My name is Jeff. My wife Millie is the joy of my life. She's sweet and giving and funny and loving and as devoted as she can be, and I can't imagine life without her.

The only thing that ever bothered me was that Millie didn't realize how beautiful and sexy she is. That may not sound like a big problem, but it is. Or was...

Millie is what you call a "big-titted plumper," and a more gorgeous specimen of plumperhood you're not likely to see. Imagine this: Shining brown hair in a short pixie cut, flawless skin like fresh cream, a sweet round baby face with cute dimples, huge blue eyes, full, kissable lips, and a cute little cleft in her chin.

Add to that: Full, broad, curvy hips, a big, round, perfect, grabbable ass, plump and shapely arms and legs, pretty, chubby little hands and feet, a softly rounded but not fat belly, a relatively small waist giving her thar delicious "hourglass" look--

And the biggest, most beautiful, and most outrageously sexy tits in the world.

I mean that last. I've been looking at plump women, fat women, big-titted women, and so on, in magazines for 20+ years--and I've never seen a pair to equal Millie's. Her tits are 58-HHHs, to start with. And no, you CAN'T imagine what that means.

They're beautiful, creamy-white, and just enormous. Without a bra, they sag a good bit, but that just makes them even more sensual and delicious. Any big tit lover knows exactly what I mean. They're huge and heavy and full and long and pointed, like pale, blue-veined, soft, oversized footballs. Plus, Millie's incredible nipples look like big, fluffy, pink funnels; her aureolae are five inches across and cone-shaped, with fat, rubbery tips more than an inch long.

Those big knobs of hers are tender and delicate, with dark-blue veins visible beneath the pale-pink skin--and when she gets excited, they don't crinkle up and get hard. They SWELL, and turn a darker pink, and her nipple veins throb. When Millie's hot, her knobs look like a teenager's "puffies," but as big as your fist--and her titty-tips stick out a full inch and a half, all stiff and twangy like Vienna sausages. I get a hard-on just thinking about them.

She has to wear industrial-strength bras, of course, but even then you can sometimes tell through her clothes when her nipples are erect. When she's braless, you can see them from across the street even when they're not.

Millie's clothes were the biggest part of the problem. She was always so convinced she was "fat and ugly"--or "fatandugly," as she used to say it, as if it were one word--she never wore anything but frumpy, shapeless old-lady dresses, muumuus and caftans and dumpy-looking housedresses. All her nightgowns were flannel and floor-length, and boring as hell.

I was grateful she liked to make love naked with the lights on. At first, that was about the only time I got to see her that way, then and when we showered together...

Um. Sorry. I just started thinking about how Millie shivers and squeals when I soap up those big nipples, and my mind drifted for a minute. We always end up fucking on the floor of our big shower stall, with her squatting over me with her slippery, squeezy pussy tube milking my dick and her amazing tits bouncing and swinging in my face...

Um. Drifting again. Jeez, this is going to take me a long time to write.

Anyway. I had always told Millie how I adored her body just like it was, how perfect and sexy and HOT she was, how I wouldn't trade her for any bony, skinny supermodel in the world, and so on; but she never quite believed me. She always thought I was just being kind, and she never quite figured out why I married her in the first place. She told me more than once she knew I thought she was "disgusting," and no matter how I argued with her or reassured her or sang her praises, she stayed convinced that she was "fatandugly." Millie's dad used to put her down and call her names (the bastard), and she just never got over it.

It took some planning and a little trickery, but now she gets it. Here's the story. It started with a card game...

Card games mean a lot to us. We're pretty much stay-at-home types--partly because Millie is so self-conscious about her size, but mostly because we just prefer each other's company and like to be alone together. And one of our favorite activities is poker.

Many couples have problems when it comes to dividing the chores, but we never do. We play poker for them. Not this nutty new "Texas Hold 'Em" stuff, but plain old draw and stud poker. It's fun; "I'll see your vacuuming the house, and I'll raise you washing the windows," and like that. (That was a big bet, and Millie won, too. Ace high flush. Pissed me off. I had a straight to the queen.)

