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For The Sake Of Charity

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Author’s note: the following story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The author wishes to express his gratitude to rozezwild for her editing to make this a better story.

I had dreaded this night for weeks. I had let myself be talked into attending a charity event by an old friend, a woman about whom I had fantasized since our college days over a decade earlier. She had decided then that we were meant to be “just friends” so I had never gotten to sample her wares as I had wanted. Still she considered me a friend and I didn’t want to dispel her of that idea so I had promised to attend.

Now the night had arrived and I was sitting at a table-for-ten near the center of the huge ballroom; my friend had insisted that I sit with her and her husband and her friends, all couples except for me.. The charity turned out to be Breast Cancer Research Foundation, which was certainly a commendable endeavor but not in the mainstream of my normal interests.

The method of raising money was a ladies underwear auction. The nice thing about it was that the underwear was being modeled by local women volunteers who came out wearing the garments to be auctioned off, strutted along the raised curved stage at the front of the ballroom and then stood while the auctioneer tried to get buyers to bid and keep raising their bids.

For the first hour, most of the models had been small, slender women with very few curves … not my cup of tea. I didn’t know anyone who was shaped like that nor who could wear the garments that were being modeled, even if some of them did show off cute little bottoms and some rather long legs. Far and away the majority of bidders had been men, who apparently were bidding to purchase the garments for their wives or girlfriends. Occasionally a woman would bid but they seemed more interested in getting the prices up than in winning.

Usually the auctioneer asked for a starting bid of $100 for whatever was included, in some cases just a sexy teddy, in others panties, bra and gauzy jacket. Some of the outfits elicited spirited bidding that went up to as high as $1,000, although most of them had gone for $500 or less. I have to admit that, since I was not included in most of the table conversations nor was I really interested in the auction, I was thinking about making a donation and heading home.

But then the next woman model appeared on stage and she was different. First of all, she WAS a woman and her curves proved it. You didn’t have to look twice because she had bold globes on her chest, she had a modest waist, and she had a nice round butt. She appeared to be older than most of the earlier models, possibly in her mid-thirties or early-forties, but she was a beautiful woman. Her blonde hair was pulled into a knot at the back of her head while loose strands just framed her lovely face. Her blue eyes were accentuated with a dark liner that made them stand out.

And yet, she was not the central theme that caught my eye. Rather it was the outfit she was wearing. She had on a shiny satin bra and matching thong panties of the purest purple I had ever seen, the kind of purple that reminds one of a garment fit for royalty. Over all she wore a peignoir of a purple gauzy material that hid nothing. Even the boa-like trim around the collar, cuffs and along the hem didn’t detract from the woman’s figure or her garments. I was immediately intrigued.

I turned to the closest auctioneer’s aide standing just a few feet away and gave him a signal. Quickly he stepped to my side and bent over. He whispered in my ear, “Sir, are you sure you meant 5,000?”

I met his gaze and nodded my agreement. The aide stood just as the auctioneer asked, “Do I hear $100?”

The aide shouted, “I have 5,000.”

The auctioneer looked startled and everyone in the room turned to stare at the aide, who was still standing beside me. The people at my table all gaped at me open mouthed, too surprised to say a word, until my college friend said, kadıköy escort “Well … all right, Eddie. Way to go. I thought you were getting bored.”

I just smiled at her. The auctioneer was trying to find anyone else to bid against me but no one did and he finally closed the bidding. The aide recorded my name and bidder number to insure that I paid before I left.

Meanwhile the woman in purple had left the stage and come directly to the table, where she stopped by my chair. Holding out a dainty hand, she said, “Hi. I’m Melissa.”

“Hello. I’m Ed, but Ginger and some of these folks call me Eddie.”

She laughed lightly, “Well, if you’ll follow me, I’ll see that you get your merchandise.”

Ginger, my college friend, said, “Melissa, treat him really nice and see if you can’t get him to increase his donation.” Then she laughed at my expense.

She headed to the left end of the ballroom where there was a hallway to some rooms behind the stage. I had a difficult time keeping my mind off her shapely rear, given the way it swayed and moved just inches in front of me as we walked. To say that it had an impact on me would have been redundant; a look at the tent in the front of my pants would have testified to that condition.

She led me into a small room that she said was her dressing room. It had a few old and scarred wooden chairs and a fold-up divider. After Melissa closed the door, she asked, “What size would you like the garments in?”

“Oh, I want the ones you are wearing, whatever size they are.”

