Fresh from the shower, I slip into a terrycloth robe, courtesy of the hotel, and fix a simple martini, straight up with olives. I’m in town for a couple of weeks to rehearse my play with a summer theater group and am enjoying a welcome break from my teaching position at a small but expensive liberal arts college.

Two sips into the martini, I’m interrupted by a tapping at the door. Damn. Room service? Housekeeping? I haven’t called for anything. Who could it be?

Looking through the peephole, I see a young face, female, large eyes wide open, atop an outlandish figure – distorted, no doubt, by the fisheye lens. But wait a minute. Could it be? Oh my god, yes! It’s her. The one with the tits. My pulse quickens and my throat feels suddenly tight. Stage fright after all these years?

I don’t know the girl’s name, but have noticed her working backstage during the past two weeks – very quiet, a bit of a loner, and rarely interacting with the other crew members. Okay. I’ve more than noticed her. I’ve hardly been able to take my eyes off her. Okay, I’ve hardly been able to take my eyes off her tits. What’s she doing outside my hotel room? I cinch the sash of my bathrobe and open the door. "Hello. Can I help you?"

My visitor says nothing, but stands there blushing, which gives me a moment to study her more closely. A halo of brown hair frames a rather soft and unformed face – not unattractive, but not cover girl material either. A bit on the tall side, five-seven or more, with a moderate build, except of course, for her boobs, which challenge the seams of an otherwise too large man’s shirt, paint spattered, that hangs loose and smock-like, untucked above baggy blue jeans. Her shoulders are hunched forward in a self-conscious but unsuccessful attempt to minimize the extent of her enormous bosom. I, too, am suddenly self-conscious, and wish for more than a single layer of fluffy cotton between my quickly swelling manhood and my apparently mute guest. Expectantly, I clear my throat, and she struggles to speak.

"Mr. Z?" she asks haltingly.

"At your service," I answer with feigned boredom and mock formality. "How can I help you?"

"Umm. I’m not sure, really. And I’m not too good at this." Hesitating, she continues. "I just wanted to come by and thank you."

"Thank me. For what, may I ask?"

"Well, um. I guess for your play, and for being so patient with the crew and everything." Her shyness is excruciating.

"Well, you’re quite welcome, young lady. I believe that I’ve noticed you on the set and I appreciate all the work you’ve done for the production." An awkward pause. "Is there anything else?"

"No. Not really. I’m sorry for just showing up on your doorstep like a stray cat, but I just had this impulse to come by and thank you. So here I am." She shrugs and pauses. "I guess that’s all. I better be going now." She turns to leave.

"Wait." Suddenly, it’s my turn to take a chance. "I do appreciate your thanks, and the stretch you’ve made to see me in person. I’d ask you in for a drink, but I’m really not dressed – as you can see," I quip, in an effort to ease our awkwardness.

"Oh, that’s okay, really. I guess I could come in for a few minutes," she says, startling both of us with her response, and immediately clapping a hand over her mouth in the universal gesture of I-can’t-believe-what-I-just-said.

"Well then, that settles it." I escort her into my suite, trying not to stare at the remarkable breasts jostling restlessly under her work shirt. "Join me for a martini?"

"Okay. But I’ve never really had one. I’m kind of new at this."

"Just how old are you?" I ask, suddenly aware of my legal vulnerability.

"I’m nineteen. I just don’t drink very much," she answers.

"Good," I say, with a discreet sigh of relief. "That makes you a fully consenting adult – and legally entitled to sample my martini. Here, this is really quite excellent. But I’m told it’s an acquired taste."

She sips my drink carefully, but immediately wrinkles her nose and makes a face. "Ooooh. I think I’ll pass on that. Sorry."

I smile again and head for the mini-bar. "No problem. I’m sure you’ll find a rum and Coke more enjoyable. What do you say?"

"Sure. I guess."

I’m struck by the uncertainty of her manner – the insecure little-girlishness of someone much younger than nineteen. But there’s no question that my unexpected guest is a very well-developed young woman. She accepts the drink and sips appreciatively, settling into an armchair. I’m captivated by her massive breasts that seem to shift and sway with every breath.

I take a seat on the sofa directly across from her, noticing that she’s well into her rum and Coke. I nurse my own drink patiently. "So, tell me," I say, affecting a casual tone, "what’s your story?"

"Well," she takes a deep breath, adding another degree of stiffness to my cock, "My name is Alexandra – Alex, for short. I’m an only child, and my parents were killed in a car wreck when I was four. I was brought up by nuns in a very strict school for girls – a convent, really – until I was expelled last year. That’s when I came here to take care of my great aunt, who’s not well. I’ve lived, as they say, a very sheltered life.

