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This letter originally appeared in Buxom Beauties magazine on June 9, 1997:
It has been exactly one year since the good editors of this magazine published a letter written by my sexy girlfriend and fellow “research partner”, Courtney. Since that time, the publishers have reported to us that they have received a flood of letters from horny hotties and handsome hunks wanting to know more about me, Courtney and our outrageous academic explorations. Well, we aim to please! To help satisfy the lusty longings and orgasmic urges of the randy readership, Miss Alexander and I appear in the six-page pictorial entitled “Ann’s Office Hours” on pages 13-19 of the current edition. My darling assistant and I are sure that the naughty photos spread out over those pages will give you an up close and intimate portrait of our campus life. What happens when an impertinent freshman carelessly walks in to her professor’s office while her teacher and office assistant are “busy working”? You will need to turn to page 13 to see for yourself. But let me just say that the big-chested beauty receives a “good licking” for her mistake. [grin]
In addition to setting up this hot photo shoot, the perverted publishers of Buxom Beauties also wanted to know if I, Ann Fellini, might compose a titillating article telling of how I first got started with my racy research. Many readers, it seems, were especially curious as to how a big-boobed blonde like myself came to become so enraptured by erotic lingerie and so fascinated by lesbian fantasies. Needless to say, being the slovenly slut that I am, I quickly consented to bare my soul. (After all, I had already bared every inch of my body for their camera already!!!) So, eager readers, allow me to share with you all the delectable details of my bawdy beginnings. Truthfully, I have been wanting for some time to find the right forum in which I could get this tale “off my chest” (and, like my own ample chest, there is quite a lot to this torrid tale!) So, lay back and relax, slip your hand down inside your skivvies, and let me take you all back to the beginning…
* * * * *
The summer after I graduated high school I stayed with my Aunt Genevieve for three months. Being the adventurous type, I had decided to venture “out of state” for college. The curriculum at T.I.T., the Texas Institute of Technology, was challenging and it seemed well worth going the extra distance to attend there. Fortunately, as luck would have it, Aunt Gen (my mother’s sister) lived only about a half an hour away from the university that I was to attend. Aunt Gen was the youngest of the family. At twenty-five, she was thirteen years younger than my mother. To me she had always seemed more like a cool older sister than an aunt. She was tall and slender with fetching eyes and bewitching blonde curls of hair. Since I was also a blonde and fairly tall as well, some looking at us occasionally mistook Gen to be my twin, so close was the family resemblance.
Gen was still single, with a nice, well-paying job and a huge apartment. Graciously, she had invited me to come and live with her for a while as I made the transition from high school to college life. That way, she told my parents, I could get to know the area around the college and not have to worry about paying rent. She even knew of a summer job I could apply for at a local mall. It sounded like a fantastic opportunity in every respect. So I packed my bags several months early and off I went. I felt like an explorer, setting off on a journey to discover uncharted new territory! Little did I know just how exciting, eye-opening, and life-changing my discoveries were to be…
I moved into Aunt G’s apartment in early June and soon got settled into a routine. During the weekdays I worked at “Bella Chica”, a trendy junior’s clothing store at the Galleria Mall. On most Saturdays, Gen Gen (as I came to call her lovingly) would take me on excursions around the T.I.T. campus neighborhood. Together, we would browse around the shops and eat lunch at cozy cafés close to the university. I felt like I was really becoming familiar with the campus. It was incredible! On Sunday afternoons, Gen and I would lounge around the big pool that her apartment complex maintained, laying out in our bikinis for hours, just talking and tanning.
Often, during those times out by the pool, I found myself glancing over at Gen Gen’s cute butt and admiring her tight body. She was so sexy looking! Given her callipygian curves, I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why she didn’t have a steady boyfriend yet, or a whole group of suitors for that matter. Indeed, she hardly ever went out on a date with a guy during our first month together. Occasionally, after dinner on the weekdays, she would go out to a local club, called Sappho, with two of her close lady friends, Tiffany and Becca. But it seemed to me that that was about the extent of her social life. ‘Oh well’, I found myself thinking, canlı bahis şirketleri ‘Gen’s got a busy life between work and hosting me. She’s probably just putting her love life on hold for a while so that we can spend more time together.’
