BBW Backs against the Wall (~BBW ~SEX)

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Gooney87

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Joined
Dec 1, 2019
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63
Location
The Netherlands
Some moments later the fireplace in a corner of the cabin has a nice fire going. The two teens are spread out on a rug in front of it. Next to them an opened bottle of red wine and two empty glasses. And it’s not the first time they’ve been refilled either. The two are close together, cuddling and talking about music when Nina feels Tom's hands slowly slide up her leg. She looks at him, a faint smile on her lips and that fuzzy feeling bubbling up inside of her. She puts her hands on his waist and starts tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer. Her lips meet as he pulls her soft waist towards him, her breasts smashed against his chest. They kiss passionately, their tongues intermingling. Slowly Nina pulls Tom to the floor, still entangled in each other. Tom’s hands boldly make their way across her back, kneading every inch of her soft skin. Suddenly he stops, an unknown object under his fingers.

“That would be my bra strap, Suße.” she says softly. He pauses a moment, gauges her reaction, before his fingers gently start working the hooks on her bra strap. Whenever one manages to unclip, the others seem to clip right back into place.

“Hold up sweetie.” Nina says as she pulls her body upright, sticking her arms in her shirt and messing around in there.

Tom gets up too, looking at the floor and turning a shade of red. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. Maybe this is all a bit rushed, and…” He is interrupted mid-sentence by the sight of Nina’s large lace bra gracefully flying across the room, landing in a corner with a solid thud.

She feels her nipples harden at the sight of Tom’s face as he is suddenly confronted with her heavy breasts swinging freely in her white top. His hands enclose her fat waist, squeezing every roll as he works his way towards her now-unconstrained breasts. Her breath quickens.

“Na und? Now it’s your turn” she breathes as she eyes his body. Tom takes off his shirt and casts it aside. Quickly his warm hands find their way back under the sheer fabric. She can’t help but moan softly as Tom reaches towards one of her breasts, carefully lifting it, feeling its weight in his hands, massaging it gently. Full of lust she eyes his growing member trying to force its way out through his pants.
This. This is the moment she’s been waiting for since the moment they left for Dresden. Away from everyone. Finally alone together.
Her hands move towards his jeans, gently unbuckling them while looking deep into his brown eyes. Tom rises to remove his pants, adding them to the growing pile of clothing next to the two horny teenagers. His cock springs forward. Nina gasps. That’s... more than she reckoned.

“Now I believe it’s your turn” Tom says as he eyes her shirt with lustful eyes. Nina hesitates for a moment. She’s never been a skinny girl, and since puberty as an early teen hit she’s not exactly been shy in the chest-department. And the weight kept creeping up, pushing her belly outward and her heavy breasts upward. Normally she hides them under layers of clothing, but there is no hiding now. What if Tom thinks she’s too fat? What if he’s repulsed by her obese body? She looks at him, goofy smile on his face as he eyes her heavy breasts.
The last time she measured herself was a few months ago, and they were a 95H back then. Weighing them proved to be a hassle, but at her best guestimate they must weigh at least 4 kilos per side. Still nothing compared to the 103 kilos she weighed overal at a doctor's visit last year.

“Don’t you men all want the same thing?” she mutters half-jokingly as she slowly peels off her shirt. The fabric rides up her belly, and with a soft plop her fat gut drops in her lap. Well, this is it, Nina thinks to herself. Tom’s going to see you naked, all your rolls and all your stretch marks. No going back now.

Tom gently puts a hand on her fat midriff. Instinctively she wants to pat it away, but she lets him. This is Tom. He… maybe likes this? Further up the shirt rides, revealing the bottom of her H-cup breasts jiggling and swinging with every move she makes. That’s one advantage to her weight distribution; her boobs still outpace her belly, making it easier to hide under wide-fitting dresses.
She can hear Tom’s breath quicken as more and more of the soft, white tit-flesh is exposed. The moistness between her legs increases with every happy sound her boyfriend makes. The hem slips past one nipple, causing a mild wave of enjoyment to wash over her. Then the other. Tom’s strong hands are still molding her midriff, moving slowly down. As the shirt clears her head she feels that familiar jolt forward as her heavy breasts settle on her fat belly and into Tom’s waiting hands.

She looks down to see Tom fondling her one of her breasts with one hand, while the other slowly makes its way over her soft belly, stopping briefly to trace a stretch mark before continuing towards her underwear. She pulls his face up by his chin, beaming a smile at him. Look at him, enjoying himself. She lays back down and feels how he massages her swollen labia through her by-now soaked underwear. A moan escapes as a wave of pleasure washes over her. That was unexpected. She helps him by removing her soggy underwear.

Tom takes his off too, and his cock spring to life. He leans in, kissing her passionately while his hand still works her wet pussy. She twitches from joy as he slowly goes his way down her body with his tongue. It feels amazing to have Tom’s lips latch onto one of her nipples, massaging and sucking them with his mouth and one hand. Sure, when she’s home alone she occasionally does things under the shower, but this, here, right now, with him is so much more intense. Her muscles tense up, an orgasm isn’t too far away now.

