Cassie and Sandra

Bbw

By request I’ve added a little more to my earlier Cassie story.

Students leaving Upper 6th form (2nd year 6th), and all other characters in this story, are 18+ years old. Rather than just continue the story I decided to let my thoughts run wild. Hope you enjoy.

*****

“Did you two have a good walk?” asked aunt Sarah as soon as we arrived back at the farmhouse. “You’ve been a while. And you had a swim, too?”

Aunt Sarah knew we had. Any girl with shoulder length hair who’s been swimming would find it hard to disguise the messy tangles without a hairdryer and hairbrush.

“Yes, mom. We were so hot after the walk it was too tempting.”

Aunt Sarah just smiled and changed the subject.

“You’ll be ready for something to eat then.”

“Too right! I’m starving.” ‘There aren’t too many calories gained by eating pussy,’ I thought, though not aloud.

Aunt Sarah had a feast prepared. She knew all the things I liked and most of them were soon transferred to the large wooden kitchen table. Forget the quiche, sausage rolls, cheese straws and pork pie; aunt Sarah knew I had a sweet tooth and my mouth watered at the sight of her apple pie, raspberry tart, lemon meringue and peach sorbet.

The talk continued well after our stomachs were full. Aunt Sarah now knew all my news that mom hadn’t already told her.

“So who won the race across the lake?”

Was this woman psychic?

“I did.”

“Well done! It’s about time Cassie had some real competition.”

I thought the idle chat was going to lead to some embarrassing questions but aunt Sarah had a glint in her eye.

It was some time later that uncle John, dad’s brother, came inside after finishing milking the cows, his last job of the day. His jacket, which had had some considerable use and which was strongly tainted with ‘essence of cow muck’, was thankfully hung well away from the food still left for him on the table.

Apart from brief pleasantries, uncle John wasn’t noted for his conversation skills unless he was in discussion with fellow farmers about auction prices, vet bills and the cost of calf feed.

Always early risers, rarely later than 6.30am and often, for uncle, much sooner, aunt and uncle left Cassie and I watching TV and retired to bed around 10pm.

To be honest we too were tired. A few kisses and cuddles later Cassie and I soon followed. My bed, which had probably served the family well for many years, was a double feather bed. Although it needed a regular shaking it was very comfortable and was soon asleep and immersed in an intense dream.

>>I was back in the woods, alone, and apart from psychedelic green and pink trainers I was totally naked. I hadn’t realised and I had the absurd notion that I’d left the farmhouse dressed. Unable to see Cassie, I tried to shout for her but no noise came out of my mouth, so I’d left the house alone. I hadn’t even noticed I was naked until I heard some giggling.

I turned, looked around. Of course there were many places that the girls, for I assumed there were girlish giggles and several girls were involved, could hide. I walked on, oddly making no noise even though I knew I’d stepped on twigs, and suddenly the giggles became louder. This time I turned quickly, spotting some of the senior hockey team quickly duck behind trees. Angry, I tried to run towards them but my trainers felt like they were made of lead. The girls taunted, giggled, pointed to my … what?

To my tiny penis. Tiny, shrivelled, miniscule, hardly large enough to pee from. I couldn’t think straight and I tried to call back. Pointless really for my mouth felt full of straw, unable to talk. I knew the faces of the three girls who were in their final year at school, Upper Sixth, and I tried to remember their names. It didn’t matter. My mind, like my mouth, was pure fuzz. I’d seen them after school practising their skills, running around the school field brandishing hockey sticks. Their dark blue shorts were often tight, their even tighter fitting yellow open weave tops doing little to hide their swelling breasts, which bounced enough to give any males watching a butt and breast feast, resulting in a real boner.

All except one. One poor hockey player had developed very little, if at all. Flat chested, a disappointment to any hot blooded male. Although slim to the point of extinction she was nimble on her feet, naturally talented and the leading goal scorer. Faith, her name, for her parents were deeply religious.

All at once the girls ran and I found I could too, on that soft cushion of air – almost floating – that happens in dreams. Although the girls were out of sight, the trees thinned and I could see the lake. I could now see the girls and they were naked too. It was Faith who stood beckoning, pointing at my tiny penis. She had little to cajole about … her own body was hardly worth a second look. Her breasts were almost imperceptible, her butt small, her legs short but slim, her vee had just a torbalı escort very fine covering of blonde hair hardly disguising the valley of her mound.

