~BHM, ~FFA, ~Sex: That’s all it was; just sex. Big, fat, sex. [Note: this one is going to be more of a short novelette than a drawn-out novella - i.e. more straightforward sexyfatsexland than character driven saga - but quickies can be satisfying too] Experience by Ashblonde “You miss it, don’t you,” he murmured with a crooked smile, shamelessly massaging his belly. Her friends had all left the kitchen, leaving her alone with him. She turned away, trying to ignore him as she plopped a lime into her vodka tonic. He leaned down closer to her in a whisper, “I can see it every time you glance down along my bod,” his hand now grabbed and lifted his gut up just to remind her how damn heavy he was. She rolled her eyes to avoid validating his assumption that she would want to take another a long look at his rotund profile. His subtle, spicy cologne scent wafted past her nose. Dang it. Once again he was testing her resolve. Jerk. “You know, you kind of look like one of those vampires who hasn’t fed in a while,” he leaned back against the counter, reminding her of a joke they had once shared about those stupid Twilight movies. “You’re eyes are looking pretty black these days.” “Shut up Ty,” she pretended not to care, straining to keep a smile from slipping into her annoyed smirk. “God Mags,” unfazed, he stretched his arms above his head purposefully so that a sliver of his pink quivering flesh would hang out from the bottom of his button down shirt. “You really packed the pounds on me.” She averted her eyes again and gritted her teeth to fight the ticklishness forming between her legs. “And I just keep putting on more,” he slapped his belly. “It’s not working,” she turned completely away from him again. Mind over matter, Maggie. He hasn’t gained a pound since you last hooked up with him a few months ago. He’s just trying to get into your head. “Skinny Dude won’t cut it for you, Mags,” he reminded her, as his tone shifted to something that sounded more like a parental lecture than a come on. “At least he doesn’t cheat on me,” was her standard, bitter response to his ongoing sexual propositions. “We had an understanding,” he defended himself in his typically manipulative style. “No, you had an understanding,” she retorted. There was no understanding at all that she would share his fat ass with anyone else. Maybe they hadn’t talked about any commitments specifically; and maybe she hadn’t made it clear that she wanted exclusivity, but did he have to try to screw every damn FFA he encountered? Did he have to actively seek out every single one of them wherever he went? “Come on, you know it wasn’t like that,” he tried to resume the dysfunctionality of their relationship all over again. It was like that. Tyler had a sixth sense. He had mastered the art of zeroing in on that singular woman who wanted her sex a little heavier; or in his case, a lot heavier. In a large enough gathering, there was almost always at least one girl he caught giving him a lustful once-over. He had a remarkably perceptive talent in divining out even the most clandestinely fat-admiring eyes. It helped his odds that he was more than willing to get rejected. He had admitted to Maggie that he didn’t care whether some girls conveyed unease or even disgust over his body. Often enough, it would actually turn him on. He enjoyed being called fat names too: pig, whale, blimp... especially when it came from the mouths of pretty girls. He was way deep into the fetish. Maggie was just another one of those girls he’d zeroed in on, and she knew his modus operandi all too well. She couldn’t even insult him now because he’d love it too much; and most inconveniently, so would she. “Mags, we had something,” he protested. He was clearly just horny. “Something like all the food I shoved down your throat,” she snarled her lip. “Now you’re talking,” he purred. “Now I’m leaving,” she walked out of the kitchen cove to rejoin her current boyfriend. Maggie had been more than satisfied with simply enjoying his fat body, but Tyler wanted to be fed, sometimes stuffed. She sure knew how to feed him though. He told her early on that she had feeder instincts. His blubbery frame was her ultimate sexual playground, always beckoning her to give into his fetish while he cultivated hers. He was just too easy, the big glutton. She hated Ty for so many reasons, but one of them was that he was right. She missed fat sex. It was a relentless pang of hunger she couldn’t shake. Dustin was nice. He was kind, and relentlessly good to her. And that was really great; refreshing, in fact. But his firm, fitness-obsessed body was boring her to tears. In moments like these, she hated herself for all of the same reasons she hated Ty. It wasn’t like she didn’t think about cheating constantly, so how was she different? Was she really any better than he was? Always wanting something more than she was currently allowed to have? Maggie should have known when she first met Ty that he was trouble. He walked into that crowded party looking so big that she was pretty sure she saw his belly come in through the door before the rest of him came through it. Immediately she felt a cautionary tingle, like the