“I need you.” she says softly as her body builds up a new wave of joy. “Right. Now.” He starts mumbling something about condoms, but it’s completely lost on the girl as her body starts throbbing. Her hands dig into the carpet as Tom’s hands work their magic on her. She looks up at him, her blue eyes filled with lust and desire. Her hands grab his cock, shining in the light of the fire, and guide it to where it needs to go.

“Oh. Mein. Gott.” she moans softly as Tom penetrates her. It hits all the right spots. She grabs one of his hands and guides it towards her chest. He gets the hint, gently tugging on her nipples and massaging the heavy fat. Her nipples, sensitive under his palms, stiffen further.

“You’re so hot.” Tom grunts. “So soft and delicious.” His voice is low, gravely. Nina likes this side of him. She tries to reply but all she can do is moan.

She can feel him moving inside her, in and out, stretching her pussy with every thrust. Shaking wildly in time with his pelvic movement she’s glad that he’s holding her breasts, otherwise this might have ended painfully for her. A new orgasm starts to build in her loins. Twice in a row. That’s something. She tenses up against him, pushing him in even deeper with every thrust of his body.

“Ohff.. I’m..cu...” she moans louder. Her hands pawing the rug the two teens have been laying on. She tries to hold back, give Tom a chance to catch up, but she can’t. She spams wildly, her belly flopping over to one side as her body turns slightly. Tom groans, and just as she feels herself coming down from the high a good orgasm brings her she can feel his rock hard cock squirt deep inside her, pulsing hot liquid into her wet femaleness. Her eyes roll back for another orgasm. Unexpected. Nearly out of breath. Heart pounding in her chest. One giant wave rolls over her. She lets out a short yelp as she once again climaxes harder than before. Good thing the neighbors are kilometers away. As she comes down from her high, watching Tom roll off to the side of her, completely spent, all she can think about how much this impromptu workout is going to hurt tomorrow morning.
 

Gooney87

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Messages
63
Location
The Netherlands
The next day, Tom and Nina spend some quality time together. They had a wonderful breakfast, mostly prepared from things Nina managed to scrounge together from what they brought in the car, combined with things she found in the nearby woods. Both agreed that after all the excitement from last night they’d spend a day just lazing around. As the morning turns into noon it starts warming up quite rapidly. It is, afterall, early August and the sun shines quite brightly on the woods near Dresden. The two teens have taken shelter in a shady area on the side of the wooden cabin.

“Hey Nina...” Tom says as he fans himself with some paper “...I wonder what the water is like out there.” He points his thumb towards the cool stream near the front door.

“I don’t know sweetie. Probably beats sitting around here and melting away.” Nina replies as she repositions her sticky sun dress that’s been clinging to her bosoms.

Tom gets up and walks indoors. She hears him rummaging around, and moments later he emerges wearing a rather green pair of swimming trunks. He gives her a wink as he dives in. Nina watches his body as he enters the water, that familiar feeling from last night bubbling up again. If only she could make this moment last forever.

“You coming or what? It’s really nice! And clear too!” Tom shouts from the stream. He playfully splashes a bit of water in her direction.

“Sure!” Nina replies. “Just lemme get changed.” She heaves herself out of the low chair and walks indoors. The inside of the cabin is even hotter than outside. Sure, the nights may be rather chilly, but that doesn’t take away that around noon the sun heats up the wooden structure like there’s no tomorrow. She walks over to the bed and grabs her duffel bag she hastily packed back in Berlin. With a thud its contents get dumped on the bed. Shirts, underwear, hiking boots (as if!), but not the bathing suit she was looking for.

“Now where is that…” she mutters as she digs through her clothing, trying to find the blue polyester one-piece bathing suit she had managed to find after an extensive search at the many Kaufhälle of Berlin. The one bathing suit that rode the fine line between form-fitting over her womanly curves without squashing her into the shape of a large-breasted casserole, and still providing enough support to prevent her saggy bits from..well.. sagging. She carefully laid it on the bed back home. Then she packed in her toiletries from the bathroom, she remembers quite clearly. But then? Lisa barged in, asking her some inate question, but did she ever continue packing?

“Scheiße. It’s still on the bed.” she concludes. She sighs. After all this planning she can’t even go for a quick dip with her boyfriend. “Good job Frau Chaotin.” Outside the splashing sounds of Tom draw her attention. But what if she were to… improvise? There’s nobody around but them after all.

She undresses slowly in front of the lengthy mirror at the foot end of the bed. Her breasts settle against her round belly as she pulls her shirt and bra over her head. She bends down to remove her skirt, struggling to see past her round midsection. Some women get double bellies, she once noticed on a trip to the swimming pool, but not her. Her belly is one big round bell shape, sagging ever so slightly over the waistband of her skirts but mostly projecting outwards. This is why she wears those loose knitted sweaters. They hide things. She’s used to men staring at her chest; that’s just a fact of life when one has to shop in the maternity section for H-cup bras. But any attention she can divert away from her midsection is welcome.

