This is it, it’s now or never.
For a moment of decision, your eyes shut as tight as your fists are clenched. Your heart pounds a mile a minute, hopefully your feet can be just as fast and your steps as nimble for the next few moments. Time seems to stretch wide as a watch to fit your overclocked senses – slowing down your shorthanded seconds to better-paced minutes. The whiff of the drafts blowing past you carries both the already sickening scent of the pie and the newly acquired fragrance of your neighbor’s recent efforts, not exactly the most invigorating of winds, but it’ll have to do. A hopscotch court’s length is all that stands between you and the thick ebony tower that is your neighbor…’s neck; Ms Summers’s chin overshadows you by a full story or so, and yours would end soon down that deep throat of hers if your next step didn’t turn out.
Without thinking it twice, you put one foot forward towards your towering neighbor, not once looking anywhere but forward. More sticky goo lies in the way to bog down your step and determination, and just like you predicted, there is a greater depth hiding your path forward. But you can’t let that stop you now, or else you’ll be appreciating your neighbor’s scorching-hot inner beauty firsthand.
However, your spirit is not the only thing that sinks to the bottom once you step into the deeper mire, as the sludge quickly begins to shift under your weight, dragging you in as well! By the time you notice that your leg has become engulfed in apple puree up to your knee, it’s already too late to pull it out; you’ve become stuck in this bog, and try and yank and pull and tear as you will, you won’t escape in time before this hungry behemoth babe tastes the first bite of her sweet pastry with you in it.
No! This can’t be how your sneaky visit ends!
Reluctant to accept your yummy fate, but knowing that you will never get your leg unstuck in time, you decide to dig it out instead. Perhaps if you removed enough handfuls of cinnamon peat away from it fast enough, maybe, you could have enough time still to get to another edge and jump off her lip just as it closes around the fork. Wishful thinking, surely, but it beat staying and finding out if your neighbor is just as hot inside as she is outside, if not hotter still.
Unfortunately for you, your hastened actions once again conspired against you. In order to dig out fast enough, you shoved in both hands into the bog around your leg with reckless force; completely failing to take into account your recent experiences in sticking your appendages into the thick substance. You practically dive into the sludge, finding it surprisingly thin to sink into, but quickly realize that now you’re definitively screwed; buried skin-deep in, you frantically try to strong-arm your way back to the surface, but all your efforts attain is a faster sinking in cinnamon peat. It burns your nose and permeates your very being at this point, and if you didn’t get out soon you wouldn’t even get to Ms Summers’s maw before being suffocated.
Miraculously, your body reaches below the substance’s threshold almost as soon as it entered it; and afterwards you ooze through the slime to find no bottom to hold you in; be it pie shell or silver cutlery to stop the descent, it is devoid of both, but it rather holds the sweet freedom from the slice that you desperately needed so much!
The sweet, hope-releasing, life-saving… vertigo-inducing, scream-calling, death-defying freefall of freedom!
Like a rookie skydiver jumping from the plane for the first time, as soon as you feel the g-forces take its toll on your body, a startled yelp that readily evolved into a terrified scream escaped from the bottom of your lungs. A tiny honeydew glob drips loose from the tip of one of the metal prongs of Ms Summers’s fork just before the first bite of her dessert reaches her full lips. That glob, actually her mis-adventured neighbor glazed in a thin layer of apple filling, went screaming the whole way down towards her chest; a scream that would be dismissed by her as a random squeak, perhaps a creaky hinge from one of the kitchen cabinets having its door played with by the wind.
During the few seconds of airborne peril most of the sweet slime coating you comes loose off your body, exposing it to a pleasant breeze rushing past your icky-licky-lathered skin and cooling you off the warm air that seeps through your neighbor’s home and around her very person. It’s almost pleasant enough for you to ignore that your near future still isn’t clear of danger; though not enough to make you forgo bracing for impact, and thus you awkwardly shift positions in mid-air as fast to help you withstand the fall.
