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Anthem to Kerry Marie.


Originally published in May '04 Voluptuous magazine. J.V. Mann put his fantasies to paper and the editors liked the results. The art of big tits fiction is not as popular as it used to be but a story like this means hope for the future. By the publishers of Scoreland and Voluptuous magazine online. More Adult Magazines online.

Exhausted after having chopped enough wood to stoke the fireplace, I prepare to settle in front of the hearth with my mail and a hot toddy. I also cut myself a slice of Aunt Betsy's brandied fruit cake, one of over a dozen I procured this year by default. Apparently, I'm the only connoisseur of rich, well-liquored fruitcake in the family. Their loss.
Aside from way too many bills, I find a plain wrapped magazine…my Christmas gift to myself this year, a subscription to Voluptuous.
I rip into the conservative wrapping like a greedy kid opening his first present and gaze in awe at the cover.

This is the newest issue of 2004 with a calendar of Nicole Peters. Together with the Holiday '03 issue, where all of the best Voluptuous models are nominated for various awards, it's going to be a good night. The only thing better than jacking to this mass of tit-flesh, would be having one of these beautiful ladies right here in the room with me.
Earlier today, I had a toss and tumble with the junior accountant the firm just hired. It was a lonely guy, lonely girl Christmas thing. Very spontaneous, and somewhat overwhelming. Still, the sex had left me somewhat sated, looking forward to a night alone curled up in my favorite overstuffed chair in front of the fire. We accountants aren't as boring as most people think. We have personal lives like everyone else in the world. Unfortunately, my fuck-buddy lacked the one quality that really attracts me to a woman… monster tits.

Sipping my drink, I spread both magazines out on my lap and simultaneously begin turning the pages of both issues, ogling first one busty beauty and then the next.
I stop at the Model of the Year contest from the Holiday '03 issue and see a picture of my favorite model, Kerry Marie. This dark beauty stole my heart years ago when she debuted a few years back in SCORE, back in 1999 if I can remember, and I've always voted for her in the past V-Mag contests.
The picture reveals more about the woman behind the statistics than her obvious beauty.

There's depth in Kerry Marie 's bright espresso eyes and an invitation in her smile. Even though I'm only touching a two-dimensional image, electricity travels through my body. Am I just imagining this chemistry, or is this some kind of super-natural sign?
This is a woman I could be faithful to, one whose bed I would run to each night with keen anticipation.
And though it goes without saying that super huge, udderly delicious knockers don't take the place of personality or intelligence or loyalty, they're right up there on my wish-list when it comes to Dating 101.
Ultimately I want what every guy wants: love, marriage, and kids-well, maybe not kids. But, realistically, I know the kind of power a woman's breasts have over me. My cock's reaction to huge, soft titties is single-minded. So if I'm ever going to take a leap of faith like marriage, I better have a nice warm set waiting for me back home.

By now my throbbing member demands increased attention. Even after the workout he got this afternoon, he's straining at the bit, begging to be released and pleasured. Since I have no plans for tonight, I give in, undo my belt and open my fly. I touch myself the way I imagine Kerry Marie would if she was here with me, enjoying the beautifully prepared fire. Compelled, I turn the pages of the magazine, finding each photo better than the last.

Kerry Marie reminds me of a British girl I dated a long time ago in college. I can still remember the musical sound of her sensual accent. That helps me to fuse the sound of her voice with Kerry's to-die-for body, merging a familiar shadow from my past with the beautiful promise of the future.
When Kerry seems familiar and close, I settle into the memory, allowing her hand to replace mine as I stroke my cock. How I love the fresh, direct way she approaches sex. She's as unreserved and eager in bed as a playful young tigress, yet she has the magical ability to transform herself immediately afterwards into the perfect picture of elegance and propriety.

The phone rings, interrupting my fantasy. I check the number. Shit. My boss. Certainly not a call I want to take right now. Thinking about work is just about the biggest turn off I can imagine. Shutting the phone off, I'm preparing to give the old boner another go when I notice an advertisement for The SCORE Group in the V-Mail, "Assistant Editor Wanted."