We started doing it early in our marriage after a big fight over whose turn it was to change the cat's litter box. We both liked to play, like I said, and it was dull to play for matches or chips anyway; so playing for chores quickly became a routine.

We don't just play for chores. We also play for "forfeits," having to do stupid or embarrassing or sexy stunts for each other's amusement. Doing my chores wearing one of her dresses, Millie peeling grapes and feeding them to me, getting the mail (out at the street) in our underwear, and like that.

The forfeits were often, even usually, sexual in nature, and the more we played, the more that was true. Before long, sex was pretty much all we played for. I'd have to walk around the house all day with my bare dick hanging out--no small matter, if I do say so; when I'm hard, I have about nine inches of meat that's almost five inches around--or jack off in front of her till I came. Or Millie would have to watch TV without moving with her vibrator up her pussy, or go to the Mall wearing a wool sweater over a bra with the nipples cut out of it. (The prickly, itchy fabric rubbing her huge. bare, sensitive knobs drove Millie crazy, and when we got home we fucked like bunnies on amphetamines.)

Millie hated it when I made her show herself off, but it was part of the game and she insisted on paying off her bets. Once I made her push two peanuts across the living-room floor with her enormous nipples, crawling on her hands and knees in nothing but her panties. She bitched and moaned and fumed and complained, but by the time she was done we were both laughing--and fiercely turned on. (Bunnies on speed again.)

Dragging her fat faucets on the carpet had done it. Those big knobs of hers are not only incredible to look at and play with and suck on, they're also like starter buttons for her pussy. Sex was never a problem in our marriage; we both loved it. It was just the way Millie dressed and felt about herself.

Anyway, the rules of our poker games are simple: after who is doing what chores is settled in the first dozen or so hands--sometimes just two or three, if the hands are good and the betting is hot--we start playing for forfeits. With each round of betting, the bets get more outrageous. If you stay in and lose, you have to do the last one you bet against, and if you fold you do the last one before that.

The ante, or opening bet for both of us, is always the same; oral sex. If Millie drops out after the deal, she owes me a blowjob, to be performed on command. If I fold first thing, I have to eat her pussy. That happens often enough in every game, and we usually start the week owing each other six or seven cocksucking and muffdiving sessions each.

Here's an example from a few weeks before the fun really began, and an important one, as you'll see. It was a stud game, five-card; one down, four up, no draw, with a round of betting on each card after the first two are dealt. At one time, before "Texas Hold 'Em" became fashionable, it was THE big-money game for professionals. No draw, no wild cards, just straight-up poker.

On the night I'm thinking of, in the first hand after the chores were assigned. I dealt myself a Queen down and a Jack up; Millie had an ace showing, which meant it was her bet.

She opened with her usual first bet after the ante: "You have to eat me 'no-hands.'" (That meant with my hands behind my back. A challenge, but hardly a painful loss.)

I countered with my own usual first bet: "Blow me naked and blindfolded."

"I call," Millie said. That meant the round was over, and those were the stakes so far.
I dealt two more cards. Millie got a ten, and I drew a Queen to match my hole card. She was still high. "Jack off till you shoot while I watch," was her bet. She loved to watch me do that.

"Dance naked while I do it," I said. If I lost at this point, Millie would remain fully dressed and just watch me masturbate, probably with a bowl of popcorn like it was a movie. If she lost, I'd have some suitable entertainment while I did it. She'd be embarrassed and resentful, but she'd do it anyway. These were pretty common bets for us.

"Do it on the back patio," she said. She was raising me. I wondered if she had another ten, or worse, an ace, as her down card. I doubted it was an ace, or she'd have bet more heavily in the first round.

A pair of tens, then. I was holding a pair of Queens. Lookin' good.

"Ditto," I said. Millie's big blue eyes got even bigger; dancing naked outside would be hard for her. "Call," she finally said.