"The convent was horrible. No TV or movies or dancing or boys – or anything. We learned that anything fun or anything that feels good is a sin, the work of the devil. That’s why they kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday."

"I don’t understand," I say.

Alex pauses and looks off, debating whether to continue. "Could I have another rum and Coke, please?"

I fix new drinks and sense a softening of her tension. I’m startled to realize that the topmost buttons of her shirt are open, exposing the gentle cords and smooth skin of her neck. As she reaches for the glass, her breasts shift tectonically and two mounds of creamy flesh swell suddenly into view, revealing a shadowy cleavage that deepens and lengthens to an impossible degree – and then vanishes just as swiftly beneath the spacious folds of her shirt. I flee to the sofa, dizzy with desire.

"Where were we?" I ask, trying to regain my composure. "Oh yes. You were kicked out of the convent – why?"

"Well, it’s a long story – and kind of embarrassing," she answers, blushing deeply.

"That’s alright. I’m not here to judge you, but I’ll be glad to listen – as long as you feel like talking."

Alex continues. "About the time I turned 13, the other girls stopped using my real name and started calling me Melanie."

"I don’t understand. Why Melanie?" I ask.

"Oh, come on, Mr. Z. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed," she says with impatience. "It’s kind of impossible not to – don’t you think?"

"I’m sorry, Alex, but I really don’t know what you mean." I’m genuinely puzzled.

"Look at me, Mr. Z." she says. "just look at me." Her next gesture nearly gives me a stroke. Cradling both arms beneath her voluminous bosom, she lifts upward and inhales deeply, causing her enormous breasts to surge up and outward. The smooth contours of their upper slopes heave into view and threaten to explode from her shirt in an avalanche of titflesh.

God almighty. For once in my life, I’m speechless.

"Don’t you see what I mean?" she asks in frustration. "They called me ‘Melanie’ because of these huge melons."

Stunned by her demonstration, I dab the sweat from my forehead and struggle for a response. "I guess they weren’t very good spellers, were they?"

She looks at me quizzically, but continues. "Because of my obvious difference, I became an outcast, the black sheep of the convent. It was the bleakest and loneliest time of my life – almost as bad as when my parents died. Which is why your play has been so important to me. When I first read it, I immediately felt less lonely and alienated. It was as if the writer knew me personally and had totally entered my head. I identified so closely with the Chloe character that the play felt like my very own life. I volunteered for the stage crew out of curiosity. Then, when I found out that the writer himself would actually be here to direct the play, I just had to meet him – you – in person. It took two weeks for me to get up the courage, but here I am." She quietly sips her drink and drops her eyes before looking back up. "I think I like these rum and Cokes," she says shyly.

"I’m flattered, Alex, and I accept your thanks. But in all seriousness, I hope you realize how truly special you are."

"Yeah, right," she says skeptically, throwing back her shoulders and once more elevating her tremendous breasts. "A little too special, I’d say."

"Please don’t say that." And then I take my second chance of the evening. "I find your specialness exceedingly attractive, Alex. Breath-taking, in fact."

"Are you serious?" She looks puzzled and confused. "No one’s ever told me that before. I never thought anyone could find these things attractive," she says, cupping her breasts and squeezing softly.

"I guess you really don’t know much about men – or the ways of the world – do you?" I say. "Why did they kick you out of the convent? It couldn’t have been just because of your extraordinary breasts?"

"Well, yes and no. Like I said, it’s hard for me to talk about, and I get really confused by my own feelings. On the one hand, my breasts are really gross," she says, lifting her great glands slightly and then letting them settle heavily. "They’re big and bulky and always in the way; but they do make me feel different from everyone else – in a special sort of way. So, part of me really hates them, but another part loves them dearly. Yes, I’m different, but at the same time I’m very special, because no one – and I do mean no one – has breasts like these." She cups and squeezes herself proudly. "They’re so much a part of who I am – and who I’m becoming – that I can hardly imagine being just normal-sized anymore."

"So what was the problem at the convent?" I ask again, becoming seriously aroused.

"What got me in trouble were the mirrors. Ever since I started growing, I’ve loved to watch my body in the mirror – especially when I’m naked. I get all warm and tingly, and this wonderful sense of power just grows and grows inside of me. Then when I squeeze my tits – it’s okay if I call them tits, isn’t it? – especially the nipples, the feeling becomes so strong that I nearly faint. The only way I can drive this devil out of my body is by touching myself down below – you know, with my fingers between my legs, rubbing and stroking, until there’s an incredible explosion throughout my whole body. And then the devil flies out – at least until the next time. It’s not like anything I can describe . . ."

