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Little Creek Adult Dating Story
Our large-breasted protagonist (me) goes to a club and hooks up with a horny, hung guy. No romance here, just a random sexual encounter.
Isabel - Club Encounter
For my next story in this autobiographical series I'm messing with the chronology. Today we need to jump back in time a few years, back to my first year in college, shortly after I had turned 18. To bring you up to speed on me, I'm tall, blonde, and have really large breasts. Back when I was 18 they weren't quite as big as they are now, but they were only off by a cup size or two. I was probably in an H or HH-cup back then.It was my first semester of college at a big university on the west coast, living away from home, and I was a bit overwhelmed. The first three months of college I was celibate. Part of this was because I was still only 17 and some guys were a bit leery of that, but mainly because I was too busy with school to really focus on a social life. There's a big jump in workload going from High School to college, and I (like all the other incoming freshmen) spent the first several months neglecting virtually everything else just so I could adjust to that.
But by November I was ready to party.
One Friday night in early November I headed out to a dance club only a short distance from campus. I was, as you might say, on the prowl: I was single, alone, and very attention deprived; I wore an extremely low cut shirt that showed off the absolute legal limit of my breasts, and a pair of skin tight shorts that hugged all of my lower curves and left most of my legs exposed. Normally I don't like going to clubs alone, simply because it's always more fun to hang out with friends, but on this night I didn't care. I also don't normally dress like a living, breathing fuck-toy, but that was kind of the goal.
The club was packed, and the response to my entrance was immediate and predictable: lots of stares, dirty looks from the women (typical), and wide-eyed college boys that fluttered around me like moths to a light bulb (even more than normal). It was pretty much exactly what I was looking for. I spent the next several hours dancing with virtually any cute guy who asked, doing every slinky, sexy maneuver I could think of, rubbing my breasts and ass against them, grinding into them and generally dancing in a very physical manner. I can't really say it was my goal to sexually frustrate as many guys as possible, but that's what happened. Male after male walked off the dance floor stiff-leggedly, some of them in an obvious state of arousal.
About an hour later Bobby showed up. Bobby I would've actually considered one of my better friends at that time. He was a guy I had shown a great deal of interest in, as he had in me. He was about six feet tall and kept himself in fabulous shape. He had a really cute face and naturally tanned skin thanks to his Mexican mother. He was cheerful and funny, and in many ways was one of those "God's gift to women." His big flaw was that he knew this. A relationship between us never would've worked out, between the two of us there'd be enough conceit and vanity to supply a small country, but he was still a lot of fun to hang out with and be around.
Bobby, of course, made a bee-line straight towards me. We exchanged pleasantries and a few vague innuendoes and began dancing with one another. The dancing quickly became extremely sexual in nature, with each of us trying to one-up the other with various gestures and grindings. He would grab my ass or run his hands along my curvy hips. I would brush my ass across his crotch or lick my tits across his chest. He was wearing a plain t-shirt and blue jeans, and as I rubbed up against him I could feel his oversized cock beneath the denim.
We danced together for about an hour before neither of us could take it any more. I was sopping wet and about ready to tear his clothes off right there, but Bobby made the first move, grabbing me in an embrace and whispering into my ear.
"Do you want to go elsewhere, or should I just throw you down on the dance floor and fuck the shit out of you in front of two hundred people?"
I'm okay with public affection, but I'm not quite that much of an exhibitionist. By this time, though, I was horny as hell and could think of nothing but riding his big dick for the rest of the night. But not on the dance floor. I pulled him through the crowd and towards the exit.
His truck was parked along the side of the club, in a dark and fairly obscured area, and the two of us practically sprinted to it. He unlocked my side of the cab and opened the door for me, and as I was halfway into the truck the lust overwhelmed us. He pulled down the front of my shirt (catching the bra with it) and virtually attacked my huge breasts with his hands and mouth. I was gasping for breath from the sensations he provided, all the while trying to balance myself against the dash, support myself with one hand on the steering wheel and pull my shorts down with the other. It was only moments later that he helped me with my pants, jerking them down to mid-calf with one fluid motion. He unbuttoned his pants in record time, and pull them and his boxers down just far enough to let his enormously thick cock spring free.
