~BBW, Erotic explicit sex, love, ~MWG - The classic Internet tale of how a loving FA and his spiouse achieved self-awareness.
Lying in bed, I watched as my wife bent over to deposit an armful of her laundry in the bottom dresser drawer. She was wearing a short nightie, and I enjoyed the sight of her hem riding up her cottage-cheesy thighs, revealing her ample, panty-clad behind.
"Is the Chopper asleep yet?" I asked.
The Chopper, I should explain, is our five-year-old son Malcolm, who earned this nickname from his habit of buzzing and spinning round in circles, figuratively and literally, like a helicopter.
"Yep, thank goodness. Rick, I've tried everything. Can you make him clean his room this Saturday? You know, work with him, help him figure out where things go, make him keep at it till it's done?"
"Sure, Ellen," I replied
She came over to the bed.
"Say, big boy, " she smirked in a Mae West voice, "is that a flashlight you've got under the covers, or are you just glad to see me?"
I looked down, blushing. Sure enough, I had a hard-on that was making a tent of the top-sheet.
"I'm rather obvious, aren't I?" I grinned sheepishly.
"I'm not complaining."
She pulled off her nightie and panties, and snuggled into my arms. As always, I loved the feeling of her warm, soft belly and breasts against me. As I kissed her neck, my hands wandered down her back, and began fondling her pillowy ass.
"You're rarin' to go tonight, aren't you?" she chuckled.
"Mmm, yeah, I am. Did you put some kind of love potion in the spaghetti sauce?"
I lifted one of her heavy breasts to my mouth and began to suck. Her big nipple stiffened under my tongue. She was moaning now. I switched to other breast and she moaned even louder. At last, I kissed my way down her belly, rippling with her ticklish giggles, and then nuzzled down into the thicket between her thighs. Soon she was thrusting her wet vulva eagerly against my face, as my tongue plumbed her depths, then began a staccato rhythm on her clit. I was rewarded by a particularly joyful series of cummy noises, as her big thighs squeezed my head.
"Oh, go inside me with your cock, Rick. Now. Please ..."
Eagerly I complied.
It was at times like this that I was especially glad I had had a vasectomy after Malcolm was born: no need to pause now for condoms or a diaphragm. My throbbing dick sank into her like a hot knife in butter. I pistoned in and out of her till she came again. Then I pulled her on top of me, so I could squeeze her big ass cheeks as she rode me, her breasts slapping against my face. After a few minutes of this, she came again, and then my cum erupted, spurting inside her, a moment later.
"Whew!" she said at last. "That was intense."
I said nothing, just smiling up at her as my hands continued to wander happily over her vast backside.
"Rick, what exactly has gotten into you?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"I mean, well - I'm not complaining about it, but - all of a sudden ... well, since last week, you've been so loving. Not that I'm complaining: it's been great. But I keep worrying that you're just buttering me up, and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like that time you cooked me that romantic dinner and then told me
you'd blown half our savings on a new Mac."
"Ellen, that was seven years ago. I've grown up a bit since then, haven't I? We both have. What about you and that electronic keyboard?"
"Don't change the subject, Mister," she grinned, dangling her boobs in my face. "Now, are you going to talk, or do I have to resort to tickling?"
Ellen and I had been married for nine years, though we had lived together for two years before that. We met at college, in a course on Java programming. She was adorable, an English major, with short red hair, a cute round face, and a short, slightly chunky but quite voluptuous body.
I was a shy computer geek. I couldn't believe it when she asked me to lunch after class, a few weeks into the term. We discovered we liked the same music, which was pretty remarkable, given the obscure headbanging stuff I was listening to at the time. I asked her out for dinner the next night, and was amazed that she accepted, and nothing short of astounded when we got back to my dorm room and she immediately snuggled into my arms and kissed me, then started undressing.
I was so nervous that first time, I had trouble maintaining an erection; but I made up for it with my fingers and tongue. She told me she'd had her eye on me since the previous year. That she'd never met a computer nerd who liked Dostoevsky before. In fact, she had registered for the Java Programming class just to get to know me (though she actually was not a bad programmer, for a humanities major).
I admitted that I'd had a crush on her, but never thought a beautiful girl like her ... She stopped my mouth with more kisses. My erection returned, with a vengeance. Luckily, she had brought condoms.