"It’s called an orgasm, Alex. Haven’t you ever heard of an orgasm?" I ask gently. "And what you’re describing is called masturbation. That’s not the devil inside your body, but one of the most beautiful and wonderful gifts that God has given us – both men and women."

Alex looks at me without comprehension. "No. I’ve never heard any of that before," she says, thoughtfully. "They kicked me out because of my lustful desires. They said I was possessed by uncontrollable demons of the flesh – and maybe I was. Sometimes I had to drive the demons out several times a day. They finally kicked me out for doing it during Confession."

Good lord, I mutter to myself, thinking of the blessed priest who undoubtedly experienced a true resurrection of the flesh behind the confessional screen. "Didn’t the nuns teach you anything about sex or reproduction – where babies come from, and things like that?" I ask out loud.

"No, they never did. All they told us was that the feelings in our body – especially the good ones – are bad and sinful, that they’re caused by the devil. The only other things I ever heard were what the girls whispered after lights-out."

"Alex, just what exactly do you know about sex and babies, and men and women, and all that?" I ask.

"Well, I know that babies come out of the opening between a woman’s legs, although I still can’t imagine how a baby’s head can fit through such a tiny hole."

"That’s called your vagina, Alex."

"That’s a funny word. Does it have another name? I think the girls called it something else."

"Vagina is its technical name, what the doctors call it, but people have lots of other names for it: cunt, pussy, snatch, to name a few."

"Pussy – I like that," she smiles. "Nice and warm and friendly, like a pussycat."

"Yes, exactly," I smile uneasily. "But do you know how the baby gets there in the first place?"

"Mmm . . . not really. I know that there has to be a father. And I think he has to put his thingy – what’s it called again?" she asks.

"Penis," I answer quickly.

"Right. He has to put his penis inside the mother’s vagina – I mean her pussy. Isn’t that right?"

"Yes – basically – but there’s much more, Alex. So much more."

"That’s what I thought, but no one’s ever taught me any of it," she sighs regretfully. "Would you be willing to teach me, Mr. Z? Would you, please? All the cast members say that that you’re one of the best teachers at Kuntz College." She looks up hopefully.

"We pronounce it Koonce," I answer, discreetly placing a section of the daily newspaper across my lap to hide the not-so-discreet bulge that’s beginning to tent up my robe. "But yes, Alex. I’d be delighted to teach you. We must go slowly, though – very slowly – and we must both be patient. There’s so much to learn." I take another sip of my martini. "When would you like to begin?"

"I’d like to start right now, if it’s okay with you. I feel so much better already – just talking out loud seems to help. This is the first time I’ve shared any of this with another human being, Mr. Z."

"Well, that’s an excellent way to begin, Alex – with trust and openness. Maybe we should try to answer some more of your questions?" I suggest.

"I do have more questions, Mr. Z – lots of them. They mostly have to do with boys and men . . . " she hesitates. "And their penises."

"Hmm, I see, Alex. What would you like to know?"

"Well, there’s this boy, Eddie, who lives next door to my great Aunt’s house. He’s probably sixteen or seventeen. Sometimes he works out in the yard between our two houses – you know, with weights and barbells and things? He usually wears a pair of gym shorts, but nothing else." She looks down, embarrassed, and then confesses, "I like to watch."

"Well, that’s perfectly natural, Alex. Men’s and women’s bodies are very beautiful to look at, especially when they’re young and healthy. Our bodies are made to be admired and celebrated. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with admiring your own body, Alex, or your young neighbor’s."

"Well," she squirms nervously, "I’m just afraid that I upset him or something the last time. I don’t think he ever knew I watched him – until the other day when he finally saw me."

"Why don’t you tell me what happened?"

"Eddie was lifting weights, like I said, and I was watching through the open window. It was hot out, so his body was all wet and shiny with sweat. The muscles in his arms and legs and chest and thighs – kept getting bigger and harder as he lifted the weights, just bulging and swelling up all over – which is when I started getting that warm tingly feeling – "

"You were becoming sexually aroused, Alex. It’s also called feeling hot, or horny, or turned on," I explain. "And it’s perfectly natural for you or anyone to experience that."

"Really?" Once again, she seems surprised by the obvious. "Anyway, I was getting those feelings while I watched Eddie work out. My breathing got deeper and my heart started beating faster and faster, and then my tits started to swell up and push out – even farther than usual. They do that, you know, when I get turned on. And then," she hesitates, "And then, I guess I just . . ."