hair on one’s body standing up before lightning strikes. His confidence was practically delusional, but he made it work. She hated him for that too. He evaluated the room, as she evaluated his large form. He sported an audacious spread of obesity that she found immediately fascinating. Clinically quite morbid, perhaps; but to her that was an aphrodisiac. Soft, wide, flabby, rolls, sway... distributed generously across a tall enough frame to really spread the fat out... all buttons pushed. And damn if he didn’t have a lovely round face with big auburn eyes, summer tanned skin and thick, wiry, russet brown hair. Yep, so much to hate about him, but a few hundred more reasons to fuck him. Tyler caught her eyes scaling his bulk and strolled up to her, while subtlety caressing his frontage to highlight its magnitude under his tent-like button down shirt. He recognized right away what she was into. “Hey, I’m Tyler. You’re?” “Maggie,” she choked out. Her mouth was so dry. Thirsty. “You need a fresh drink?” He had smiled confidently, pointing down at her mostly empty cocktail. “Um, yeah, sure” she stammered. Good God, that swagger. Was he for real? He moved her through the crowd like he was parting the Red Sea, lightly touching her back to guide her. She remembered how he placed his hand on her waist, overtly feeling the tightness of her figure, while she relished the sensation of his immense belly brushing along her side. She had desperately hoped to turn him on with her slenderness compared to his enormous size. Maggie loved contrast. So much so that she had almost considered quitting her own exercise and nutrition regimen so that somebody in her current relationship would have some semblance of softness when their bodies touched. But Dustin liked to run with her, bike with her, and work out with her at the gym. She tried to get him to relax, live a little and eat a little more too, but not one pound stuck on that guy. Ty was better behaved that way; more interested in reading, writing, researching, playing his guitar, gaming from time to time, and of course snacking. She was free to do her career and fitness thing while he made himself very comfortable in his life as a perpetual grad student. It seemed like a perfect fit... until she found out that hitting on other girls was another one of his hobbies. It hadn’t taken long for him to get his hooks into her. She knew him for all of a few hours before she found herself underneath him, with his massive weight ramming into her body while her fingers grasped themselves around his side rolls in sheer ecstasy. At first she couldn’t believe her ears when he beckoned her into his particular predilection for fat talk, whispering to her in between labored thrusts, “Have you ever been with someone as big as I am?” No, she shook her head, she’d never been with a boy that big; and never that quickly after meeting one. She’d wanted to experience a super-sized guy for so long... but boys that heavy had never made themselves so easily available to her before. There were some tubby boyfriends and hefty hookups along the way, but never a completely rotund lover; not until Tyler. When Dustin found out she had dated Ty, through a friend of a friend of a friend, he confronted her about it. “You seriously dated him?” Dustin was incredulous. “Didn’t last long,” she downplayed it. How was she supposed to explain her sexual interest in obese dudes to a guy with such a depressingly scarce amount of body fat? “Didn’t his weight bother you?” He gave off more skepticism mixed with disgust. “Nope, didn’t come up much,” she lied like she’d never lied before. Could he really believe that? Regardless, Dustin did not need to know it was the central theme through the entire four months that they were together. Tyler’s fat was the eye of their relationship hurricane. All sex, food, hedonism and bodily pleasure, all the time. Okay, maybe they shared some laughs, a little deep conversation, and they even took a few romantic walks in the park near his place, hand in hand, while she reveled in his waddle and wobble. Maggie had tried hard to push those affectionate moments out of her mind though. It was just sex; that’s all it amounted to. Just. Sex. Big, fat, sex. “It wasn’t serious or anything,” she hoped to protect Dustin’s feelings, as she was fairly certain he’d begin to notice soon, if not already, that she had a wandering eye for fatties, male or female. He’d quickly put two and two together if she even remotely implied that she was okay with his weight, much less enamored with it. And, she could never, ever tell Dustin about donut mornings; those exquisite donut mornings... It was a routine they fell into when she’d stay at Ty’s place. She’d run out early and buy a dozen donuts; the soft, warm, glazed ones from his favorite bakery. They were so easy for him to eat. He could down one in just a few bites. He’d sit at the table strategically with his robe open, spreading his plump thighs out so his belly would rest down between them and onto the chair. Maggie would take the seat next to him at the table with her coffee and mobile. At first she pretended to read the morning news while peripherally