Huge Mexican Tits

Fbailey story number 392


Huge Mexican Tits


Camille was without a doubt the biggest girl in my class. At fifteen she was a head taller than most of the boys and her tits were probably bigger than any ten girls put together.

I had admired Camille since the start of school when she transferred in. She spoke good English and even better Spanish. She was a big girl but she was also pretty. She had a big belly, a big butt, and even bigger boobs. She reminded me of a younger and prettier version of my own mother.

One day I got up the courage to talk to her. I wanted to ask her out on a date but I was scared. It took me another couple of weeks to ask her out. Her answer caught me off guard. She wanted to know if I just wanted to feel her up so that I could tell all of friends that I had. Certainly not! Scared or not, I did confess to her that if she did let me feel her up that I wouldn’t tell anyone about it if she didn’t want me too. Then I ran away before she could hit me.

That Friday morning at school Camille asked me if I still wanted a date with her. When I said yes she told me that I had to go home with her after school and meet her mother and all of her sisters. Okay!

I was anxious to meet her at her locker at the end of school and rushed to it as quickly as possible. She did not seem as excited as I was because it took her ten minutes to get there. She told me that she had to talk to her Math Teacher about his homework assignment and that she had to stop in the girl’s restroom. I lied and told her that I had just arrived.

We then walked to her house. It was in the opposite direction from my house, but I didn’t care. I was just pleased to be walking with her.

At her house I was introduced to her mother and her sisters in Spanish, then Camille told me what she had said. Her five sisters could speak English but not in front of their mother. Strange! It took a lot longer repeating everything twice. Camille told her mother what I had said in Spanish and then she told me what her mother had said in English.

After the formalities were over Camille and two of her sisters accompanied me into the formal sitting room which was reserved for guests. Her other three sisters helped their mother fix dinner. Apparently I had been invited to dinner and until then we had two chaperones. Although Camille was the oldest child her mother did not trust her to be alone with a boy.

Once we were seated and her mother had checked on us once Camille whispered something in Spanish to her sisters. They giggled and shook their heads, no.

During dinner her mother appointed one of her sisters to be my interpreter and Camille was told to only speak in Spanish.

There was clearly something more than met the eye. I was being interrogated. In essence I told her that my father was one of nine children, my mother was one of thirteen children, and that I was one of eight children. We were very strict Catholics and that my mother didn’t believe in birth control.

All of that seemed to please the mother and the sisters as well.

In exchange I was told that the mother was one of seventeen children, her dead husband was one of fourteen children, and that with only six daughters she felt cheated.

Then she asked me if I loved her daughter and I replied that I liked her an awful lot but that I didn’t know if I loved her.

She asked me if I wanted to have sex with her daughter.