Kim

 KIM


    7 p.m. Quiet. The last rays of a Friday afternoon sun slant across the
balcony of my apartment turning the condensation on my martini to gold. Below
me, the city finishes its work. Friday afternoon. The martini is perfect. Only
a few neighbors are taking the evening on their balconies. I can  see the
heads of a couple down to my left  and farther across the way a boy plays with
some out of view toy. 
    That's one thing about the balconies at the apartments here. Privacy is
high on the list and one really can't see much of the neighbors, nor they of
you. The crowd of the city is left behind and the apartment dweller is
permitted a kind of serene isolation. In one way at least, that's a pity. Why?
Because I have a neighbor who has peaked my curiosity. 
    She's not over there on her balcony tonight. At least, not yet. I decide
to linger over my drink and wait a while longer. Maybe she'll come out. What
makes me curious about her, is that in the three months I've lived here, I've
never seen her standing up. Always  sitting down. Consequently, I've only seen
her face above the balcony enclosure. A remarkably attractive face it is, with
long, reddish auburn hair. I've never seen a man there, so I presume she's
single.
    So I decide to top up my drink and relax. It's a nice evening. I step back
to the kitchen,  rebuild my martini and put some mixed nuts in a little bowl. 
    When I return to the balcony, she's come out and seated herself on my side
of the balcony. She usually sits on the far side, facing the pool, but tonight
she has seated herself on my side. 
    My curiosity has grown almost uncontrollable, but it simply wouldn't be
appropriate to call over to her. That would break the code of serene
isolation.
    She's smiling at me. She's turned, facing me and she's smiling. That's the
first time in ninety days that she's acknowledged my presence. Well now, OK,
the invitation has been issued. I offer a little wave, and smile in return.
She nods, smiles again and looks away. Her hair reflects the colors of the
sunset.
    The sounds of the city have subsided now. I get to my feet and glance over
at my neighbor. I can see just her head and neck, down to the top of her
shoulders.
    "Nice night, Isn't it?" I say, breaking the code of serenity.
    She turns suddenly and looks directly at me. She says nothing for a what
must be a few seconds but feels like an eon.
    Then she smiles again. "Yes, it is. Been nice all day, really."
    "Been at the office all day, so I didn't see much of it. Nice now,
though."
    She nods and gazes out across the city.
    "I work at home," she says, looking at the city. "It's a lot easier for
me."
    And then she was quiet. 

    That's the way the first evening went. She offered no further explanation
of the work that she did nor broached any new topic. The phone rang in my
apartment and when I returned she had disappeared.
    The following day, Saturday, was busy at the department where I work, so I
went in to work. There was a lot to do, not so all-occupying that my mind
didn't wander back to the neighbor I might encounter that evening. What did
she look like? Perhaps she fat. No, probably not. Her face and neck would have
revealed that. What, then?
    The puzzle persisted in my mind as prepared my usual before dinner drink.
I could just see the corner of her balcony from my little bar.
    There. There she was. Moving slowly and rather awkwardly to the place
where she had been seated the evening before. She seemed to be sliding along
the seat, from what I could see over the balcony wall. She appeared to be
wiggling her way  into the front corner, as if she had seated herself first,
then moved along in that sitting position. Strange, I thought. Odd.
    I walked out to my balcony with my drink.
    "Hi!" I said. "'Nother nice evening!"
    "Hi!" she said, and smiled that big pretty smile. "Yes, it is. I'm so glad
to have this balcony on evenings like this. I have a little trouble getting
myself out here but on nights like this it's worth it. You come out most
nights, don't you?"
    "Oh, indeed I do," I said. Good. A conversation. Hooray! I wonder what she
means by trouble getting out here?
    "I see you over there all the time," she continued, "with your evening
libation. Looks like a martini. Right?"
    "Exactly. Are you a connoisseur of the classics?"
    "Oh, I like them...It's just that, well, let's just say I'm pretty  clumsy
in the kitchen and I can't...I mean I don't make myself one very often.
Classic...That must mean gin, not vodka, right?"
    "Right, again." I took a firm grip on my courage. "May I make you one?"
    Her smile disappeared. Even in the glow of the setting sun, I could see
her face become pale.
    "Oh," she said. "Gosh, I don't know. It's a very nice offer. It's just
that..." She looked away from me and downward.
    "I apologize," I said quickly, "I don't even know your name and here I am
offering you a drink. I'm sorry. That was out of order."
    "No," she said looking back, "It's not that. I watch you out here all the
time and I really did want to meet you... Just surprised me, that's all. Yes,
that's it, it was a surprise." She looked back to me. Her color was returning.
    "Well, my offer still stands," I said, "Even if my timing was a little
ahead of schedule. It won't take but a second. OK?"
    She was quiet for some time then looked at me very intently. A serious
expression was on her face. "You have to know a couple of things," she said.
"Well, first of all, I should know your name, Mr. Next-door-martini-drinking
man."
    "Jim," I said. "Jim Lathrop."
    "Hi, Jim," she said, "My name's Kim. Kim Morrison."
    "Nice to meet you,  I chuckled and reached out as if offering a handshake
clear across to the other balcony. She turned and although her right shoulder
moved slightly, she must have thought better of returning the gesture.
    "Jim," she said, " I guess I'd better just come out and say it. I'm
disabled."
    "Disabled?"
    "Right. You'll see. I don't advertise it and I don't even like to admit it
to myself, but I just wanted to let you know in advance. Maybe you'll want to
take back your offer."
    "Not at all! When I make an offer it stands." I said, "I'll meet you at
your hall door in five minutes."
    "Um...Ok, well...I have a little trouble doing some things...so  I had a
kind of secret button set into the left side of the doorway to my
apartment...looks just like a little panel in the woodwork, a little below
waist high. Just push that and my door opens and you can come in and go
straight through to the balcony, OK?"
    I was puzzled, but agreed.