Another card. A lousy four for me, no help for my Queens. Millie grinned at her card--another ten. This could be trouble. "Air blowjob," she said. "One hour."

That would be sweet torture. She'd kneel in front of me and just tease my dick, acting like she was about to suck me--blowing on it, kissing the air and flicking her tongue a millimeter away without actually touching it, opening her mouth and actually putting it over my dickhead, warming it with her hot breath, then pulling away before she actually made contact. I was forbidden to touch myself, and Millie could keep it up for ages. What made it hellish--besides looking at her beautiful round face, her heavenly lips and sparkling, teasing eyes--was that every now and then, with no warning, she'd actually lick me or suck on my dickhead for a split second, or plant a big, sloppy wet kiss on it--and them go back to teasing. And worse, sometimes she'd keep her mouth on me and slurp and suck and work on my bare dickhead till I came--and then she'd either keep sucking and slurping on it while I spurted in her delicious mouth, or she'd cruelly pull back at the very second I started to cum and leave me helplessly shooting my wad in the air as she giggled and watched.

The uncertainty and the anticipation we're what made it torture. The sexual tension was unbelievable, and I'd get so hard it hurt--an hour of that treatment would have me begging for release--but sometimes it was so good I'd almost pass out. I never knew what Millie was going to do. I loved it and hated it, both.

She smiled wickedly. "Why does that bet always make you sweat?" she whispered, then licked her lips seductively and blew me a kiss.

I grinned back at her. "You know why, you big-titted bitch." She laughed and shook them for me. I had recently at least convinced her that her huge milkers weren't "disgusting," and she had grown to enjoy teasing me with them. "So, Jeff; call, raise, or fold?" she asked with a confident smirk.

I still liked my pair of Queens. In five-card stud, it was a very good hand. "Call,"I said.

Another card. A six for Millie, and the jackpot for me: another Queen. Now I was high, with a pair of Queens showing and a third one in the hole. I made a big show of thinking hard.

I finally said, "Dance naked on the patio in nothing but oil--and with your pussy shaved bare."

Her mouth fell open, and she stared at me. This was a very big bet. I had bet her a pussy shave before, but I had never won one. It usually made her fold.

Millie looked at my cards suspiciously. "You're bluffing," she finally said. "Those Queens are all you got, cowboy, and they ain't good enough. Air blowjob for two hours--and I do it topless." she sat back with a smug expression on her cute baby face.

She had the three tens, then. Good. I was glad I was going to win; what she had just bet would have been agony for me. "Call," I said.

It's a good strategy in poker to be known as a bluffer. Then, when you really have the goods, your sucker (so to speak, heh heh) will stay in.

Last card. Nothing of consequence; a nine for Millie, a seven for me. My bet again.

"Everything you've already bet," I said, "plus you keep your pussy shaved bare for a whole year." I was wearing my best poker face; I looked like I was trying not to show that I was bluffing.

She fell for it like a ton of tits. "Hah! You keep trying, but I'm not buying," she laughed. "Call." She flipped over the third ten. "Tough shit, Jeff."

I flipped over my third Queen.

Her big eyes bugged out, and then she glared at me. "DAMN it!" she fumed. "I was SURE you had another Jack under there!". That would have given me two pair--a good hand, but not good enough.

I grinned. "Another hand?" I asked insinuatingly.

"I think I'm far enough in the hole already," she said, still glaring.

"In the hole? But that's where I'M going to be," I said. We looked at each other for a moment--and then she burst out laughing, and I did too. One of the things I love about my Millie is her sense of humor. She can always laugh--even when she's embarrassed, resentful, and pissed off, like then.

I stood up. "C'mon, Big Tits. Time to pay off that bet." I beckoned with one finger, and Millie rose and walked ahead of me into the bedroom.

