Shallow Thoughts Deep Subjects

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Note: For everyone who has assumed that my stories are autobiographical because I write in first person and concentrate on the realism…how does this one strike you gentlemen out there?


Ahhh… Saturday. So there you are eating a hotdog and trying not to let ketchup become a part of your summer wardrobe. It’s good of your best friend to throw these barbeques every other weekend, you think. Even if he never uses his own pool, at least he has the good sense to invite over enough people on a regular basis to make it seem worthwhile having it. That and there always seem to be plenty of girls in swimsuits jiggling around, and your eager buddy trying to fix you up with whoever might be available.

Of course this ruminating on the relative benefits of having friends with entertaining space nearly costs you a blob of ketchup on your shorts. A deft if not graceful move saves you the embarrassment though, and you quickly finish your hotdog to avoid further complications.

You decide to toss the paper towel you were using as an ersatz plate in the garbage over by the grill. This also happens to be conveniently located near the drink table, and you are suffering from a momentary shortage of iced tea.

Then you see her. She’s coming up the ladder out of the deep end of the pool, and everything snaps into slow motion. Suddenly The Cars’ “Moving in Stereo” begins to play in your head. The sparkling pool water seems to cling to her every curve (and mercy there are alot of them!) and only slide away at the last possible instant in the most alluring way possible. You have never seen water so reluctant to leave a female form.

Her electric blue one-piece shows off her hourglass figure in its best light…not that it wouldn’t look good in any light. This lady could have been a movie star in the fifties — enormous up top, narrow in the middle, curvy hips below that. She is tan, but naturally so. She is tall, but not too tall. She is very generously proportioned, but with nothing extra. She’s…well…she’s perfect…if you like curves…big soft curves.

As she gets out of the pool she naturally bends over by holding the rails of the ladder and walking up it. It’s then that whoever designed the deeply plunged lace-up front to her swimsuit earned everything he or she was paid, and you are treated to a view down the most magnificent cleavage you have ever seen. Whatever idea you were just having is lost forever in the deep void between those incredible globes.

The Cars play on, and your penis (sensing the temporal anomaly) springs up and asks,”Hey, what’s going – WOW! DO YOU SEE WHAT I SEE?” Then because all your blood is rushing downward, you are only capable of a single-syllable “Uhhh?”. Meanwhile your penis manages a multi-syllabic,”Boi-oi-oi-oing!”

“Hey! Earth to red-blooded American male!” your buddy shouts at you from a foot away, making you jump. “Do you think you can be any less obvious?” he continues more quietly.

Your Cars theme music ends abruptly with the sound of a record stylus being rudely dragged across a stretch of vinyl, and only then do you realize that you had actually frozen in mid-stride to stare at the incredible breasts now emerged from the pool.

You turn to your friend and intend to say something wittily evasive like, “Sorry, I was contemplating quantum mechanics and was momentarily frozen while solving a fourth-order polynomial equation in my head.”

Actually what you manage is something similar to the sound Scooby-Doo makes when he’s confused. It’s much less erudite.

“I know, I know,” he laughs. “She has that effect on a lot of people.”

“Wow! who is she?” you ask, talking to him and gawking at her.

“She’s a new financial administrator my office. Just moved in from out of state.”

“I don’t see a wedding ring,” you say. “Is there a six hundred pound gorilla with her name on it lurking around somewhere ready to pounce on the curious?”

“As far as I know she’s single and unattached,” your buddy explains. “None of the guys at work have asked her out though. She’s kind of hard to get to know.”

“Why’s that?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from her.

“I’d hazard a guess it’s because everyone looks at her the way you’re looking at her right now. How’d you like to feel like prey every time you walked out the door?”

“Good point. I guess that would make anyone guarded. That’s why I keep you around, man,” you say, “for perspective.”

“Yeah, well here’s some more. First off don’t point that thing at me. People will start to talk,” he says, pointing down at the tent in your shorts that your alert crotch rocket has made. “Second, once you get that under control, go talk to her. You’re an unknown, so you might get somewhere.”

“Ever the optimist.”

“No, I’m a realist. Your dick is the optimist. Talk some sense into it,” he says and turns back to the grill.

