NEW STORY TITLE: THE VIRGIN TITS CLUB

Summary: A virgin high school teenager is the "safe" guy friend for six beautiful, busty babes. The girls flirt and tease him, but aren't going to ruin their friendships by crossing the line of physical intimacy

But then one day, things start to change.

The complete story includes lesbianism, anal, threesomes, and group sex. hope it does not bother you. This story and all other stories in this book series are all for your reading pleasure. All characters in this story are at least 18 years old.

I hope you enjoy.

- PROLOGUE —

“No, I'm not fucking any of them."

Some days, it felt like I had to say some variation of that sentence fifty times. Really, it was more like a half-dozen, but that's still a very high frequency for such an uncommon statement. To be honest, though, I couldn't really blame them. Had I been in their shoes, I might've asked the same.

“No, I'm not gay."

Okay, I didn't have to say that sentence FIFTY times. I mean, at Least most guys knew better than to ask another guy if he was gay. That's just rude. I wished more people would be mature enough to understand it was indeed possible for a guy to be friends with a group of gorgeous young women without banging any of them. But the follow-up question came quite often, as if it was the only reasonable explanation for why a guy Like me would NOT be fucking one of “The Big Tits Club" girls.

I really hate that name, by the way. I understand the name, but I still hate it. It's immature. It's objectifying

But it is undeniably... accurate.

Let me be clear and state for the record that none of us came up with that nickname. As far as I can tell, it was coined by the Varsity football team during our junior year, and the name spread Like wildfire. Nothing we could do about it. As I said, it was... accurate.

Belle, Mari, Alice, Sam, Zofi, and Naimh: six hot girls, every single one of them a D-cup or bigger.

Oh, and me: the lone male in our clique of best friends. Alice once called us "The Magnificent Seven". After “The Big Tits Club" nickname took off, Mari tried to rename us “Sam's Club" after our de facto leader (it didn't work). Belle tried "Matty's Angels" (didn't take, either). Eventually, Sam suggested that the girls just own it - be proud of their curves and take the nickname for a compliment. We were

“The BTC", even me.

It wasn't always this way. Well, obviously, the girls had to grow into those figures, and Belle and Zofi didn't get up to the D-cup range until the end of junior year. What I meant was: we hadn't all been friends forever and didn't become a group of seven until just last year. The group grew in bits and pieces organically over time. But at the core of the BTC were me and Belle.

I was the only child of two lawyers who, in my opinion (and theirs), should never have been together. As Mother frequently reminds me, my father only married her because she accidentally got pregnant. My earliest memories are of them fighting. They were always fighting. Not physically or anything like that, but they were both verbose people with enormous lexicons and a deep-rooted conviction that THEY and only they had the correct position on any number of issues.

My parents bought a big house in the Silicon Valley suburbs planning to live the American dream and raise a big family, but as far as I could tell, they hated the act of raising a baby so much that they never had another kid, and they weren't too fond of each other, either. Instead of filling the extra rooms in the house with siblings, each parent got a home office in which they seemed to spend the majority of their time avoiding each other. That they also isolated themselves from me was just collateral damage. How they managed to NOT get divorced until after my eighth birthday, I'll never know.

At least they became pretty good friends with the Kramers, our next door neighbors who had a daughter a month older than me. Annabelle's dad was a surgeon and her mom a stay-at-home wife. They were both sweet and loving and would have had more children if not for her mom's medical issues. Little blonde Belle and I played together as toddlers, and my parents were happy to dump me with the Kramers all day every day. Oh, they came to pick me up at night and put me to bed in my own room, but I spent more time at Belle's house than I did my own. I certainly have more fond childhood memories of Belle's mom than I do of

Mother.

Belle and I were in junior high when her mom passed away. I was as heartbroken as she was. Belle's dad withdrew into his work after his wife's death. My mother had always been a workaholic, and was partner in a firm that kept her at the office close to eighty hours a week. So that left Belle and me with a Lot of time alone. Well, not alone. We had each other, and she was the sister I never had. We walked home from junior high together, and then rode our bikes to high school. The day after I got my license, Belle was strapped in the passenger seat the next morning for our first drive to school. We didn't even need to discuss the matter. It was just assumed she would be there.

We spent all afternoon at either her house or mine. Belle's dad at least always came home for dinner, so the three of us would spend that time together. But after dinner I would go into my big empty house alone. Maybe two nights out of five during the weekdays, Mother would come home before I fell asleep. She worked a lot of Saturdays as well.

Sundays she tried to make an effort to bond with her only child, which usually involved having brunch together and awkwardly talking about school and stuff before disappearing for the rest of the afternoon. But

I could tell she was going through the motions to assuage her own guilt and that was it. Didn't matter. I stopped caring once I started high school.