What a dream job! Looking at pictures of beautiful big-breasted lovelies all day. I wonder what kind of credentials you have to have to get a job like this. Not only am I a faithful reader, I know the market. I even worked as a "cheerleader editor" for my high school newspaper. Most of all, like all the men in my family, I love big tits. I was raised on them. Mom, Grandma, Great Aunt Betsy. It's almost a family tradition-an even nicer one than brandied fruit cake.
As if my drink contained some magical sleeping potion, my eyes close. I release myself into the fantasy of what it would be like to be some big-wig at The SCORE Group, working on a magazine like Voluptuous.

Suddenly, my rather dull, lifeless resume becomes jam-packed with impressive credentials that turn me into a "super editor." Numbers don't lie, and as the figures of my success dance before my eyes, my journey begins, taking me into a heavenly world filled with big-busted beauties and pleasures beyond the imagination.
Pumping now in earnest, I evoke Kerry Marie's cherry-flavored lips wrapped around the purple head of my cock. As she sucks the salty, delicious flavor of my cum into her mouth, she moans with anticipation.

The familiar build-up of excitement begins…the throbbing prelude to climax where my senses dim. I abandon myself to the dream, channeling every remaining particle of energy inside of me into the fantasy. A long, throaty growl reverberates from within as pleasure washes over me in waves.
Fortunately, I miss the pages of the magazine as I shoot my load.
My subconscious accepts the gauntlet as I begin to doze. Apparently, I've landed in an undeserved, but deeply appreciated heaven. I am surrounded by wonderful, erotic creatures who, apparently, are worshipping my manhood. Bowing before me, they offer their beauteous breasts to my cock and I slip between two such pink, fleshy orbs into the warmth of a perfect world.

The fantasy evolves into reality, and I am catapulted out my boring, bean-counting job into a world of beautiful, busty women. I find myself in sunny, tropical Miami, Florida, at that address I have practically engrained in my soul-1629 N.W. 84 Avenue. Where it used to be just an address to send my video orders, now it is my nine-to-five sanctuary from the real world.

As the new Assistant Editor for The SCORE Group, my first project is the May '04 Special Awards Issue of V-Mag. Now this is something I can really sink my teeth into, because the young, British supermodel, Kerry Marie, has won the annual contest for Model of the Year over hundreds of other marvelously endowed young women.
And, not only has she won, but she is in Miami posing in V-Mag's studio. She is not a Miami escorts girl.
I pinch myself and I am still here.
It's not a dream. It's a dream cum true, and I smile that cheshire cat grin I've only seen pro athletes wear, until now. Here at The SCORE Group, everybody wears that smile, especially when a model is in town.

A wave of lovely newcomers vie for my attentions as I help select new faces and glorious bodies for the next issue. Many of the ladies offer themselves to me. True, they've only done it in the bathroom while I fantasized looking at their pictures in back issues of V-Mag, but it's a promising start.
I find that my personal life has picked up as well. Perhaps it is the confidence I have gained in my new position that has made the difference.
Over the next few weeks, the Senior Editor, knowing how much I adore Kerry Marie, generously gives me the assignment of attending each of Kerry's photo shoots. I'm not to say anything, he tells me, my being the new guy who really doesn't know anything. "And, no jackin' the beanstalk in the corner!" he tells me with the smile of a man who has seen and, perhaps, done it all.

I follow his instructions and take my place in the darkness during each of Kerry's photo shoots, behind the photographer and the studio crew, admiring her from a discreet distance.
When I'm not admiring my dream girl, I'm helping to create V-Mag. It's a hard job, much more difficult and skill-intensive than I thought, but I somehow manage not to get fired in my first few weeks, and the issue gets done. While a warm glow of satisfaction comes over me as the awards issue finally goes to press, there's also sorrow. I will miss seeing the beautiful young woman who has stolen my heart over these last few weeks.