After that night, we were rarely apart. We moved out of the dorms and found an apartment off-campus to share. And the summer after graduation, we both found jobs -- she as a high school English teacher, and I as a systems operator for a publishing firm -- and we got married.
In a couple of years, Malcolm came along. He was a fussy baby until he could walk. Ellen and I were both sleep-deprived for over a year. And then, once he started getting around on his legs, his mood improved markedly, but it was all we could do to keep up with him. It's not that we didn't enjoy him or love him: he was, and is, loads of fun and joy. Â But he took up so much of our energy.
Meanwhile, the company I worked for was having increasing cashflow problems, and I moved to another sys-op
position, this time with a dot.com. You can guess how long that job lasted. After I’d endured a few months of unemployment, Ellen heard that the school district was looking for a systems operator, and I got the job.
By now, our sex life had tapered off to once a month, sometimes even less. And the sex, though still pleasurable, had become entirely unsurprising. Once the Chopper turned three, we put him in day-care and Ellen went back to teaching. With the responsibilities of parenting, and our job pressures ... It's not that I was losing interest in Ellen ... It's just that, well, I guess I was losing interest in Ellen. I started noticing other women with more than idle admiration. And in my netsurfing, I stumbled across various newsgroups and on-line "communities" that catered to every imaginable sexual interest.
The big breast groups caught my eye first. Then I noticed the "plumper" groups. Once I'd made this discovery, I found the skinny women weren't nearly as sexy to me - Barbie-doll models, who reminded me of mannequins, and seemed about as approachable.
Increasingly, I came to favor the Rubenesque look. Heavy women looked more "real" to me, more feminine, more inviting - like they actually would enjoy sex. And the thought of snuggling up to the warmth and softness of a fat woman seemed much more appealing than some lean, mean bag of bones and gristle.
Every evening after Ellen went to bed, I spent a couple of hours searching the groups for pictures of big beautiful women (BBWs), or stories about making love to BBWs. The pictures of 250-pound women with giant asses particularly got my pulse racing. Â I fantasized about burying my face between a pair of big flabby cheeks, licking her ass and **** till she dissolved into a quivering mass of ecstasy.
There's an expression about "the scales falling from one's eyes." It's amazing how much one's reality can change, when one looks at things from a new perspective.
It was a Friday night, and we had just gotten home from a dinner party at our friends Ben and Marie's place. Â The Chopper had fallen asleep on the ride home, and I carried him in and put him into his bed. When I got to our bedroom, Ellen was in her bra and panties. I was vaguely aware that Ellen worried about her weight; particularly since Malcolm was born, she frequently bemoaned her figure going to pot, although I always told her she looked fine. And I meant it.
But now, watching her as she unclasped her bra, letting her heavy breasts sag upon her plump belly, then pulling her panties off her wide, full hips and letting them drop to the floor ... the realization hit me. How could I not have noticed that my own wife had put on a good bit of weight over the past decade, and was now as almost as fat as the women on the net that I fantasized about?
Not just fat, but drop-dead SEXY, with a pair of heavy, pendulous breasts, an abundant, creamy-white ass, thick thighs, and just the beginnings of a cute belly apron.
I went over to her, taking the nightgown from her hands, putting my arms round her from behind, kissing her neck and shoulder, fondling her breasts. “I don't think you'll be needing this nightie
tonight."
"You promise you'll keep me warm?"
"I promise."
"Ooh, you're hard already."
"Ellen, you're so beautiful. I don't tell you often enough."
"Mmm, you're being a sweetie tonight."
I picked her up in my arms and carried her, giggling, to bed. I hadn't tried to lift her in quite a while, and I noticed a sizable increase in weight, though I could still do it. Once I had deposited her in bed, I dove between her thighs and began drinking from her honeypot.
That night was the hottest sex we'd had in years. We made love again early the next morning. And again five out of the next seven nights.
And now, pinned to the bed by her weight, her tits dangling in my face, she was asking me what had gotten into me. Â So I told her the truth, about becoming bored with our sex life, about looking at internet porn, about my newly discovered attraction to heavy women, about my sudden realization of how sexy she had become. Â About how I had fallen in love with her, and with her body, all over again.
She rolled off me, and lay there, silent, for a minute after I finished.