Strangely, very strangely, the nearer I got the more my eyes fixed on her tiny titties. My penis felt a tingle and was now starting to harden. I was walking now, hardly able to take my eyes off those tiny bumps. Against all I knew of my love of Abi’s breasts I was enraptured by what was a miniature replica of my sister’s pride and joy, for she loved displaying them.

I was hard and I was BIG again, 9 inch long and solid. Now near enough to touch Faith my hands rested on those precious miniatures. The next I knew Faith was knelt before me and my cock was inside her delightfully warm and wet mouth. Her mouth seemed cavernous, velvet lined but she maintained a tight suction on my still swelling rod. Back and forth went her head until I could stand no more and … >>

Oh fuck. I could feel the familiar sensation of semen pumping into my boxers. That fantastic uncontrolled contraction of the muscles pumping and pumping. Was it the soft, almost cocoon caress of the feather mattress enveloping me in its depth, or was it the release of stress during the walk or was it that, tired after all the walking and swimming, I had been in a much deeper sleep than usual? I don’t know. All I did know was I felt exhilarated, no feeling of guilt, with the warm gooey fluid pumping out of me. Thankfully there was no dampness on the sheet below or the duvet above me. My boxers had contained it all. I switched on the bedside lamp, hastily found fresh boxers in my travel bag and I was soon back in bed, fast asleep.

I awoke the next morning to the smell of bacon wafting its way from the kitchen, up the unevenly boarded staircase, under my bedroom door and straight into my nostrils. Enticing as it was, the sweat of the day before and the residue of my cum still present below my belly made me realise I needed to shower. I called softly through Cassie’s slightly open door in case she was still asleep, then I heard her talking downstairs.

There was an assortment of scented toiletries in the bathroom. Cassie’s dad, I assumed from the essence of cow muck on his jacket, just used plain soap and water … and probably quite sparingly. I chose what seemed to be the least scented of the array of shampoos and body wash bottles and was just about to open the shower cubicle when I spotted a crumpled up pale green thong – the same pale green thong Cassie had been wearing the day before.

Why not leave it in her room, I wondered, or why not in the linen basket? Not one to dwell on pointless questions I picked up the thong, straightened it out and noticed the thicker part, the gusset pad intended to soak up any stray moistness, was a darker green. It was still damp and seemed to have a slight creaminess in the centre. I put the gusset to my nose and inhaled what was an acrid but sweet aroma.

I closed my eyes and remembered the events of the previous day. My love cannon sprang up, eager to make me aware of the arousal my dear cousin had given me.

But this exquisite perfume was different, surely? Despite a pissy smell it seemed to have an extra power over me and the effect was alarmingly swift. I’d barely put the gusset to my nose and ‘boing’ up my dick sprang. I didn’t have to try to remember the woods and the lake, the recall was instant as if it was a video playing inside my head.

My eyes still shut tight I inhaled deeply again. The aroma, reminiscent of those stinky pinky times but with that pissy smell, was deeper and more alluring. It was as if – no it couldn’t be – it was as if Cassie’s personal intimate scent was just perfect for me. It was as if every other pussy or panty smell (and some of my mates had sisters who had at times left their panties lying carelessly around) was significantly different and Cassie’s was finely tuned to arouse me to the absolute maximum.

My mind was in a whirl. I just couldn’t get the previous day’s events out of my mind. I was rock solid.

But I was hungry and the bacon aroma also beckoned me. All through my shower, thoughts of Cassie just wouldn’t go away and was stuck with an iron rod that refused to soften. Finally I turned off the taps, stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and started to dry myself off. I had my eyes closed, drying off my hair, when I heard the bathroom door open.

“Oh!,” said aunt Sarah, “I’m really sorry Tony, I just came upstairs to pick up Cassie’s things for washing.”

I dropped the towel down to my waist. Unfortunately I was too late to prevent her seeing my equipment on standby alert. Aunt Sarah quickly picked up the panties and hastily closed the door on her way out. This was NOT going well. Aunt Sarah now knew Cassie and I had swum naked and that I’d had a stonking great erection whilst taking a shower. I looked down. Yup, thick, long and glowing red from the heat and the pulsing of the water. I felt just urla escort 2 inches tall and wished I could disappear down the shower drain hole. It didn’t happen.

Dressed once more I made my way downstairs, the smell of cooked bacon once again persuading me that my internal food gauge was reading ’empty’.