"Go on, Alex," I coax.

"I guess I just had to drive out the devil," she says sheepishly.

Oh no, I moan to myself, being careful not to disturb the strategically placed newspaper covering my lap. "Describe to me exactly what happened."

"Well, I was wearing a sleeveless top, a pullover thing with little ribs running up and down the fabric."

"Was it tight?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Of course, it was tight. All my tops are tight," she says. "Way too tight for tits like these. The material was stretched so thin that you could see right through to my nipples, which were poking out like sausages by then. Anyway, I closed my eyes and started stroking and squeezing as much of my breasts as I could hold in my hands – which is not very much, you know. Then, when I opened my eyes, Eddie was standing outside my window, not ten feet away, watching me."

"Oh dear, I bet you were startled – or at least embarrassed," I suggest. "What happened next? Did either of you say anything?"

"No, that’s the weird part. I stopped rubbing myself, but neither of us said a word. We just stood there staring at each other – like two statues. Him with a barbell, but not moving a bit; and me with my hands still trying to cover my tits. I was really horny, though, so my hands kind of started moving around by themselves – squeezing my tits, gently at first, then harder and deeper as I got more turned on – until they were wobbling all over my chest. Eddie took a breath and began raising the barbell up and down, nice and smooth and steady, never taking his eyes off me. I don’t know how long we stood there like that – me playing with my breasts and Eddie arm-curling the barbell with his muscles rippling and flexing all over. I could feel an explosion – my orgasm – starting to build up inside, and I noticed Eddie’s face getting all red and tense-looking. Then I realized that his shorts were bulging way out in front like there was a pole or something inside – it must have been his penis, right? – but it was huge! he was working real hard, grunting and straining each time he lifted the barbell, until finally he brought it up to his chest and just held it there with a really funny look in his eyes – like he was in a trance or something. Then he moaned deep down inside – I thought he was having some kind of seizure! but then I saw a wet spot form on the bulge in his shorts, which was jumping up and down like a trapped animal. The wet spot got bigger and bigger, until finally, Eddie just dropped the barbell with a crash and ran into his house. I haven’t seen him since."

"Oh god, Alex." Once again I struggle for composure. "It sounds like Eddie had an orgasm watching you play with yourself."

"Really?" She seems unable to comprehend her own power. "Are you saying that I caused his penis to explode? That I had that kind of effect – without even touching him?" Then, with a puzzled expression, she asks, "And why did you say ‘Oh god’ just now?"

"Oh, my dear Alex. The answer to all your questions is Yes, Yes, and Yes. Yes, you had this effect on Eddie. And Yes, you’ll have the same effect on any man or boy past the age of puberty because of your specialness – which you yourself admit is impossible to ignore. And yes, I said ‘Oh god’ because you’re having the same effect on me – right now."

Alex seems overwhelmed by these revelations.

"Mr. Z, I didn’t know. I never knew. I swear," she stammers, biting her lip. "I’m so sorry. What should I do?" Her eyes fill with tears of shame and embarrassment. "Maybe I should go now?"

"No, Alex, please don’t go. There’s still so much to learn and share – together, if you want. But please don’t go." I’m close to begging.

Her sobs continue. "I don’t know how to thank you for being so kind and understanding, Mr. Z."

I pass her a box of tissues. "the best way to thank me, Alex, is simply to keep learning – by asking more questions and exploring the things you’ve never been taught. Nothing gives me more pleasure than a devoted student," I smile reassuringly.

"Well then," she sniffs, wiping her nose. "I still do have a lot more questions, but I’m afraid they’re kind of personal."

"That’s okay. Go ahead and try me. If I don’t feel like answering, I’ll just say so. Alright?"

"It’s a deal, Mr. Z. Here goes, then. You just said that I was having the same effect on you that I had on Eddie. Is that really true?"

"Yes, I’m afraid it is, Alex."

"Well then," she pauses, "Would it be possible for you to, maybe, show me?"

"Sure – I guess." I hesitate, unsure of what’s coming next.

"You could start by moving that newspaper," she suggests shyly.

"Oh yes, of course." Carefully, I take the newspaper from my lap, revealing the tent-like protrusion in my bathrobe.

"Oh my goodness!" Alex gasps, once more clapping a hand over her mouth. "Did I do that?"

"You most certainly did. And I must confess that if you weren’t still here, I’d probably be driving the devil from my own body right now."

"No, Mr. Z!" she says. "You must be joking."

"I’m not joking, Alex. Men masturbate all the time, and I’m terribly aroused right now."