I noticed her pretty hands were quivering as she undressed. I knew her well enough to know exactly what she was feeling; embarrassment and doubt about how she looked naked, and a fierce excitement that maybe, somehow, for some reason she didn't understand, I'd still get hot and horny looking at her. It thrilled her, but she still didn't get it. We had only been married a few months--she was 20 and I was 24--and life together was still new for both of us.

When she was naked, I had her lie down on a towel I'd spread on the bed and pull her knees back and wide open. We both knew I'd have to be the one to shave her pussy. Her tits were so huge she had trouble even seeing it without a mirror.

I looked at her and grinned as she looked up at me over those huge tits, her face pink. Such a beautiful sight, my sweet, fat Millie, buck naked and spread wide open.

In a few minutes she would look even better. My cock was already hard, but I got harder thinking about it.

"Well? Let's get this over with," she said. I went into our bathroom and got my own electric shaver. I flipped open the trimmer and sat down between her legs, grinning. This was going to be fun.

As Millie waited patiently, I clipped her pussy hair--already thin and sparse--to a short stubble. Then I used the regular shaving head to remove that. I shaved her plump, pale mound baby-smooth, then pulled and stretched her skin to clean up all the stray hairs around it and especially between her soft, chubby outer lips. When I was done, her sweet, plump, pale crotch was as bare and white as a peeled egg. I sat back and admired my work. My Millie was barer and more beautiful now than I had ever seen her.

She looked up at me, her face pink, her eyes half-closed and smoky-hot. Her big nipples were swollen to softball size and glowed a hot pink, with tips that stood out stiffly, bigger than her thumbs. I grasped them in my fingers and tugged lightly, twisting. She was already breathing hard, and at my touch she gasped and bit her lip, eyes closed. "Oh, Jeff--"

I clenched my fists on her huge, swollen aureolae, crushing them in my fingers like I was squeezing oranges. She gasped and hissed and rolled her pussy up at me. I twisted them back and forth, and she groaned, "Oh, God, Jeff--Oh, God, milk me off--" That was what we called it when I abused her tender knobs till she came from that alone.

I released her swollen nipples, even bigger and darker now, and watched her hunch and writhe on the bed. She grabbed her tits and shook them up and down, whimpering "Please--please milk me some more--Milk my tits and fuck me--"

I wanted to fuck her senseless, but I wanted her to pay off her bet, too. Each time I made Millie perform naked in front of me, I sensed that her confidence grew a little more. It was good for her.

I also wanted to see her wiggle and jiggle outdoors, naked and shaved and shiny with oil all over. I wanted to see that real bad.

I was stroking her fat, baby-smooth mound and letting my finger slip between her soft pussy lips to caress her hot liquid center now and then. Her plump hips were still pumping, rolling her chubby bare cunt up at me urgently.

"I want you, Jeff," she gasped again. "Fuck me... Fuck me naked..."

"A little later," I said. "Let's go outside. I'll get the oil."

Millie whimpered, but she slid off the bed and stood up, trembling a little. It was so endearing, the way she crossed her little hands protectively over her enormous tits. it was like trying to hide a pillow with a couple of feathers, but it was sweet and made me want to kiss her.

So I did. I took her in my arms and kissed her soft lips tenderly. "I love you so much," I said, "and you are so SEXY..."

She looked up at me, still quivering, and snuggling close to hide herself as well as to be near me. She said, "Fooey. You're just weird. But I love you too."

I kissed her again. "If you only knew how many guys would kill to have a woman like you..." I left the sentence unfinished, and let her go. "Outside, Big Tits," I said. She giggled nervously and started for the door.

I walked behind her down the hall, admiring her from behind. Her big, bare ass rolled and wobbled deliciously. The long hourglass sweep of my Millie's pale, perfect bare skin--from her shapely shoulders, down the curve of her bare, smooth back, broadening to encompass that plump, tempting bottom, then tapering down her chubby but perfect bare legs to her pretty little bare feet--was breathtaking. I was glad she kept her hair so short--it would be a shame for her to hide even her lovely white shoulders with long hair.