“I hope you don’t mind but I put your stuff in with the washing,” said aunt Sarah. “Your breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

Cassie was trying her very best not to snigger.

“And …?” I asked Cassie quietly whilst her mom was distracted.

“I think, to be honest, mom was a bit embarrassed too. She’s not used to seeing an 18 year old guy with a stonking erection.”

“She told you?” Cassie nodded.

“I was thinking about yesterday, that’s all.” I didn’t admit how much her thong perfume improved the situation.

“Well I think you just went up in mom’s estimation. You’ve just won yourself an ardent fan. She was absolutely amazed with its size.”

“So she had a good look then?” My tone was sarcastic. “Like I go for sexy moms? I don’t think so.”

By then my breakfast was being served up. It too was HUGE.

“Told you!” said Cassie, under her breath.

“I figured if you two were thinking of taking some more exercise then you’d need a big breakfast.” Aunt Sarah had a huge grin on her face. “Oh and sorry again for walking in on you. I should have knocked. I guess I’m not used to virile young men in the house.”

She paused, then changed the subject. “Dad asked if you could tidy the bales in the Dutch barn. Two can do it easily enough.”

“No problem, ” I replied.

I hoped aunt Sarah hadn’t examined my boxers before they went in the wash. Cassie and I went over to the hay barn straight after breakfast. We shifted a few bales around and stacked them neatly. All the while Cassie teased about the shower incident until I’d had enough and we play wrestled in a loose pile of hay where some baler twines had snapped.

I had Cassie pinned down and I took the initiative this time. I leaned over and kissed her fully on the lips, half expecting her to break loose as our mouths became one and our tongues eagerly explored. As I broke away she pulled me down again for seconds. We kissed deeply as the zip of my shorts pressed against her panties, her skirt easily riding up. It was only then, as bulge pressed against dampening panties, that Cassie made an objection.

“No, Tony. Don’t spoil things.”

We stacked a few more bales, working together to ease the task. When aunt Sarah came over with cans of ice cold beer we sat awhile on two of the bales. The first can went down quickly. The second one I drank slowly, savouring the taste. That happy, relaxed feeling started to return.

“I had the oddest dream last night,” I started. “I dreamt about three girls in our school hockey team.”

I wondered later how long I would continue to call it ‘my’ or ‘our’ school. Both I and the three girls had left in July.

I went on to tell Cassie all about my dream and the sticky end. Cassie confessed that sometimes she would pleasure herself upon waking from an erotic dream and that during summer she usually slept naked. I asked her how often she shaved down there.

“Whenever I can be bothered,” she admitted. “I don’t know why I leave it so long. It always feels more comfortable and, yes, sexy against the bed sheet, or against my panties during the day.”

“I think it looks sexy too,” I kinda muttered, still a bit reserved talking about such an intimate subject.

“And you noticed yesterday … ah, yes. I’ll see what I can do,” Cassie winked.

“It’s OK,” I hastily replied.

“No. You wouldn’t have asked me otherwise. Anyway, as I said, it feels good.”

Why does beer always seem to loosen the tongue? It was something I wouldn’t have asked Cassie before.

We went back to moving the bales again. The barn was looking much tidier when Cassie suddenly asked me again about my dream.

“Did you say that girl’s name was Faith? And you got a hard-on just looking at her?”

“In my dream, yes, why?”

“Do you like girls with small boobs?”

“I don’t know. I guess it was just my imagination.”

“Some say dreams really reflect our true feelings. Do you think mine are too big?”

“No, they’re lovely.”

“I’ve got an idea.”

Despite much questioning, Cassie wouldn’t tell me what it was.

Lunchtime soon came. I’d swear I put on weight just looking at food aunt Sarah put before me. All my favourites seemed to be magically there. My favourite aunt was intent on spoiling me.

After lunch Cassie went up to her room. Surely aunt Sarah had unbuttoned her cotton blouse a little and I couldn’t see the outline of a bra. As she walked I was aware of her breasts swaying a little. She came and sat beside me on the large sofa. She put her hand on my leg and gave my thigh a little squeeze.

“Thank you buca escort so much for helping this morning,” she said softly. “And I’m really sorry for embarrassing you in the bathroom earlier.”

“It’s OK,” I answered, unsure what else to say.

“You know, you’re a really lucky boy and handsome too.”