So you continue onward to refill your plastic cup of tea and to try get your penis to settle batıkent escort down. You think of politics, baseball, taxes, Roseanne Barr — boom! that knocked him down.

As you pour your tea, you realize that your host didn’t even tell you the new lady’s name. You turn quickly to walk back and ask him, and knock right into her as she approaches the table. It’s an abrupt collision, but let’s just say that you bump into her very slowly. Mercifully you don’t spill tea all over the pool goddess, but a lone piece of ice liberates itself from your cup and arcs gracefully into the smooth depths of your victim’s expansive cleavage. Talk about an inauspicious first impression.

“Whoa! I’m sorry,” you quickly apologize. “My head was elsewhere, and I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

She looks down after the long-gone piece of ice and replies, “I was all set to be impressed if you had done that intentionally. That was a neat trick.”

“Nope, it was honest unpremeditated clumsiness. Seriously, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, but I think your ice is lost,” she says looking up.

“It probably turned directly to steam,” you say and instantly regret it.

She narrows her eyes and moves to push past you, “Nice…”

You stop her, “Look, I’m sorry. That was me talking past my embarrassment. I don’t even know you, and I’ve already screwed up twice. Can we start over?” You extend a hand and introduce yourself.

She takes a deep breath as if to shake off the cold shoulder she was in the process of administering, and grips your hand. “I’m Angel.”

In the front of your mind, but fortunately not close enough to your mouth to fall out like your previous comment, you think,’Ofcourse it is. What else would you be named?’. Out loud you say, “Pleased to meet you. Our host told me that you’re a new FinAm at his office.”

“Yes. I just moved here a couple of weeks ago from a different regional office. I don’t remember seeing you around work though.”

“I don’t work there,” you clarify. “He and I go way back though, so I have a standing invitation to all his barbeques. I don’t even know half the people here.”

“That puts you ahead of me,” she says, glancing around. “I know maybe three people here — four counting you.”

It’s taking all your effort to look her in the eyes, which are deep brown and really pretty by the way, instead of at her gorgeous cleavage. The temptation to talk to her breasts is enormous, but you figure you’ve already insulted her enough. It would probably be best if you made your escape soon.

“I’m sure it will take a little time to settle in,” you say. “Well, you were on your way somewhere before I ran into you. I’d better let you get on with what you were doing before I say anything else stupid. I am pleased to meet you though, Angel.”

You recognize a flash of relief and curiosity that crosses her face as she realizes that your exchange isn’t going to turn into an elaborate pick-up line, and that – in fact – the chat is over.

She smiles and her entire face changes. She has one of those faces that really lights up. One second she looks like a beautiful if somewhat distant FinAm, and the next that smile makes her look like…well…like an Angel. She’s even more beautiful than you thought, and that’s saying something.

“Okay. I’ll see you later then,” she says.

You pry yourself away from her smile and stroll unhurriedly back to your chair. Out of the corner of your eye you see her watch you to see if you associate yourself with anyone else, i.e. perhaps a female someone else? You don’t of course. Right now you are blissfully unattached.Blissfully except when you get lonely.Blissfully except when you realize you haven’t had sex in a long time…at least not with another person that is.

You’re happy to just sit in the sun and watch the people, but sure enough your eyes keep wandering back to Angel. More specifically, your eyes keep searching out her magnificent breasts. Every once in a while she’ll catch your eye back, but it’s never more than momentary contact.

After a while you slip your shades on and lie back on the lounge chair. You figure that if you can’t see her, you can’t be accused of rudely staring. So you begin an examination of the inside of your eyelids, albeit unintentionally, and the next thing you know Angel is standing over you.

The fact that you’re no longer wearing any clothes, and that there appears to be a professional cheerleading squad leading a crowd in chanting your name doesn’t make any impression on you at all. At the moment all you care about is that Angel is slowly unlacing the top to her swimsuit while kneeling between your legs. Her perfect breasts spill out and begin to swell. A small woman in a black turtleneck rushes out from either side and rubs baby oil all over each breast before disappearing back beyond your range of view. Your massive erection raises itself to block the very sun and nestles between Angel’s now beşevler escort Volkswagen sized breasts. She looks you deep in the eyes and says, “Nothing would fulfill me more than if you would tit-fuck me and cum all over my face.” The crowd cheers, and the cheerleaders begin to have oral sex with each other.

