The Night Hell Froze Over

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There are two things in my life that determine a day when Hell freezes over. First, the Atlanta Falcons making it to the Super Bowl. Second, meeting a nice saucy wench with a bodacious set of ta-ta’s and nymphomaniac-like tendencies with no qualms about sucking a gargantuan pillar of Roman manhood 24-hours a day. Let me tell you about an evening when the Devil had a double layer of icicles hanging from his spiked little tail.

A couple years ago the Atlanta Falcons somehow pulled off an amazing season and had earned themselves a spot in the division championship game against the Minnesota Vikings. It had been years since the Falcons had had a successful season and the town was going crazy. All the bars would be packed that fateful Sunday and I had full intentions of being part of the crowd.

I contacted a good friend of mine named Steve and we decided to meet up at a local sports bar to watch the game. Even though I was single at the time, it didn’t bother me in the least when he informed me that his girlfriend would be joining us. Ursula was a true Swede – tall, blonde hair, blue eyes. She had a great personality and was always fun to hang out with.

I arrived at the bar several hours before game time to ensure a good table, and had successfully downed several beers before Steve and Ursula showed up. As the three of us ordered some munchies and a round of drinks, Ursula informed me that she had invited a girlfriend of hers named Dana.

Dana was a girl who I had met over at Steve’s just once or twice previously, but since I was usually with a girlfriend I had never taken a serious look at her. Now that I was single and being it a festive evening I was looking forward to getting to know her.

About 5 minutes before the opening kick-off Ursula spotted Dana weaving through the crowd towards our table. I looked up as she approached and took in the site: shorter than me, long black hair pulled back and tucked under a blue baseball cap, baggy sweatshirt and tight faded jeans. Her attire wasn’t anything that would attract attention, but the fine features of her face were glorious: big brown eyes, cute little nose, soft lips and a tanned complexion…part Italian, if I remember my conversations with her in the past. I offered my coolest ‘Hello’ as she sat.

The game was phenomenal. We drank and ate and drank some more…the place loud and wild when the Falcons scored and a smattering of boo’s when the Vikings scored…idle chit-chat during the commercials and halftime.

Then, with just seconds remaining in the game, the Falcons kicked a field goal and won the game! The Atlanta Falcons, notorious for blowing leads and record-breaking losing streaks, had earned the right to appear in the Super Bowl. The bar erupted into an ear-piercing barrage of clapping, yells, shrieks and whistles. Caught up in the excitement, I turned to Dana who literally leapt into my arms for a congratulatory hug.

My mind was still reeling from the Falcon’s victory, but there was enough man-juice in my brain to concentrate on more important things…like realizing the huge breasts, concealed all night by an extra-large sweatshirt, pressing against my chest…like the fact that this petite frame fit so well in my arms…like the tight little jean-covered ass cheek now innocently cupped in one of my hands…like the sweet smell of her perfume.

When we broke from our embrace there was that split second when our eyes met and time stood still. No music…no screaming Falcon fans…total silence. It’s as if it were just her and I alone in a room. It was that awkward moment that everyone has encountered – the slight hesitation while you wondered if you were supposed to lean in for a kiss or pull away and accept it as a friendly hug. I chose the latter, not wanting to ruffle any feathers and possibly ruin a perfectly good evening.


We got back to Steve’s apartment a little after midnight. The girls headed for the kitchen to rustle up a few beers while Steve and I settled in the living room and started rolling a couple of fat joints. Within an hour of smoking and some card-playing we were all pretty high, laughing and giggling at the stupidest things. And, of course, the munchies kicked in. Ursula mentioned that Steve had a roll of Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie dough in the freezer and we all agreed that would be a great start.

Steve and I were sitting back talking about the game when laughs of mass hysteria came from the girls over in the kitchen. We jumped up and ran over to see the two girls in an all-out cookie dough fight. Smashing the dough in each other’s hair…throwing chunks at each other…smearing the dough all over each other’s clothes. Steve and I cheered them on until they pretty much collapsed on the tiled floor from exhaustion, still laughing so hard they had tears streaming down their dough-covered cheeks. We clapped in appreciation for the show.