I could see her huge breasts gently swinging from side to side even from directly behind her.

God, what a babe, I thought. And she's mine.

As we passed the bathroom, Millie looked back at me. "Aren't you going to get the oil?" she asked.

"Not that oil," I said, referring to the scented baby oil we sometimes used to massage each other. "We'll need more than that. I want you so covered with it you're dripping."

"Oh..." For just a heartbeat, Millie unconsciously stroked her big, swollen nipples with a faraway expression on her innocent baby face. Then she shivered and kept on walking down the hall, stark naked.

I knew it made it extra-scary for her to leave all her clothes all the way back in the bedroom, especially when she was about to go outside; but I liked that. I liked her not only bare naked, but very conscious of being that way. I wanted her to feel naked on the inside as well as on the outside.

We went on to the kitchen, where I took a new half-gallon bottle of cooking oil from the pantry; then we went on to the door into the back yard. I picked up our boombox from the living room on the way.

I opened the door, and Millie leaned over and peered out cautiously, hands over her breasts. We had a privacy fence, eight feet high and solid wood--but it still made Millie tremble with self-consciousness to go outdoors in the nude. Finally, she stepped out onto the patio, her bare little feet cautious on the flagstones. She was totally naked, without so much as a trace of lipstick on--and now without even a trace of pussy hair to hide her plump, intimate slit.

It was a Saturday, late in the afternoon, and warm. Millie stood trembling, feet together and hands clasped over her pussy, as I plugged in the boombox and took the cap off the oil. I walked over to her, holding the bottle. "Hands on your head," I said, and she obeyed, looking around nervously. I caressed her big, swollen knobs for a moment, making her close her eyes and hiss, then I tipped the bottle and poured oil all over her huge, pale, bare tits.
"Ooo!" squealed Millie, as the oil ran from her nipples and dripped to the flagstones. I lifted first one heavy tit, then the other, and poured more oil beneath them and over her plump belly, making sure her newly-shaved pussy was thickly coated. The oil ran down her chubby, curvy legs to her pretty little bare feet, and I spread it around to make sure she was gleaming all over.

"Turn," I said, and Millie turned around, hands still on her head, and I started again at her shoulders. I poured oil over her bare ass, the bottle glugging as I moved it from side to side. When her legs were glistening, I said, "Hands down," and poured the oil down her chubby white arms till it ran from her fingers.

I inspected her as she turned and posed for me, and anywhere she wasn't thickly coated and gleaming, I splashed more oil on her. Finally I was satisfied, and took my seat on the "bleachers," as we called the wooden sofa-bench by the back door.

I hauled out my stiff dick, already gleaming at the head itself as if oiled, and began to stroke it as I punched the "play" button on the boombox. The Steve Miller Band's classic, "Jet Airliner," began to pound from the speakers, and I finally sat back and looked at my plump, naked wife.

Millie was still crouching shyly, her eyes darting around as she made sure no one else could see her. She was standing in a pool of oil about eight or ten feet away. I liked for her to perform at a little distance from me so I could feast my eyes on all of her at once. "Dance for me, Big Tits," I said. "Show me what you've got and shake it."

Millie slowly straightened up, watching my eyes and not my dick. She slowly--very slowly--began to rock to the rhythm, her huge, gleaming milkers swinging gently. She separated her bare feet and crouched, and started to bump her fat hips lewdly. I stroked my cock a little faster. God, she looked good, so pale and shiny and bare.

It was charming and erotic, the way Millie kept looking around around fearfully. She glistened and shone all over, and she stroked her oily body sensuously as she got into the dance. She smiled at me shyly--then shook her shoulders hard. I grunted and shivered at the sight as I pulled at my big dick, making sure she could see it.
Her shiny, enormous floppers bounced and waggled and flipped outrageously, making her giggle and shake them harder. In a moment, naked Millie was rocking out, wriggling and hunching obscenely and tossing her huge tits with abandon. Her bare, shiny little feet moved farther apart, and she rolled and popped her bald, gleaming pussy at me, stroking it and giggling girlishly. "I'm slick bare, Jeff!" she teased.