“Hi. Mind if I sit here?”

“Gaahhh!” you start awake suddenly at the sound of a voice.

“Oh sorry!” It’s Angel, and she really is standing over you blocking the sun. She has wrapped a sarong around her lower half but is still in her swimsuit. Her long dark hair has dried into a cascade of big ringlets over her shoulders. The sunlight behind her head halos her and glints off her gold hoop earrings. She’s stunning.

You check the clock on the wall of the pool house and see that fifteen minutes or so have passed since you last knew what time it was. “No, it’s okay,” you say as you remove your shades. “I must have dozed off, and you startled me.”

“I guess I should be grateful that you were not carrying a drink this time. Otherwise I’d be wearing it.”

“Yeah, probably,” you laugh and sit up. You see her eyes flicker down momentarily and realize that you may have been dreaming moments before, but your hard-on is definitely real. Using the ostrich approach, you pretend not to notice your own condition and hope that it will go away. Nevertheless you are embarrassed, so you try to cover it by talking.

“What’s up?” Probably not the best thing to say given your erect condition, but it’s what pops into your head first.

“I just wanted to sit by someone I know,” Angel replies, taking the seat next to yours. “I’m not having a particularly good time, and you seemed to be spending most of your time by yourself as well. I though at least we could be anti-social together.”

The two of you work slowly into a conversation about nothing, but in the course of it you decide that Angel isn’t aloof as your buddy suggested. She’s just shy, and probably does feel a bit like prey because of her looks. With breasts as huge as the pair she has, she’s hardly inconspicuous, and she has probably been stared at the whole time she’s been at the barbeque. She’s the kind of beauty that men slaver over and women resent. That does things to a person’s self image, and few of them are positive.

To your credit you keep eye contact with her the whole time in an amazing show of self-control. She, on the other hand, continues to periodically sneak glances at your crotch. Your little soldier hasn’t been convinced to stand at-ease in the slightest. I guess trying tonot stare at Angel’s stunning curves has almost as much of an effect on you as actually staring at them would.

Maybe since you were already hard when she woke you up and your condition hasn’t changed, she won’t think that it’s because of her. The trick is, it’s not like you’re carrying a small package. At this proximity, it must be quite obvious to her that you not only have an erection, but also that it’s quite alarge erection.

You do find out over the course of the conversation that she is in fact single, part Portuguese via Brazil (on her mother’s side), immensely intelligent, afraid of dogs, and likes Thai food. You also find out that you can maintain your concentration and painful erection for close to an hour.

You seem to both really warm up to each other, and you mention what your buddy had said about her being kind of hard to get to know. “I don’t find that to be true at all,” you continue. “You’re a very nice person. I would have guessed that you’re just shy.”

“I’m not sure how to feel about being labeled ‘hard to get to know.’,” she muses. “Thanks for the compliment though. I guess I just have quick defenses against unwelcome advances.”

“How do you mean?” you ask.

“Let’s just say that another reason I came over to sit and talk with you a while ago is because you have been the only person here to not flirt with me, actively hit on me, gawk at me, or stare at me like you want to kill me.”

“I’m not entirely innocent,” you admit. “I must say that I did gawk at you when I first saw you get out of the pool. In fact you stopped me in my tracks!” She starts to respond, but you hold up a hand to pause her. “However, my good friend and our most diplomatic host snapped me out of it and reminded me not to be rude to his other guests. Then when I did bump into you, I was conscious to try to be gracious after my initial screw-ups. I think you’re gorgeous, but nobody likes to be made to feel like a piece of meat.”

Angel closes her mouth silently and thinks for a moment. Then she says, “Thanks for being honest. You have been really nice, and I think you hit the nail on the head.” She drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Sometimes I feel like I’m just a chauffer for my breasts. People are much more interested in meeting them, than meeting me.”

She blushes then. You both laugh, and you say, “Well that does break ankara escort some ice doesn’t it?”

“Tell me truthfully it didn’t occur to you,” she challenges playfully.

