" "I know how you could get one." "What, you got a trick to get it in deeper?" "Well, um, no. Not into your own mouth, anyway" He sat up again. ...Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dude, are you talking about blowing me? I told you, I'm not gay!" Maybe that had been too much. "Sorry man, don't want to make you do anything you don't want to. Just saying I could help you out. But not if you don't want to."He didn't push back against this, just didn't answer. I assumed this meant he was contemplating. “Hello,” said Savanna. “Savanna,” he said, “get back here, we’re leaving.” “Why are we leaving, did you get one of those houses?” She asked. “I’ll explain later, right now I need you to pack your things as quickly as you can.” Savanna had to go all the way to the ground floor before she could start back up. As other people were going up with her, the elevator made several stops before it got to the penthouse floor, and there was a porter who stayed on to the top floor. When she entered. I sat in my ‘Cuda for a few minutes in the student parking lot before I fired up the engine and listened to its soothing deep growl. I couldn’t help but run through all the possible scenarios that my mind could create about what Mrs. Bumstead was going to do or say to end the upcoming gossip-fest over my touching the Blonde-Bomber’s large breast.After about five minutes of making my head hurt, I simply cried out in pure sixteen-year-old fashion, “Just fuck it!“ and drove my muscle car to our. Marc wasn't as big as those guys, but he could now clearly see theresults of his years playing football, working out in the gym, runningin the off season. Nicely buff without being too big. No signs of everslacking off in his training. Except for now his chest. And theswelling around the nipples that could not be anything else but breastgrowth. His Dad said the stuff worked fast. Marc slipped the bra fromthe night before on. Again shifting the flesh of his chest to make itlook like.