[sinclairfan]

LONG TERM CARE

My name is Kay.  I'm a Long Term Care nurse.  I go to homes of retirees, disabled folks, or chronic illness pateients who need help with the Activities of Daily Living--bathing, dressing, eating, taking meds, that kinda thing.  I enjoy it because you can deliver care to people who really need it without being in a sceevy hospital or rehab facility.  I expect to do it as long as they'll let me, which is a great feeling.  I feel like I'm making a difference.

The only "but" is the pay.  In years where my company gets assigned lots of Medicaid patients, they don't get reimbursed as much, and they need to reduce their pay and benefits to us nurses.  I get a little frustrated sometimes with the pay, and last summer I made a bad choice.  I want to tell you my story.

My run-in with another girl my age, Maddy, started innocently enough in June 2018.  I was sent to a home of an 82 year old woman in a very wealthy section in the very wealthy town of Oak Park, Illinois.  Lots of old money in that town, and a lot of classy people trying to live out their final years at home.  You can tell they have good memories, and lived a full life.

On a Friday afternoon, I showed up at the house to help administer an IV to a woman who was having difficulty staying hydrated after a bad bout of food poisoning.  I was also instructed to administer some routine tests, get her back on her COPD and high blood pressure meds, and just do a general wellness check.  Pretty low drama, I thought.

Shit, was I wrong.

I was greeted at the door by an 18 year old boy with movie-star looks.  I normally am the look-past-the-skin-deep type when it comes to men, but this was an exception.  My knees literally buckled.

And the feeling was mutual.  "Luke", he stuttured, extending his hand to help steady me.  "Kay," I stammered.  "Nice to meet you, cutie."  I don't know why I added the last part, but it was answered with a dimple-inducing blush.  We couldn't unlock our eyes.  It was all I could do to slow down my racing heart and not go into a full-blown swoon.

I distracted myself by throwing myself into my paperwork with my patient, who was Luke's grandmother.  Luke has just graduated high school, and had just broken up with his high school girlfriend, as the two were going away to separate colleges in the fall.  Luke's grandmother whispered in my ear that he could use a "Rebound Fuck" to get over his first serious relationship ending.

"But, I'm married," I told his grandmother.

"It wouldn't be for love.  It would be for money."

"Do I look like that kind of girl," I replied to both of them, feigning innocence.

The grandmother was nothing if not direct.  "Just about anyone is that type of girl for $10,000.  Cash.  Small bills."

Shit.  $10,000 sure could go a long way in my house.  We had just had to unexpected replace our central air.

And, fuck, Luke was cute as hell.

"What time do you get off work," he pleaded, confidently but hopefully.

"Your grandmother is my last patient of the day.  So .... in 30 minutes."

"I'll go get ready," he replied, heading to a side bedroom.

I somehow made it thru the next 30 minutes without changing my mind.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

PAY FOR PLAY

Luke was giddy but passive during his "rebound fuck" session with me.  I didn't mind this, for several reasons.  For one, it enabled me the freedom to feel I was earning my fee.  We kissed like girlfriend and boyfriend, not like john and hooker--so I was giving him the Girl Friend Experience, the most expensive type of sex on the marketplace.  Secondly, I was able to set the pace of the action, so that Luke lasted beyond the 10 minute timeframe, which was likely the standard for Luke's sessions with his high school girlfriend, but which have been a grave disappointment to my 26 year old physiology, as well as to his paying grandmother.

But most of all, I enjoyed the attention my 38c breasts were receiving from a man.  I love my husband, but during our 3-year marriage, I was becoming a bit flummoxed by his lack of interest in my chest.  He gave regular compliments, both verbally and sensually, to my butt, my legs, and, of all things, my brunette hair.  But why had he married a 38c if boobs weren't his "thing".  I was actually starting to become quite jealous of his ex's, wondering if one of them had had such a sexy chest that she had ruined mine for him once I married him.