She smiled, “You want these exact ones?”

I nodded and Melissa got a knowing look on her face. She asked, “Why do you like this set?”

“Well … I’m afraid that an honest answer might get me in trouble,” I replied with a shrug.

“No, I promise. No matter what you say, just you and I will know,” she said conspiratorially.

“Well … I love the purple color. Certain of my … favorite body parts … are purple.”

“Is that all?”

“No. I gotta admit that I’m smitten with the contents of the garments.”

“Oh? Are you saying you made that big bid because I was wearing these things?”

“Well … yeah! Mostly, at least.”

“Well! I didn’t expect to hear that. So …here. Take this.” And she shrugged out of the peignoir. I took the flimsy garment and held it to my nose, inhaling the scent of her perfume that lingered on the material.

I dropped into a chair beside the table, still holding the light jacket in my hands. Melissa paced back and forth a few times, then stopped right in front of me. There was a look on her face, like determination or … I wasn’t sure what it was.

“Do you want to take the bra off?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Of course,” I answered.

“Is it worth raising your donation?”

“Five hundred dollars.”

She leaned forward, putting her hands on the arms of the chair. “It’s a deal, honey. Can you reach it from here?”

I put my arms around her and, even though I tried to be gentlemanly about it, I couldn’t help but touch her soft smooth skin along her arms and smell her luscious fragrance as she leaned close to me. I fumbled a little but then found the four hooks of the bra and very, very carefully unhooked them one by one.

Still holding the ends of the bra, I brought my hands back around her and watched in rapt amazement when she shrugged the straps off her shoulders and her tits came into view. She carefully handed me the satin bra but as I took it, she leaned over again, holding the arms of my chair, pressing her large mammaries together very near my face.

“Do you like them?” she asked.

“I think they are beautiful.”

“Would you like to touch them?”

“Five hundred,” I quickly responded.

“No, honey. They’re free, just because I want to. Okay?”

I raised my hands and cupped her large breasts, gently kneading them with my fingers. Her nipples were already hard little üsküdar escort rubber erasers, geometrically set in the middle of her slightly oval areolas. Her tanned skin barely showed any tanning lines at all and what there were blended nicely into the slightly darker areas. She obviously worked on her tan without the aid of clothes.

Somewhat coyly, she stuck her thumbs into the waistband string of the panties and asked, “Would you like to take off my panties?”

“Y-y-ye-es,” I managed to stutter as she stepped closer. I replaced her thumbs and slowly, very, very slowly pulled the little garment down her legs. The sweet smell of fresh pussy juice wafted up to greet me as I eased the panties past her perfectly clean shaven pussy. I kept my head in that vicinity while my hands continued to move lower and lower. When I got to the floor, she put her hand on my head for support, in the process pressing my face into her luscious crease. I couldn’t resist taking a lick.

When I sat back upright with the little panties in my hand, I brought them to my face, pleased to find that the crotch was soaking wet and the smell was enormously heady. I smiled at her, feeling like I was floating on a cloud instead of being earthbound.

Her tits were again at my face and I could not help faking a lick at one of her nipples.

“Go ahead, honey. Lick them. Suck them. Pleaseee!”

I lifted one to my mouth and let my tongue draw wet circles around the silver-dollar-sized areola, then narrowed the circles until I touched her nipple. I felt her press her chest forward, pushing her tit toward my open mouth. I enclosed her nipple and softly sucked on her. I heard her whisper, “Oh, yes, honey. That is so good! Suck me. Squeeze me. Fuck me, honey.”

I wasn’t sure I heard right or if I just heard what I hoped to hear. But when I looked at her, there seemed to be nothing but pure lust on her face. What’s a gentleman to do? I complied. I sucked and squeezed her tits, then bent her over the desktop, letting her rest on her forearms, and slipped my raging, throbbing hard-on into her slick, wet twat.

Her ass was beautifully heart-shaped and watching it as my spear sliced in and out of it was super-erotic. I knew I couldn’t take much of that, combined with the feelings that her velvety smooth, warm, slick cunt impelled to my lust-filled brain so I reached around her and fingered her clitty until she started bouncing her butt back at me with every thrust, timing her movements precisely with my own.

She began to moan, “mmmm, yes, FUCK! Mmmmm mmmm, yeah, FUCK! Ohhh, baby …” And then she lost control of her movements. Instead of thrusting backward, she began shaking from side to side as her orgasm rolled through her. Seven more times, I thrust into her, slamming into her ass as hard as I could. Then, feeling my balls pull toward my lower body cavity, I grasped her hips and held us mashed tightly together while my sperm rocketed into her hot snatch.