As the summer wore on, though, I started noticing something else curious about my Aunt Gen. Every week or so, she would bring home a package from the post office. She was always beaming and grinning widely on the days when they came. I noted, with interest, that the parcels always had the same return address: They were from someone called “You Know Who” in a town called Promiscuity, Oklahoma. (A colorful name to say the least! But then again, I had heard that there was a town in Pennsylvania called Climax!) I never asked Gen what was in her packages because I respected her privacy. Gen never once brought them up in conversation with me, and she was usually pretty open with me about everything. So I figured that whatever was in them must be something pretty personal. ‘Perhaps’, I thought to myself the day the third package arrived in late June, ‘She does have a guy friend out of state and he’s sending her tokens of his love and devotion.’ I smiled wistfully at the romantic notion of Gen’s “secret admirer” and their interstate correspondence.
All of my well-reasoned theories about the contents of my aunt’s mystery packages were thrown out the window, though, one fateful Friday evening in early July. It was the evening before Independence Day. Gen had told me earlier in the week that she was going to be going out to the club with her girlfriend, Becca, and that they planned to be out late. Knowing that Gen would be gone that night and not wanting to spend a boring night watching TV by myself, I had arranged to have a “night out” as well. I had met a friendly girl named Jasmine at “Bella Chica” and my co-worker had kindly invited me to see a play called “Summer Surprise” at the T.I.T. auditorium with her. The show wouldn’t be getting over until late and Jasmine’s house was real close to the campus. So my friend had suggested that – if I wanted to – we could go back to her house and I could bunk out there for the night. I agreed excitedly, and – after telling Gen all about my plans for Friday night – began to get ready for my big night out.
Some of the best laid plans in life sometimes never materialize, though, and events take an unexpected twist. Such was the case on this momentous Friday night. I came home after work to find a note on the kitchen table from Aunt Gen. ‘HAVE A GREAT TIME AT THE THEATRE TONIGHT, LOVE!!!’ the message read, ‘I’LL SEE YOU IN THE MORNING! TOMORROW WE’LL HAVE A FABULOUS FOURTH!’ I smiled and, sliding out of my skirt and top from work, started to head toward the bathroom to shower and doll myself up for my ‘date’ with my friend. As I headed toward the bathroom, suddenly the phone rang. It was Jasmine. She was calling with bad news. One of her younger brothers had broken his leg and had been taken to the hospital. So she wouldn’t be able to go to the theatre as we had planned. As Jasmine talked and apologized, my heart sank. I was sad for her brother and bummed out that I wouldn’t be able to go out with my friend. But we agreed that we would try to reschedule our theatrical excursion for another time and then I hung up.
Now that my ‘big night out’ had become a ‘lonely night in’ again, I looked toward the bathroom door. I decided to forgo my shower since I wouldn’t be going out after all. I supposed that I would just “veg out” on the couch and watch a video or something to pass the time until my aunt got back later. I looked over at my rumpled blouse and skirt lying in a heap on the floor. I didn’t want to put them on again, and I didn’t really want to wear the nice outfit that I had picked out just for my night on the town. This put me in a dilemma, though, as most of my other outfits were dirty and crumpled up in the laundry bin. Then I remembered how Aunt Gen had always been saying that, if I was ever in a pinch, I could feel free to wear any of her things that might fit me. So I headed toward her bedroom to see what I could find.
And boy did I ever make a find! Several of them as a matter of fact! Lying on the floor on the far side on Gen’s four poster bed, was a new package that had apparently just arrived earlier that day. It had been opened and had been slid partially – but not completely – underneath the big bed. Glancing down at it, as I headed toward Gen’s closet to look for clothes, I could see that it – just like all of the other packages – had an Oklahoma return address. I hesitated for a minute, tempted to peer inside of it and see what might be contained within. What had he sent her this time? Was there a love letter from ‘him’? Surely. But what else? A delicate gold necklace, perhaps? A sweet, satiny chemise for her to model for him? Or maybe a plane ticket to fly to California for a secret weekend rendezvous? My mind raced with curiosity, canlı kaçak iddaa pondering the possibilities.