He entered me with a big, harsh thrust, and a small squeak escaped my lips. This wasn't romantic; neither of us wanted romance. This was sex; raw, rough, and ugly, like two large animals rutting in the woodlands. He jackhammered into me while attempting to eat as much of my boobs as possible. I grinded back into him as hard as I could with my awkward positioning, and we became a duet of sweaty, grunting mammals, fucking as hard as we could on the passenger seat of a truck in the parking lot of a popular dance club. He leaned up and began to paw and grope my tits with abandon, and I tried to position myself so that my chest was supporting most of his weight. I laced my legs around his hips and ass and pulled him into me, and in moments he was gasping and trying to hold in the sounds of a powerful orgasm. When it was done he half collapsed on top of me, rubbing his head all over my boobs. He looked up at me.
"I am so not done with you yet," I told him. "Get your pants back on and let's drive somewhere."
He stuffed his largeness back into his jeans and dashed around to the driver's side. I pulled my shorts back on and my shirt back up. I completely unfastened and removed the bra, so my huge breasts hung free and barely contained by the thin fabric of the top. My big nipples were quite obvious, but we weren't going back inside the club. Bobby drove. I didn't direct him and he didn't ask, so I just assumed he had a place already picked out.
He did: his place.
We bounded up the stairs, making about as much noise as a stampeding herd of cattle. I had to run up the stairs with my hands and arms over my tits to keep them from bouncing about too violently. He hurriedly unlocked the door and entered the apartment, and I closed the door behind me and forcefully pushed him to the floor. I jumped down on top of him, allowing my huge breasts to spill over his chest, shoulders and face. I flung my shirt across the room and allowed him to lick and suck my sensitive nipples while I ground my crotch down on his hardened and restrained member.
I got up and took my shorts off, as he did with his jeans. His erection was thick, veiny, purple and pointed directly at the ceiling. I eased myself slowly down atop him, letting out a breathy gasp as the big head forced its way inside of me. Bobby again paid prodigious attention to my breasts, and I started a slow, rocking rhythm while he fondled and licked my front-side.
I rode him for a fair amount of time, it was a good session. Eventually he told me to get rougher, and so I did. Normally I'm a little leery of this due to my size (being a big girl has made me cautious as to how I "throw my weight around;" at 5'11" and 200+, even with a good portion of that being boobs, it's very easy to injure a sexual partner during the act) but this night I began slamming down on him like I was bouncing on a trampoline. Bobby positioned his hands on my broad hips, clutching my ass, forcing me all the way down on his big dick. I, in turn, brought my hands up and began fondling my breasts and nipples, partially in an effort to keep them somewhat under control.
I fucked him that night as hard as I possibly could. We were not quiet, groaning, gasping, and pounding on the floor. The neighbors had to have hated us. Within moments I felt Bobby shoot off inside of me, that uniquely warm, liquid bloom women feel inside them when the guy isn't raincoated. Shortly after he finished, I plunged down on him, taking him all the way inside me, grinding my clit into his pubic bone, and reached my own tremendous orgasm. I collapsed on top of him, large breasts mashed in between our shoulders, putting our faces outside of kissing distance. Not that this was a kissing sort of night.
Not fifteen minutes after we had finished, Bobby's roommate came out from the backroom where he'd been sleeping. He had a nasty case of bed-head and the face of some one who was only about 5% awake. He carried a half-empty bottle of Corona. I was sitting on the floor, having just spent the past few minutes struggling to push my breasts into my shirt. Sometimes it seems that my breasts swell ever-so-slightly after sex, and without my bra (still in Bobby's truck) to contain them, I could barely keep my boobs from leaping out the top of my shirt. I had porn-star cleavage and two still very visible nipples protruding through just below the edge of the fabric. Bobby only had his briefs on, and the post-sex turgidity of his penis gave him a ridiculously large bulge.
The Corona bottle fell to the floor and tossed a shower of suds onto the wall. Bobby's roommate was now 100% awake.
He was tall and muscular, too: a rugged, cut, football player. Maybe if he'd woken up half an hour earlier this would've been a threesome. Heck, maybe it would be some other weekend. But not tonight. Bobby took me home, completing my delightful night of clubbing.
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