She’s always been ‘built well’, as they say. As a kid she was just a little chubby, but as puberty hit and the secret stash of candy in the double floor of her bedside table took on larger proportions she gained quite a bit of weight. She soon outgrew the training bras her mother bought her, promoting to the adult section of the underwear department by the age of 12. Her hips kept the pace up with what was going on upstairs, making it ever more difficult to wear those jeans all the cool kids were wearing. Her wardrobe contained large sweaters and loose skirts, hiding herself away from the world. Which would increase the frequency of those little moments late at night where, after a good crying session, she’d dip into her secret stash of chocolate compounding the problem.

Tom doesn’t seem to mind though, she ponders. He’ll gladly throw a hand around her waist and pull her in close while secretly kneading her rolls. He’s...different. Sure, he too is swayed by the siren song of her heaving bosoms, but more than once she caught him fondling her belly, or putting his hand on her wide hips. What does he see in her?

She sighs as she looks in the long mirror. This is her now, with stretchmarks on the tops of her breasts and down the side of her belly, and of course the scars on her back. What would Tom say? Would he ask about the marks on her back? And would she answer truthfully?

She hears more splashing sounds outside. It is quite warm, and the cool water beckons.

“Screw it. Live a little, Frau Conservativ!” she says firmly to her own reflection. Tom is just going to have to deal with this. She inspects herself one last time before she grabs the doorknob and walks out of the cabin as naked as the day she was born.

“Coming Suße!” she shouts as she steps outside. Everything that can jiggle on her body keeps time with her strides “Couldn’t find my bathing suit. Decided to go for a different look. You don’t mind the au naturel-thing, do you?”

Tom is frozen in the water as he looks at Nina. “Wha.. I… Sure!” His eyes grow wide as he takes in all of her. This afternoon just took a turn for the interesting.

Nina’s gaze drifts downwards. Much to her relief, if not slight bewonderment, she notices the sight of her fat, naked body standing there causes quite a stir in Tom’s swimming trunks. God bless men like him. She wades into the cool water, hugging Tom tightly, making sure that her breasts are in good contact with his broad chest. She can feel he doesn’t mind any of this in the least.

“Good. Because this is me. All of me. A fat German Tussi who loves you to the end of the world and back.” she says as she looks him in the eyes. Their lips interlock as her hands grab his butt firmly.
 

Gooney87

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Joined
Dec 1, 2019
Messages
63
Location
The Netherlands
Chapter 21 - Suits, ties, and loose ends

Every day spells roughly the same routine for Olivier Offenhausen. The fifty-six year old man jolts awake to the sound of his alarm clock, does a quick stretch before washing himself with water that on good days might actually get somewhat lukewarm, gets dressed and has a cup of coffee, a cigarette, and perhaps some slices of bread for breakfast. He then kisses his wife and kids goodbye before climbing in his yellow Wartburg and heading off to the soup can factory for work. On the way over he usually listens to some soft classical music if the traffic isn’t too busy, or chooses to suffer the Berlin traffic in silence if the mood strikes him. A few blocks before arriving at the large factory at the edge of Berlin he then steers his yellow car sharply off the main road, passing through some nondescript side streets before arriving at a tall yellow building on the Normannstraße. Olivier then parks his car out of sight at the back of the building where all the other employees park, and heads towards his office inside of the yellow monolith. Heading up the stairs he usually stops by the cafeteria for a fresh cup of coffee; afterall, the insta-coffee at home is nice and all, but it can’t hold a candle to the freshly ground bean juice they serve here at the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit.

Today isn’t a particularly remarkable day for Olivier so far, he notices as he slides behind his desk cradling a steaming fresh cup of joe. On his desk, next to the typewriter and the electric kettle used to steam open letters - and when the boss isn’t looking, make a hot beverage -, lay a small stack of field reports to be typed out, properly annotated, and then sent neatly filed to the large archive downstairs, probably never to see the light of day again. Not exactly his dream job, but the best that was still available to him considering the circumstances.

He carefully takes a sip, savoring the moment before sighing as he grabs the first sheet. A short report from a middle-aged woman from Potzdam writing about her husband. Nothing exciting. The poor fellow probably made a remark or an inappropriate joke on the work floor at some point to exactly the wrong person, and now has irked the State to the point where they pressured his beloved wife into reporting on his every doing for the rest of his natural life. Sidenote being that this man most likely has nothing interesting going for him, but that one incident warrants a mark on his permanent record regardless.
The man probably got persuaded at some point to follow people of his own, just as his wife is being reported upon by yet more people. A perfect circle of accountability.
Olivier assumes there are people writing reports on him this very moment. Normal people, recruited by the Stasi to be Informal Collaborators using some form of leverage, all reporting on their friends, neighbors, and co-workers, making sure they wouldn’t derail and join the Unwanteds.