She considers the lump in my lap and says, "I think I’d like to see that. I’ve never seen a real penis before. May I look?"

"I guess so, Alex, but as I said before, it’s best if we go slowly. I promise you a good look at my penis before our lesson’s over, but first, I’d like to admire your own specialness. You’re a very beautiful woman with an extraordinary body – and I am quite a connoisseur."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Z," she blushes. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, she says, "I’m starting to feel pretty aroused, too – just like you said, hot and horny. What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should pretend that I’m the director of a little play here and do exactly what I tell you, okay?"

"You bet. That sounds like fun," she says. "kind of like an audition or a screen test?"

"Sure, we could make it like that."

"How should I start?" she asks.

"First, I’d like you to take off your sandals and blue jeans."

Alex rises from her chair and does as directed, and in the process of skimming the jeans down her firmly tapered thighs, provides another glimpse of her mind-boggling cleavage. When she stands back up, her enormous breasts assault the front of her shirt like breakers, surging and bobbing violently before subsiding to a slower more sullen roll that never quite seems to end.

"Oh my goodness," I sigh. "Just stand there for a minute and let me savor your abundance, Alex."

The truth is that I’m utterly captivated by the girl’s erotic grace. No longer hidden in her baggy blue jeans, the perfect spheres of her ass and the voluptuous flare of her hips are masterworks of living sculpture.

"Please turn around now, very slowly." Like a goddess on a pedestal, she rotates to face me.

"That’s so nice. So very very nice, indeed," I murmur appreciatively. "Now, if you’d just lift up the lower part of your shirt a bit – " Alex raises the shirt and reveals a diaphanous pair of panties that barely covers, but doesn’t conceal, the dusky ripeness of her womanhood. She stands with total ease, holding the hem of her shirt and gazing down at her pussy. One is leg bent and slightly raised. "There. that’s perfect, Alex. I swear you’re the loveliest creature since Eve."

"I’m not sure what to do, Mr. Z, but I’m really feeling horny and aroused," she tells me again.

"But you do know exactly what to do, Alex. Why don’t you show me how you drive the devil from your body? Show me what you do when you’re alone in front of the mirror – or when you’re at the window watching Eddie’s muscular young body. I’d love to watch, Alex. And so would our undercover friend here," I add, patting the protuberance in my robe. "Why don’t you unhook your bra now?"

"But I’m not wearing a bra, Mr. Z," she answers, suddenly flustered and confused.

"You’re not wearing a bra?" I ask in disbelief. "That’s not possible."

"But it’s true. I’m not wearing one. This is all me," she says. "My tits are way too big for any of the bras in the stores. They all dig into my skin, and I either end up bursting a strap or wrecking the hardware. Besides, it doesn’t feel nearly as good to play with myself through the fabric of a tough old brassiere."

I’m flabbergasted. But then, as if to prove her point, Alex hoists a giant globe and begins to caress it, smoothing her shirt over the massive orb and stroking the nipple through the fabric until it juts out like a defiant finger. She continues to cuddle and soothe her melon-sized breast as if it were a restless puppy. "So big and warm and beautiful," she croons, rolling and squeezing her prize with both hands. Her breathing deepens and her eyelids begin to flutter. "Yesss," she hisses. "So good." Her fingers sink deeply into the firm but yielding flesh, once again stroking and pinching the turgid nipple until she grimaces with pleasure. "Oh yesss." Her hips begin to pump and undulate as the crotch of her panties becomes damp and fragrant with sex.

"Alex. I want you to play with your pussy now," I say. "I want you cum – to have a huge orgasm – while I watch."

Alex slumps back in the chair and thrusts a hand into her sodden panties, probing her thick nest and continuing to maul her tits. Two fingers, then a third, slide between her swollen cuntlips to stroke and caress the delicate flesh while her thumb strums the nub of her clitoris. "Oh yesss. So good. So good. So good. So good," she gasps in a quickening staccato cadence. "Oh yes. It’s gonna happen. Oh my god. It’s gonna happen. It’s gonna happen! Oh yes, yes, yesssss! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" Her body stiffens and arches upward like a tightly strung bow, and she emits a sharp keening wail, punctuated by a series of deep animal-like grunts. Her release is startling in its intensity and duration. "Oh my god!" she finally gasps, trying to regain her breath. "Oh my god." The powerful orgasm recedes, but her body continues to buck and shudder. "Yes," she sighs. "So much better now." As her eyes gradually refocus, she once again becomes awkward and self-conscious. "See what I mean, Mr. Z? I’m so embarrassed. Now you can understand why they kicked me out of the convent."

