<Thump thump thump!>
The sound of a heartbeat. In his mind he was curled up with the woman of his dreams, and her heart beat only for him. He just had to prove himself to her…
<Thump thump thump!>
Roger stirred, groggily wiping the sleep from his eyes as morning light bled through the window directly onto his face. He groaned, his head somehow feeling like he had just endured a four hour lecture, while simultaneously feeling perfectly content and rested.
In the bleary haze before wakefulness he could feel his mind grasping, reaching out for half remembered facts and phrases as his dreams slowly gave way to reality. Yet like all dreams, they quickly faded as trying to hold on to them was like clutching at smoke.
<Thump thump thump!>
Roger stirred as his bedroom door swung open, his mother’s face appearing around the frame. “Roger? I did knock.” She intoned sweetly. “I got a call from Mike Hawke?”
“Mike Haddock mom. His name is…Mike Haddock…”
Then the realization hit him; suddenly he was wide awake.
“Wait- am I late for work?!” He shirked, gripping the sheets around his chest in an attempt to get up before noticing the truly impressive morning wood he was sporting. He quickly covered himself as he settled back down.. “I thought he wanted me to start tomorrow?”
His mother sheepishly walked in and sat on the bed next to him. She didn’t look directly at him at first. That was when he knew something was wrong.
“He uh… well, he said he won’t be needing you over the summer after all.”
Roger's grip on his sheets loosened. He sat upright. It took a few moments for the heat rushing behind his ears to settle as he took in her words. He swallowed as a block of ice landed in the pit of his stomach.
“Oh-”
It was all he could manage, nodding slowly.
“I know that’s not the news you wanted to hear sweetie, I'm sorry.” She sighed, reaching out to rub his shoulder.
“Yeah, no, not really.” He absently scratched the back of his head as he feltg heat prickle there, as he was suddenly left trying to figure out what he was going to do for money.
“It’s okay, though sweetheart. Layla was here this morning.”
His eyes shot up. Suddenly she had his undivided attention.
“Oh. That’s cool. How is she?” He asked, trying his best to sound as casual as possible, the events of last night suddenly flashing through his mind.
“Good, she's good, although… she did want to talk about you - as usual.” His mother giggled, pinching his cheek, and Roger blushed deeply. It had nothing to do with her touch.
“She came in while I was on the phone, and well… I told her you lost your job. That you weren’t going to be working for Mr. Haddock this summer after all.”
Roger wasn’t sure how to feel. He was certainly not thrilled to hear his job opportunity had fallen through, but Layla knowing about it felt as though he’d been hollowed out.
“She felt so sorry for you Roger!” She pled. You know how much she cares about you.”
He nodded, pursing his lips as he tried not to reveal the tumult of emotions brewing inside him.
“Yeah she’s um… she’s been such a good friend. To us.”
“Well, she said- I mean she offered- she asked if you would be willing to help her out around her house this summer!” She cheered, her smile brightening immeasurably as she squeezed his thigh. “So I was going to as-”
“Yes!” Roger blurted, his voice nearly cracking, before quickly lowering again. He shyly tugged his thigh away from his mother's reach. “I’d love to help out.”
“Well that’s lovely,” she purred, clapping her hands together. “I’ll let her know you’ll be over soon.”
If his behavior was strange in any way, his mother didn't seem to notice.
“Wait- S-soon?”
“Well yeah. You have slept in pretty late, and she is doing us a big favour. She wanted you there bright and early and I told her you would be over A-S-A-P!” his mother giggled poking him in the chest with every letter. You don’t want to leave her hanging until tomorrow do you?”
“No, right, of course not.” He stammered, a smile painting itself across his face as he eagerly nodded in agreement, swiftly realising he wasn’t dreaming and he would in fact be spending his entire summer around Layla. “You’re so right.”
Roger got up and quickly began to get ready, nearly forgetting that his mom was in the room.
