My Greek Goddess

I was silent as Maroula led me towards a quiet street in the New Town, but she did enough talking for both of us. Linking her arm through mine, she explained that she was from a small village in Greece, but she had come to Britain because "this country is more tolerant of people who choose, well, different lifestyles like mine." She said that she used the ladies changing room at the gym, because "I can hardly go in the men's room with these," flicking her hand across her ample chest, "and usually I find a quiet corner where nobody's going to notice my little surprise". I finally found my voice and began to mumble a halting apology for my rudeness in staring, but she waved it away. "That's okay honey; I don't mind, and maybe we'll both find a new friend out of it."

She took me to a Georgian terrace house converted into apartments, and up to the first floor. Maroula took my jacket from me and I sat on a scarlet fabric couch in an elegant, cream-walled lounge while she made coffee. After bringing it, she said "Excuse me baby, I'll just be a minute," and disappeared. She was as good as her word, and re-emerged just a minute later; I had assumed she'd gone to the loo, but I gasped again when she returned: she had changed into a knee-length silk bed jacket, beneath which she was very obviously naked. Oh God, I knew at that point I should get up and run from there, but I felt rooted to the spot. As Maroula sat opposite me I made a conscious effort not to stare at her cock, peeping out from the jacket, but instead my eyes simply focussed on her massive boobs. The jacket had slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing most of one breast and a generous portion of dark brown areola.

Maroula noticed where my gaze was resting and, easing the jacket apart to reveal her chest, said, "You like these? Why don't you see how they feel?" I watched in helpless astonishment as she reached out took one of my hands and pressed it to one of her breasts. It was firm but pliant, a big hard nipple pressing into the centre of my palm. Her smile broadening, she shuffled along the couch until our knees were touching and took my coffee cup from my limp hand, placing it on an adjacent coffee table. Then she husked, "From what I saw at the club your boobs are very nice too, but I'd like to get a better look."