With Luke, I received confirmation that my married life was missing a vital dimension.  As I straddled Luke's naked body of that sunny afternoon, our hands desperately groping each others' flesh, Luke longingly sucked every square inch of my breasts with his lips and teeth.  The underboob, the sideboob, the nipples.  My chest was on fire for Luke's tongue and lips and even his teeth, as I guided my chest over and into his mouth, coaxing him to suck deeper and harder.  I could feel his throbbing cock respond to the sight and touch of my chest, and my erogonous arousal kindled my jealousy and competitiveness with other women.

> Is my chest bigger than your girlfriend's?

> Bigger.  And firmer.

> Mmmmmm, yes, yes.  Even though she was 18?

> Yes, firmer than hers.

> Mmmmmm, you should tell her that.

> I'll tell her that you let me suck it.

> Yes, Luke, yes ....  suck it.  Make me cum by sucking it.

We continued slowly grinding, my chest into his face.  But that is eventually how we both climaxed, after about 45 minutes, my chest rubbing his face.  His cock was in me, but I'm pretty sure his mouth on my boobs is what made me cum.

And I'm also pretty sure about what ex of my husband ruined my chest for him.

His ex, Jennifer.

She was a 42d.

I know, because I saw her chest in 2015, when I was 22.

When she and I got into a topless catfight.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

KAY VERSUS JENNIFER

I met my future husband, Shawn, and his ex-girlfriend, Jennifer, at Harper College in the fall of 2011.  Harper was a Junior College at the time, but was in the process of converting to a 4-year college.  I was attracted to Shawn right away, and my woman radar told me that although Jennifer referred to herself as Shawn's ex, that she was still interested in him.  She sensed my attraction to Shawn as well, so there was instant tension between us, which we squashed only because we needed each other to acclimate to our new surroundings. 

I was at Harper because my frugal, divorced mom refused to go along with me splurging on a 4-year college until I got my bearings academically (I wouldn't discover Nursing until 2013).  Shawn was there because he had flamed out at Coe College in Iowa the year before.  And Jennifer was there because she was stalking Shawn.  We were all taking business courses.

I of course noticed Jennifer well-endowed chest, and immediately concluded that my 38c was my "in", my "angle", with Shawn.  I would only discover during our 2016 honeymoon in Alabama that he actually wasn't a breast man at all--something else had originally drawn him to Jennifer.  Or, actually, she had imposed herself on him, and then refused to take no for an answer after they broke up.

But SHE noticed MY good-but-not-great chest as well, and assumed that would be the basis of who would win our duel for Shawn's affections.

It was Game On.

Our comments to each other got more and more catty, and less and less ignorable, as the semester progressed.  Shawn was on notice from his parents thst he had used up his one academic flunk-out Mulligan with them already, so as my competition with Jennifer became increasingly distracting, he told the two of us to get in a room together and hash things out between us.

I think he meant with words.

But we ended up doing so with fists.

It happened right before finals started, on a Saturday night in early December.

Jennifer and I met at her place to pre-game for a holiday party with her and Shawn's pre-breakup friends.

We never made it to the party.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

CRUSH VERSUS EX FISTFIGHT

You're probably assuming that if I agreed to go to my crush's ex's house alone on a Saturday night, that I was planning on fighting her that night.  I honestly wasn't.  I was 18 years old and had never been in a physical girlfight.  I also knew that fighting Jennifer, or anyone for that matter, would hurt my chances with Shawn, not help them--he was anti-fighting, anti-violence (and stll is).

I also don't think Jennifer was planning on fighting me.  I think she considered me ..... well, beneath her.  That she was Shawn's rightful girlfriend, and that I was tagging along as a third wheel for a semester or two; but that the two of them would soon be free of my annoying presence, and they could resume their storybook romance.

But, as soon as I closed behind me in Jennifer's house that night, things got real tense, real fast.  Conversation didn't flow at all between us; everyone topic seemed wrong, or gauche, or weird.  Every response came off as short, or as a zinger.  Like a bickering married couple not having enough sex.  Which is sort of what we were--all three of us had been celibate all semester, waiting for resolution of our threesome logjam.

To ease the tension, Jennifer raided her paernts' liquor cabinet and broke out the flavored vodkas.  But both of us were rookies on knowing our limit with vodka, and were soon buzzed.....or probably outright drunk.

