My stretch marks and my softness make his dick rise and worship at the altar of my fat ass. We sometimes play a game where he runs the tip of his tongue down the length of one stretch mark “ from top to bottom “ and then down the next, from the stretch marks at the tops of my tits to the stretch marks at my pubic line. Sometimes I roll over and he licks from my armpit down to the stretch marks that crisscross my lower back and then down, down, down to the confetti collection at the backs of my knees.

He’d asked me to open up the door to my building with my size 18 low rider jeans and a white t-shirt tied up in a knot under my 40DDs. Cheetah print push-up bra. My long, curly black hair swept to the side. Red lipstick. No panties. I could see his anticipatory erection. He already knew what he was going to see and his dick reacted appropriately.

We met on the train. He lived about 10 stops away. I’d seen him maybe 5 times before, always looking at me while I talked on the phone or painted my nails. I’d look up at him, lift an eyebrow as if to say: “You again? Still window shopping, huh? Finally, one day I sat close enough that he could eavesdrop on my conversation. He rode past his stop and chimed in: “I agree with you, he’d said, inviting himself into a political argument (about xenophobia and assimilation) I’d been having with my best friend over the phone. I smiled. He was ballsy. I am no novice to the flirtatious glances of strangers, but had long ago vowed not to bother with boys who didn’t have the nuts to approach me. If they couldn’t get up the nerve then they couldn’t handle me.

He tried to fuck me that first time we met. He walked me home, told me he did his own tattoos and that he’d do anything to see me naked. I told him he could call me. He leaned in to kiss my cheek and I felt his hard cock against my outer thigh. I masturbated thinking about the way he smelled, what he must sound like when he cums. He took me to dinner twice and then for a late night walk on the beach. He pushed his thick tongue into my mouth as his open eyes “ dark, pupils dilated – stared into mine, reaching under my shirt, rubbing my belly. “You’re making me hard, he said in my ear, raspy and accusatory. I told him his erection wasn’t my problem. He smiled: “Oh, it’s gonna be. He pushed me against the cold breaker, put one of my hands against the back of his head, pulled the other behind my back and shoved his hand into my pants, under my panties. His thumb against my clit, two fingers inside.

“You like this, don’t you?

I stuck my tongue out at him. I’m a bratty feminist bottom whose radical politics somehow stopped shy of nixing straight guys with dominant tendencies. He flicked his finger up and down at the opening of my pussy, eliciting that sticky sound of wetness; we could both hear it indicting me. He bit my lip, held my wrist tighter. “Oh, I think you do. Your pussy is dripping wet. I could hear his breath, loud and sharp. His dick was thick against his jeans. “I like a substantial pussy, a chubby pussy just like yours. He pulled his hand out, running his fingers under his nose, licking them and then kissing me deep again. Lemony.

He walked me home, kissed me on the forehead and told me that he hoped to see me later. He adjusted himself as he walked away. I masturbated again. I knew what he was doing. I had said no once and now he was going to drive me slowly mad through a series of half-rejections; he was going to make me beg.

It took several more dates to convince him to come up to my place. He didn’t unbutton my jeans. He pulled them down mid-thigh, lifted my legs up held together at the ankle, my ass on the edge of the bed. He was on one knee and he ate my pussy like that, a chubby split fig wedged between my full thighs, fucking me with his tongue, my jeans grazing his forehead. I could hear him unzip and take his dick out. I could hear him jacking his cock as he ate my pussy. I wanted to taste him, but he held me there, pushed my thighs back further so I couldn’t move. “No, no, baby. No cock for you. Not tonight. I begged for the first time. I was flushed with anger, frustration, arousal. He said I could look at it, but no touching. He made me sit all the way back on my bed, hands folded in my lap. He stood up and there it was: a thick, long, hard cock wet on the tip. He stroked it slow, looking at my face. “Show me your titties. My inclination was to say no, but instead I unbuttoned my blouse.

The sound of his hand going up and down harder made my nipples tingle at the tips. I squeezed them together, the tops of my areolas spilling over the lacy pushup bra. “Unbutton all the way, he said. His voice getting labored, intentional, slow. “Show me your hot body. I slowly unbuttoned all the way down, exposing my sternum, my belly folds. He was beating his cock at that point, pumping his fist all the way up and down like a piston. He grabbed the edge of the bed. “You’re gonna make me cum, he said open-mouthed. I tried to crawl over so he could finish on my tits, but he held me back by the shoulder, put his dick away and told me that he’d come over again in 3 days. “Wear those jeans and a little white shirt next time. I’m going to eat that little pussy til you cream and then I’m going to fuck you til you scream.

He closed the door and I fingered myself, biting my pillow, replaying the scene of him beating his dick in my head.

Three days came and went and he showed up at the door of my building, smiling. He took one step inside and then pushed me against the wall, deep kissing me as he squeezed my tits and my belly, my back fat, my ass, my thighs. He made the sounds of a hungry man eating delicious things. I tried to get him to go into my apartment, but he kept me there in the hallway. He pulled my t-shirt up over my bra. “Anyone could walk by right now, I told him, panicked and wet. He didn’t say anything. He just started kissing the tops of my tits and squeezing my ass. I repeated myself. He replied: “Then everyone would know that you’re my hot slut. It’s better that they know now because once you start screaming every night they’re gonna find out. I was shaking and tingling. He got back to kissing my tits and then my belly.