He couldn’t believe it! In just the span of a single minute his world had went from being an irrecoverable nightmare to a dream come true. Part of him wondered if he was still dreaming, about to wake up to the first of many boring day shifts, where he would be stacking heavy boxes for minimum wage. Instead, he’d be all alone with Layla for… well, what sounded like the whole summer!
“Oh, did she mention what exactly she needed help with?” He asked, slipping on a shirt as his mother made her way out of his room.
Her voice came echoing down the hallway. “Oh, I think she mentioned something about some heavy boxes?”
*****
Opening the door to the bathroom and stepping into the shower, Roger couldn’t help but remember those blissful images of Layla from the night before, both real and imagined. She had looked so beautiful in the moonlight. Her utterly voluptuous form glowing, every swollen curve begging to be touched, so fucking huge she was almost too much to take in at once.
He could only imagine how much hotter she must have been in the shower.
Hot soapy water streaming down her every curve as she stalked closer and closer, her lips curling as her hands went lower and lower.
Reaching blindly for the faucet Roger wiped his eyes, momentarily shaking off that hypnotic visage. Staying up this late was murder for his sleep schedule, but he couldn’t help it.
Roger didn’t stop to wonder why Layla would want him over so quickly despite just having cautioned him about needing his sleep the night before. As the hot water ran over him, he was content to let his mind run with wilder and wilder fantasies. Who knew just what she might have in store for him? The college boy, the prodigal son home at last… though if he were honest with himself he would have to admit, Layla probably had nothing romantic in store for him.
He began vigorously scrubbing away, hoping to rid himself of the lingering scent of his nightly escapades, half out of fear that she would somehow smell it on him.
Whenever Layla was around, she always gave him that look, a smoldering, knowing look; as if she somehow knew he’d been furiously masturbating to thoughts of her the night, or sometimes even just hours, before.
-Cut and paste into separate document and reposting starting here-
With the way she looked at him… he was quite sure she was entirely oblivious to
how much he had matured over the years. She couldn't see him for the man he was, let alone his true feelings for her. Regardless of his illicit desires for her, his feelings were real, matched only by his timidity towards both them and her. He found himself locked in an endless cycle: desperately wanting to express his hidden feelings for her while knowing that, if they should ever come to light, he would curl into a ball of shame and embarrassment, evaporate from this mortal coil and simply cease to exist.
Could she feel the same way?
Did he even want to know the answer?
Lost in his thoughts, as hot water ran over him, a memory from the night before crept into his mind, and with it the growing knot in his stomach gave way to a much more hormonal drive.
Layla’s massive, heaving breasts appeared in his mind, bared for all the world to see. He imagined himself lying beneath them, overwhelmed by their majestic glory, her tantalizing nipples jutting out inviting him to suckle. Under the specter of Layla's alluring smile his cock slowly rose, standing to attention while her voice echoed through his skull: That's right Roger, I want you to look. Keep staring at my big beautiful body.
Roger warred with himself, his hand slowly drifting closer as he debated whether or not the pleasure would be worth being even later than he already was. He didn't have time for this!. He had to be in control. If he was going to prove to Layla, let alone himself, that he wasn't a horny teenager anymore then he had to show some restraint.
Even around someone as voluptuous as Layla.
Even if he had to walk around bow-legged to do it.
Forcing his hand to his side, he stepped out of the shower before he could change his mind.
Hurriedly running a towel through his hair and trusting his clothes to handle the brunt of the drying he rushed into his room. While he was in the shower his mother had ever so kindly and neatly laid out on his bed a white t-shirt and now fairly tight pair of baby blue gym shorts from back in high school.
Of course. The washing machine was broken, she probably hadn’t had the time to do the laundry yet.
By laying back on his bed and throwing his hips from side to side he was able to tug his old freshman gym shorts on. Looking in the mirror though he was suddenly aware of just how naked he would feel around Layla - not to mention how juvenile he looked. The last thing he wanted was to dress like the child she undoubtedly still saw him as. It didn’t help that even at his full grown height he barely came up to her stomach.