You pause long enough to know that there is no way out and say, “I can’t. It’s the first thing I noticed about you, but I think I’m due some slack because you were getting out of the pool at the time and were bent over toward me.”

“So that is what stopped you in your tracks?”

“Yeah, I tried to play it off like I was thinking deep thoughts and was distracted from where I was going. Really I was thinking shallow thoughts about a deep subject.”

“Deep subject?”

“Your cleavage,” you say. “Losing that piece of ice didn’t help either. Now, however, I’m going to shut up before I ruin every positive impression you have of me.” It’s now your turn to blush. You sit there red-faced and try not to believe that your penis has actually gotten harder.

Angel actually throws her head back and laughs out loud. When she takes a breath she says to you, “Well at least you have the decency to be embarrassed.”

“Mortified is more like it.”

“No, you’re fine. I appreciate your honesty. I like that too: shallow thoughts about deep subjects.”

You feel your face cool slightly with relief. Then Angel leans in again, looks you right in the eye, and whispers, “But I do feel like you owe me something then.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to ask you a personal question.”


She points at your alert soldier without moving her eyes from your own and asks, “Is that really all you?”

Your face burns again, and you respond, “Yes, actually it is. I’m a little worked up.”

“About me or in general?”

“Yes on both, I guess.”

“Hmm…impressive in your own right,” Angel says still looking you in the eye.

“Maybe a bit above average, but nothing that would win an award,” you say. “Now I have a question.”


“Are you purposely trying to embarrass me to death? Because if you’re testing to see if I can ‘cool’ my way out of this situation, it’s not going to happen. You have caught me with a hard-on that you in whatever capacity have inspired, and there’s no way I can explain my way out of it. I’m terribly sorry if it offends you, because I really didn’t mean to do that,” you say all in one unhurried breath. It rolls off so smoothly that you’d think you rehearsed it.

“I think youhave just ‘cooled’ your way out of it Mr. Honesty!” Angel laughs. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. Don’t I know how it feels to be stared at? I was just wondering because you’ve been that way for over an hour now.”

“I am painfully aware of that.”

“You know what I think we should do?”

“I think we should – ” your penis begins before you succeed in shutting it up. “What do you think we should you?” you say out loud.

“I think we should go be anti-social together over some Thai food. Know a good restaurant?”

“As a matter of fact I do. Let’s go change and meet back her in a few minutes.”


Dinner just isn’t dinner unless you can break a sweat while eating it. A goodpad prik khing will do that. It’s the red chili paste.

It will also make your nose run and your eyes turn red. After all, what better way to win a girl’s heart than to become the red-eyed, sweating, sniffling, chili-paste-smelling man of her dreams? It seems to be working though.

Angel is still stunning in normal casual clothes, even with her own red eyes and runny nose. She’s also fascinating. You hear all about interesting bits of her family and her job, places she’s been, places she’d like to go, why in fact she’s afraid of dogs, etc. It turns out that she is exceptionally easy to get to know. She has a great sense of humor and a very quick smart-ass type wit. In fact she seems like a great person, and you are both having a great time.

All nobility and higher ideals aside, you can’t help but notice the way she fills out her sleeveless tee-shirt. You still make an effort to not stare, but her enormous breasts are directly behind where she holds her chopsticks when she stops eating to speak.

When the bill comes you pay it as if it is the natural thing to do. Angel thanks you for taking her to dinner as if it is the natural thing to do. You both get up from the table and simultaneously realize that you’ve just had a first date. You both also realize that you drove separately and you have no idea what do next.

“My place for drinks?” Angel offers after an awkward pause in the parking lot.

“Sounds like the natural thing to do,” you respond, “but I don’t really drink much.”

“Really? Why?”

“I tend to make bad decisions when I drink.”

“Oh…” Angel says and another awkward pause followed. “Want to come over anyway?”

“More than anything.”


Her place is nice. It’s simple, clean, and has that “nobody really lives here” feeling. You suppose this is because she’s only been there a couple of weeks and only the essentials are unpacked. Boxes fill one bedroom, and the kitchen looks like it’s never been cooked in.

“It’s a nice place,” you tell her, “but it doesn’t seem like you.”

“How do you mean?” Angel asks as she finishes giving you the two minute tour.

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