When I gingerly backed away from her on rubbery legs, Melissa turned and kissed me, saying, “That was really wonderful, honey. Would you be interested in taking me home tonight?”

“I would be delighted,” I said. “Oh, yes, something I would like to do. If my donation can help save something like your magnificent breasts, let’s make the total amount $50,000. Okay? And if you would, I’d like you to keep those garments. Maybe you would wear them for me again sometime…?!?”

She raised up on tiptoe and kissed me. “Oh, honey, I would love to. Thank you.”

We dressed and I quickly wrote out a check to the charity for 50 thou, then gave it to her and asked if she would mind turning it in for me because I didn’t want anyone making anything out of me giving it. We went back into the ballroom where the auction was just ending and the auctioneer’s record keepers were putting together their figures. As Melissa was walking to their tables, someone announced that a tentative estimate was that the auction had raised tuzla escort $27,600 for research; the announcement brought a strong round of applause from the floor.

Melissa bent over the table and whispered with one of the ladies, then handed her the check. The woman did some quick calculations and the announcer said that they had a revised figure. It was $72,600. Suddenly the applause became thunderous and was supported with stomping and whistles. Across the table, Ginger turned and gave me a “What did you do?” look. I just shrugged and grinned.

A minute later, Melissa reappeared at the table and told Ginger that I was going to take her home. This time, Ginger gave me a smile and a thumbs up sign. I just nodded.

As we neared Melissa’s condo, I felt some trepidation that she might kiss me good night and send me on my way. Our conversation was lively and I found her easy and interesting to talk to. And when we arrived, she invited me in immediately. She gave me a quick tour of the 2 bedroom 2 story condo and then asked the question I had only hoped she would ask. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

“I would love to.”

“I had hoped you would say that. Would you like something to drink?”

“I don’t think so.”

She laughed. “Are you ready for some more fucking?”

I smiled and nodded. We didn’t leave the bedroom until late the following morning.

We fucked in some positions that I had not experienced in a long time. Better, we fucked in some positions that I had never tried before. ‘Lissa was willing to try making a connection in any position we could think of and most of them were very satisfactory, even if some of them could not be held for long periods of time because of pressure on certain body parts.

Altogether it was without a doubt the best single evening of my life. But it was even more than that. It was the start of a wonderful relationship. Melissa and I became exclusive partners after that night. Seventeen weeks later, she moved in with me and two months later I asked her to marry me. Eventually she declined, saying that she felt she didn’t need marriage but she did need me. So to make the commitment final, she put her condo up for sale.

Having been together for five years and three months now, I must admit that we have not had sex every night. We missed two nights when she had the flu a couple of years ago. Even during the weeks when it is her time, she loves to give me head and then have me fuck her in the ass so at least 5 nights out of every 28, I get to fuck her tight back door and there are always a few other nights every month.

So far Melissa has shown no signs of wanting to slow down our sexcapades, which suits me just fine. It has given me plenty of opportunity to see her wearing the purple bra and panties that brought us together and to see her in the many outfits I have bought for her from Victoria’s Secret (I have been in the local store so often that every clerk knows me by name and greets me cheerfully each time I visit.)

Obviously no cure or preventative measure for breast cancer has yet been found, in spite of my little contribution, but that makes the cause no less worthy and thus Melissa has taken my donation to the charity’s treasurer every year since we met.

I don’t mean by any of this tale that a woman is defined by her breasts. Far from it, she is so much more that it is almost ludicrous to even contemplate it. I would be the first to say that a woman with a prosthesis or even with no breasts at all as a result of a mastectomy is still a whole and complete woman.

Nevertheless I think that it is worthy of all our efforts to attempt to keep womankind, as a whole, healthy and with as many original body parts as possible, for use in her natural reproductive functions as well as for the sexual benefits to both the woman and her partner. I hope that ‘Lissa will always be cancer free and be able to retain her magnificent breasts, both for my pleasure and for the feeding of our baby that has begun to grow in her belly. I can’t wait to watch my woman breast-feed our child.

For that reason, I will continue to provide as much support as possible to those who have the knowledge to perform research that might one day eliminate this scary disease. And yes, it does not hurt that their cause brought me together with a most fantastic woman.

The End

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