Dana was the first to stand. Her hat long gone, hair a tangled mess, sweatshirt all wrinkled and coated Travesti in cookie dough. She reached cross-armed to grasp the bottom of her sweatshirt and hiked it up over her head and off. I felt an instant tingle in my jeans at that split moment when her arms were reaching over her head and the white tshirt she wore beneath stretched tightly across her healthy breasts.

They seemed big when she had the sweatshirt on…the felt bigger when we hugged earlier…now they looked absolutely huge. I couldn’t believe their size compared to her short, tiny frame. I somehow managed to peel my eyes away before her head popped from the sweatshirt.

“Look at my hair,” Dana shrieked in laughter as she combed her fingers through the long strands in a meager attempt to gather cookie dough.

Ursula was now standing as well, still laughing and trying to catch her breath and picking dough from her sweater and jeans. “If you wanna take a shower, Dana, you can use the one in our room.”

“Thanks,” Dana replied as she headed down the hallway towards the back of the house. I watched her little ass move back and forth in her tight jeans until she turned into the master bedroom.

Steve and I returned to our seats in the living room as Ursula grabbed a bag of chips form the pantry and joined us. “They aren’t chocolate chip cookies…sorry,” she said as she poured them into a bowl on the coffee table.

“No problem,” Steve replied. “The show was well worth the loss of some cookies, wouldn’t you agree Bill?”

“Yup,” I agreed. “Well worth it.”

“Damn that was sexy,” Steve directed towards Ursula.

She walked over to him and straddled his lap with her arms over his shoulders. “How sexy was it?”

“Very sexy,” he replied in a fake studly voice.

And then they started making out. His hands caressing her back and sliding over her jean-covered ass…her hips grinding against his lap. Out of courtesy I got up, grabbed one of the joints from the coffee table and wandered into the kitchen to give them some privacy.

I snagged another beer from the fridge and lit the joint as I weighed my options on what to do next. I could just hang out in the kitchen until Dana was done, with hopes that she would hang around, or I could just leave and head home.

The snap and the zip of either Steve or Ursula’s jeans confirmed that they weren’t going to be too sociable the rest of the evening so I decided I would head home. I figured I would at least knock on the bathroom door and yell a ‘good-bye’ to Dana, just to stay in good graces for future meetings.

The sound of the shower grew as I made my way down the hall and into the master bedroom. As soon as I saw that the bathroom door was cracked just a bit, my perverted stoned mind kicked into over-drive and I found myself almost sneaking towards it…a little swelling in my jeans. I peeked through the small opening with hopes of perhaps a glimpse of Dana in the shower, but all hope faded when I saw they had a dark green shower curtain instead of those convenient glass doors.

Disappointed, and brave from the joint I had pretty much finished off, I knocked on the door and jokingly yelled into the bathroom, “Hey Dana, need me to come in there and make sure all the cookie dough is out of your hair?”

There was a moment of just the sound of the shower – I probably had startled her. “No, that’s OK,” she finally yelled back.

“I’ll wash your back at no extra charge…”

Another moment of silence. Was she actually considering my offer?

“No…I think I’m fine.”

“Alright, then. I’m going to head home. You want a toke off this joint before I go?”

No pause this time. “Yes,” she replied with great enthusiasm.

Her head appeared around the edge of the shower curtain, one hand gripping the curtain modestly against her neck. And she looked absolutely beautiful…a true vision from Heaven. Her long, wet black hair cascading across her shoulders…those big brown puppy eyes staring at me…tiny droplets of water dangling from her eyelashes and the tip of her nose…her soft pink tongue innocently dabbing at the water on her upper lip.

I finally managed to make my feet move, and I kept solid eye contact as I walked towards her. I extended my hand holding the joint. Perhaps not thinking, or perhaps intentionally, she reached for it with the hand that had been holding the shower curtain. It dropped away just enough to expose the soft round outer curve of one breast before she coyly grabbed it with her other hand and held it against her. She took one long toke and handed it back to me…holding her the smoke in her lungs briefly…then exhaling.

“Thanks,” she said in a voice that sounded almost timid. “Where are Steve and Ursula?”

“They’re in the living room getting their groove on.”

“That figures.”

“Last chance for that helping hand,” I said almost pleading.