The report the lady wrote is fairly short, to the point, and utterly uninteresting. A brief insight into her husband’s shaving ritual, wishes for the coming couple of dinners, and which ties he likes best. (The brown one if he’s wearing the plaid suit, otherwise one of the grey ones, for the record.) Useful information to identify a possible dissident early, clearly. But like every other report brought in from the field this too has to find its way into the large archive. All of the information in one location. That’s what keeps things running smoothly around these parts of Berlin.

Olivier buckles down behind the keyboard of his typewriter. The woman’s handwriting is difficult to read, and this warrants a bit of his attention. Over the years he’s gotten used to all kinds of penmanship. From the perfectly manicured lettering of a school teacher to the hastily penned-down scribbles of someone out on the streets.

The door of his office creaks as it opens. His chef enters, clearly ruffled and looking rather sour.

“Herr Offenhausen, we have to talk. There’s a rather serious... situation.” he says in a hushed tone. “Can you step into my office?” The man leans on the door frame, steading himself. “...Right the hell now. Großmann’s on my back and asking for you personally.

Olivier looks at the typewriter on his desk, flanked by the large stack of papers. He nods. Whatever information suits-and-tie-man has to offer surely can wait. If Werner Großmann, chief of the Ministerium’s foreign affairs department is asking for him personally it can’t be good.

Großmann’s office is a floor up from the workfloor where Olivier’s desk is. Until five years ago Olivier had his own office here, overlooking the small square outside. But after a rather spectacularly failed observation deployment he got banned downstairs to steam open envelopes and type out reports. The office is sparsely decorated, the large wooden desk adorned with a single telephone. Probably a straight line to Egon Krenz. Opposite Olivier, dwarfing the man’s slim frame is an older heavyset man, looking rather frumpy and dissatisfied with current affairs.

“Listen. Remember that young girl that got romantically involved with that Dutch kid?” the older deputy leader asks as he slides a rather substantial manilla archive folder towards Olivier. He marvels at the sheer heft of it. There must be hundreds of pages worth of information in there.

“Codename Lena. I think she was called Nikolina or something old-school Soviet like that. Tragic story. She died in the chaos when the Unwanteds blew up our old office in the Wiederanschluß if I’m not mistaken.” he flubs. Of course Olivier remembers Nina. She’s the reason he no longer has his corner office overlooking the square he likes so much.

“You’ll never guess who got picked out of the queue by our Polish friends at their border with the Soviet Union?” Großmann slides a grainy photo taken by a security camera across the table. Olivier looks at it. The chubby teenager he pulled out of the rubble more dead than alive blossomed into a rather plump young woman, he noticed. A bit rounder, hair slightly unkempt, but otherwise unmistakably Nina in that queue. He feels a small amount of pride to hear she’s alive and well, but hides it for his superior. He fakes surprise as he hands the photo back across the desk.
 

Gooney87

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Joined
Dec 1, 2019
Messages
63
Location
The Netherlands
“She looks pretty damn spritely for a dead gal.” Großmann remarks. “And guess what she was carrying?”

Olivier shrugs. In the last couple of months of 1989 Nina was a giant pain in his rear. He tried his best to prevent the Stasi from literally murdering a young woman for loving the wrong person, while at the same time letting just enough information trickle through to make sure that her sincere attempts at ‘diplomacy’ with the Dutch kid were interpreted for the good by the higher-ups. Somewhere he hoped she’d try a Republikflucht and stay gone. And then all of a sudden she showed up at Checkpoint Friedrichstraße pretending to be a West-German girl in a drug-filled car. If only she just tried to flee with the Dutch kid or something, he would have pulled some strings, got her excommunicated from the DDR, and made her someone else’s problem for a change. But no, she had to pick the hardest way out. Whatever the girl was carrying with her at the Polish border it probably isn’t going to pan out well for him, he feels.

He fakes a smile. “Clean underwear, a toothbrush, and a short course in Polish for Beginners perhaps?” The joke is fully lost on Großmann, eliciting nothing but a quick grumble.

“If only. She was carrying a suitcase filled with highly interesting and rather classified information from our….” he pauses for sarcastic purposes… “...friends.. in the Soviet Union. Information we’d rather not see end up anywhere but inside of our borders. Information we traded with two prisoners and an American dictionary. Needless to say our fearless leader would very much like the damn thing back. And don’t ask me how, but somehow that dumb fat broad left that very suitcase at the Polish border, by accident. Of course, they opened it, and then decided that…” he pauses as his nostrils start flaring “... it’d be best sent back to the Kremlin. Where some more people opened it up, decided that all of these secret relays, handlers, and drop-offs are quite unnecessary if you can just use regular post services to ship your state secrets!”

Olivier’s mouth drops. As soon as he saw that picture of Nina he knew there’d be work in it for him, but he never saw coming that the young girl was probably involved in some elaborate international spy game.