"So, tell me the absolute honest truth now, Rick. Wouldn't you find me more attractive if I could lose twenty or thirty pounds. Because I'm sure I could. I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to have an active sex life with you, and I'd be willing to go on a real strict diet if that would help keep this going."
I didn't hesitate a moment. "No, darling. If anything, I'd rather you gained a bit."
Her eyes grew big. I gently stroked her soft belly. "I *love* this, Ellen."
She sighed. "All these years, I've been battling my weight, feeling that I was unattractive, feeling like you were just putting up with a fat wife. Why didn't you tell me this years ago?"
"I never suggested you lose weight. I always told you that you look fine."
"I guess I didn't believe you. I thought you were just saying that to get me off your back."
"I'm sorry I didn't make it clearer. It didn't really dawn on me how sexy you are till recently. Can you forgive me for neglecting you all these years?"
"You didn't neglect me, Rick. I never felt like you didn't love me. It's just that we both let our sex get a bit stale. Can you forgive me for holding myself back sexually, because of my insecurities about my weight?"
We kissed, not like a married couple, but like we had kissed on our first few dates, as though discovering one another for the first time, amazed at how perfectly our mouths fit together.
"Jeez, you're hard again already."
"Ellen," I laughed, "with you kissing me like that, how could I not be?"
"You really *are* hot for my body, aren't you?"
”Now more than ever."
"You have no idea how ... well, how absolutely *horny* that makes me!" she laughed, blushing.
"You've given me some ideas."
I started to guide my cock into her again.
"Rick, can we try it a little differently this time?"
"Sure." My interest was piqued.
"Can you go into me from behind? I've always wanted to try that, but I never had the nerve to suggest it."
"I think this is my lucky night."
She giggled, rolling over onto her knees, tucking a pillow under her belly.
“Wow,” I exclaimed to myself, “What a sight her big ass and wet, open **** makes from behind.”
I began stroking and kneading her buttocks.
"Stop teasing me, Mister.” She said. “Give it to me."
She groaned and started coming a few moments after I slid into her, and kept coming for three or four minutes straight. I loved the way her ass and thighs rippled as I pounded into her. I loved the deep furrow of her ass - her "vertical smile." But most of all, I loved the way she had responded to my interest in pictures of other fat women.
I couldn't hold back for long: a mind-blowing orgasm overtook me, and my balls once again paid their loving, liquid tribute to Ellen. I pulled out of her at last, and planted a kiss on each buttock. She was trembling. I took her in my arms. She nestled her head against my neck. Â We lay there for a while, holding hands.
"A glass of white wine?" I offered.
"Mmm, that would be perfect. There's still some of that Pinot Grigio we had last night."
The next evening, after I put Malcolm to bed in his now reasonably tidy room, read him a chapter from Stuart Little, and sang him Woody Guthrie's "Howja Do" (which he asked for every night), I rejoined Ellen in the living room. She had mixed us each a gin and tonic. I took a sip of mine and snuggled beside her on the couch, nuzzling her ear.
"I've been wanting you all day," I murmured.
"The feeling's mutual," she chuckled, as our arms went round each other and we kissed. She lifted her sweater and unclasped her bra.
Hungrily, I began kissing her breasts . . .
"Daddy, why are you smelling Mommy's titties?"
I froze, and Ellen hastily pulled her sweater back down. Malcolm was standing in the hallway, regarding us with curiosity.
"Go back to bed young man," my wife said in her sternest tones. "You're supposed to be asleep."
"OK," he agreed reluctantly. "But why was Daddy doing that?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow, Chop," I said. "Now get back in bed."
After he trouped back to his room, Ellen and I exploded in a fit of muffled giggles. We felt like children caught in some misbehavior, rather than grown-ups.
"It's going to take him a while to get into a deep sleep," I sighed. "I don't think we're safe for another half hour."
Ellen removed her bra, then put her sweater back on. We finished our drinks.
"Rick, while we're waiting "
"Yes?"
"Would you show me some of those pictures? You know, from the web?"
I gulped. The thought of opening up my private world of perversions to the inspection and judgment of another person made me hesitate; but I also felt excited that Ellen might be turned on by some of the pictures.
"Are you sure you want to see them? Some of them are pretty raunchy."