"You're my slippery, jiggly baby," I gasped. I was jacking off hard, enjoying her outrageous greasy show.

She turned around and displayed her magnificent, glistening ass, bumping and hunching and shaking it bare. She bounced heavily on her heels, knowing it make her quiver like Jell-O all over--and she looked all around the yard again, excited but still scared. Hands behind her head, she wiggled as provocatively as she could, and I could see her bare tits swinging and waggling wildly even from behind her.

She turned slowly round and round as she danced, making sure I could see everything she had as she shook and shimmied and bounced her gleaming naked flesh for my pleasure. And I loved it. My eyes were all over her pale, quivering plumpness, and I jacked off to her hungrily as the love of my life wiggled naked for me.

Millie had learned to love teasing me with her tits, especially when she could see my hard cock and know how much she was exciting me. As I jacked off and stared, she lifted them high, then winked and me and let them drop heavily, knowing how much I liked that. She did that several more times, then bent over, smirking at me, and swung them heavily from side to side. She laughed at my moaning as I pulled at my cock to the sight, and then, maybe most outrageous of all, she lifted her long, pointed tits by her nipples and pranced around pulling them straight out and squealing at the sensation as they bounced and dangled and their weight pulled at her stretched-out knobs. If this gives you a measure of how big they are, her arms were almost straight in front of her as she did this.

She bent over with her big shiny ass toward me and swung and waggled them--she had to hold them apart to look back at me between her shiny legs. The view was incredible; huge dangling tits, fat gleaming ass, curvy bare legs, and bare-shaved pussy, all at once. She giggled and squatted, and her hairless cunt gaped open redly as I stared and stroked my cock. She was still bent over, and her big pink faucets were actually touching the oily flagstones of the patio. She brushed them back and forth as she rocked her open hole at me, and I saw she was squeezing her shiny pink asshole at me too. I didn't know if was deliberate, but it was incredibly intimate to see.
My cock was signaling that my balls were preparing a huge load. Millie was standing and facing me again, watching me, shaking her gleaming white curves outrageously, shimmying her shoulders and making her massive milkers waggle and swing, pumping her gleaming, oily bare cunt in my face, her glistening plump belly flexing above it. Her teasing smirk was a wonder to me. I had never seen that expression on her innocent baby face before, not like this.

The whole thing was incredible. I had never seen Millie dance like this; in the past, she had always been shy and tentative, and though she would get into it the longer she danced, seeing how it excited me, she was always a little self-conscious and visibly ashamed. This wild, wanton Millie was new. And I wanted to fuck her as she was, naked and oily and uninhibited and proud.

I slid down on the wooden bench and pointed at my cock, sticking straight up.

Millie squealed with delight and came closer, crouched and walking awkwardly, legs straddled and pussy still rocking up at me rhythmically. She was still fuck-dancing as she came toward me, ready to fuck for real, right there on the patio. This was new, too.

She straddled my hips, still bumping; then slowly lowered herself onto my bare, stiff cock.

Sliding into her slick, snug pussy tube, feeling her swollen, fever-hot membranes opening up around my bare, sensitive dickhead and my steel-hard shaft--it was heavenly, indescribable, a slippery taste of Heaven, as it always was.

Fucking my sweet Millie was always amazing. It was always as good as the very first time. Every time. Every time I slid my cock into her grasping liquid hole, it felt like I had never done it before.

And thus time was special. Her incredibly huge and heavy tits, slick and dripping with oil, were in my face, and she was swinging and shaking them as she continued to dance, impaled on my fence post of a cock; only now she was looking at me with her big eyes slitted, her lips pursed and blowing, and her plump hips rocking and rolling with a purpose and not just to show off. She was sliding my cock in and out, and she was feeling it.