Our inhibitions collapsed quickly.  Liquid courage, indeed.  Time to confess how much we had been thinking of each others' boobs.

<> So, Kate .... I was wonderin' .... glad winter is here and you can return to covering your chest?  Ya know, in layers of clothes?

<> I've found covering up 38c's isn't easy, even in winter clothes.

<> Oh, 38c?  Really?

<> Really.  You thought they were bigger?  Smaller?  Cut to the chase, sweetie.

<> Oh, I'm 'sweetie', now?

<> Don't change the topic, Jen.  What did you mean by that wiseass crack?

<> You're being quite bold to my in my house, Katherine.

<> I don't want to regret not speaking my mind later.

<> Has that ever happened, hun?  You regretted not telling me someyhing?

<<<<We were somehow standing nose to nose, toe to toe.  Our boobs brushed against each other.>>>>>

<> Watch your rack, Jen-ny. 

<> Or... what .... Kate-y?

<> Or they might get punched.

<> You wouldn't fucking dare.

<<<My heart was racing.  I knew there was no facesaving way of backing down.  For either of us.>>>>

<> I'm not afraid of you.

<> Oh, but Katey, aren't you though?  If you weren't, wouldn't you have already punched me?

This was definitely the vodka talking now, because Jennifer slowly unbuttoned her flannel shirt and revealed her bra.  Her tits looked even bigger with her topless than with her fully clothed.  I unbuttoned my patterned shirt, and we backed up a step each.

Before I could change my mind, I wound up and sank a right cross direct into Jennifer's right breast.  She retaliated instantly, and I felt like my rival had stuffed a nest of angry bees down my bra.  My eyes teared up, and the "thud" sound sickened me.

I immediately worried I had been suckered into a fight with a ringer.  What if Jen had lured me into a breast punching durl, knowing in advance she felt no pain there?  And that, like most women I did?

I gambled that she was bluffing and began retaliating with left-right combinations to both of Jen's breasts.  Jen was ready and hit me back as well.  I wondered if and when her hands would go for my undefended face--but apparently she hadn't given up on going to the party later, and was content to have our fight marks be in non-public areas of our bodies.

Either that, or neither of us were thinking straight at that moment.  The vodka.  The jealousy.  The months with vonstant temptation but no sex.

Not a good combination.

<> Had enough, bitch?

<> Not till you give up Shawn.

<> Make me.

<> I knew it.  You want him back.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

MAULING

Frightened that Jennifer was showing no signs of pain from my direct strikes at her chest, I decided to probe and assess the rival I was now dealing with.  It had seemed odd to me that we had stripped off our shirts so eagerly but had kept ours bras on.  We were facing each other in a hybrid, obtuse pose; not quite clothed and yet not quite naked, either.  I wondered if Jennifer had perhaps been in such a confrontation before, and had learned that support from a bra prevented her from feeling pain on her oversized globes.  And regardless of my speculations on the particulars of her physiology, of one conclusion I was certain--I needed to mix up the dynamic between us, which was causing only searing, humiliating torture to me, and hardly anything detrimental at all to my opponent.

I closed in, using my left hand to grab my rival's reddish-blonde straight hair, and my right to desperately claw at her bra strap.  My aim was to release her massive  tits from the grip of her underwear.  Unfortunately, she must have been aroused from the excitement of our verbal, and now physical, competition, as her flesh swelled and bulged into the cups of the bra, locking the silky, elastic undergarment onto her bust.  As I fumbled with the intimate apparel like a schoolboy virgin, Jennifer took full advantage and continued directly punching my 38c's.  My rival's enjoyment confidence in her physical superiority over me was as galling as her relative endowment.

<> Fucking bitch.

<> Hussy.  Whore.  Get you own fucking boyfriend.

<> I will.  Yours.

Since getting Jennifer's bra off was proving so difficult, I decoded to just go around, under, and through the silky obstacle, and just scratch, claw, pinch and grab whatever my hands could touch.  Releasing the bra strap, as well as Jennifer's hair, I double-clutched both of my rival's tits unscientically but enthusiastically.  And I twisted and stretched and tugged, acting quickly before Jennifer could process my tactics and retaliate.  I heard the noise I was surprised was missing earlier.