*SPLAT*
After what seemed like a full minute of falling (really a second or two, you drama queen), you land painlessly enough on a dark, soft-but-firm surface. Slowly you open your eyes, expecting to find another reason to scream once your adrenaline rush was over, but to your surprise it seems that your perceived height of the fall was greatly exaggerated, as you’re still in once piece and not bruised at all. You still find a reason to scream though, had its presence not left you drooling stupid. It seems that you got around to your original mission by now, for your cushioned savior is none other than Ms Summers’s humongous bust, more accurately, her left breast.
Another yelp of surprise leaves your lips, and at the same time, a moan of delight escapes from your titanic neighbor, both of you joys chiming in unison; hers echoing above you in deafening 10.1 surround sound. Good for her that she enjoys the pie so much, after that incident you’re going to give up on it for life. Well, two months, tops; it is that good after all.
But better yet and sweeter still is the great chocolate landscape laid before you; where the twin hills of her smooth skin and tender flesh extend far before sloping down to the fall from paradise. No longer is the air thick with fruit and spice, but rather with Kara’s own warm fragrance, lingering of light perfume and sweat; and likewise, fear and doubt leave your mind to make way to the return of your feelings of adventure and mild lust. Both the near left and the far right of your great view are bordered by the vibrant crimson of her clothing, above you the bottom of her chin stands tall a couple of stories just above you, and behind you by the slope of her collar; and most notoriously, just a few steps to your right was a darkened valley of unfathomable depths running deep between the two mounds. This Great Canyon of cleavage you had seen before while sneaking peeks of Ms Summers at whatever chance you had, but never before would you have thought to see it in this glorious way; you pretty much have to chain yourself down to prevent you from jumping in and losing yourself in all that cleavage.
Great risks reap great rewards, you think of your close call. And in your case, those great rewards come by the barge load in one tight-laced two-pack of the three B’s: Big Black Boobies.
Now that your rhythm is back in proper pace, you take a relaxing break to enjoy your surroundings, to the now-less-threatening sound of Kara’s munching and gulping while your neighbor enjoys her dessert above, plus the occasional page-turning in the distance as she reads while she eats. With Ms Summers distracted by her dessert and her read, you begin to take a leisurely stroll down her breast; finding it a bit tricky to place your steps as the pillowy hill waves once in a while with her breathing and whatnot, plus it yields slightly under the press of your walk, but it’s fun, calming, and very pleasant at the same time. You even get to see some light freckles dotting her bronze tit as you walk, which you’ve never noticed before; and you can’t help curiosity from invading your mind about exploring the rest of her body at this size, perhaps when she lies down to nap, and maybe even revealing yourself sometime to see how her playful personality translates over your diminished height.
During your stroll you get to the edge of the world where her chest hides and her tank top begins, about by the time when your neighbor has nearly finished her slice of pie and an article of her magazine. That’s when you see a damp, gooey splotch about a shade clearer of brown staining your colossal neighbor’s monumental fun-bag, near the ravine of her cleavage.
You quickly grab the device from the apple goo and narrowly avoid becoming stuck to her index finger as she runs it over the drop and brings it to her mouth, shuddering in fear as you realize that you were in danger of being crushed, eaten, or stuck at your size as she would have done either to the remote. The ground quakes as your neighbor finishes her slice and stands up from her seat, and you quickly hide beneath the layer of cloth of her shirt, with your head just barely poking out of your barely noticeable hiding spot; lying in wait between her tank top and her bra as she moves.
Trapped between two soft layers, one of tight cloth, the other of jiggling satin, you bide your time; relaxing as the permeating heat of her body clashes with the cool breezes that enter through the hole you poke out of and caress your naked upper body. Wait a minute there…
You then realize in shock. All that trouble, and you still didn’t get your shirt back. Oh well, this is a much better deal than that old shirt.
The next step in your voyeuristic voyage is…
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