This story is an adult fantasy, not real.
My name is Tracy and I am 37 years old. I would like to
tell you a story about what happened to me in my
younger years that changed the course of my life
substantially. You may not believe it, but that’s up to
you.
When I was 19, my family and I lived just outside
Richmond, Virginia, on a small, 40 acre farm. My dad
was an engineer for a local construction firm and my
mom was a secretary for a plumbing supply company. They
usually were away during the day except for those
occasional days off. My older brother was oftn home
early in the day, but he usually left during the summer
days to hang out with his friends. Frequently, I found
myself all alone with little to do but watch TV.
The day had begun like any other day during the summer
vacation from school. Mom and dad were gone and I was
all alone. It was ten in the morning and I
already realized it was going to be a miserable summer.
It was only early June and the heat was unbearable. I
showered and put on a halter top and thin,
loose shorts. Being cool was the first thought of my
mind that day.
I had grown substantially since the prior year and had
evolved into a pretty young lady. I had suffered the
curse of my monthly period starting about seven months
prior and could feel the time approaching for this
month’s period. I hated it, but it did make my budding
breasts tender and sensitive.
As my nipples rubbed the cloth of the top I was
wearing, they stiffened. They topped off the crown of
my 34B breasts nicely, although they were not big
nipples like my mother had. I hoped to have her DD size
breasts, but my slender build seem to say that would
never happen.
As I moved around the house that morning, the arousal
caused by the constant rubbing was beginning to have
its impact on me. While I had received some explanation
of sex in our school health class, and of course my
mother had told me about “the day” I would understand
it all, I was still quiet unsure of what it really was
all about.
All I knew was that there was a stirring in my lower
belly that felt strange — strange good that is.
Sometimes in bed, I would lay there and rub my breasts.
I remember the time when my breasts had just started to
develop I would feel the tenderness of my nipples as
they swelled. And how the color of the area around the
nipple stretched as the mounds of milk producing flesh
grew. I hated my training bra and could not wait to
have “real” breasts.
Well, now I had them. Proud and firm, with small, but
sensitive nipples to tip them. Why even some of the
boys at school remarked on them pointing out at times.
That made me feel good to know that I was an object of
their notice. My brother had said several times that my
“boobs were looking good.” Dad also remarked to mom
one day that “his little girl was growing up.” Mom
agreed and that conversation ended abruptly as I got
closer to the conversation.
The thought of watching TV again was not one I enjoyed.
The shows were stupid and who cared about daytime game
shows. So I decided to go for a walk around the
property and enjoy the little coolness still available
from the morning.
I stepped out onto the porch and felt a slight breeze
that dried the light sweat on my forehead. Our home was
at the end of about a half mile long dirt road which
ended near the small barn we used to store things. It
also housed hay for our pet llama. Aside from our ten
acres, which was mostly fields, we were surrounded by
woods on three sides and a large cornfield to the last
side. Our closest neighbor was about one mile away. Dad
purchased the property, as I later learned, to have
some privacy.