    Five minutes later, with two martinis and a small platter of assorted
munchies on a little tray, I found the secret panel and let myself into Kim's
apartment. The open glass doors to the balcony were straight ahead but I took
some time getting there, glancing around the living-dining room area as I
passed through. A black, powered wheelchair was parked near the door with a
compartmented bag slung over the back. Low bookcases lined the walls, with
everything arranged quite low to the floor. Aside from that, the room was
nicely decorated and quite pleasant.
    Ahead, beyond the doors, on a long bench along one side of the balcony,
her back to me, was Kim.
    As I walked toward her, the first thing I realized was that she had no
arms to speak of. Just little stubs, barely long enough to peek out of the
sleeveless jade green top she was wearing. I supposed her legs were in front
of her, on the bench. Her long auburn hair sparkled in the evening sun. I
understood now, why she couldn't return my gesture of a handshake. In spite of
the oddity of her condition, I didn't find that it made her unattractive. In
fact, with her trim waist, she looked very appealing indeed.
    "Hi, Kim," I said, announcing myself as I stepped through the doors to the
balcony. "Am I on schedule?"
    "Oh, hi!" she chirped. "I was just watching those kids playing  down
there." She lifted her tiny right arm nub out as if trying to point. "Must be
fun to be able to run and jump like that. Oh, here, sit down."
    Suddenly she swiveled in place, fully facing me. 
    No legs at all. None. Tight fitting shorts revealed a fullness of flesh at
the hips. It would be an exaggeration to call them stumps
    What she did have were breasts. Huge, uncontrolled breasts that had
created havoc within her jade top when she swung around. 
    "Sometimes I pretend I can run...but this is all that happens," she said
pointing at her hips. "There's no bone in there, but I can wiggle these
muscles a little. See?" 
    The flesh at each hip trembled and twitched.
    "So here I am," she said, flipping her tiny armlets, her giant bosom
moving in sympathetic response. "Pretty much a mess, right?"
    "Not at all! Unusual, to be sure, but you're really quite attractive," I
said.
    "Well, that's probably a bunch of bull, but I'll take it in the spirit in
which it's intended," she laughed. "Now then, you promised me a martini!"
    I lifted the tray with a glass near the edge over toward her.
    "OK, now how're we going to do this?" she said half aloud, reaching out as
far as her tiny arm nubs would reach. 
    "My stupid little arms are so short I can't even make them touch in front,
so I guess I'd better not try to hold the stem...Let's see if I can hold onto
the top of the glass."
    She wiggled her armlets. "Can you sort hold a glass up...kind of put it
between my arms?"
    I did as I was asked and she gently took the frosty glass between the tips
of her nubs.
    Taking the other glass from the tray, I touched the rim of hers.
    "Cheers!"
    "Yes, indeed, cheers!" she said. "Welcome to Kim's balcony!"