"Rick, you're so cute when you're embarrassed," she laughed. "I won't be jealous or anything: I just want to get a better handle on what turns you on."
She hugged me again, pressing her big braless breasts against my chest, breathing into my ear. Because I'm very open to trying new things, sexually, with you. And the pictures might give me some ideas."
My dick was now on full alert. Ellen knew how to be persuasive. We went into the office and I fired up the G4. By now she had my pants unzipped, and her hand in my underpants, stroking my very erect cock. With trepidation, I opened the folder where I had hidden all my downloaded jpegs. She pulled up her chair, abandoning my cock for the moment, and began clicking on the pictures.
"These women are even fatter than me. Some are a lot fatter."
She continued clicking. "I've given up all pretence of dieting, by the way, since our talk last night. I'll be as big as this woman in a few months."
I stood behind her, kissing the back of her neck, cupping her breasts in my hands. She smiled at me. "You seem to like big asses, judging from this collection."
"Uh, yeah."
"This one is really hot," she giggled. Â It was a picture of a hefty BBW bent over a chair, with a short, skinny guy inserting his cock from behind.
"What do you like about it?"
"The look on her face. She's clearly enjoying it. Plus, the man here kind of reminds me of you."
I blushed. “They're doing it anally, you know."
"I know."
She gave me a smouldering look that told me she was thinking about my cock in her ass. "Show me the one that you think is hottest."
I went immediately to my favorite picture: a BBW with a planet- sized bum, bent over, cheeks spread, with a vibrator in her ****, a dollop of whipped cream in the furrow of her ass, and a large, fresh strawberry ensconced in her anus.
"Wow," she said slowly. "That *is* hot. She's shameless, isn't she, posing like that with her big ass."
"Well, there seems to be a growing number of men who find women like her very sexy. Â And I guess I'm one of them. We're called FA's, fat admirers."
"And aren't I lucky to have one for a husband. Well, come on, FA, I've seen enough pictures for tonight. The Chopper's asleep by now. How about some real sex?"
She paused, then added with a wink, "I think there's some whipped cream in the fridge."
(Moderator's note: We are happy to add this classic public domain story, cited as an inspiration for other tales to our collection.)
"IN PRAISE OF A FAT WIFE"
by Andy (aka Rick?)
by Andy (aka Rick?)
Lying in bed, I watched as my wife bent over to deposit an armful of her laundry in the bottom dresser drawer. She was wearing a short nightie, and I enjoyed the sight of her hem riding up her cottage-cheesy thighs, revealing her ample, panty-clad behind.
"Is the Chopper asleep yet?" I asked.
The Chopper, I should explain, is our five-year-old son Malcolm, who earned this nickname from his habit of buzzing and spinning round in circles, figuratively and literally, like a helicopter.
"Yep, thank goodness. Rick, I've tried everything. Can you make him clean his room this Saturday? You know, work with him, help him figure out where things go, make him keep at it till it's done?"
"Sure, Ellen," I replied
She came over to the bed.
"Say, big boy, " she smirked in a Mae West voice, "is that a flashlight you've got under the covers, or are you just glad to see me?"
I looked down, blushing. Sure enough, I had a hard-on that was making a tent of the top-sheet.
"I'm rather obvious, aren't I?" I grinned sheepishly.
"I'm not complaining."
She pulled off her nightie and panties, and snuggled into my arms. As always, I loved the feeling of her warm, soft belly and breasts against me. As I kissed her neck, my hands wandered down her back, and began fondling her pillowy ass.
"You're rarin' to go tonight, aren't you?" she chuckled.
"Mmm, yeah, I am. Did you put some kind of love potion in the spaghetti sauce?"
I lifted one of her heavy breasts to my mouth and began to suck. Her big nipple stiffened under my tongue. She was moaning now. I switched to other breast and she moaned even louder. At last, I kissed my way down her belly, rippling with her ticklish giggles, and then nuzzled down into the thicket between her thighs. Soon she was thrusting her wet vulva eagerly against my face, as my tongue plumbed her depths, then began a staccato rhythm on her clit. I was rewarded by a particularly joyful series of cummy noises, as her big thighs squeezed my head.
"Oh, go inside me with your cock, Rick. Now. Please ..."