Yet as all students did he had brought nothing home but dirty laundry and didn’t have time to look for anything else. It would just have to do.
Adjusting it the best he could, tugging down on the hems constantly in a futile attempt to cover some skin without flashing his own mother on the way out, he made his way downstairs taking the steps two at a time while trying not to seem like he was in too much of a hurry.
“Breakfast is on the table sweetie.” His mother’s voice echoed off the kitchen wall, her back turned to him as she cleared the counter.
“But, uh, I’m already late…”
“Well just eat quickly then. I think you’re going to be very busy today, so you’ll need your energy.”
Roger collapsed into a chair, taking in the plate of eggs and bacon his mother had arranged into a smiley face as his teeth sank into a slice of toast.
“We owe Layla a lot, you know. And here she is already doing us another big favour.”
He knew she was right, on both counts. Roger had always felt guilty and indebted to Layla for everything she had done for them. From buying his school clothes to helping them cover their mortgage, whenever there was a problem Layla had been right there to fix it.
Although, trying not to feel ungrateful, he recalled that his school clothes were a little tight even back when he was attending. Maybe given her sheer size Layla had trouble judging the measurements of a young guy… especially one as short as him. That said she had certainly approved whenever she saw him wearing them. Regardless, there was no way they would have made it without her.
And now he owed her directly.
She was giving him a paying job… one that, given her track record, would likely pay very generously, and it came with the privilege of getting to spend plenty of quality time with her.
He could help her around the house, take care of all the hard work, and in the process she would doubtless come to see just how mature he was. He wouldn't be a boy to her anymore; he would be a man, a man who could provide her with everything she needed.
“Come on, Roger, eat up! She’s waiting!” His mother took his glass.
Roger caught himself in his daydream just in time to force the last bit of food down his throat, briefly wiping his hands at the sink as he got ready to leave.
“Oh, before I forget, take that cup with you.” His mother called out from the pantry, and he turned to see her holding a cup that was absolutely overflowing. “She said she needed some sugar.”
Taking it delicately, terrified of dropping it and disappointing his amazonian neighbour, Roger carefully backed his way out of the door - eyes fixed on the rim of the cup as he set off next door. Each step spilled just a little more, granules soon coating his wrist, so he hurried as best he could.
Even at a distance Layla’s home was massive, so large that it kept their own in a near perpetual shadow. It was fitting, he supposed. Given her own size, she probably needed a big place just to feel comfortable. But even so it was vast. Older than almost any house in the area, the home, or rather the estate, stood out for its exquisite brick and stonework in a neighbourhood otherwise dominated by modern construction. Rumor was it had once belonged to a powerful family who had emigrated from somewhere in eastern Europe.
Now, as Roger made his slow approach, it towered over him just as it had when he was a child. The marble steps leading toward the door still felt as massive and imposing as they had then. Ruefully he realized, he hadn’t really grown all that much since.
He hadn’t a lot of time in her home since he was much younger, as Layla would watch over him during the day until his Mom got home. In fact he was quite sure he hadn’t actually been on the inside of it for over three years.
The door stood before him like an intimidating, obsidian obelisk. He stood there, awkwardly balancing the cup in one hand, as he debated whether to knock or ring the doorbell. Arm outstretched, he went for the bell, before reflexively pulling back and forming a fist. With his hand half grasped around the door knocker, he shouted at himself internally.
He had to stop overthinking things! She was his neighbour, and she was hiring him. She wanted him here.
His hand once again hovered over the doorbell, before forming a fist to knock, before finally he worked up his courage and-
The door was open.
A mountainous silhouette stood in the massive doorframe, haloed by the golden light of the late morning sun.
Roger's fist went limp as he stared at her, realizing after a few seconds that he hadn’t been breathing. As quietly as he could, he gasped sucking in some much needed air.
“Well, aren’t you a punctual young man?”