    I watched her as she craned her long beautiful neck forward and sipped the
drink.
    "Yummy," she smiled, "You make good martinis!"
    "Thank you."
    "I bet you're a good cook, too. Men who cook usually are pretty good at
it, I hear.
    "How'd you know I cook?"
    "Lotsa times you bring out your dinner and eat it on your balcony. I watch
from inside. You cook dinner for your friends...dates, I guess, sometimes,
too. I'm a real nosy girl, aren't I?"
    We laughed.  
    "You know more about me than I do of you," I said. " I heard you say that
you worked at home. What do you do?"
    "Graphic design. I work on a computer and I have contracts with several
companies. Never have to leave the apartment if I don't want to."
    "And you can do everything for yourself? I mean you're completely
independent?" I asked.
    "Almost. That's part of the deal I made with my folks." She sipped more of
her martini. " Can't do a lot of things, though. like hold a glass and get
some of those munchies at the same time."
    I held the plate of munchies up next to her cheek, and she nibbled some
things from the plate.
    "Hey, you're a mind reader!" she said when her mouth emptied. "That was
perfect! Thanks." She sipped from her drink again.
    "What did you mean about a deal with your Dad?" I asked.
    "Oh. That's about having my own apartment. I had to prove to them that I
could do everything , well pretty much everything  for myself, before he'd let
me move away from home. I really can't, but I can do enough to make them think
I can. It's just so incredibly wonderful to be independent. I just love it."
    "And you're out on your own. Good for you," I said. "You don't use
artificial limbs or anything? Wouldn't that help?"
    "No way. Folks made me wear that stuff when I was little, when Mom was
still alive but all it ever did was tie me down. All strapped up, I couldn't
move at all. By the time I was fifteen I'd made such a big deal out of it
Daddy'd let me go without them. I still use my wheelchair when I go out, but
other than that it's what you see is what I've got."
    We laughed a little laugh.
    "Seriously. I could wave the arms, but with my little arms I couldn't
really make the hooks work and they were hot and heavy and even really hurt
sometimes. And the legs, well they were a total loss. I threw a lot of
tantrums until they let me go without them."
    "Hey," she interrupted herself, "I have a problem with your martini
glasses. They get empty too fast."
    I took her glass and my own back to my place and refilled them.  When I
returned she was in the process of slipping down from the bench, onto the
floor of the balcony.
    "It's a lot easier getting down than getting up." she declared. "When I
was a little kid I could clamber up on stuff like this bench with no problem.
When I was twelve, though, I started developing these big old boobs of mine
and I swear, they're as much of a handicap as my little arms and no legs."
    "Really? From where I was sitting, I found them magnificent!"
    "Oh yeah? You should just live with them for a few days."
    I considered the idea for a moment, and decided that if that opportunity
arose, and that she was still attached to those two giants, I might well
accept the offer.
    I handed her the refilled glass, and she took it, leaning back against the
bench.
    "Mmmm. just as good as the first." she said. "Did you think any more about
my question about cooking?"
    I admitted a fair acquaintenship with the furnishings and tools of the
kitchen:     "I've got some things in the freezer and some  chicken I was
planning to do tonight... will that do?" 
    "That'll do just fine. Um. You wanta see the rest of my apartment?"
    "I'd be honored."
    She 'handed' me her drink. "Here, take this. can't walk and hold a drink
at the same time. Isn't that a pisser?"