Fighting off my temptations, though, I moved resolutely toward Gen Gen’s closet and opened it up. Hanging to the left of a large selection of negligees and pretty peignoirs (Wow! She had a lot of lingerie!), there were several outfits that I remembered having seen Gen wear to work. But they all looked far too nice for my laid back night at home. I needed something simpler. Glancing down, I noticed there was a long dresser stretching across the bottom of the walk-in closet. I opened up the middle drawer of it, expecting to find some casual tops or shorts. Instead, though, I seemed to have accidentally found Gen’s underwear drawer! ‘Oops!’, I thought, closing up the drawer rather quickly, ‘I’ll just try the next one down.’ But when I glanced inside of the next drawer, I saw that it – like the previous one – contained nothing but bras, panties, and other unmentionables! Indeed, every single one of the nine drawers of the dresser were full of… well… drawers! Lacy drawers! And, though, there were pretty undies of all colors and hues inside of them, there seemed to be one dominant tone amongst the enormous collection of bikinis, briefs, and tiny thongs: black.
After opening up the final drawer on the bottom right, I stopped for a moment, amazed by what I had just seen. I knew that my mother at home had a lingerie chest in which she kept all of her silky sweet nothings, accumulated over the years. But Gen’s dresser far exceeded mom’s in size and in the sheer number of items inside – and she was still quite a bit younger than my mother! The vast volume of breathtaking bikinis, beautiful brassieres and naughty nylons that I had seen inside this hidden inner chamber staggered me! One drawer that I had opened seemed to have contained nothing but an array of tempting teddies. Yet another was filled to the brim with soft, sumptuous, slips and eye-catching camisoles. Where had she gotten all of these luscious lacy items? And why did she have so many of them? Did Aunt Gen have a wicked, wanton secret sex life of some sort that I knew nothing about?
I stared into the last drawer. Lying near the top of another endless compilation of appealing panties was an adorable little one that really caught my attention. It was a darling black string bikini with the word ‘HOT’ written on the front in red flaming letters and the word ‘BUNS’ emblazoned on the back side. There was red lace all up and down the edges of the impish undies. I picked up the pair to look at them closer, and when I did – I noticed that there seemed to be something other than underwear below them. Rummaging around further in the drawer, I discovered that – tucked away underneath a layer of bawdy bikinis (many, like the first, labeled with brazen messages like: “WILD WENCH”, “FOXY FILLIE”, and “CONTENTS MAY BECOME WET WHEN TOUCHED”) – was a collection of VCR tapes. I reached down beneath the lace and pulled out one of the videos. It wasn’t a commercial tape, but seemed to be a home recording of some sort. On the side there was a plain label that read simply: “Holly and Kelli Go Shopping”.
Intrigued, I pulled out several other tapes. There were close to a dozen of them altogether. Each one of them looked similar to the first one and the majority of them were fairly nondescript. Every one of them – interestingly though – seemed to mention the name Holly somewhere in the title. There was ‘Holly and Kelli meet Katie’, ‘Holly Checks Out Tara’ (this one had an illustration of a supermarket cash register on the front), ‘Holly’s Pool Party’, and finally one with the provocative title of ‘Holly On Hump Day’. The pool party tape had a glossy photograph on its front that showed five voluptuous women in swimsuits laying by a jacuzzi. Two of the bathing beauties were tall blondes, two were curly brunettes, and one was an Asian girl with long flowing black hair. I found myself wondering if one of the lovely looking ladies on the cover of this tape was the “Holly” that appeared in all of the video titles. I also wondered how Gen Gen knew this Holly. She had never mentioned her in any conversation that I could remember. As I pondered these questions, my hand unexpectedly brushed against something that didn’t feel like either like a tape or a pair of panties.
The object was long and thick and made of a dark black plastic. I gasped a bit when I pulled it out and realized what it actually was. Now, I was – mind you – wise enough in the ways of the world to know what a dildo was. I had had many giggling conversations with my high school girlfriends about them. Yet, for all of our twittering pillow talk about them, I had never seen one up close like this before. As I held it up and slid my hand over the glossy smoothness of the fake cock, I remembered how Susie Martin had once talked about stealing one from her older sister’s room and touching herself with it in the bathroom. I remembered canlı kaçak bahis blushing when she had first told that story at her slumber party during sophomore year.