“I think I’ve got it covered.” And she disappeared behind the curtain.

I sensed something from our Konya Travesti eye contact so I decided to throw out one last plea. “You can stay facing the shower with your back to me…all I’ll see is your ass, and hell, everyone has an ass – even me…of course, probably none compare to yours.”

There was no reply, and I assumed my intended compliment may have offended her. I turned and started towards the door.

“OK,” she suddenly said…very softly…just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the shower.

I didn’t ask if she was sure about her decision – no need to offer an opportunity for her to change her mind. I took one big hit off the joint, tossed the rest into the sink and ripped my clothes off as fast as I could. My cock was half erect as I made my way to the shower and at full-staff as I stepped past the curtain into the tub.

Dana stood under the streaming water with her back facing me, her elbows at her sides, her arms in front of her chest with her hands clasped beneath her chin, her legs tightly together. My eyes lowered across her back, past her tiny waist, and locked onto her ass…and, as expected, what a fine ass it was…small and firm…an ass I would love to sink my teeth into. Her olive skin, Greek ancestry I had been told, gave her entire body an exotic look, and coupled with the water trickling down her back, across her butt and on down her legs almost pushed me over the edge just admiring the site.

As if too shy to look me in the eye, she looked to the ceiling to speak. “The shampoo is in the pink bottle.”

I found the bottle on the ledge behind me, picked it up and squeezed a gob of shampoo into my palm. My hand appeared to be shaking as I set the bottle back on the ledge and stepped towards her. I was very conscious as to how close I stood. I didn’t want my raging hard-on to be poking her ass cheeks…well, actually I did, but I didn’t know if she would appreciate it.

I had never washed anyone else’s hair before, but I remember how good it feels when the girl at the place where I get my hair cut washed mine. I tried to emulate the technique…strong finger massage on the scalp, small circular motions, dragging my fingertips through her hair. The soft moan that slipped through her lips led me to believe I was doing it right.

It wasn’t long before my horny mind kicked in and convinced me to proceed – hell, I wasn’t going to waste this prime opportunity and just step out. I allowed my finger tips to occasionally massage her temples, lightly rub down the back of her neck and even trace the soft outer contours of her ears. I noticed her head often rolling with my touch…a sure sign she was enjoying the treatment I was giving her…but her body remained in the exact same position as it was when I had joined her.

“Mmmmmm…that feels soooooo good,” she finally murmured.

“It’s supposed to,” I replied. “Now rinse the shampoo from your hair.”

I stood there in the middle of the bath tub feeling like a dirty old pervert…naked, cold, my hard cock pointing straight out, slightly damp from the occasional spray of water off her body, and gawking at the goddess before me.

Her hands lifted to her head as she leaned forward under the stream of the shower, raking her fingers through her long black mane. My knees instantly felt weak as I caught glimpse of the soft, generous, outer curves of her breasts clearly visible on either side, swaying ever so gently in rhythm with her arm motions. By cock bobbed in excitement as I watched the shampoo rinse from her hair…cascading down the small of her back and over her ass…much of it gathering down along the crack between her cheeks…then disappearing into the dark nether-region between her legs…appearing once again along the inside of her thighs…down along her shapely calves…until it mixed with the water and circled down the drain.

Snapping back to my senses, and before she had the chance to say ‘thanks’ with the intent that I leave, I grabbed the bar of soap and lathered up my hands. I stepped forward while she was still rinsing her hair and began rubbing the soap across her shoulders.

Perhaps a little startled from my touch, she stepped backwards out from under the stream of water causing that fabulous ass of hers to bump right into my manhood.

“Oh, man…I’m sorry,” I stammered. I was sure she was going to call a halt to everything right then and there.

“I’m sorry…my fault…I’m the one that backed up,” she said with a slight giggle. “You may continue.” Her arms returned to their original position.

Her order, as if I were her servant, shot a thrill through my body. I quickly re-lathered my hands and began working on her shoulders again, but remaining a safe distance back from her to avoid accidental contact. My hands slowly worked their way down her back to the delicate arch just above her ass and back up. Each time I repeated this I allowed my hands to travel a little lower, wondering how far I could push the envelope, İzmir Travesti until my finger tips actually bumped across the top of the crack of her ass. No resistance.