watching his obvious performance. “Have you had enough yet?” She’d act appalled after he’d devoured several. “Not even close,” he’d narrow his eyes at her and continue eating, undeterred. Then she’d cozy up to him, trying to find a spot on what little lap he had left, slipping herself between his body and the box of sweet indulgences. She’d rub herself up against his substantial frontage, play with his belly button, or lift his hanging gut to tease him. “But it’s all so fattening...” She’d slip her hand under his belly and feel how hard he was getting. But his mouth was still full. Smacking his lips he’d act annoyed, “You’re interrupting my donut time,” as he gobbled another one up. If she asked him to share one with her, he’d greedily respond, “They’re all for me.” And if she tried to sneak one for herself, he’d take it from her and shove it into his own mouth with an intimidating glare, knowing his dominant gluttony turned her on all the more. Then it would really get intense. While still plowing through his deep fried sugary indulgences, he’d go on the offensive. Heaving his big body up, he’d move behind her, grab her ass, or her breasts, and growl in her ear, “Hold still.” Magic words, those were. Of course she would hold still and do exactly as he asked, because she knew what was in store next. Relishing his broad flab touching her back, he’d order her, “Turn around.” He gave her no room to move. His body took up all of her space and brushed along her middle. With a dramatic lick of donut glaze off his lips, he’d continue his firm directions, tugging at her panties, “Take them off.” She’d peel them off carefully; bending down with her legs straight to show off her yoga-trained flexibility. Then she’d stand up before him, fully nude, her hands covering her breasts; coy, but not quite hiding a vague smirk behind her eyes either. “Spread your legs,” he’d continue to command her and she’d readily follow those orders too; sometimes she couldn’t even wait to widen her stance for him. Exaggeratedly licking the sticky donut glaze off his chubby fingers, he’d then trail them down her cleavage, along her abdomen, graze them along the sensitive skin between her thighs; and slide them into her with a penetrating caress, just the way he knew she liked. “You don’t need any of my donuts, you just need this...” Oh man, those glaze-covered fat fingers of his! Thoughts of those decadent interludes could still make her wet, any time, any place. Ty knew exactly what he could do to her, whether he was playing the domineering gourmand to her innocent nymph, or the nervous feedee to her demanding mistress. Eat more, fatty! He quickly became a pro at getting Maggie to do anything he wanted, and play any role he desired, because he always succeeded in making her come. She couldn’t say the same for Dustin, the way he fumbled around, trying to make her hot by flexing his muscles, pressing his pointy body into her, all while failing miserably. “I don’t think I could date someone that big,” Dustin had self-assessed the curiosity of her ex-lover. Your loss, Dustin. His disappointingly anti-fat words reminded Maggie of that beautiful big girl who worked at her favorite Starbucks; the one she had been enjoying the view of for several months now. Dana, her nametag read. She had entertained the notion that she might actually be able get into it with Dustin if someone like Dana could join in the fun. Dana had to be well over 300 pounds of crimson-haired goddess, making Maggie think twice about her pesky heterosexuality. Her doll-like face was so flawlessly made up that Maggie one time flirtatiously asked her if she’d come to her place every morning to do her makeup. But it was the way that green apron wrapped snugly across her plush body, and her leggings strained to contain her growing tummy that had Maggie timing her macchiatos around the pretty barista’s early morning schedule. Maggie sometimes wished that she were a boy who could go after fat girls... to nurture and satisfy their sweet, soft, curvy prettiness with lots of chocolates and extra-extra-large, lacy lingerie. These were mostly peripheral fantasies, yet sometimes she mulled whether giving into her bisexual urges with a beautiful butterball of a girl would be more fulfilling than dealing with assholes like Tyler. Exploring a big girl’s fatness could be so interesting and lovely; but at her core, Maggie liked dick far too much. No way around that reality. It was almost like clockwork, when she was left most hurt and vulnerable by Ty’s infidelities, and pretty much sick of guys altogether, Dustin charmed himself into her life. Nice guy, easy to talk to, handsome enough, won’t hurt me. That was actually a rejuvenating feeling. She was ready for someone sensible and uncomplicated; and he was exactly that. She put him off of sex for a while though, using every ‘good girl’ excuse in the book, but mostly she was afraid of what it would be like. It turned out there was nothing to be afraid of except total boredom. Hard, flat, firm, blah, nothing. It wasn’t ever going to work in bed. But she liked him the other 23 hours and 45 minutes of the day and that’s what mattered. Right?