“As you might imagine I’d like to have a chat with her. About that suitcase and its contents, and of course how it’s possible that as we speak, right now, I’m holding her death certificate which coincidentally was signed by a doctor who at that time was quite friendly with us.”

Olivier tilts his head. Nina had a penchant for getting into trouble, certainly. But this? And if she’s in Poland, why is this his problem? Out of all of the things he expected he’d be doing today, looking for a woman who was presumed to be dead to the state and bringing her in for partaking in some high-level spy operation wasn’t very high on his list.

“This morning the Berlin police received a missing person’s report for her, stating that she very likely travelled to Berlin in search of something-or-another. This means that right now just about every police officer in this great city of ours has a description in his pocket and is out looking for her. If they find here they’ll probably give her a pat on the head and ship her back to wherever the hell she crawled out from….”

Olivier nods. Of course. It’s late October, and where else would she be but in Berlin? If he could remember where exactly he was that night five years ago finding her might prove easier than imagined.

“...That means there’s no chance of us getting that suitcase back. You know her best, considering your past with this particular individual. Find her, and bring her in. I don’t care how, just make sure she can still talk!” Großmann says as he nods towards the fat folder. “I don’t think I need to tell you how much this matters to us.”

“I think I might know what’s going on. I could certainly use my past experience with her to track her down.” Olivier says. “Of course, this means reinstating my old rank and privileges along with it.” A gamble, but judging by the situation, one that might work.
 

Gooney87

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Joined
Dec 1, 2019
Messages
63
Location
The Netherlands
Chapter 22 - Time and again

Nina drags herself back on the cold, wet streets of Berlin. It has started sleeting but the girl hardly takes any notice of the icy precipitation. Her leg hurts like hell, moreso than usual. She has to stop frequently, leaning on something just to catch her breath and motivate herself to keep going. Her brain is foggy, unsure of what just happened in that U-Bahn station. She can remember running from the police, then tripping on something and hitting the floor. After that, a haze.

Someone helped her up, that much is for sure. There’s no way she’d heave her fat body off the floor by herself, especially not like this. Getting up from the floor without help has been a challenge in itself in the past, especially with all the weight she gained over the years. She never was much of a flexible girl and her extra padding is dragging her down more and more these days. Natalya remarked on it once after helping her get up from laying flat on the floor. She was quick to blame her knee but being at least double the weight of her Russian friend isn’t helping matters much.

So she got up off the floor of that station. But then what? She must have stumbled into a subway car, as she can vaguely recall crying while staring into a dark tunnel. She’s tired. Emotionally drained. She needs warmth, sleep, and preferably a hot cup of something. She’s fairly certain she got off of a train at the right stop, but did she take a wrong turn somewhere? She’s not too familiar with this part of the town near Jörg’s apartment, and the less steps she has to force her body to take the better it is.
A street sign in the distance. Nina squints. She can barely make out the letters, but it is the right street! She sighs, that little bit of information relights a fire in her. She tries to increase her pace a bit, stumbling as her body refuses to cooperate. She passes the Cafe Glasnost, with its fake cyrilic text on the wall. The lights are out and there’s nobody inside. Too bad, she could have done with some alcohol right about now.

“Scheiße” she mutters to herself as she gauges the stairs in front of her leading up to Jörg’s flat. She rubs her leg painfully, and she can feel her knee starting to swell up under her tights, throbbing with pain. Under normal circumstances she’s not much of a fan of stairs, but tonight, with her busted knee, they pose a nearly insurmountable challenge.

All is quiet in the apartment building. Heavy breathing is heard coming from the stairs in the hallway, accompanied by soft shuffling and the occasional whimper. Slowly but surely Nina makes her way up, leaning on the banister with her whole weight. The wooden construction groans with protest as all 140 kilos of her move from her good leg to the railing and back. Despite the cold Nina is sweating. As she reaches the landing on the first floor she sits down panting. Her knee is definitely swollen, and her leg is slowly going numb. She turns around and looks up the second flight of stairs.

“Come on girl. You can’t spend the night here.” she says to herself. “Get up. It’s just stairs.”
One hand on the banister, the other on the floor. “Eins, zwei, drei.. Uhg!” She forces herself up again. Slowly but surely she starts moving again. Her heavy footsteps echo through the empty stairwell of the building. As she reaches the second floor she puffs and huffs, her face red and sweat trickling down her back. Searching through her purse she finds a cigarette. With unsteady hands she lights it, its blue smoke filling her lungs and brain.

“Finally, a small moment of calm in this complete shitstorm of a night.” she mutters to herself as the smoke dissipates into the cold air in the stairwell.

