I took a bus. There are several options available from the airport, though not so many from the charter hangars. Cabs, appcars, a few buses. The trains, when they run, were far from here. I was at the bus stop, fiddling with my smartphone to call an appcar, when a bus pulled up. It was headed in the right direction so I got on. Verifying ... yes, this bus was going where I wanted: downtown, where multiple transfer options awaited. I tried to relax. Going downtown during the afternoon rush, the bus was less than half full so I had seats to myself. Tried to relax. Breathed in. Out.
Downtown, where the line ends, everyone exits. A lot of buses come by here. I tried to sort through my best options. Three went near where I wanted, but which one, and when? I fixate on stuff sometimes and this was one of those times ... which option is best? The stops for the different buses weren’t more than a couple blocks apart, but sometimes buses were late so you had to know when yours might or might not be. Or should I try again for an appcar? I was still looking at my phone when a bus pulled up. Its number and my smartphone search told me it would bring me within a mile of home, so I got on. And went home.
I left the bus seven long blocks from home, in front of a Park and Ride along with several others who all immediately went to their cars. I envied those who were within a block of the stop—I still had an uphill mile to walk. A large, fancy car pulled into the bus stop alongside me.
A woman on the passenger side lowered her window. Raised her top. She had by far the largest breasts I’d ever seen, and I’d already experienced some really big ones today.
These were not so beautifully formed as Mari’s but ...
I couldn’t look away. It was as if my attention was magically riveted. Crap, more magic.
“What?” I heard her say as she turned her face away.
“You are not the boss here,” I heard a male voice say from behind her.
“Will you shut up?!” she said. Her words sounded slurred and the car smelled of alcohol, among other things.
Their conversation was already beyond me. Her breasts ... tits, her gigantic tits, areolæ the size of dinner plates, unveiled. There was something about them that was not ... quite
They argued. In their car. His car. While I watched from outside, unable to look away. Her name was Nancy. A few cars went by every few minutes, but no one was in a position to see what she was doing. To me. The driver was such a prick. To her. But he was in charge. And then she was. Of me.
Her titanic tits jiggled, sloshed, jostled while she argued.
I could. Not. Look. Away.
OK, I just got finished with firsthand-experiencing the most amazingly crazy-beautiful dominant superpowered woman I could imagine ever existing on this planet, and here I was distracted by some drive-by hooters? I didn’t even know there was such a thing. What planet did I live on, again?
But I couldn’t look away. And I was finding it harder to think every moment.
They argued. Money, drugs, alcohol, addiction, and I don’t think she or he or they wanted that discussion to go as long as it did, but ... it did.
I was less than a mile from home.
It was interminable ... my mind fleeing further every moment, and by the time they left it was gone.
Her tits? Seriously?!
“Give me your wallet,” Nancy said, and I did.
There was precious little in there, but that didn’t matter to me. Because ... tits?
She took my wallet, removed a few things, tossed it onto the sidewalk beside me. I’m still trying to recover from all the identity theft. She was still forcefully arguing with the driver who insisted she was wrong and he was right. About who-cares-what.
I had nothing to think, nothing to think with. Her tits were ...
They drove off.
I collapsed to the pavement.
I don’t remember being in jail, but I spent a night there. No identification, no identity, my phone, my wallet and some of my clothing missing. I spent a few hours in a hospital. I was incoherent, couldn’t remember where I was, who I was, which end was up. They stuck me with an IV, ran some blood tests. I was clean as a whistle (what’s a whistle, again?), no meds, no intoxicants, but no identity. They let me go after a few hours and I ended up on the street. Then in a homeless encampment, farther from home each time. Apparently Joanna filed a missing persons report but too late for the police to associate it with some homeless brainless vegetative sober man without ID, and by the time the police were in position to figure it out I was on the street, where no one thought I would be.
There were food banks and soup kitchens, and a mission, so at least I ate. Sleeping was more a mixed bag ... a few women who could tell that I wasn’t a junkie or a drunk would take an interest and shepherd me to and from food and shelter. It seemed to help that I was large and fit ... apparently I helped a couple women get off. I’m glad I didn’t get any parasites. I wasn’t an active participant but they seemed to want a hard cock and mine certainly fit the description. I may have also helped them deflect some unwanted attention; I was beaten twice by men who weren’t happy about my presence, broke a tooth, cracked two ribs, though at least the women didn’t have to deal with it those times.
I couldn’t fight back, of course.
Another trip to the hospital, another night in jail, another trip to the hospital.
I was asleep in a doorway, south of downtown. Smelled like shit, like fermented piss, like overripe sweat. I would be rousted in the morning, before residents or shopkeepers or potential customers had to step past me. Told to move along. If I was lucky I would end up on a slow bus with a long way to ride before getting kicked off at the end of the line, to find another ride downtown that a driver who took pity on a homeless person might let me take without payment, which was becoming more difficult as my body began to stink. This was my existence.
“And where were my thoughts all this time?” you might ask. They were on Nancy’s colossal tits. Their titanic curves, the way they jiggled, their completely engrossing shape, movement, sheer enormity. I was hard nearly all the time, awake or asleep, haunted, possessed by vivid, engrossing memory. My eyes had been riveted then and my memory was riveted now. If it was magic, it was potent stuff.
What was left of my mind wandered, looping back on itself, a tune repeating and repeating, digging the loop deeper.
Maybe somedaySaved by zero
I was asleep in a doorway in a different city. Smelled like shit, like fermented piss, like overripe sweat. Nancy’s tits, so full, alive, enthralling, filling my vision, my thoughts (such as they were). Hands could hold them, worship them, fingers, lips, tongue could trace, caress, tease giant areolæ and nipples to excitement. A mouth, a face, an entire head could disappear between them, those huge tits tight around ears and hair and neck.
I’ll be more togetherStretched by fewer
Tits on all sides, descending to cover my entire chest, from chin to cock. Pushed by female hands, compressing, relaxing, rocking my world.
Thoughts that leave meChasing after