, Mrs Danby stood up with a sigh, and held up the bra to 

examine the seams. 

 

"Dear me, look at the size of the thing!" she exclaimed in only slightly 

mock horror. "Come on, then, girl, try it on. No need to go into the 

cubicle. Geoff's a man of the world." 

 

Lynda took the bra and lowered herself into the cups, then reached 

around the back, still bent over from the waist, and fastened the hooks. 

Finally, she raised the shoulder straps and adjusted them, her little 

tongue sticking out in concentration. 

 

"How's it feel, dear?" Mrs Danby tested the tension of the body band 

critically. 

 

"It fits!" Lynda said enthusiastically. "Miles better than the pink one. 

What do you think, Geoff?" 

 

Suddenly, it was all too obvious what Geoff thought. As Lynda turned 

to face him, and Mrs Danby looked at him as well, the effect of the last 

fifty minutes of sitting with Lynda's breast lying in his lap finally 

became too much for the poor lad. He was clutching at his groin in the 

first throes of a spontaneous orgasm. Glop after glop of sperm was 

wasted inside his over-tight jeans and shorts, his face contorted with 

pleasure and pain. 

 

Mrs Danby was trying not to laugh. Lynda was crimson with shame. 

 

"I think he approves, dear," said Mrs Danby as the last shudders 

subsided. "The bathroom is upstairs, Geoff," she said gently. "First on 

the right." 

 

 

********** 

 

"All you need now, dear, is a bigger school blouse. You can do up the 

buttons, but it looks a bit dangerous." Mrs Danby watched as Lynda 

fastened the last button. It sprang open again immediately. 

 

"Oh, shit!" said the girl. 

 

"Never mind for now. Your Mum will buy you a bigger one. Shall I 

send her the bill for the bra?" 

 

"No, I'm paying," Geoff broke in. He was still subdued after his little 

accident. 

 

"You're paying?" Mrs Danby looked at Geoff strangely. 

 

"I lost her other one, so it's my fault." He produced a wad of notes and 

peeled off a couple of twenties. "Is forty pounds right?" 

 

"Near enough, for cash." Mrs Danby accepted the money and tucked it 

into a notebook on her workbench. 

 

Lynda held Geoff's hand with affection. She seemed to be tugging at it 

and trying to tell him something. "Later," he said. "When we get in 

the car. We'd better be getting a move on, Mrs Danby." 

 

"My pleasure, dears. Now you make sure you tell your mother about a 

new blouse, Lyn. That one is miles too small now. If you like, I can 

phone her and say you've been in today, just to ..." 

 

"No, don't!" Lynda threw up her hands. "I'll tell her when we get 

home. It's all right." 

 

"As you like." She led the way to the door and watched from the front 

step as the couple got into the car. A strange pair, those two. Must be a 

story behind that missing bra, she thought. Fancy young Lynda having 

a boyfriend rich enough to buy her a new bra, forty quid, just like that! 

She waved goodbye, sighed and went indoors. 

 

 

********** 

 

"I think I'd better get home, Geoff. In case she rings Mum. Mum will 

find out I haven't been to school." 

 

"Doesn't the school call her anyway?" 

 

"Nah. They don't know where I am, half the time. And most of the 

teachers don't want me in class anyway. They reckon I'm a destructive 

influence. We had music today ..." 

 

Geoff was getting used to Lynda's abrupt changes of subject, but this 

one stopped him in his tracks. 

 

"We did?" 

 

"No, we did, at school. I missed it. I play the cello ..." 

 

A disturbing and erotic image flashed into Geoff's mind, as he 

imagined Lynda's whopping thighs wrapped round a cello, her huge 

boobs getting in the way of her bow ... 

 

"I'm going to get Mum to write a letter getting me excused, 'cos I can't 

see what I'm doing with my tits in the way. She won't mind. The 

school wants her to buy a cello for me. I don't want a fucking cello, 

and she can't afford one. She says my clothes cost enough. I've got 

nothing. The other girls have got brilliant clothes and my rotten Mum 

says she can't afford them. And she only gives me three quid a week. 

It's not enough to buy clothes. Anyway, why should I buy my own 

clothes? Do you buy yours?" 

 

"I work." 

 

"Yeah, but that's your own money. Don't your Mum and Dad buy you 

your clothes? Like those jeans?" She rested a hand on his thigh, then 

withdrew it to straighten her stocking. Or tights, were they? Geoff's 

visions of sex with Lynda seemed to be melting away. He had seen her 

topless in Mrs Danby's. The memory came back to him painfully. But 

he hadn't even had a hand on her skirt, let alone getting close to 

having the girl's panties off. 

 

He remembered her question. "I live with my Dad. He's got no money. 

