I looked over at Jim and Bud. They looked like they were about to throw up. The expression of disgust on their faces made it clear how they felt about my routine.
"Ingrates," I thought, "They have no appreciation for the degree of difficulty involved in that performance. I'd like to see them do that with iron weights on their nipples!"
I looked at Mrs. Reynolds. She threw a nasty look at her sons and then she looked back at me and smiled from ear-to-ear and gave me a one-woman standing ovation. "Bravo!" she said. I bowed my head briefly in acknowledgement and lowered my arms. I was exhausted and dizzy. I put my hands behind me and leaned back so I could swing my leg around in front of me. I sat on the floor, trying to catch my breath. I considered moving the weights around to my front, but my breasts actually did not hurt as much with them draped over my shoulders, so I let them stay there. A different part of me was being stretched in this position and it was a profound relief to have the weights pulling me backward for a change. I put a hand up and touched my right breast where it went over my shoulder. I could feel my nipple where the clamp had it pulled down to my shoulder blade.
I pulled my feet under me and got up unsteadily. I wobbled over to the weight bench and lay down with the back of my neck resting on the end of the bench and the weights hanging down behind me.
"Boys," I heard Mrs. Reynolds say, "I don't see any further reason for you to not to be able to use the family room. You may come and go as you please. I think we can all get along now." Jim and Bud glanced at the TV at the far end of the room, and then retreated back up the stairs to their rooms.
Mrs. Reynolds came over to stand beside the bench. "That was really marvelous," she said. "I congratulate you on an excellent performance. You continue to amaze me with your progress. The timer ran out some while ago, I'm afraid. I could not bear to interrupt you."
"It's OK," I said.
"Would you like me to take the clamps off?" she asked.
I nodded. She knelt down and released the clamps and returned them to the shelf. With the weight gone, my breasts continued to droop limply on my chest. They had very little tautness and resiliency left. I stroked them absently.
Mrs. Reynolds came back and held out a hand to help me up. When I was standing again, she moved close to me and untied the belt around her waist, allowing her shirt-dress to fall open. She was naked underneath. "Now for your reward, Samantha," she said, "You may touch my breasts."
I put my hands reverently over the ends of her breasts, my palms pressed to her nipples. I squeezed gently, feeling their impressive mass, admiring their imposing presence. Her skin was soft, but her flesh was remarkably firm. I cupped them in my hands. They were so large I could only support a fraction of their bulk. As usual she wore high-heels, so that her breasts were just below my eye level. I moved closer to her and put my face into the space between her breasts, inhaling her fragrance. I pressed them against my face. I moved closer and felt her pubic hair brush my stomach. Boldly, I put my arms around her and hugged her body to mine, my belly against her pussy mound, my face buried in her huge breasts. I sighed. I felt so warm, so content. I held her and felt her breathe in my arms. I lay my head on her breasts and listened to her heartbeat. After a moment, I felt her put a hand on my head and stroke my hair and caress my cheek. I hugged her closer and she put her arms around me as well and hugged back. We stood there for a while, sharing the warmth of our bodies. Then I felt her take a deep breath and release it as a sigh. She kissed me on the top of my head and then put her head down on mine. Time seemed to stand still.
I don't know how much later, she relaxed her arms. I took that as my cue and let go of her and stepped back. She stood and just looked at me, a small smile on her lips. She reached out and stroked my drooping breasts. They came down well below my rib cage now and seemed almost flat against my body. She felt my nipples, which now hung straight down, instead of sitting up perkily, as they had before. They were over two inches long and limp. Mrs. Reynolds twined my nipples around her fingers and pulled, lifting my flaccid breasts from my chest. She let my nipples slip from her fingers and my breasts fell back with a plop.
"Come with me," she said, and turned to go up the stairs. I followed right behind.
She led me to a small room at the back of the house that seemed to be primarily for storage. I recognized the cardboard box sitting on a table in one corner, but Mrs. Reynolds went instead to a cabinet and began poking around inside.
She reached up and took down a green bottle. The label simply had a code number written on it with a marker. It said, "901". Mrs. Reynolds put it aside and opened a drawer and took out a hypodermic in a sterile plastic pouch. Opening the package, she took out the hypo and filled it from the bottle. The needle looked to be at least six inches long. The fluid in the hypo was bright orange. She swabbed both my nipples with an alcohol patch and said, "You will need to hold them out for me, Samantha."