"Alex, please." I’m breathless with arousal. "You must never apologize for your ability to experience such joy and pleasure. That was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. Don’t ever be sorry for it. I should be on my knees in gratitude for the amazing experience you’ve shared with me."

"If you want to know the truth, Mr. Z, it was one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had, and I think that your watching made it that much better. Usually after an explosion like that, though, the devil’s completely gone – at least for a few hours. But this time I’m still feeling horny, like there’s still another one hiding inside. Do you think something’s wrong with me?"

"Absolutely not, Alex. There’s no limit to the number of orgasms you can have. You never really run out, so you can have as many as you like – whenever you want, but you can never completely drive the devil out of your body. As long as you live, you’ll be a sexual creature with sexual feelings – which you can choose either to ignore or celebrate. But you can never get rid of them."

Alex ponders this for a moment and then says with a sly smile, "In that case, Mr. Z, don’t you think I might as well just make the best of a good thing?"

"Oh I do, Alex. I couldn’t agree more – and good things are something you seem to have in abundance. You’re such a wonderful student!" I say with genuine pleasure. "Shall we continue?"

"You bet, but I’m thirsty. How about another rum and Coke?"

I begin again after returning with our refills: "About this bra business – "

"But I already told you, I don’t wear a bra," she insists.

"I know, I know. But I still find it absolutely incredible – unbelievable, really – that someone with breasts the size of yours can go without a bra. It’s not healthy, you know. And besides, it’s not fair to the men of the world – it’s criminal. One look at your extraordinary bosom – even if it’s tied down with bungee cords – will create an instant erection in any red-blooded male. A second look – especially by anyone lucky enough or unfortunate enough to see you without a bra – will inevitably cause a spontaneous orgasm – just like the mess you created in Eddie’s gym shorts."

"Are you almost finished, Mr. Z?" she asks with a hint of annoyance.

"I guess so – for now at least," I answer, somewhat embarrassed by my own tirade.

"I’d rather you stop lecturing me about my breasts and telling me how to take care of them – at least until you’ve had a chance to really see and experience them for yourself."

"Of course, that’s only fair, Alex. And I do want to see your breasts – more than you can imagine. Are you ready to share them with me?"

"Yes, Mr. Z, but just like you said – all in good time," she answers with an impish grin. "Shouldn’t we finish my penis lesson first?"

"Oh yes, your penis lesson," I relent. "What else do we need to cover?"

"What we need to uncover, Mr. Z, is your penis. I want to learn everything – what it looks like, what it feels like, and how it behaves – especially when that juice comes out of it. Not pee, but the stuff that squirts out when a guy has an orgasm. What I’d really like to know, though, is what a penis feels like inside of me. There’s so much to learn, and so little that I really know," she sighs. "I’ll be glad to show you my breasts, Mr. Z, but only after you teach me some more about your penis."

"You drive a hard bargain," I chuckle, "but it’s a deal. Come on over here." I pat the sofa cushion beside me, but she scoots over and kneels on the floor at my feet instead.

"I guess I’ve got a front row seat," she says mischievously. "When does the show begin?"

Picking up her playful cue, I’m immediately transformed into an old-time circus barker: "Ladies and gentlemen! step right up! Step right up – to the greatest show on earth! Who dares to see? Who dares to feel? And who dares to grasp this awesome symbol of masculine virility, this eighth wonder of the world? Do we have any brave volunteers from the audience?"

Alex’s arm shoots up into the air. "Me! Me! Me! I will! I will! Please pick me!"

"Thank you, thank you very much, young lady! And now, folks, with the help of my beautiful assistant here, I’m honored to present, for his first ever North American appearance – the one, the only, Monsieur LeCoc! Would you do us the honor, please?" I gesture to Alex, who fumbles eagerly with the sash at my waist until she finally manages to untie the knot and open my robe.

"Oh my gosh," she exclaims in a hushed voice.

Monsieur LeCoc lies heavily across one thigh in a slight curve – not yet erect, but quite swollen with blood and latent power – like a large lizard basking on a log.

"He’s so big, Mr. Z. I didn’t think he would look anything like that."

"He is a rather large specimen, I’m proud to say, but well within the normal range."

Alex is fascinated by the dormant creature. "Is it okay if I touch him?" she asks.

"Of course. Monsieur LeCoc loves to be touched, especially by someone as gorgeous as you."

Perched on her knees, Alex leans forward cautiously.

"Don’t be afraid. He won’t bite – I promise."