    "I try to keep it just like anybody else's except maybe to keep stuff
where I can reach it without getting up on a footstool or something. That's
about all."
    She laboriously  made her way in from the balcony, swinging one hip
forward, settling her weight on that side, then repeating the process on the
other side. The flesh at her hips twitched and wiggled in some useless memory
of locomotion and her enormous breasts swung about wildly as she thrust her
torso back and forth.
    "Sorry I'm not faster getting around. You can see what I mean about the
boobies, though, right? No joke, I gotta be real careful when I'm running
around the house. These old girls weigh so much that if I turn around quick or
something like that, they throw me off balance and I end up flopping around on
the floor like a fish out of water."
    She had reached a small hallway that ran back to the right.
    "Here's  the office," she said, flipping an arm nub in the direction of
one room. Computer, and stuff down where I can get at it. I use a trackball
instead of a mouse. That works out pretty well...and over here's the bedroom."
    "Regular bed? Not on the floor?" I asked.
    "That was one of the things in the deal with my Dad. It's kinda a bitch
getting up there, but a deal's a deal."
    "I see the hanger bar in the closet's been lowered."
    "Yes. Takes me forever to get dressed, though. Most days I don't bother,
unless I'm expecting someone. And over here...": she said, swinging around
toward the bathroom..."Oh damn."
    "What?"
    "See what happens? I reach up and turn at the same time and look who's
come out to play!"
    Kim's gigantic left breast had bounded out of it's green covering and was
swaying proudly back and forth before her.
    "And the problem is that I have to topple over, lie down and slide along
the floor to get that blouse back down over her. That's the way I have to get
dressed, 'cept I usually do it in bed."
    "Would you like me to rearrange your blouse?"
    Kim gave me a sly wink and chortled, " Why Jim, we've just met...perhaps
after dinner," and giggled a wonderful musical giggle.
    "Oh, you mean cover up Miss Letitia? Well she does enjoy the fresh air,
but perhaps under the circumstances, decorum might be the best thing!"
    I pulled the fabric back into place. "Letitia?"
    "Letitia and the other one's Bernice. Anyone that big deserves her own
name, don't you think?"
    I chuckled. "True, but they do seem a bit uncontrolled."
    "True. They just flop around wherever they feel like it. I did wear a bra
for a little while. Specially made. Expensive, too but then I couldn't move
the dear things out of the way when I wanted to. There they were, jutting out
in front of me like a pair of missiles ready for firing. I have a short enough
reach as it is, without a pair of iron maidens getting between me and whatever
I'm doing. Besides, that was an extra fifteen or twenty minutes just getting
the thing in place and I'm sure neither Bernice nor Letitia enjoyed being
crammed into those bags. Straps hurt, too. Now then, on with the tour."
    Upon inspecting her woefully under-equipped kitchen, it was decided to
cook at my place and come back over to her apartment to dine. She had special
silver that she found easier to use.

    "So this is the master's castle, eh?" she mused, inspecting my apartment. 
I had carried her across from her place and put her in an easy chair that had
a commanding view of my Pullman kitchen . "Mind if I look around?"
    "Make yourself at home."
    She wriggled and wobbled and slid down from the chair and headed off
toward the back of the apartment, exhibiting more moving parts than would seem
imaginable, given her physical limitations.
    "Pretty much the same floor plan as mine, but just reversed," I heard her
say from the hall. "I like what you've done with...whoops."
    "What now?"
    The texture of your carpet and the fabric of my shorts seem to have
established an affinity for each other!"
    "What happened?"
    "I just walked out of my shorts. Sorry. I do it all the time. My hips
taper the wrong way or something and with me twisting and twirling all around
they just come down every once in a while. I'm really sorry. Took me forever
to get them on this afternoon, too. "
    This afternoon?"
    "Right. I don't usually wear bottoms at all, just because they fall off
all the time. Makes it faster when I have to go, too. Speaking of which..."
    Same place it is in yours...need a hand?"
    "Sure. Two if you got 'em. Can I keep them?" and she laughed. "No, I can
manage, thanks. I won't even have to use up any of your toilet paper."
    I stopped peeling the onion I had in my hands.
    "How's that?"
    "I just have to pee and I've learned how to stop without leaving a drop.
As long as I shave every morning, it's no problem at all." And the bathroom
door closed. 