> Eeeeoooowwwwww!!

> Oh, don't like that, Jen?  Here's some more.

> Eeeeennnnnnoooooooo!!!!

> Oh, but I'm just getting started.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

EXHAUSTION

Twenty minutes into our catfight, although our spirits ....  and mouths .... were willing, our bodies were not.  Both Jennifer and I were beyond the breaking point of exhaustion.  We were unable to lift our hands much beyond our waists, and we were throwing punches and pinching each other like .... well, like girls.  Our trash talk was little more than false bravado. 

I think we both knew that I was winning the fight.  Both in absolute terms; but perhaps even more importantly, because the fight had been Jen's idea.  SHE had lured ME to her place that night.  SHE had followed SHAWN to Harper.  SHE had been the 3rd wheel to US the entire semester.  SHE had sized ME up as a threat because of my bust size.  SHE had gotten US down to just bras in order to make the fight down-and-dirty.

By now, Jen was "hanging in" on the odd chance that our fight would end in a way that was face-saving to her.  That we would have a textbook girl-draw that she could go crying to Shawn about, and he would take her back.  Or at least give me, the new girl, the fresh face, her walking papers.

My job was to finish the job.  To get rid of the ex.  To stand up to her ....  AND to humiliate her.

I took our fight to the ground.  I headlocked Jen and hip-threw her, judo-style, onto the ground, and mounted hrr.  I grabbed her breasts with both hands and squeezed and twisted.

Jen had gone along with the fall, I can only assume in the hope of catching her breath and using her legs to knee or kick me from her back.  Not a terrible strategy.  It's what I'll do someday if a bigger stronger girl ever gets on top of me.

But I was mad and I was motivated.  And I had no inhibitions about twisting and mauling.

None, whatsoever.

> Get off, Kay.

> D'ya give???

> I said get off.

> I said, D'ya give???

> I give.  Get off.

I fucked Shawn 3 year later.

I moved in with Shawn 3 months later.

I married Shawn 2 years later.  To the day.

Just a coincidence.  I swear.

By then I had forgotten about Jen.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

HAPPILY EVER AFTER....NOT

Marriage to Shawn wasn't the fairy tale I was hoping for.  Shawn and I were both still so young--under 25--and neither of us had completed our educations yet.  Shawn got his Associates degree at Harper and used that to get into a machine tool apprenticeship program.  He was on the right track, but always had to take the second- and third-shift hours at work, and was always tired.  I, meanwhile, got my calling into nursing, and had to hit the books.  Sometimes I felt that Nursing School was the same amount of reading as Medical School, with none of the glory.  It was sometimes discouraging--I felt Shawn and I were playing grownup and squandering our youth.

And our life in bed was a letdown as well.  Shawn had a healthy enough sexual appetite, frequently initiating and bringing me to orgasm.  But he didn't pay enough attention to my chest--ya know, to my tits?  This was odd to me--why did gyys always stare down at my covered boobs, but Shawn had the naked "real thing" real in front of him, staring back at him almost.  And he never touched, he never sucked.  I wanted to be felt up and caressed there, both as arousal, but also as affirmation that I was big there.  Why had Shawn dated the otherwise-undesirable Jennifer, anyways.  Her chest was pretty much the only thing she had going for her--her personality was plain nasty, her butt was saggy, and her legs were unshapely. 

But she did have nice hair.  And Shawn was always burying his face in my hair whenever he was about to cum.  And always checking out my hair when I combed it, when I was flicking it, or fiddling with it.

Shawn had a hair fetish, we concluded.  Which I thought I would be fine with.  But not at the expense of my chest.  I wanted him to want my breasts.

So when I fucked Luke for money at his grandmother's house, and Luke couldn't get enough of my boobs--covering them all the way around, underboob, sideboob, nipples--with ten fingers and tongue--I was hooked.  It was pure ecstacy.  It was transcendent.

I needed to feel it again.

Luke was going away to college in the fall.  I needed to see him as often as possible before he left.  The clock was ticking.