Eagerly I complied.
It was at times like this that I was especially glad I had had a vasectomy after Malcolm was born: no need to pause now for condoms or a diaphragm. My throbbing dick sank into her like a hot knife in butter. I pistoned in and out of her till she came again. Then I pulled her on top of me, so I could squeeze her big ass cheeks as she rode me, her breasts slapping against my face. After a few minutes of this, she came again, and then my cum erupted, spurting inside her, a moment later.
"Whew!" she said at last. "That was intense."
I said nothing, just smiling up at her as my hands continued to wander happily over her vast backside.
"Rick, what exactly has gotten into you?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"I mean, well - I'm not complaining about it, but - all of a sudden ... well, since last week, you've been so loving. Not that I'm complaining: it's been great. But I keep worrying that you're just buttering me up, and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like that time you cooked me that romantic dinner and then told me
you'd blown half our savings on a new Mac."
"Ellen, that was seven years ago. I've grown up a bit since then, haven't I? We both have. What about you and that electronic keyboard?"
"Don't change the subject, Mister," she grinned, dangling her boobs in my face. "Now, are you going to talk, or do I have to resort to tickling?"
Ellen and I had been married for nine years, though we had lived together for two years before that. We met at college, in a course on Java programming. She was adorable, an English major, with short red hair, a cute round face, and a short, slightly chunky but quite voluptuous body.
I was a shy computer geek. I couldn't believe it when she asked me to lunch after class, a few weeks into the term. We discovered we liked the same music, which was pretty remarkable, given the obscure headbanging stuff I was listening to at the time. I asked her out for dinner the next night, and was amazed that she accepted, and nothing short of astounded when we got back to my dorm room and she immediately snuggled into my arms and kissed me, then started undressing.
I was so nervous that first time, I had trouble maintaining an erection; but I made up for it with my fingers and tongue. She told me she'd had her eye on me since the previous year. That she'd never met a computer nerd who liked Dostoevsky before. In fact, she had registered for the Java Programming class just to get to know me (though she actually was not a bad programmer, for a humanities major).
I admitted that I'd had a crush on her, but never thought a beautiful girl like her ... She stopped my mouth with more kisses. My erection returned, with a vengeance. Luckily, she had brought condoms.
After that night, we were rarely apart. We moved out of the dorms and found an apartment off-campus to share. And the summer after graduation, we both found jobs -- she as a high school English teacher, and I as a systems operator for a publishing firm -- and we got married.
In a couple of years, Malcolm came along. He was a fussy baby until he could walk. Ellen and I were both sleep-deprived for over a year. And then, once he started getting around on his legs, his mood improved markedly, but it was all we could do to keep up with him. It's not that we didn't enjoy him or love him: he was, and is, loads of fun and joy. Â But he took up so much of our energy.
Meanwhile, the company I worked for was having increasing cashflow problems, and I moved to another sys-op
position, this time with a dot.com. You can guess how long that job lasted. After I’d endured a few months of unemployment, Ellen heard that the school district was looking for a systems operator, and I got the job.
By now, our sex life had tapered off to once a month, sometimes even less. And the sex, though still pleasurable, had become entirely unsurprising. Once the Chopper turned three, we put him in day-care and Ellen went back to teaching. With the responsibilities of parenting, and our job pressures ... It's not that I was losing interest in Ellen ... It's just that, well, I guess I was losing interest in Ellen. I started noticing other women with more than idle admiration. And in my netsurfing, I stumbled across various newsgroups and on-line "communities" that catered to every imaginable sexual interest.
The big breast groups caught my eye first. Then I noticed the "plumper" groups. Once I'd made this discovery, I found the skinny women weren't nearly as sexy to me - Barbie-doll models, who reminded me of mannequins, and seemed about as approachable.
Increasingly, I came to favor the Rubenesque look. Heavy women looked more "real" to me, more feminine, more inviting - like they actually would enjoy sex. And the thought of snuggling up to the warmth and softness of a fat woman seemed much more appealing than some lean, mean bag of bones and gristle.
Every evening after Ellen went to bed, I spent a couple of hours searching the groups for pictures of big beautiful women (BBWs), or stories about making love to BBWs. The pictures of 250-pound women with giant asses particularly got my pulse racing. Â I fantasized about burying my face between a pair of big flabby cheeks, licking her ass and **** till she dissolved into a quivering mass of ecstasy.