She tries to open the front door, but it won’t budge. One more time she tries the door knob, but it refuses to turn. Of course it’s locked. Nina searches her pockets but cannot produce a key. She sighs. With a soft thud her forehead lands against the solid wooden door. Defeated by a doorknob. Emotionally drained she starts sobbing softly. All she wants to do is to collapse into bed. Not mess with a lock, or have to explain to everyone in the building why she’s pounding the door down in the middle of the night. Her foot shuffles the doormat a bit.

“The doormat. He wouldn’t...” A light bulb goes off in Nina’s head. Slowly she moves one leg back, tries to steady her weight down to the ground, leaning on the doorpost for balance. Her hands flip the mat and find a small metal object, laying on the bare concrete floor, ready to be used in case of an emergency. It turns the lock on the first try, despite a bit of rust.

The narrow hallway is dark, but the living room is dimly lit by a single light left on. Carefully she removes her shoes, coat, and dumps her bag under the coat rack, making sure to not make a single sound. Slowly she takes shuffling steps towards the room. The floor creaks in protest. Under the table lamp she finds a small, handwritten note.

“Hi Nina,
I tried to stay up but it just got too late and I went to bed. I don’t know where you are, but hope you safely find your way back to me. Just in case you haven’t eaten yet I left some leftovers in the fridge. It can’t match your cooking, but please help yourself to the pasta. A few minutes in the oven should pep it up quite nicely.

I heard sirens earlier this evening racing towards the center of town. I hope you stayed safe. Tell me all about your adventures tomorrow.

Love you lots,
~J”


She puts the note down and makes her way towards the kitchen. Her leg hurts so much, but the thought of food motivates her. She had some almost-not-stale bread at Lisa’s place, and while everything that happened tonight left her feeling queasy she would like some decent sustenance right about now. Going to bed on an empty stomach is the worst feeling in the world.

Nina is holding a plate steady as she maneuvers back towards the couch. The dim light from the kitchen stove helps her find her way somewhat, but she still has to be careful. She once remarked she had a considerable blind spot in front of her on the count of her ‘womanly curves’, and so she has to plan ahead when walking across unfamiliar terrain, moreso when holding a plate of pasta that is completely irreplaceable if it falls.

She sits down on the couch with a sigh. Behind her a door creaks open and she hears footsteps leading into the living room. She turns around and sees Jörg in the hallway, in his underwear, and clearly barely awake.

“I’m sorry babe, did I wake you?” she says softly.

“Nah, I couldn’t sleep much anyway knowing you were still outside.” the man answers as he sits down next to her. He looks at her and sees she’s been crying. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Well, actually, no. Not at all.” she says. She takes another bite, hoping to mask the tremor in her voice as she’s fighting back tears.

Jörg puts an arm around her. Nina cuddles up against him. He’s nice and warm. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks as he strokes her dark hair, noticing the bits of dirt and grime in it.

Nina thinks for a moment. “No, I’d rather not.” she concludes after a brief internal debate “Actually, I would just like to go to bed if it’s all the same to you.” His slow, steady breathing soothes her as the food in her lap finds its way to her stomach.

“If you want you can curl up in bed with me tonight, so at least you won’t be alone.” Jörg says, still playing with her hair.

Nina pauzes. His bed is probably a lot more comfortable than this couch, and he is nice and warm against her still-cold skin. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you.” she says as she pushes herself up off the couch and limps towards the bathroom.

“You’re welcome sweetheart” he says softly as he watches her voluptuous figure waddle down the hallway. As soon as the bathroom door closes he quietly adds “I love you.”

It doesn’t take long for Nina to fall asleep in Jörg’s bed. Her bedmate is still wide awake. In the soft light coming in from the streets below he can just about make out her amazing contours under the sheets. She’s laying on her side, facing away from him. Her shoulders taper into a broad back, with a few rolls here and there. Her waist looks soft and inviting, and her hips flare out to be the broadest part of her body from the rear. Every fiber in him tells him he should embrace her, kiss her neck softly and then gently make love to her. That’s what she needs right now.

He slowly puts his arm around her, feeling his hand and wrist being enveloped in her softness. He sighs softly and comes closer to her, feeling her warmth and soft skin. He pauzes, Nina moans in her sleep. It’s been too long since he’s held a woman like this. And here he is, with not just any woman but with Nina Fucking Müller. The woman that kept his mind occupied as a teenager, ogling her from across the classroom. Right here, in his bed. He hugs her, feels her. Slowly his hands move in towards her stomach, softly caressing her. She’s the one that started it all for him. His slow but steady disliking of skinny women. The first erection he ever had was over her. His first orgasm was thinking of her. And now here she is. His hand moves up and finds one of Nina’s heavy breasts. His breath quickens as he explores her bosom. So soft, so squishy. They’re every bit as supple and malleable as he imagined they’d be. Carefully he moves his palm around under her shirt as his underwear starts losing the battle with his growing erection. He shuffles in, pressing his loin against her sizable posterior. Under her shirt he feels her nipple becoming erect from all this sudden attention. Nina moans again, softer and more sensual than the last time. Is… is she liking this?