Watching Kerry Marie interact with the other models, the cameraman and the V-Mag crew has convinced me that she's my ideal woman-warm, charming and delightful to be around. I only regret not having enough nerve to introduce myself.

Exhausted from a hard day at the office choosing dozens of new centerfold models, I'm about to head back to the Hotel Intercontinental. One of these days I'm going to have to find a permanent place to live, but for now the accommodations here suit me just fine. It's a first class hotel, and I find my suite enhances my newfound status as one of the up-and-coming names in the erotic entertainment industry. In other words, it works nicely for getting laid.

Suddenly, I see her-Kerry Marie on the Senior Editor's arm, flanked by a parade of SCORE Group big-wigs, touring the office, meeting and greeting all of us worker bees. My angel! I practically trip over my chair as I rise, heading for the hall. This is my last chance. I already know Kerry is flying back to England tomorrow and won't return for almost six months.
Kerry Marie is wearing a soft, angora sweater over form-fitting slacks. The low-cut neckline leaves little to the imagination, pushing my sexual re-sponse buttons and triggering my cock at ready. Suddenly, Kerry turns. Her dark eyes sparkle as they meet mine. Perhaps I'm flushed. Or maybe it's the obvious erection protruding from my slacks, but she seems amused and even a bit flattered by my predicament.

Kerry holds out her hand. "Mr. Mann, I have been looking quite forward to meeting you. I so wanted to thank you for all the work you did for my photo shoots."
Dumbstruck, not even aware of how much I'm shaking, I accept her hand. The touch of her silky fingers against my sweaty palm sends tingles both up-and down-my body. Not only is the chemistry between us undeniable-she feels it, too. I can barely believe my good fortune as her pupils widen with surprise and desire. Did I feel a shudder pass through her? Or is this just wishful thinking on my part?

She pats my hand and says something in that adorable British accent of hers about looking forward to seeing me again. This lady has class. Not only is she beautiful and sexy, I'm overwhelmed by the gracious way she overlooks my adolescent behavior.
My first impulse is to grab her right here and now like some hormonally driven caveman and shove her into an empty office. Have my way with her, releasing those beautiful mounds of flesh from the sweater's confines and worshipping them. Instead I only stutter something awkward, looking like a star-struck fool.
The Senior Editor cracks a joke about me being a rookie, and Kerry giggles, jarring me back into another fantasy. I could always lock her in his office and take my sweet time pleasuring her. Prove I'm not a nervous, unaccomplished idiot but the kind of man worthy of her love.

The fantasy, part lucid, begins to take shape in a multitude of directions, aiming at every hedonistic delight I can possibly imagine. I sweep off my desk, (I've always wanted to do that), strip off her sweater and press my lips against the hard bud of first one nipple, and then the next, sucking them into my mouth and teasing them with my tongue. I press my sex tightly against her until she's humping my leg, begging to feel my cock filling her pussy with its meaty fullness.

But before I have a chance to pluck even a single kiss from Kerry's luscious, succulent lips, she's escorted away by the higher ups. Good guys normally, fun to work with, and not being mean at all, they transport Kerry beyond my reach, down a hallway and around a corner. As she rounds the corner, I see her look back and smile ever so slightly, and then she is gone.
Yet, even after she disappears from sight, my chest and yes, my crotch, continue to throb with an excitement I've never experienced before.
I head to the bathroom again. Only, this time I don't need any magazines.

Every man has particular needs, and the hotel's chef certainly knows how to cater to my penchant for fine cuisine. After ordering a Bourbon and the wrapped filet mignon, I sit back to admire the view. The hotel caters to many rich and famous, and since it's right down the street from the office, the place is a watering hole for big-busted hopefuls and models alike, all hoping for a chance at SCORE Group stardom.