    With dinner safely in the oven and Kim back in the easy chair, albeit sans
shorts, we settled back to our drinks. I had transferred her drink into a
different glass which now nestled conveniently in the cleft of her gigantic
bosom, leaving her minuscule arm stubs free for expression.
    Our conversation had returned to the matter of shaving.
    "I use an electric razor that I set in a rest and hold myself over it.
Only takes a few minutes, first armpits and then my down-below. Started doing
it when I was twelve, mostly 'cause it felt good on my down below stuff and it
made me feel grown up, like Daddy. I still pee facing forward like he did,
too. I still really like him."
    "You said at one point 'when Mom was still alive..."
    "Right. She died when I was seven. I remember her, but she was in a lot of
pain toward the end and I guess my memory of her is colored by that. So that
left my two brothers, Daddy and me. Brothers are OK, I guess. They really
encouraged me to be independent. Always treated me just like another little
brother. Never cut me any slack."
    "So that's where your sense of self and independence comes from, eh?"
    "True. Helped me a lot at first, but  I think I may have thought I was in
better shape than I really am."
    "How do you mean?"
    "Hard reality. Just slammed in the face time and time again by cold, harsh
reality."

    Dinner was ready and I  carried the various plates and dishes of food over
to Kim's apartment and at her direction set the table.

    Our conversation was diverted by the food, wine, and the techniques that
Kim used at the table. I was fascinated by the way she held a fork in her
mouth until it contained the food she wanted, then rested it on the edge of
the plate and pushed down on the handle with the nearest arm stub. That neatly
levered the food up where she could put it between her wonderfully adept lips.
To cut something, she held the fork in her teeth and clamping a knife under
one little arm, usually the left one, she sawed away until the cut was made.
With Kim's body hunched low over the table, Bernice and Letitia swayed
restlessly below, bound up in their green enclosure.
    By the end of the meal the accumulated effects of the martinis and the
Reisling at the table were clearly having an effect on me and most certainly
on my dinner companion.
    Kim's eyes were rimmed with red. Quietly she wiped away a bit of moisture
that might have been a tear.
    "Something? I queried.
    "No. Nothing. Oh, crap. I'm sorry, Jim. I'm just... I'm such a mess. I
can't do a damn thing for myself. Who do I think I'm kidding? Look at me. Just
look. Did you ever see anything so ridiculous? I 'm practically starving over
here because I can't even make a decent meal...Hell, I can barely feed myself.
Independent, eh?
I'm about as self reliant as a ...as a ..as a  oh, I don't know what. Like a
newborn baby with grotesque big boobs."
    Her body shuddered and she was quiet for a while.
    "I'm sorry for coming apart at the seams like this," she said after a bit,
"When you've been so nice and everything. I don't usually drink so much. I'm
sorry."
    I came around to her side of the table.  Holding her beautiful long hair a
little to one side, I kissed her gently on the nape of the neck. She leaned
back and looked up at me.
    "Oh my," she said softly. "Oh me oh my." She continued looking up at me.
    "That gave me the shivers," she said. "Very nice shivers."
    "Would you like..."
    "Sshhh," she whispered. "Can you carry me into my bedroom?"

    Moments later Kim Morrison lay comfortably on the satin sheets of her
canopy bed. The green top was away, now and her two huge breasts were finally
enjoying their freedom. Her trim, clean body glowed in the moonlight now
falling gently through the bedroom window She reached up to me with her little
nubs. 
    "Can you give the shivers again, please?" she asked, quietly. "I would
like that very much." 
    I began to lean over.
    "I'd like it better with your shirt off." she said softly. "I want to feel
your chest against mine. See, look. Letitia and Bernice are all excited. They
want to feel your chest too."
    The cerise tips of her two immense breasts were fully erect and hard,
reaching up to me with far more determination than her nearly useless arm
stubs. Below, her unprotected and clean shaven lips began to part slightly,
almost as if asking for a kiss.
    "And your trousers, too, please. Miss Virginia wants to meet more of you
too."
    "Miss Virginia?"
    "Yes. She's not as big as her two sisters, but she has a delightful
personality all her own."
    I made myself ready and settled onto the satin sheets. At short notice,
all I could think of was 'Peter the Great' for a comparable name.
    "Ooohhh, that's so nice. Virginia loves to kiss," she said. "Yesss,
s'more...she likes that a whole lot!" Kim trembled and relaxed again. "Yummy,"
she said. "But you mustn't ignore Letitia and Bernice. They can be very
jealous, you know."
    I slid up beside Kim and began nuzzling her two huge breasts, first
Letitia, then Bernice. Or was it the other way around? I've forgotten. In any
case their nipples grew even more hard and erect and Kim started to writhe
gently on the sheets, making little sounds deep in her throat.
    "Virginia's getting hungry now," she said "Miss Virginia's getting very,
verrry hungry."
    With only this encouragement, I introduced Peter the Great. Peter, in full
command of his powers, took great pleasure in satisfying Miss Virginia's deep,
intense hunger.