I took ‘lucky’ to mean what aunt Sarah had seen earlier.

“No complaints from your girlfriends I’ll bet.”

I couldn’t overhear the conversation from Cassie’s room, just some interspersed giggles. Soon after Cassie fortunately came back downstairs.

“One of my friends is coming over,” said Cassie. She lives a couple of miles away but she’ll ride over on her bike.”

Again I didn’t know what to say.

“She’s rather shy, like you, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy meeting her. We often go for a swim together when it’s hot.”

‘Naked?’ I thought to myself.

“You don’t mind if we all go for a walk, do you?”

Aunt Sarah just smiled.

Cassie and I were waiting outside as Sandra approached along the rutted farm road. As soon as she rode into the farmyard I’d have sworn she was a boy. Her face was devoid of any makeup and her short, pale brown hair was cut and parted in such a way that defied any femininity. She wore a plain pale blue tee-shirt that just didn’t display any outline of breast at all. No curvy waist either, nor much fatty padding on her butt as she dismounted. Only her cropped jeans covering skinny legs and a pair of pink canvas shoes gave any clue that she was, indeed, a girl.

Sandra propped the bike up against a wall and walked over. She smiled self consciously.

“Hi Cassie.” Cassie nodded.

Sandra offered her hand, “Hi Tony.”

“I told you my cousin was fit, didn’t I?” It was just about most embarrassing introduction Cassie could have given me. Sandra just smiled again.

My mind suddenly went back to my dream. Sandra most certainly wasn’t the girl in my dream, I was sure. I’d seen Faith playing hockey enough times to be sure.

Sandra though was very similar, perhaps not as skinny but her tee-shirt wasn’t doing what little she had any favours. It was loose with no shape, certainly a chain store item, mass produced no doubt in an East European sweat shop.

What was very odd was that automated and uncontrolled pulse of sexual energy rapidly making me hard again. I shivered. No one noticed.

“Sandra was in the same class as me,” said Cassie as we started to walk along the same path as the day before. “But her parents wanted her to find work rather than go to uni.”

“They can’t afford to support me,” the so-far silent boyish girl replied.

The walk through the woods passed the same way as previously, though Sandra too seemed to know the way. As the path widened Cassie suggested I walk in the middle, holding the hand of both girls. Again I felt that familiar feeling. It was weird. I just could not avoid an erection.

Well before the lake came into view Cassie shouted.

“OK cousin. We race again, this time do please try to run a little faster.”

This was a direct challenge, but as in my dream my feet felt too heavy to run.

By the time I caught up, both girls had started to strip off by the edge of the lake.

I had little option but to get naked myself. My piston was again pointing skywards.

“I told you, didn’t I?” said Cassie to Sandra, almost in a whisper.

“I thought you told me your friend was shy,” was the only comment I could muster.

Both girls laughed.

“I lied.”

“One way to get that thing down again is a quick race to the other side. Last one poses.” Barely had the words come out of Cassie’s mouth than the two were in the water. Prearranged? It seemed so. I tried in vain to catch up but Sandra easily won, swiftly followed by Cassie.

“So, cocksure cousin. You lost this time so pose.”

Water-cooled, my pride and joy (albeit a damned annoying pride and joy when it rose unexpectedly) was temporarily a shrunken water pipe; Cassie’s prediction was correct. I was also a little nervous with both girls giggling and pointing to my shrunken pride and my balls like dried up walnuts.

Sandra, the quiet one so far, suddenly came up with a solution.

“OK, small guy,” she began, waggling her little finger, “I guess you need some help here.” She took up a pose which any trained model might have produced then trailed her hands up and down her body much like any accomplished stripper.

My dick didn’t budge. Overused during the previous 24 hours? No, I wouldn’t admit so.

“What’s wrong Tony? Don’t you like me?” Sandra cupped what little tits she had. “Tits to small?”

Perhaps in my temporary state of embarrassment I hadn’t taken time to view what was on offer.

“They’re fine,” I said, unconvinced.

Her round unpainted face – snubbed nose, wide eyed, short hair was certainly boyish. Perhaps I’d been too critical of her. Top to toe she was tanned. OK there were the remnants of tan lines but her mini boobs and her vee, which was completely devoid of hair, were tanned. Wherever or however she had sunbathed naked, unless she had used tan tubes or cheat spray. I doubted that. I was certain the tan was real.

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