The waiter, my partner in crime because he has become dependent upon my tips, nods surreptitiously toward the eastern corner of the restaurant. Sure enough, a gorgeous brunette dressed in an elegant white pantsuit is dining by herself. He tells me she is super-stacked and adorably cute, which is all I need to hear.
One thing I've learned in my short tenure at the Big Tit Capital of the World, is you don't just work with big tits, you live them.
Not one to waste an opportunity, I slip the waiter a twenty and order the lady a drink. As soon as the love potion is concocted, he brings it to my table and I deliver it personally.
I nearly gasp when I see the busty babe is none other than Kerry Marie.
Taking a split second to recover from the view, (hey, looking down her bursting décolleté would make the most devout man of God erupt), I clear my throat as smoothly as possible.
Determined to project a professional, sophisticated image this time around, I beseech the goddess of love to temporarily blind me so that I can concentrate on Kerry Marie's soul, heart and mind, and not just stare at her boobs.
"We meet again," I say, with much more self assurance than the blubbering fool I resembled this afternoon.
Kerry Marie meets my eyes with a delectably tempting smile. "Why if it isn't my editor, Mr. Mann."
"Assistant Editor," I correct. "And you, Kerry, are unforgettable."

She accepts the proffered drink, then lowers her lashes in an unmistakable signal that she is interested.
After I have been formally invited to join her, the waiter brings my dinner. We go through all the motions of learning about one another that somehow complete the steps to the final dance, yet somehow I've always known we are meant to be together.
"Would you like dessert?" I ask.

She smiles mischievously. "I could not possibly eat another bite right now, but yes, I would love dessert…later. Perhaps you would like to join me in my room? Do you like to dance?"
Aha, dessert after a little exercise, I think to myself, as I cloak my lechery with innocent good will.
"I would love to dance with you."
In the elevator, we kiss, a single light, promising kiss to sense her reaction. Kerry pulls me closer, melting into my embrace, allowing me to explore her lips. Pulling her face closer to mine, the kiss intensifies into something far stronger and deeper than lust. It seems somehow complete as the elevator doors open.
My heart pounds with the realization that tonight might lead to something greater and more permanent between Kerry and myself. In her room, I encourage her desire for romance. We dance, exploring the way the music makes our bodies move and come together. Pretty soon I can no longer discipline my hands. Eagerly they travel over her breasts. I am murmuring sweet nothings I have no wish to retract. I am entranced, under the spell of this woman.

We abandon our clothes like sacrifices to a drunken, pagan god and begin to weave a tapestry of pleasure. Once bare, I revel in the creamy touch of Kerry's breasts, nibbling at her nipples as my hands explore her curves and settle into the valley of all valleys.
With superhuman effort I divorce myself from those precious temples of my worship and lower myself to the slick, dark wetness of her sex. Here I dine, dipping my tongue deeply into her well, stimulating the hard beaded knot of her clit, and preparing her to accept my cock as tribute to her glory. And she is glorious. Not only beautiful, but fragrant, soft, and delicious to the taste, both sensual and sensitive to my every want and need.

She moves down my body like a warm river, cleansing and arousing in a give-and-take of pleasure. And then, as she sucks my hard cock within her, I begin to throb. The familiar, rhythmic beat of my blood storms through my veins as a prelude to the main event. No, no, not yet!
Kerry senses I'm not yet ready to give up the good fight.

She pulls away, giving me time to fortify my resolve to prolong our romantic interlude. Her hands flutter and massage my leg muscles, working her way down to my feet. She removes my socks to lick and tickle my toes. The immanency of climax recedes as she teases me. Finally revitalized, I am ready and able to complete my mission.
There is a moment, a rare split second before a man enters a woman, when he looks down into her face. Too often, he shuts his eyes, pretending she is someone else. Perhaps he finds that she is more or less or different than what he needs to envision. That is the way of lust, the way of desire void of love.
That doesn't happen with us. Even though Kerry and I are strangers, I love what I see. I enter her slowly, more desirous of her pleasure than of my own. A backlash of emotion flashes through me like liquid fire as I explore her recesses, like a one-time, all important journey to the center of the earth. Inside of her, thrusting and pumping, it seems I am penetrating more than just her physical body.