“Hey what the…” Nina jolts up, suddenly aware of a strange presence under her shirt. Her hands shoot towards her chest and she finds a hand cupping her right breast. Half awake she lets out a yelp before the reality of the situation sets in.
 

Gooney87

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Joined
Dec 1, 2019
Messages
63
Location
The Netherlands
“Jörg, what in god's name are you doing?” she hisses.

“Shh.. It’s okay Nina. I love you, and I could tell from the moment you walked in that the feeling is mutual. Every look we shared was one of pure lust and desire, and tonight my love, tonight I’m here for you.” Jörg says in her ear as he cuddles up against her, one hand under her shirt and the other one on her butt cheek.

“Fella, I don’t know where you got that idea from, but let’s not do this. Not here. Not now. And certainly not….” she says as she tries her damndest to extract his hand from her shirt “... with you.” He’s got a good grip on her, she concludes as her wiggling turns to no avail.

“And what about that moment in the hallway? When you pressed your body against mine and we totally had a moment? Didn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Your hallway is really damn narrow and I’m… I’m fat. I take up space, okay?” Nina says. Those words hurt to hear coming out of her own mouth. “Are you going to let me go now or…?” At that moment she feels something solid against her ass. “Is that…” She tries to turn around, trying to get a grip on the sheets, when suddenly Jörg forcefully flips her and pushes his stiff erection against her body.
His eyes are wild and there’s a wry smile on his lips. With his free hand he works her underwear down to her knees with surprising ease. This isn’t some weird prank from Jörg. This is real, and it is happening whether she wants to or not.

“Nina my love. It’s okay. Let’s just enjoy this moment together.” Jörg says. He’s worked her shirt up to her chin and her nipples stand proudly in the dim light of his bedroom. He’s in trance, hypnotized by the soft swaying of Nina’s fat breasts in front of his face. Her amazing curves are right there, ready for grabbing. His throbbing erection has now fully worked its way out of one of the leg holes of his underwear and stands ready. He pushes himself against this beautifully fat woman in front of him, feeling her soft, heavy body mold into his.

Nina starts to panic as she feels him entering her. She tries to fight him off, but he’s surprisingly strong for someone who spends the better part of the day sitting on his ass driving a car. He slides in with surprising ease, and to the dismay of Nina she can feel herself getting wet from this. It has been years since she’s made love to anyone, and if the situation had been anything but this, and if Jörg wasn’t Jörg but someone else she would have been quite aroused by this display of brute power. But the reality is that Jörg is still Jörg, and she’s still being violated against her will.

She digs her nails into the bed, tries to push him away with all of her might, but it is of no use. Jörg is beside himself with lust and desire, his thrusts getting more and more vigorous with each passing moment. She wants to scream, kick him, throw him out the window, do something! But with every time he pounds himself into her she feels herself getting smaller and more helpless.

“Jörg please… We can talk about this. Stop. Please.” she whimpers, every ounce of strength has ebbed away and all she can do is softly cry as her body is being thrashed around.

“Ohh girl.” Jörg exclaims. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. God you’re amazing.” His left hand paws sensually at her heavy left breast, feeling her tick, rubbery nipple. He tugs on it as he thrusts his pelvis into Nina’s soft body. “So soft. So fat. So hot.” he groans. Her body feels just as he had imagined it; like a soft pillow. It feels amazing to him.

Nina grits her teeth, fighting back the tears. She’s not going to cry, she says to herself as she closes her eyes She’s not going to give him that satisfaction. What if….. what if this is the way it should be? What if she’s paying her rent with her body? She tries to steady her breathing, trying not to get out of breath from panicing over everything that’s going on tonight. Focus, Nina. Stay focussed. She opens her eyes again to see Jörg’s face hovering over her, in pure lust. This can’t possibly last much longer. Faster and faster she feels him slamming into her. With one hand she tries to hold her right breast down to prevent its weight from landing on her throat each time.
In her lower abdomen she can feel that familiar feeling build up. That fuzzy tightness previously experienced with Tom, and sometimes during those special moments when she was home alone and the tv didn’t provide her with an adequate level of entertainment. She closes her eyes, tries to push that feeling away.

Jörg too feels an orgasm build up inside of him. He looks at Nina in all her glory, her fat belly shaking and quivering with every movement she makes. With one hand he’s playing with Nina’s large breast and nipple, while the other has grabbed a handful of fat and is holding on for dear life. Faster and faster he’s moving in and out of her, not long now before that blissfull release is upon him. The bed creaks, and Nina moans with her eyes closed while holding her right breast. And then he tips over the edge. That wonderful bolt of release fires through his body and pulsates through his member into Nina. He moans. Goddamn that felt good. What an amazing woman that Nina is.