There's an expression about "the scales falling from one's eyes." It's amazing how much one's reality can change, when one looks at things from a new perspective.
It was a Friday night, and we had just gotten home from a dinner party at our friends Ben and Marie's place. Â The Chopper had fallen asleep on the ride home, and I carried him in and put him into his bed. When I got to our bedroom, Ellen was in her bra and panties. I was vaguely aware that Ellen worried about her weight; particularly since Malcolm was born, she frequently bemoaned her figure going to pot, although I always told her she looked fine. And I meant it.
But now, watching her as she unclasped her bra, letting her heavy breasts sag upon her plump belly, then pulling her panties off her wide, full hips and letting them drop to the floor ... the realization hit me. How could I not have noticed that my own wife had put on a good bit of weight over the past decade, and was now as almost as fat as the women on the net that I fantasized about?
Not just fat, but drop-dead SEXY, with a pair of heavy, pendulous breasts, an abundant, creamy-white ass, thick thighs, and just the beginnings of a cute belly apron.
I went over to her, taking the nightgown from her hands, putting my arms round her from behind, kissing her neck and shoulder, fondling her breasts. “I don't think you'll be needing this nightie
tonight."
"You promise you'll keep me warm?"
"I promise."
"Ooh, you're hard already."
"Ellen, you're so beautiful. I don't tell you often enough."
"Mmm, you're being a sweetie tonight."
I picked her up in my arms and carried her, giggling, to bed. I hadn't tried to lift her in quite a while, and I noticed a sizable increase in weight, though I could still do it. Once I had deposited her in bed, I dove between her thighs and began drinking from her honeypot.
That night was the hottest sex we'd had in years. We made love again early the next morning. And again five out of the next seven nights.
And now, pinned to the bed by her weight, her tits dangling in my face, she was asking me what had gotten into me. Â So I told her the truth, about becoming bored with our sex life, about looking at internet porn, about my newly discovered attraction to heavy women, about my sudden realization of how sexy she had become. Â About how I had fallen in love with her, and with her body, all over again.
She rolled off me, and lay there, silent, for a minute after I finished.
"So, tell me the absolute honest truth now, Rick. Wouldn't you find me more attractive if I could lose twenty or thirty pounds. Because I'm sure I could. I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to have an active sex life with you, and I'd be willing to go on a real strict diet if that would help keep this going."
I didn't hesitate a moment. "No, darling. If anything, I'd rather you gained a bit."
Her eyes grew big. I gently stroked her soft belly. "I *love* this, Ellen."
She sighed. "All these years, I've been battling my weight, feeling that I was unattractive, feeling like you were just putting up with a fat wife. Why didn't you tell me this years ago?"
"I never suggested you lose weight. I always told you that you look fine."
"I guess I didn't believe you. I thought you were just saying that to get me off your back."
"I'm sorry I didn't make it clearer. It didn't really dawn on me how sexy you are till recently. Can you forgive me for neglecting you all these years?"
"You didn't neglect me, Rick. I never felt like you didn't love me. It's just that we both let our sex get a bit stale. Can you forgive me for holding myself back sexually, because of my insecurities about my weight?"
We kissed, not like a married couple, but like we had kissed on our first few dates, as though discovering one another for the first time, amazed at how perfectly our mouths fit together.
"Jeez, you're hard again already."
"Ellen," I laughed, "with you kissing me like that, how could I not be?"
"You really *are* hot for my body, aren't you?"
”Now more than ever."
"You have no idea how ... well, how absolutely *horny* that makes me!" she laughed, blushing.
"You've given me some ideas."
I started to guide my cock into her again.
"Rick, can we try it a little differently this time?"
"Sure." My interest was piqued.
"Can you go into me from behind? I've always wanted to try that, but I never had the nerve to suggest it."
"I think this is my lucky night."
She giggled, rolling over onto her knees, tucking a pillow under her belly.
“Wow,” I exclaimed to myself, “What a sight her big ass and wet, open **** makes from behind.”
I began stroking and kneading her buttocks.
"Stop teasing me, Mister.” She said. “Give it to me."