Not that I didn’t tease myself sometimes, mind you. Actually, since coming to my aunt’s house, I had recently gotten into the habit of pleasuring myself regularly each morning. Gen usually left for work about an hour before me every day. So this often gave me some “alone time” when I could lie in bed with my panties down to my knees and rub my hungry clittie with my fingers. Sometimes I would also masturbate in the bathroom shower, enjoying the sensation of the water striking my hard nipples as I slipped a soapy finger or two into my eagerly awaiting folds of flesh. Sometimes I frigged myself so hard during those private moments that I worried that one of the neighbors living above or below Gen would hear my moans of personal passion. But I was all so enjoyable that I was finding it hard to stop these daily indulgences.
As I gazed at the hard rod that I was now holding in my right hand, I briefly considered whether I might take Gen’s playtoy to the bathroom and ram it hard inside of myself at that very moment. I imagined Susie Martin doing herself like that in her own bathroom back in Missouri. And, for a moment, I seemed to take pleasure imagining the scene of another girl touching herself, losing herself in the ecstacy of her own self-stimulation. I suddenly found myself watching voyeuristically as Susie sat on the toilet, slowly, sensuously, sliding her sister’s pink pussy pounder inside of her hot, wet hole.
In my mind, I watched Susie’s big breasts heaving up and down as she stroked herself repeatedly with her stolen slut stick. She was starting to moan lightly now, as I often did, and she was mumbling something. At first, her words were just whispers, coming between gasps of breath: “Oh, yes. Oh my….. Oh, that feels soooooo nice. Don’t let it stop. Don’t let it ever stop…” Then, frantically, she began bucking up and down, back and forth, slapping her backside and bottom against the cool white porcelain. In my mind, I remembered how shapely and pleasing Susie’s delicious derriere was. There was a rhythmic knocking sound now as her alluring ass rapped again and again against the toilet seat. In my mind, I heard my female friend’s calls become louder and louder, her need becoming ever more urgent as she approached her climax. It was as if I was right there in the room with her now. It was as if I was the one fucking her with that long plastic prick. “Oh, keep doing that, baby,’ she was begging me, calling out to me: ‘Oh, Ann! OH, ANN!!!!”
Suddenly I was jerked out of my sweet fantasies and back to reality. The calling that I was hearing now was REAL. It was a woman’s voice and it was coming from the apartment door!!! Someone was knocking loudly on the door and calling: “Ann! Oh, Ann! Are you there?”
‘Oh, gosh!’ I thought anxiously, ‘What if Gen has returned early and she finds me like this in her room?!!!’ Frantically, I tossed the dildo under the bed, threw the tapes haphazardly back into the closet and shut the closet door in a desperate attempt to conceal my illicit intrusion into my aunt’s private chambers. Exiting the bedroom quickly, I grabbed a big towel from the nearby bathroom and wrapped it around me to cover my near nakedness. As I hurried toward the door, trying to compose myself, I was relieved as I heard the woman’s voice again. It wasn’t Gen’s voice. (After all, I was to realize days later, why would Gen wait to come in the door to her own apartment anyway?! It’s amazing what your mind will imagine when its just been wandering in the world of guilty pleasures!) No, the voice wasn’t my aunt’s. It sounded more like one of the neighbors. I knew that I had heard that voice before, but couldn’t quite place which one it was. She was knocking on the door, calling again, somewhat urgently: “ANN! OH, ANN! ARE YOU THERE, DARLING?!”
“Just a moment,” I called back, and opened up the door a bit to see who it was on the other side. Gazing out, I recognized immediately who it was. It was Mrs. Tierney, a woman who lived in the suite just above Aunt Gen. She was in her mid thirties, with blonde hair and a more than ample bosom. She was carrying a large black briefcase in one hand and was shifting back and forth nervously on her feet. “Oh, Ann!” Mrs. Tierney said, with a tone of great relief in her voice, “I am so glad that you are here. I locked myself out of my apartment it seems, and I *really* need to use a bathroom. Would you mind if I used yours?”
“Not at all,” I said, opening the door further and letting her in, “The bathroom is down that way, just past the two bedrooms.”
A few moments later, Mrs. Tierney emerged from the toilet. “Thank you so much,” she said warmly, “I was getting pretty desperate out there. You saved me.”
“No problem,” I said back, “Can I help you in any other way, Mrs. T?”
“Well, I’ve already called a locksmith and they’re supposed to be on their way over now. So that’s taken care of. I guess I just need a place to sit and wait until then. Would it be too much of an imposition if I waited here until they arrived?”
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