My Love and I: A True Story

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My love is a BBW.

She is a BBW with all that connotes, the zest for life, the sensuality, everything.

She is heavy, though not as heavy as some. She likes to eat and is not ashamed of that. She likes all that the senses can provide her. She loves to sing, dance – she is a surprisingly skilful dancer — and read, write, listen to music. She’s sensual and natural; she loves to go barefoot, to sleep in the nude, and when alone at home she seldom or never wears any clothes. And she loves sex. My, does she love sex.

I still remember the first time I met her, in real life (we’d been corresponding over the net for over a year before that). Since we are from different countries and half the world lay between, I had to fly to her. It was a complicated process involving two days’ journey for me, three changes of aeroplane, and virtually no sleep; so when I arrived at her place in the late afternoon I was practically sleepwalking. We hugged, and kissed, but all I wanted to do was fall asleep, and I hit the bed as soon as I could get unpacked.

Around ten that evening I woke to a gentle stroking of my brow and face. I opened my eyes and found her standing by my bedside, completely naked. The dim light through the window (it was summer and the extreme Northern latitudes, near the Arctic Circle) shone on her bare white body and the curve of her breasts and belly. Still half asleep, I slid over toward the wall and she got into bed beside me. We hugged and kissed, and her hands slipped under my shorts and T-shirt to rub my rapidly arousing body.

You have to understand that although my body was prepared for sex, my mind was jet-lagged, half-asleep with exhaustion and still on autopilot. I had naturally known that we’d have a lot of sex together but had never actually imagined that it would happen within a couple of hours of my arrival. (Later she told me that she had simply been unable to keep off me.) As my hands naturally slid over her breasts to cup her nipples, she began to sigh and moan. My hands slid lower over her belly and found pendik escort the moist cleft of her vulva. She was already wet and opened for me easily as I slid a finger in. My previous lover had hated me doing this, and had long since banned me from finger-fucking her (not much to be surprised that we broke up, huh?). Not this woman. She raised her hips to allow my finger deeper access, and I slid in and out of her warm wet vagina, my finger encountering the little bump of her G spot. And when she came, she sighed and trembled from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

A little later I discovered that I was naked. I have no memory of removing my clothes and I don’t recall her removing them either. Does it matter? I was naked, and we embraced, our nude bodies touching, and I buried my face between her breasts and kissed her nipples, feeling them crinkle and harden under my tongue.

She lay down on her back and urged me on her. I entered her easily, holding myself up on my arms so my pelvis was pressed against hers, feeling her take me in and hold me inside her, and as I moved, she undulated under me, her vagina clasping my penis until she came, and again, she came.

I didn’t have an orgasm that first time with her. But there were many more times for the two of us. I stayed with her for a while, then she stayed with me, and then we made some employment and other adjustments and moved in together. That’s where things are right now.

Sex between us has become a choreographed affair in some ways, with some predictable sequences, but never boring. We have done it so many times we know and react instinctively to anticipate each other’s moves, to fulfill each other’s unarticulated needs. (No, we do have problems, but not in bed. In bed, she’s the best partner I ever had, and she says I’m the best partner she ever had, and she’s fucked a great many more men than I have fucked women.)

Let me, then, describe a typical lovemaking session between us.

We come together, kissing, our lips and tongues searching, exploring. maltepe escort Our hands holding each other, palm to palm, fingers entwined. She pushes her breasts into my chest, her crotch rubs against my thigh as she parts her legs and comes up against me. We take off our clothes almost as in a dance; not that she ever has much to take off on these occasions anyway, a housecoat and her panties if she’s wearing any. When we’re both nude, we’re still kissing and rubbing against each other, and she’s beginning to breathe harder, and I am too.

We lie on the bed, side by side. I kiss her breasts, and cup the areolae and nipples with the palm of my hand. She has very large pink areolae, so the actual nipples look small. When they erect the skin of the centre of the areolae crinkles up as well — a very erotic sight.

I dislike being touched too much before sex. It’s simply that if I get too stimulated I can’t last long. So when she touches me she leaves my penis strictly alone. So while her hands are roving up and down my flanks, my fingers slip inside her cleft and then into her vagina. I use the middle finger of my hand to press on the front wall of her vagina and on the bump of her G spot, slipping in her increasing wetness till she comes in a sighing, shuddering orgasm. She is multi-orgasmic, so that’s all right. Sometimes I go on to oral sex. Not each time though. The anticipation of whether I will or won’t is a turn-on for her. If I do, I kneel between her legs and part her thighs, exposing her pink, beautiful cunt. I spread the lips of it apart and breathe in the warm, moist salty smell of her. With my tongue I lick up and down her cleft. Her clit is small but accessible, and I find the nub of it under its little hood. She sighs and begins grinding against my face, humping against me until she comes. Sometimes she does not come and then I stop licking before she becomes sore. It’s all right if she doesn’t come then; the main part of the session is till to come.

We have sex in several positions, but the most common has her kartal escort lying on her back, holding her legs up and apart with her hands, while I — supporting myself with my hands — lean over her, my feet on the floor, in the “standing missionary” post. In this position I can pres my penis into her vagina, and as I do I can feel her lips opening to my pressing penis. The head of my circumcised penis slips up and down her moist cleft, and I thrust only a little way into her, almost withdrawing only to thrust a little way in again, driving her wild. In her position, legs up and apart, she can’t push upwards to get my penis inside her. She’s spread, helpless, mine to torture sweetly as long as I please. I keep it up as long as I can, watching her closed eyes, her flushed cheeks, her heaving bare breasts. I savour every instant of my penis’ slipping between her inner lips, so near to her vagina and yet so far, before I can no longer wait and slowly slide my penis deep into her welcoming vagina. I can feel her vaginal walls enfold my throbbing hardness as she sighs in ecstasy as I press into her. I thrust, and she responds, feeling the ridged head of my glans rub inside her, my pubis press against hers, and when she comes, she does so shuddering, crying out loud.

Afterwards, if I haven’t orgasmed (and I can stay like this for a long time without orgasm) she gets up and keels on the bed, and I get behind her, still standing, and slip into her. Rear entry is intensely exciting for me because I can look down and watch my penis vanish into her pink cunt; the lips of her vagina clasp my penis, glistening with her fluids, as I thrust in and out. My body surges forward as hers drives back, we come together with little audible slaps as a counterpoint to our sighs and heavy breathing. It’s so stimulating that I can never last long in this position, and soon enough I feel the final tension build in my perineum and scrotum, and, trembling, I grab her hips and thrust into her as my penis erupts in a spasm of pleasure, and I spurt into her and she thrusts backwards against me, my orgasm throwing her over the edge of a final one of her own.

I don’t care what some people say about BBWs; they are women, and love as women. And a BBW can be a hell of a lot better in bed than some of the slim’n’trim persuasion.

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