“I need to fuck you now. Now. Right now. I hoped that this would get us inside and his dick in me. He kissed me hard and led me backwards into my apartment. He closed the door. It was dark and I could hear our labored breath, our wet tongues, our awkward foot steps. He turned on the light and sat down on a chair in the kitchen, asked me to take everything off. I was shy. “This is what your body does to me, he rubbed his hard dick through his pants. “I saw you on that train so many times, watched you getting other dudes’ cocks all hard. They can’t handle you. I knew you were a slut when I saw you. I knew you were going to be my slut.

I started with the t-shirt and then the jeans. My olive toned thighs, tits and low back accented with lighter stretch marks. My pants weren’t all the way off when he grabbed me and pushed me, belly down, on the kitchen table. He spread my ass cheeks and pushed his face in. His tongue was running all around and in and out of my asshole. He ran his hands up and down the sides of my body as he tongue-fucked my asshole and then my pussy and then my asshole again. “You taste so good. You feel so good. Your smooth asshole is making me drip.

His strong hands, which usually held me in the places he wanted me to stay, let go and I turned around, sitting down on the chair. I lifted one leg, throwing it over the arm of the chair, running my hand down, down, down (over my big tits and tummy and then the rounded pooch) to my pussy. I rubbed my clitty for him and then I grabbed his cock and put it in my mouth. He looked down at me concerned that he was going to choke me with his enormous cock and I looked up at him and took it all the way in. My nose touched his tummy and I could smell his cologne and the scent of clean laundry. I was way too horny to gag. I wanted him to fill me up in every single hole and his dick tasted so good: salty at the tip and clean skin all the rest of the way down.

“I want you inside, I told him.

“You think you deserve this fat cock in you?

“Mmm Hmmmm.

I got up and went into my bedroom. He followed, his erect dick leading the way. He took his shirt off and then his pants. His body was so sexy: beautiful chest, muscular arms and thighs.

“Put that ass up in the air.

I did what he said.

“If you want that cock you’re going to have to put it in yourself. He smirked. He knew that I was used to being the one in control, the one who had boys panting. He knew I would do anything for him. I reached behind me, grabbing the base of his cock. I got the head of his dick to touch the opening of my pussy. I put my hand back down under me and began to push back against his cock. The tip slipped in. We were both gasping. He put his hand on my ass, holding me, keeping me from getting him in further.

“Just the head. That’s all you get for now.

He fucked me with just the tip for as long as I could take it. I started tearing up from the frustration and lust. He was pissing me off with his stupid need to control me. I was loving it and hating myself and him for it. I started to pull away, let his dick slip out of me. He grabbed my ankle. “Are you being a little brat? Bratty girl just wants to be filled up with cock, doesn’t she? She doesn’t like it when boys say no. He got up on the bed spreading my legs apart and shoving his dick all the way in with one long stroke. I gasped. His dick head hit my cervix. Again. Again. Again. Again. I was slowly pulling away from him but his cock followed me and managed to pump me hard each time.

“I can’t take it. My pussy had underestimated him.

“Aww. You can’t take it? I think you can, he said softly, mockingly as he pushed into me even harder. “Your pussy just keeps getting wetter and wetter. He fucked me like that for close to 2 hours. Taking his big cock made me sweat and scream and cry. I was in an altered state of consciousness. Every time I told him I couldn’t take it he fucked me harder and deeper.

A few times he stopped, laid on top of me and kissed my mouth and my forehead, telling me how good I was being and that he was proud of how well I was taking his cock. He’d lick my sweat and my tears and tell me about how amazing my ass jiggle was or tell me how beautiful I was and then he would get back to fucking the shit out of me. We would fuck like that for hours until the sun was about to come up and the floor was strewn with gold condom packages. I would cum with him inside of me and then I would feel his dick shooting a load in me. Sometimes I would wear a pair of fishnets and he would rip a hole in them, and make the hole bigger and bigger as we fucked so he could see more and more of my big ass. He would sleep spooning me, one hand on my tits and the other on my belly or cupping my chubby fig, his cock resting against my ass crack.

He told me once that the jiggle was always what sent him over the edge.

Good Vibrations

Good Vibrations is the premiere sex-positive, women-principled adult toy retailer in the US. An iconic brand and one of the world's first sex toy shops to focus specifically on women's pleasure and sexual education, Good Vibrations was founded by Joani Blank in 1977 to provide women with a safe, welcoming and non-judgmental place to shop for erotic toys. Good Vibrations has always included all people across the gender spectrum, and is a place where customers can come for education, high quality products, and information promoting sexual health, pleasure and empowerment. Customers can shop Good Vibrations' expertly curated product selection across any of its nine retail locations or on the GoodVibes.com website, where they can also find a wealth of information pertaining to sexual pleasure, exploration and education.

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