She extends a hand and pokes the shaft tentatively with two fingers. The fleshy cylinder responds with a slight shrug, then rolls slowly across my thigh and begins to swell with lazy interest. "Oooh look, he’s waking up!" she laughs excitedly. Alex takes a portion of the shaft between her thumb and middle finger, raises it slightly and tests its resilience before releasing it again.

"Mmm, I like the way he feels – warm and heavy and soft and sort of muscular – all at the same time," she marvels. "And his head is so silky," she says, twirling her fingers in a gentle spiral around the burgeoning crown. "Is he alive?"

"Well, not exactly alive, Alex, but Monsieur does have a strong will of his own. Touch him again and see what happens."

This time she supports the underside of the shaft with one hand while petting it lengthwise with the other. The awakening giant continues to engorge, lengthening and hardening noticeably, and then begins to rise gradually from her hand.

"Oh look! He’s trying to stand up," Alex is thrilled. "How does he do that, Mr. Z?"

"He’s responding to your touch. Whenever a beautiful woman comes near – especially when she touches him – he gets very long and thick. Look how shiny and bloated his head is. This condition of the penis is called an erection. Wrap your fingers around him and feel how hard he’s getting."

I nearly cum as Alex grasps my shaft. Her slender fingers can’t quite encircle its meaty girth. The rigid stalk towers above my lap with a slight inward curve and begins to pulsate like a panting animal.

"Oh my gosh, he’s getting huge," Alex says in awe. She tries to pull the hugely swollen staff away from its vertical position, but can only move it an inch or two. "And he’s so hard – I can’t even bend him." Alex places a second hand below the first and slides the velvety skin up and down the rigid core. "This is incredible," she murmurs. "So hot and heavy. How much bigger will he get?"

"Well, to be honest, Alex, this may be bigger than he’s ever been before. Monsieur is very stimulated right now, and I’m not sure how much more attention he can tolerate. Do you remember how Eddie’s cock exploded in his pants? Well then, you can imagine what might happen when Monsieur finally sees your naked breasts. You could make the same thing happen to me, Alex. Would you like to do that? Would you like to see the thick rich sperm blast out of my penis?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Z," she says breathlessly. "I’d love to. My tits are ready to burst the buttons off my shirt if I don’t do something for them pretty soon." She proceeds to unhook the lowermost buttons, leaving only two fastened across the straining front.

"Put your hands under your shirt, Alex, and move your breasts around for me."

Alex’s hands disappear under her shirt, squirming beneath the fabric.

"That’s it. Now, squeeze as much of them as you can – nice and slowly."

The huge mass of breastflesh begins to move, rising and flowing in rich creamy waves as she manipulates her hidden globes. Pinching and rolling the nipples between her fingers, her hands slide around and under the great mounds, causing them to well up once more over the top of her shirt. Paralyzed with need, I dare not move – let alone touch my cock – which is ready to go off like a hair-trigger.

"Oh god, Alex," I groan. "That’s more than I can take. Please stop for a minute."

Alex drops her hands to her sides and pouts. Her huge outthrust breasts are still covered, but quivering and wobbling with excitement. Silently, she turns away and hikes up the lower edge of her shirt, presenting a heart stopping view of her perfect ass while she unfastens the last two buttons in front. But with her back to me, I can’t see the results. "There," she sighs. "Free at last. This feels so much better now." I can tell from behind that she’s fondling her massive tits again.

Alex turns around to face me. Although she’s still grasping the shirt front to cover herself, the pressure of her forearms forces her huge breasts together and outward to an impossible degree. Slowly, her hands sink through the fabric into the lush globes and begin moving in ever-widening circles. Her eyes close and she sighs deeply. "Yesss. This is sooo good, Mr. Z."

"I don’t think Monsieur can take much more of this," I say with increasing alarm. "Look at my cock now, Alex."

Alex opens her eyes and stares at the corded arc of my throbbing erection, mesmerized, as a glistening pearl of precum oozes from the tip and rolls down the shaft in a slow tortuous trickle. "The Monsieur seems to be crying," she says. "The poor, poor thing. Alex wants to help the Monsieur so much. Would he like to see my tits now?" she teases.

"Oh god, Alex. Please!" I beg.

still holding the shirt closed, her eyes shift from my quivering pole to the mask of pleading desperation on my face, and with one simple motion her arms swing open like the wings of an emerging butterfly. Free of confinement, her mammoth breasts soar outward, tumbling and swaying in huge majestic arcs.