    I must congratulate Peter. His staying power and ability to recover were
nothing short of remarkable. Toward morning, with Virginia thoroughly
satisfied and both Letitia and Bernice in repose, Kim slept soundly with a
quiet smile on her beautiful face. By noon, fully rested, we rubbed our eyes
and looked out over the city.
    "You don't have a problem with...with my disability, do you?" she asked
after awhile. " I mean...some guys just can't handle it. You actually seem to
almost...well I don't know..almost as if it were a good thing...does that make
any sense at all?"
    "It does," I admitted. "I can't explain it, either, but somehow you're
more attractive to me than, say another woman with more conventional
proportions. It's true."
    She turned around on the bed. Just watching the effort it took her to
change position, to sit up for example, aroused me. She noticed the reaction.
    "Peter the Great certainly doesn't hide his feelings, does he?" She
chuckled. "Oh that was so good last night. Jim?"
    "Hmm?"
    "You want to play...sort of a little game?"
    "Game?"
    "Yes...I always wanted to tease a guy  real crazy, just to see what he'd
do..."
    "You want to tease...Why me?"
    "Because you react so wonderfully to my stupid little arms and big floppy
boobies."
    "True, true."
    "So, OK," she said, "We'll pretend you're a guy who wakes up in bed with
this hooker who hasn't any arms or legs and great giant tits, OK? and I'll
bounce all around, and I'll bet you don't last for more than twenty minutes
before we're back in bed again, OK?"
    "So I get to pretend I'm some every-day clown who got half blasted and
wakes up with a hooker? and can I play along with your game?"
    "Sure'" she said with a sly smile, "That's fair."
    "Twenty minutes, right? And if I win, I get to watch you make breakfast
for us both, OK?"
    "Whew. Tough bet. Do I have to get dressed?"
    "Not unless you want to," I said.
    "No way," she chortled, "OK, let's play!"
    "OK, Miss Lady of the Evening, that stage is all yours!"

    "It is so hard, Jim, so very hard...you don't know what it is like, you
can't imagine.  Every small ordinary thing is a production to me, these
useless little stumps almost no good for anything!  See!  See how hard it is
to put my sweater on!"  And she began to struggle back into the long, jade
sweater.  

    She began to roll and heave back on the bed, finally getting her little
stumps in the sleeve holes.  She continued to struggle.

    "God, Jim, these huge breasts of mine." She was struggling across the bed
and into her clothes, swinging her outrageous breasts out of the way. 
"Sometimes it takes me an hour to get my t-shirt down over these giant glands.
 Every time I try to brush my hair or even eat...they sag and swing across me
and get in my way.  Oh, Jim, if you only know how very hard it is."     

    I moved closer to the door, my eyes never leaving her limbless figure.  I
opened the door to her apartment and stepped backwards out into the hall.  

    "Jim...you know this is hard!  To get off this bed!  I can't run after
you, though I want to!" She wriggled frantically to the edge of the bed and
tried to use her short stumps to lower herself down.  She kept glancing back
at me, her eyes bright with our erotic little game...yet frustrated with her
inability to move her tits out of the way, get her hair out of her eyes
easily.
    
    "Please don't go so quickly!  I can't move like you...see, watch me...my
little stumps won't even touch the ground..I'll fall!"

    I gave in, but only long enough to stride across the room towards her.  I
scooped her up in my arms, my hands sliding up under the silky, jade shirt. 
She pressed her huge, soft breasts against my chest.  Her arm stump rubbed my
forearm.  "Ohhhh...." she sighed into me ear...."Oh, Jim...to be in your
arms...to have you help me...."    

    Her sighs turned to a squeak of surprise as I set her down ass-plop into
the middle of the long corridor.      

    I walked slowly backward down the hallway toward my own apartment. 
Step-by-step. I was very aware of my feet, their placement on the carpet as I
moved backwards. It was barely after dawn on a Sunday morning, and I knew it
was doubtful that any of the neighbors were up.