I have to buy my own stuff." 

 

"Could you buy me something, Geoffwey?" The hand returned to his 

thigh, and the fingers walked briefly up his leg, then changed their 

mind and walked down again. 

 

"Me? Buy you ... what?" 

 

"Some jeans or something. A shirt? It would be nice. And special, 

coming from you." 

 

"You could buy yourself something with the fifty pounds from your 

pictures." He had given her the money as soon as they had got into the 

car. Lynda had insisted. 

 

"But that's mine!" 

 

"To buy clothes with." 

 

"No! It's mine, for me! They were my pictures anyway. How much did 

they pay you? Have you got any more? It's all mine, really." Her 

fingers stopped, and her warm hand shot up his thigh to his groin. The 

car lurched across the road. 

 

"Lyndaaaa!" 

 

"You could fuck me, Geoffwey. Buy me a shirt and I'll let you fuck me 

three times! Five times, if it's a nice shirt." She caressed his thigh 

again, and giggled softly. "You can fuck me any time, darling, you 

know that." 

 

Geoff felt his loins melt. "Let's stop soon ..." 

 

"If you buy me a shirt. I can't just wear any shirt, with these. They 

have to be loose fitting. But I saw a nice one. Only twenty, in a sale. 

Give me twenty and I'll let you take it off for me. Then my jeans and 

my juicy wet panties. You'd like that, wouldn't you! And you could 

fuck me. Not today, though," she said firmly, as Geoff began to slow 

the car and look for a quiet gateway or somewhere to stop. "I need to 

get back." 

 

The rest of the journey was torture for Geoff as Lynda goaded him into 

buying her a shirt. When he dropped her at their meeting place, he 

was determined never to see her again, the greedy little grasping bitch. 

But he parted with a crisp twenty pound note in return for a lusciously 

sweet wet kiss and a menacing hand cupping his balls. 

 

"I'll call you tomorrow night, Geoff. Promise. Don't call me, though. 

I'm still officially grounded. But we'll fix something up. I really really 

want you!" 

 

He was in bed that night, unable to sleep even after his regular love-

making with Lynda's encrusted bra, when he realised that he still 

didn't know the girl's measurements. Hilton Paark had been adamant: 

he needed her measurements immediately, or Geoff wouldn't get the 

rest of his money. With the bra paid for, and the petrol for the journey, 

and the seventy pounds for Lynda, he had only about seventy pounds 

left himself.  

 

She was going to call tomorrow, she had said. He would ask her then. 

 

 

********** 

 

Lynda didn't call. After three days, and a nagging message from Mr 

Paark's secretary, Geoff phoned Mrs Danby. 

 

"You want what?" 

 

"Lynda's measurements. You know, her bust, waist ..." 

 

"I know. What for, boy? Ask her yourself, if you need to know. You're 

her boyfriend."  

 

"It's a surprise, for her birthday."  

 

"You've got plenty of time, then, she was fourteen two months ago." 

 

She's getting younger all the time, thought Geoff, irrelevantly. "Not 

her birthday," he stammered. "A present. I wanted to get her a surprise 

present. Just a present. And I don't know her size." 

 

"You're a strange one, young Geoffrey!" But Mrs Danby could be 

heard shuffling through some papers. Looking up Lynda's records, 

where all her measurements for the past two years were written down. 

"You still there? I don't know why I do these things for you, but she's 

five feet seven tall, or just under. Her waist is twenty-five and her hips, 

thirty-eight. All right?" 

 

"Thanks!" Geoff was choking. "What about her bust?" 

 

"You were there! You saw me measuring it. You couldn't take your 

eyes off what I was doing. What are you buying her, anyway, if you 

need all her measurements?" 

 

"A pair of jeans." 

 

"Then you only need her waist and  ..." 

 

"And a shirt!" 

 

"That little madam has more shirts than she's had hot dinners." 

 

"But how big?" Geoff wailed. 

 

"God, boy. Sixty-three. She gets fuller before her periods. You won't 

find a shirt ready made for her. Not any more! It will cost three times 

as much as a ready made one. I told her I'd make her one ..." 

 

Geoff could only groan, before he put the phone down. Sixty-three 

inches! Sixty-three, twenty-five, thirty-eight! But Mrs Danby was 

right. Where was he going to find a shirt as big as that? Lynda was 

going to squeeze even more money out of him, and there was still no 

certainty he would get into her pants at the end of the day. 

 

It was no use. He dug beneath his pillow and took out Lynda's bra. 

 

 

 

[Note: The Hilton Park service area on the M6 motorway is now 

known as Birmingham (North). At the moment, Leigh Delamere on 

the M4 is still called Leigh Delamare.] 

 

 

 

<end Part 3> 