I grabbed her big greasy knobs and crushed them in my fists again, and she cried out and began to pump on my cock in earnest. Millie was frankly jacking me off with her pussy, making my big hard dick slide in and out, all the way in and all the way out, dragging her stiff little clit up and down my shaft with her ass cocked back to increase the contact. I worked my oily fingers in her spongy knobs, wadding them up and kneading them in my fists like Play-Doh., and she gave a deep gargling groan and shuddered all over.

"I'm cuh-cumming, Jeff," she grunted through clenched teeth. I watched the erotic grimace of building orgasm on her sweet baby face and twisted her crushed nipples without mercy, squeezing them, pulling on her fat tips, letting my fingers slide in the oil and jacking them off like I was trying to milk a cow's udders. I stretched them out like I was trying to pull them off, then let my fingers slide off the ends, popping them free, and then I grabbed and pulled and plucked at them again and again, stretching and popping her huge, hot nipples over and over.

My sweet, naked Millie broke down and sobbed in ecstasy as she came, harder than I'd ever seen her, her bald cunt grinding hard into my bristly crotch and my dick buried in her hole up to my balls. I felt her climaxing cuntmuscles squeezing my dick like a greasy fist, and I jerked and shuddered and started shooting in her, my cock geysering hot jets of burning cum into her grasping, cumming pussy. It felt like my brains were shooting out of my dickhead so hard they would split it open.

Still pulling and popping her fat, oily milk-faucets, I buried my face in slippery white tits and thrust upward like I was trying to buck her off--but Millie clung to me, her tits in my face and her cunt hanging on tightly to my bursting dick. Her chubby bare legs curled under mine to hold on, and she came hard all over me in jerking, jiggling spasms.

After what seemed like half an hour of crazed, animal orgasm, we finally spun back down to Earth and came to in each other's arms. I stroked her slippery back, her tits tucked under my arms, and she rubbed her soft cheek into my chest lovingly. My softening cock was still deep in her twitching, quivering pussy tube.

"God, Jeff, that was fantastic," she breathed, her voice raspy. "Way past fantastic. It was--" She searched for words, couldn't find any.

"I know," I whispered. "I was there." She giggled and squeezed me closer. "Especially what you were doing with my titties." She shivered. "That was--fantastic," she said again, "kind of pulling and snapping them like that. Ooo," she shivered again. "I LIKED that. We keep oil in the bedroom from now on."

"Okay," I said. "I liked that too. It was like I was milking your tits like a cow's udders." As soon as I said it, I regretted it; she might take it as a putdown.

But she only giggled again. "Just call me Bossy," she said. I sighed, relieved, and held her close.

"Speaking of oil," she said, "your clothes are all soaked with it."

"Extra soap in the wash," I said. "I'm doing it anyway." Those hands, I had lost.

I held her slick bare ass as we lay there. "You know, for a girl who doesn't think she looks good, you sure showed it off and shook it like you know how hot you are," I said.

"This time," I didn't say; but we both knew the thought was there.

She lifted her head and looked in my eyes. "For you, Jeff," she said. "Just for you. I've decided to trust that I get you hot. I don't know why you do. But I love it. It makes me feel sexy to show off for you now, and outside, with just the oil on--I guess I went a little crazy. I was thinking how stupid I looked the whole time. But then you fucked me like I was Marilyn Monroe."

I laughed. "Next to you, Millie, Marilyn would have looked like a boy."

"Fooey." She rested her head on my chest again. "Maybe you think I'm hot, because you love me so much, but you're the only one. I still think I'm a fatandugly pig. And everybody else does too."

I patted her oily bottom and thought.

A few days later, I read an article in a "Plumper" magazine about a certain beach not far from where we lived, and a related article about a new club in a nearby large city; and my wheels started turning. Soon I had developed a plan. I sent off for a book and a few other items, and by the time summer rolled around, I was ready.

(Yes, all of this was just the introduction. The real story begins in the next installment. Stay tuned...)