    Kim struggled on her ass down the corridor.

    "See, Jim...I have to keep my balance...it is really hard sometimes...so I
have to hang my arm stumps out sideways like this." My eyes were drawn to her
small stumps waving lightly side-to-side.

    Kim began to move her ass-cheeks side to side, and rock slowly up the
hall.  Her thigh stumps made little walking movements.  

"These damn tits!" she growled. "Always in my way...pulling and shaking and
saggy, every time I move!  I'm so small and petite all over...and then these
monsters swinging every time I make a damn move!! It is so hard, Jim!  And
when I sit at a table...sometimes my tits end up right on the table, spreading
out like huge mounds of pillow...they push my coffee away, my plate...and I
have to wiggle around to get them off the table so I can even eat!"  As she
said this she gave her tits a shake from side to side...they moved like a huge
wave under the jade shirt.

    Peter the Great was fully at attention, ready to take on the challenge.
Fortunately the door to my apartment was just behind me. Damn. The keys were
in my pants pocket back in Kims place. As I started back past her, she reached
out with one tiny arm stub and smacked bold Peter as I passed by.
    The effort caused her to lose her balance and left her rolling in laughter
on the carpeted hallway floor. "Gotcha, wise guy!" she laughed.
    "Not yet, fair Lady of the Evening," I said...gotta get my keys."
    "Oh, Jim," she returned to her role, still laughing, "here I am helpless
on the floor...these horrible breasts of mine are so heavy I can't get up...Oh
help me please!"
    "Be right back."
    A moment later I had my keys and pushed open  my apartment door. Kim was
still rolling back and forth in the hallway, both laughing and crying out in
mock agony."
    "Oh, Peter..I mean Jim...whoever you are, can't you see how helpless I
am...won't you please come and help me...OOoooh I need to feel you in my
arms," and she giggled some more, waving her tiny little arms, and thrusting
her naked bottom into the air.
    I stepped back to her. "Ok, sweetheart," I said in my best Bogart, "I'll
give ya a lift this once, but don't think you gotta handle on me!"
    "You do have a real nice handle, there, sport," she laughed, "now that you
mention it! Bet it's ready for action, too!"
    Peter the Great was absolutely aching for action, but I needed to get Kim
out of the hall.
    "The action's ready an' waitin', sweetheart," I continued, but if you want
to get it on, you gotta come and get it!" and I stepped inside my apartment.
Any minute somebody was going to peek out into the hall and I didn't want to
lose the game by default.
    Kim rocked herself over to the wall and with some effort used its support
to get up on her bottom. With the giant Letitia and huge Bernice flailing
violently back and forth before her, she swiveled her way toward my apartment
door. 
    "Hurry up, there, Sweet heart," said in my Bogart mimic, "time's running
out!"
    "Fuck you!" she laughed, and plodded diligently to the door.
    "All in due time," I chuckled, "All in due time."
    She swung and swayed her way into the sanctum of my apartment. Beads of
perspiration moistened her brow. Still, there was a glint of mischief in those
blue-green eyes. With an incredible effort, she arched her back and lunged at
me, catching me off balance and I toppled onto the entryway floor. In an
instant she was on me, those two giant breasts across my legs like sandbags,
holding me in place. 
    "Gotcha this time, smarty pants," she giggled," and proceeded to nuzzle
and kiss poor, throbbing Peter the Great.
    "Where's the clock?" she asked, in the midst of her caresses. I pointed to
a far wall, gritting my teeth to maintain my composure.
    "Damn!"
    "What?" I asked, barely able to speak.
    "You win. You're good, y'know?"
    "You mean..."
    "Twenty-two minutes. Hey, can we take off the three minutes it took you
get your keys?" she feigned mock seriousness.
    "Maybe...or we could adjourn to my bedroom and continue in more
comfortable surroundings!"
    "Deal. Let's do that," she said, that big warm smile returning.

    So that's the way our relationship began. Breakfast, later, was something
of an adventure. You should really watch Kim, in all of her naked
magnificence, scramble eggs and turn sizzling strips of bacon. 
    
    Come by, sometime. I'm sure you'd like to meet her.