I discover a warm, compassionate heart beating behind Kerry Marie's huge breasts. This is a woman who understands that desire can be so much more than just a means to an end, that it has the power to create, mend, satisfy, and grow. Our souls merge, filling in the blanks of all the many things we do not yet know about one another. And as we discover one another's dreams and aspirations, we find that we compliment each other perfectly.

Kerry Marie cries out. Her eyes flutter and close as she erupts in her own orgasmic celebration. Her spontaneity and vulnerability touch me, making me want to hold on and remain within her for all eternity, experiencing every bit of love she has to offer.
Alas, that is never possible. Sooner or later the act draws to a conclusion as exhausted body parts hum with afterglow and resurgent energy. These are the moments where my flight instinct usually kicks in.

Tonight there is no need to run. I feel comfortable spooning her protectively with my body and entering her dreams.
As if summoned by the ghost of Christmas future, I find myself hovering over Kerry Marie's lovely, Voluptuous form, beholding her nakedness. Realizing, as I must, that I am looking at a skillfully framed photograph of my goddess within the centerfold of the magazine.
Unwilling to part with my dream girl, I refuse to waken. I beg sleep to take me one more time, give me one more chance to make her mine.

I stretch beneath the warm tropical sun and flop over on my belly. The sand's heat penetrates my trunks, warming my sex. Just knowing she is inches from me, nearly naked in a crimson string bikini, is more than enough to incite me to readiness.
I turn over and run my eyes over her golden body, bronzing in the Tahitian sun. I worship the voluptuous mounds of flesh that are mine, all mine.
Who would have guessed that a piddley little accountant from Syracuse could end up with the most exciting job on the planet and a veritable goddess as his soul mate?
Kerry moans and turns over, basking beneath the warm, tropical rays. Her beautiful eyes open and flutter as she focuses on me. I exalt in the softness I see in her gaze. Taking her in my arms, I pull her close enough to taste the cherry tartness of her lips.
"Where do we go from here?" Kerry asks, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief. "Are you going to make an honest woman out of me or do we continue living in sin?"
I smile confidently. "Let me think about it," I tease.
Kerry doesn't disappoint. She jabs me hard in the arm.
"Just kidding, Kerry. So, you want to live happily ever after? I think I can manage that."

Suddenly the dream ebbs, and I am transported back through the heavenly clouds of breast-angels to a ringing phone, a dying fire and the cold New York air. Gathering my wits, I ignore the phone to mourn the elusive, vanishing dream. I can't help but notice that V-Mag's advertisement searching for an Assistant Editor remains in my lap.
As if the light from Kerry Marie's eyes blessed the magazine with a smidgeon of her magic, the section seems to glow with a surreal light. And although the dull, boring accountant I'm supposed to be would never take such a chance, I decide to throw caution to the wind.

It is five in the morning, and I find myself digging through a filing cabinet for a copy of my resume. Next, I am addressing an envelope to "Voluptuous c/o The SCORE Group" and typing an inspired letter telling all that I have to offer. I suggest they look past my limited experience into my earnest desire to contribute to the magazine's success.
Yes, it's a dream, and nobody in their right mind would hire me to work as an editor when I can barely create a tax return, much less the best big-tit magazine in the world. But, I now believe in the power of dreams, and my dream is to be in Miami.

Syracuse is a long way from The SCORE Group's headquarters in South Florida, even farther from the warm sun and sand of Tahiti, yet who knows Perhaps, I'll get lucky. The excitement is so thick, it overwhelms me. As the adrenaline subsides, I find my eyelids getting heavy once again.
Yes, I will definitely send in my resume. Tomorrow, I will definitely send it in. Now, I just want to sleep, and live the good life…once again.

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Last update: 11/20/2005; 4:46:33 PM.