She rested one hand on the prodigious, swollen curve of her hip while the other held a large, steaming mug of coffee. Her low-cut blouse, a deep blood-red burgundy, clung obscenely to her enormous body and stretched taut over the impossible swell of her breasts.
Much to Roger’s eternal delight and dismay, Layla never wore a bra. He could see every breath she took through the thin fabric, each movement making the deep valley between her tits shift hypnotically in their confinement as if they were begging to be let loose. Hell, her blouse dipped so low he could practically see the dusky pink of her massive areolas peeking out atop the strained fabric of her neckline like tiny sunsets on the horizon.
Swallowing thickly, fingers tightening around the plastic cup of sugar in his hands, he did everything in his power not to stare directly at her massive rack as the scent of her body washed over him. Roger forced himself to manually breathe, his chest rising and falling as he slowly took it all in. Her home was saturated with her musk, only thinly veiled by the fragrances she often wore. Cinammons, citruses and vanilla fought a losing battle against a much deeper, and more primal scent, one that made Roger shudder.
The prominent, bulging outline of her nipples was obvious through the thin material, yet she seemed perfectly unaware. If she knew, she didn’t seem to care. It must have been easy to be so self-assured when you were tall enough to touch the ceiling anywhere you went…
Her visitor swallowed thickly, his fingers tightening around the plastic cup of sugar in his hands as he did everything in his power not to stare directly at her massive rack - although given he had to stare directly past it to meet her eyes that was incredibly difficult.
The steam from the cup fogged her glasses - when had she started wearing glasses? Roger’s throat tightened at how effortlessly sophisticated she looked with them perched on the bridge of her nose, lenses glinting in the sunlight.
Her free hand reached out as she gasped in delight, fingers brushing his just a moment longer than was necessary, before she plucked the cup from his grip.
“Oh wonderful! I did ask your mother to send something sweet over…” Layla purred, rolling that last letter around her tongue.
““Y-you're wel-come.” He stammered, wincing as he realised mid-sentence she hadn’t exactly thanked him.
“Better late than never sweetie.” She smiled wryly, gesturing for him to enter her home.
Blinking for what felt like the first time, Roger's eyes followed. Glancing into the ornate entranceway waiting to greet him, he realized not only had it been years since had been here, but this would be the first time he'd entered her house alone.
Feeling her gaze, he looked back at her, noticing the steaming coffee mug in her hands for the first time.“Oh. I'm sorry, did you need the sugar for…”
She shook her head without taking her eyes off him.
She shook her head, her eyes lingering on him. “No, I’ve always taken it straight.” She grinned watching his reaction. She had always loved to tease him after all. “Honey, have you been asleep all morning?”
“Uh-y-yes.” He mumbled non-committally, not wanting to admit it, but he had never been able to lie to her.
He could feel her eyes boring deeper, studying him, as if she could read his every thought, leaving him feeling completely exposed. Heat began to well up in his cheeks, not just because of her incredible body, but the fact that she made him feel like an errant child - not exactly helped by her size.
“I thought so. I told you, you really shouldn't be playing around so late at night.” She smirked, pursing her lips. “However are you going to have the stamina for what I have planned for you?”
Roger swallowed as the heat from his cheeks moved down and enveloped his neck. She couldn’t have known what he had been up to last night… could she? Beet red now, he shuddered as Layla gently licked the tip of her finger. Her tongue swirled around and around keeping his attention as she dipped her fingertip into the sugar, coating it completely. And then slowly, agonizingly slowly, she plunged the length of her finger into the depths of her mouth - penetrating her thick, plush lips. Roger's mouth fell open in awe as she moaned. A few errant crystals clung to her luscious wet lips, dangling before being luxuriously lathered and polished by her tongue.
“Mmmm, perfect.” Layla sighed, pulling her slick finger from her lips with a pop, a strand of saliva trailing from the digit to her mouth. “Now as for you…”
Roger wilted, unable to escape her shadow as she loomed over him. She grasped him by the shoulders, each step bringing the entrance closer and closer.