I had the Long Term Care dispatcher make another appointment with Luke's grandmother.  For the last appointment of the day.

I was a go for next Wedneday.

Until a granddaughter called and cancelled the appointment.

A cockblocker daughter named Maddy.  Luke's older sister.  25 years old, according to the ticket.  2 years older than me.

I asked the dispatcher for Maddy's phone number, and was given it.

> Hello?

> Hello.  May I please speak to Madeleine?

> Who's asking?

> This is the case nurse, Kay.

> The hooker nurse that fucked my brother?

> That's not why I'm calling.

> Bullshit.  You care about Luke more than you care about my grandmother.

> [I surprise myself by saying:] If it's the money that bothers you, I can assure you....

> It's you that bothers me, slut. My brother isn't ready for this.

> Your brother is 18 and can make his own decision about what he's ready for.

> My brother is vulnerable, and a slut  hooker nurse isn't worth ruining his future over.

> I let you use those ugly words three times, out of respect for your grandmother, but I don't care for you doing it again.  My name is Kay.

> Slut.  Hooker.  Nurse.

> I think you and I need to continue this conversation face to face.

> It's your funeral.

> So?  Are we meeting?

> Where and when?

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

COMPETITIVE INTELLIGENCE

Because of my earlier "meeting with"/catfight against Jennifer, I was under no illusions that if Maddy and I were somewhere together alone, that we would just maturely discuss a compromise or broker a deal whereby I could fuck her brother Luke a few more times, and all would be rainbows and unicorns.  Rather, I knew that in our trash talk on the phone, we had drawn too many lines in the sand, and that there was no face-saving way for either of us to back down from what promised to be an epic catfight.

Which was a problem for me.  Because I knew hardly anything about my adversary.  Her size.  Her stats.  Her fight experience.  Her occupation.  What she even looked like.  Hell, she could jump me on the street and I would literally never see her coming, since I didn't know what she looked like.  At the very least, I needed to close this knowledge gap asap.

So I got busy on Instagram.  And had no difficulty finding at least some of what I needed to know.

Maddy has created quite a persona for herself online.  She lived downtown in the city, and volunteered for all sorts of charities and fundraisers.  A degree from DePaul.  She was some sort of online vlogging "influencer", of fashion or design or some other conveniently vague discipline; which seemed like mostly bullcrap, although online "followers' seemed to be going along with it. 

But something else was going on in Maddy's Instagram, which was undeniable.  The woman was drop dead gorgeous.  Raven hair, thick and shiny and straight as could be, practically down to her waist.  A movie star face.  A statuesque body.  Radio City Music Hall dancer legs.  And perfect boobs--larger and nicer than even Jennifer's.  This couldn't possibly be the woman who had talked smack so threateningly with me on the phone, could it?

And what would it be like to fight a woman like this?  There was only one part of Jennifer's body which only wanted to hurt, which posed any threat to me.  And our fight had proceeded accordingly.

But Maddy was an entirely different matter.  That hair--so much of it--she didn't possibly expect for me to refrain from pulling it, did she?  That perfect face--it was just begging for flaws to be applied to it with my nails.

And that chest.  How would she possibly defend it from my hands, my elbows, my knees?

Didn't she know what an actual girlfight was like?

The kind she would never tell her brother about; or her grandmother.  Just as I never told Shawn about my fight with Jennifer.

I needed to dig deeper.  To Maddy's Instagram connections.  Shit, I wish I understood better how Instagram worked--not as maneuverable as Facebook.  Well, I'd learn by doing.

I started looking at Maddy's Instagram connections from DePaul.  Well, well, this is interesting.  Maddy went to DePaul only after dropping out of Lake Forest College.  Trouble in paradise, perhaps?  Drama?

I started connecting to Lake Forest classmates from her time there.  I knew Lake Forest was a small enough school that a face and body as pretty as Maddy's wouldn't have left an impression there.

And, boy, did I get an earful.  From an interesting woman whose name I'll protect, out of respect for the valuable information she gave me.

About a fight Maddy had with a woman named Deirdre.

To be continued.....

[AngelaA]

What wonderful mysteries!