"Ohhhh – my – god. Please help me," I groan. But I’m beyond speech. Words cannot convey the awesome impact – the overwhelming abundance and ripeness, or the fullness on the verge of bursting and overflowing – of her magnificent breasts. Darkening bull’s-eyes of thickly pebbled flesh surround the monstrous nipples, which swell in cock-stiffening need. Her spectacular tits rise high on her chest, but with a dramatic sweep – down and slightly outward from the center of her body – protruding miraculously from her torso in defiance of all physical laws. Although nearly the size of volleyballs, the extraordinary globes are somewhat pear-shaped – rather than spherical – and their considerable weight causes them to lie heavily together on her chest, creating a cleavage that could easily accommodate the length and girth of my forearm.

"Oh god," I groan, grappling with the frantic need to stroke myself to a quick and explosive release. Involuntarily, my hips arch upward and my groin pumps the air in a desperate fucking motion as Alex plays with her gloriously naked breasts. She can barely cover the saucer-sized aureoles and wine-colored nipples that protrude obscenely from between her splayed fingers. Closing her eyes in unspeakable pleasure, she twirls and squeezes the turgid nozzles, clutching and kneading her giant mounds with increasing fervor. Trancelike, her eyes fix on the throbbing missile of my cock, whose cataclysmic blast-off is imminent. "Ohhh, yess," she moans. "Do it for me, Monsieur. Do it now. Blow your beautiful load. Blast it all over these huge horny tits."

Alex extends an enormous breast to me in offering and then raises it to her lips. She teases the straining nipple with the tip of her tongue – fluttering first around the aureole and then up and down the cylindrical shaft. The incredible appendage lengthens and stiffens even further before sliding into her mouth, which it fills completely. Sucking noisily on the distended morsel, she meets my gaze over the heaving horizon of her tit, and suddenly I’m there!

My engine ignites with a blast, and a jet of semen leaps from my cock, which I’ve somehow refrained from touching throughout this entire ordeal. Another cumshot sails upward before the first one lands. Alex is transfixed by the spontaneously spewing organ and my pleas for relief. "Oh god," I cry. "Help me, Alex. Stroke my cock, please. stroke it. Help me, please!"

Dropping quickly to her knees, Alex captures the thrashing beast and begins to pump it vigorously with both hands. Releasing a torrent of volcanic power, her first stroke produces a geyser of cum that dwarfs the first two, followed immediately by a titanic eruption of even greater volume. "Oh god, that’s incredible!" Alex gasps in amazement. "So hot!" she exclaims, as a thick dollop lands on her arm, but surprisingly, doesn’t even flinch when the next scalding blast splatters her cheek and forehead.

"Oh yesss," she sighs, pressing the shaft to her face as rivers of semen stream out. "Give it to me, Monsieur. All of it – all your delicious sperm. Shoot it all over me – all over my face and my arms and neck – and all over my tits." Still kneeling, Alex shifts her weight and raises her huge globes slightly, bringing them to rest on my thighs and tucking the throbbing shaft deep into the silken recess of her cleavage. she corrals her heavy melons and presses them together, completely enveloping my cock.

"Oh god oh god oh god – yes – yes – yes!" I grunt with each orgasmic blast.

"Does that feel better now, Monsieur?" Alex asks, as my surging piston continues to coat her magnificent tits with a thick spermy glaze. The intensity of my ejaculation subsides to a slower, less explosive upwelling, which she collects on her fingers and spreads over the vast surface of her breasts and nipples. She grasps my cockhead with one hand as it emerges beneath her chin, and then nuzzles it lovingly to inhale the musky scent before sliding her lips over the still pulsing crown.

"Aaargghh!" I shudder in aftershock, as my final spurts fill her gently nursing mouth.

Without swallowing, Alex brings her lips to mine, and we kiss tenderly, sharing the fruit of our lovemaking. "So good, and so delicious," she sighs, when we finally come up for air. "Is the Monsieur feeling better now?" she asks.

"Oh Alex, if you only knew."

"Well, once again, Mr. Z., I want to thank you," she says.

"What ever do you mean, girl? You’ve just given me the most precious gift I could imagine. How can you even think of thanking me? You’re the brightest and most willing student I’ve ever been privileged to teach, and I promise that if you maintain this level of study, Monsieur and I will be yours forever. You will you be coming back for more lessons, won’t you?" I ask hopefully.

"Of course, Mr. Z., but for now, I’ve got to be going. First, I want to get cleaned up – Monsieur has made such a mess of my face and breasts and everything. This stuff seems to be everywhere! – and then I’ve got to get back home to my Auntie, who must be terribly worried by now. But yes, of course, I’ll be back. There’s still so much for me to learn, isn’t there?" she smiles innocently.

"Yes there is, Alex, but for today, our class is dismissed."