Nina feels his release into her, and his staccato shoving combined with the feeling of his warm liquid inside of her is all that it takes to get her to climax. All of her muscles contract, trying to avoid the inevitable. Her thoughts rush from Tom to David Bowie, and back again. She shakes wildly as she comes, her nails digging deeper into the bed. It’s...intense, and she feels her heart pound in her chest and her cheeks flush with redness. She’s out of breath, laying flat on her back, as slowly the reality of what just transpired sinks in.
Jörg rolls off of her, grinning ear to ear, and she if she had just a bit more energy left over she’d get out of bed and beat the snot out of him. But she can’t. All she can do is lay there, feel her heart pound in her chest, and be the victim.
 

Gooney87

Well-Known Member
Joined
Dec 1, 2019
Messages
63
Location
The Netherlands
“I….am going to shower.” she softly says after a while. “I don’t feel so great. Freshen up.” With shaky arms she pulls herself out of bed, and wraps a sheet around her for modesty. Her body protests as she makes her way down the hallway with slow, shuffling steps, doing her best to fight off the dizzy feeling in her head and making it to the bathroom without any accidents.

The cold water refreshes the young woman. Carefully she washes off every trace of what just happened to her. Tears are streaming down her face, mixing with some remains of her makeup and drawing dark streaks down her face. She makes sure not to miss a single spot on her body, bending down and over the best she can, using one hand to lift up whatever part of her flab is in the way and the other wrapped in a washcloth. As long as she’s in here she doesn’t have to talk about what just happened, and doesn’t have to deal with him.

The soap forms a foamy trail towards the drain between her feet. Why is her life like this? Why does it seem that every time she tries to be all self-supportive and assertive it always ends up with her needing to get naked to please some man that’s standing in her way? Sure, as a grown woman she realizes that she can use her ample assets to get things done from men, and she’s not innocent of flubbing her way through a paper check in the Moscow subway using nothing but a smile and a casually undone button on her blouse, showing just a hint of cleavage or when need be, the top of her bra cups. But she always had control in those situations. She decided what those horny men saw and did. Not like this.

Slowly the water heats up as the ancient boiler struggles to keep up. The mirror starts fogging up. She reaches out for more soap. Not clean yet. Still dirty.

Why can’t she just meet a nice man, settle down, and spend the rest of her life with him? That’s all she wants. A nice, stable life somewhere nice. Sure, up until the events of tonight she considered Jörg perhaps a bit unconventionally attractive but not the world’s worst catch. But she doesn’t want his life here in the DDR. He’d have her knocked-up in no-time for sure, then she’d give birth to a few kids and play the Mutti for the rest of her life with her husband taxiing people around this awful city. No. Anything but that.

The hot water steaming up the small bathroom combined with the waning effects of the adrenaline cause Nina to get a bit dizzy. Carefully she sets her heavy body down in the middle of the shower. Her head stops spinning for a moment. What now? First clean. Then think. Police? That’s a really bad idea. Back to Moscow then? Admit your whole idea was dumb and continue living in the marges of society with a woman you no longer trust to be around? No. Stay here? Finish what you started, and perhaps sneak off to the West and try for a new life? Perhaps…

For what feels like hours to Nina she sits there, in the middle of the shower with her back against the wall. The water is pouring off of her, mixing with her tears and running down the drain. She feels her body, assesses the damage done in the last 24 hours. Her leg is swollen and bruised, and it hurts to bend her knee. She’d give anything for one of those pills Natalya brought for those times Nina could hardly walk anymore, the ones that made all the pain disappear for a moment. Her hands feel her soft waist, lift her belly, feel underneath. She washes her genitals, inspects them with her fingers for damage done. It’s been a good while since she’s seen anything down there, her vision obstructed by her billowing cleavage and her heavy belly protruding down underneath it.

Slowly she feels the water turn cold. The boiler has given its all, but has now run out of water. She sighs and reaches behind her to turn the water off. The drips from the shower head echo in the empty bathroom, fade into the darkness outside in the hallway. Without the warmth of the running shower the room cools down quickly. Nina sighs. It’s time to get up and face the world once more. With one hand she steadies herself on the wet floor as her other one grabs the faucet for support. She tries to pull herself up but cannot muster the strength to do so. Her body feels heavy, and her knees are protesting with the weight suddenly placed on them. She drops down on the wet floor. Another attempt. She’s shaking from the exertion of trying to right herself. Just a bit more and then most of her weight will be above her hips and…
A short scream as her left foot slips and her left hip impacts the floor, the rest of her body following suit. She feels her body jiggle with the impact. A muffled curse as the pain from the impact runs through her system. She rolls around until she’s on her hands and knees. Defeated she crawls out of the shower, crying softly. She grips the wash basin with arms, and works herself up.
One look in the mirror. She’s out of breath, and in a lot of pain. Her wet hair has fallen over her face, framing her soft features. With one hand she moves a strand out of the way as she inspects herself, all 140 kilos of her. She used to go on marches around the forest with her troup of Junge PIonieren, and now she can’t even get up after she’s fallen over. How did it get to this point? How did she get this fat? The tears start running down her face again.
 

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