I kept one hand on her back, a sign for her that I wasn’t done, as I grabbed the soap again and worked up some more lather, then switched and lathered up my other hand. With both hands now coated in suds I placed them for a brief second on her shoulders and slowly let them slide downwards…my thumbs pressing firmly against her spine…down across the small of her back…and finally over that sweet ass I had been admiring. With my palms right on each cheek, I let my fingers slide down and under…down along the crease where her ass meets the back of her upper thighs. An ass cheek now firmly in each hand, I offered a tender squeeze. Still no resistance.

Realizing this territory was fair play, I focused all my attention on her ass. I rubbed and kneaded the firm cheeks as if I were merely massaging, when in actuality I was copping a wonderful feel. I even let my thumbs casually trace along the crevasse between her cheeks…one stroke a casual caress…one stroke exploring deeper…and then one bold stroke that had my soapy thumb rub against her puckered hole and continue down until it brushed the sensitive flesh between her ass and her pussy.

An immediate, low growling moan came from her throat…her head leaned back slightly…and she shifted her stance so her legs were now slightly parted.

I was in shock! Was she actually opening up for me? Or was she getting a little overwhelmed with the hot water, the pot she smoked and the sensation of having her ass rubbed and needed to brace herself in a more stable stance? I know it sounds stupid that I was thinking out the possibilities, but you don’t want to make a wrong move and piss off the best friend of your best friend’s girlfriend.

So I figured I would do what any gentleman would do – simply ask. I stepped right up behind her…guiding my rigid cock between her partially parted thighs so the entire length pressed firmly up against her crotch…placing my soapy hands on her shoulders… leaning my head over her right shoulder…my lips brushing her ear and whispering, “I’m done with your back, you want me to go now?”

It was the moment of truth. Her pause seemed like an eternity. I knew she was weighing her options – the good girl in her wanting to say ‘yes, please leave’ and the bad girl in her wanting to say ‘no, please stay’.

Dana’s answer finally came with a slight, yet deliberate shake ‘no’.

It was all I needed. My hands slipped from her shoulders and grasped her hands still tucked beneath her chin, interlocking our fingers and guiding them down to her sides. My view down over her shoulder revealed her colossal orbs…jutting proudly from her chest…still at the age of defying gravity…large, dark brown nipples as stiff as I was. I watched for a moment as the streams of water from the shower splashed against the olive skin, much of it pooling down between the deep cleavage.

I released my grasp of her right hand and placed my own hand on her smooth, flat stomach. She was beginning to breathe heavily. I nibbled softly on her exposed ear lobe, and she gently tilted her head offering easier access…her free hand reached back and rested on my hip…her fingers stretched across a small portion of my ass. Her mere touch caused my cock, still wedged against her crotch, to twitch, earning another soft moan from Dana. My hand on her stomach slowly began to slide upwards…my heart racing in anticipation of having those fleshy mounds in my grasp. Finally my thumb brushed against the bottom swell of her right breast.

Dana suddenly let go of my left hand and I froze. I fully expected her to reach up and push my right hand down, away from her chest, but instead she reached backwards and placed her hand on my other hip…further back than her first hand…those fingers, too, stretching across my ass…flexing for a soft squeeze and pulling me closer behind her…her ass now pressing firmly against my abdomen.

With both her arms stretched out behind her, those massive globes seemed to jut out even more…and it gave me easy access to them. My left hand skipped the trip across her stomach and went straight in line with my right hand…just beneath her left breast and the soft swell resting against my thumb. The time had come…in unison, my hands slid out and up following the supple curves of each breast…my fingers bumping across her solid nipples until each hand cupped one of her splendid tits.

Actually, ‘cupped’ is not an accurate word to use. My hands, considered by some as an above-average size for a man of my height, seemed to pale in comparison to the vastness of these breasts…almost dwarfed by the enormity of each sphere.

And no words can describe the true feeling of having these breasts in my hands. The skin so soft, yet the breast so full…so heavy…so firm…so immense. No silicone, either – just 100% pure breast. Not bragging, but through my years I have had a good share of breasts in my hands…none have compared to how good these felt pressed into my palms. To this day I get hard in a split second when I think back to how good they felt.

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