She groaned and started coming a few moments after I slid into her, and kept coming for three or four minutes straight. I loved the way her ass and thighs rippled as I pounded into her. I loved the deep furrow of her ass - her "vertical smile." But most of all, I loved the way she had responded to my interest in pictures of other fat women.
I couldn't hold back for long: a mind-blowing orgasm overtook me, and my balls once again paid their loving, liquid tribute to Ellen. I pulled out of her at last, and planted a kiss on each buttock. She was trembling. I took her in my arms. She nestled her head against my neck. Â We lay there for a while, holding hands.
"A glass of white wine?" I offered.
"Mmm, that would be perfect. There's still some of that Pinot Grigio we had last night."
The next evening, after I put Malcolm to bed in his now reasonably tidy room, read him a chapter from Stuart Little, and sang him Woody Guthrie's "Howja Do" (which he asked for every night), I rejoined Ellen in the living room. She had mixed us each a gin and tonic. I took a sip of mine and snuggled beside her on the couch, nuzzling her ear.
"I've been wanting you all day," I murmured.
"The feeling's mutual," she chuckled, as our arms went round each other and we kissed. She lifted her sweater and unclasped her bra.
Hungrily, I began kissing her breasts . . .
"Daddy, why are you smelling Mommy's titties?"
I froze, and Ellen hastily pulled her sweater back down. Malcolm was standing in the hallway, regarding us with curiosity.
"Go back to bed young man," my wife said in her sternest tones. "You're supposed to be asleep."
"OK," he agreed reluctantly. "But why was Daddy doing that?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow, Chop," I said. "Now get back in bed."
After he trouped back to his room, Ellen and I exploded in a fit of muffled giggles. We felt like children caught in some misbehavior, rather than grown-ups.
"It's going to take him a while to get into a deep sleep," I sighed. "I don't think we're safe for another half hour."
Ellen removed her bra, then put her sweater back on. We finished our drinks.
"Rick, while we're waiting "
"Yes?"
"Would you show me some of those pictures? You know, from the web?"
I gulped. The thought of opening up my private world of perversions to the inspection and judgment of another person made me hesitate; but I also felt excited that Ellen might be turned on by some of the pictures.
"Are you sure you want to see them? Some of them are pretty raunchy."
"Rick, you're so cute when you're embarrassed," she laughed. "I won't be jealous or anything: I just want to get a better handle on what turns you on."
She hugged me again, pressing her big braless breasts against my chest, breathing into my ear. Because I'm very open to trying new things, sexually, with you. And the pictures might give me some ideas."
My dick was now on full alert. Ellen knew how to be persuasive. We went into the office and I fired up the G4. By now she had my pants unzipped, and her hand in my underpants, stroking my very erect cock. With trepidation, I opened the folder where I had hidden all my downloaded jpegs. She pulled up her chair, abandoning my cock for the moment, and began clicking on the pictures.
"These women are even fatter than me. Some are a lot fatter."
She continued clicking. "I've given up all pretence of dieting, by the way, since our talk last night. I'll be as big as this woman in a few months."
I stood behind her, kissing the back of her neck, cupping her breasts in my hands. She smiled at me. "You seem to like big asses, judging from this collection."
"Uh, yeah."
"This one is really hot," she giggled. Â It was a picture of a hefty BBW bent over a chair, with a short, skinny guy inserting his cock from behind.
"What do you like about it?"
"The look on her face. She's clearly enjoying it. Plus, the man here kind of reminds me of you."
I blushed. “They're doing it anally, you know."
"I know."
She gave me a smouldering look that told me she was thinking about my cock in her ass. "Show me the one that you think is hottest."
I went immediately to my favorite picture: a BBW with a planet- sized bum, bent over, cheeks spread, with a vibrator in her ****, a dollop of whipped cream in the furrow of her ass, and a large, fresh strawberry ensconced in her anus.
"Wow," she said slowly. "That *is* hot. She's shameless, isn't she, posing like that with her big ass."
"Well, there seems to be a growing number of men who find women like her very sexy. Â And I guess I'm one of them. We're called FA's, fat admirers."
"And aren't I lucky to have one for a husband. Well, come on, FA, I've seen enough pictures for tonight. The Chopper's asleep by now. How about some real sex?"
She paused, then added with a wink, "I think there's some whipped cream in the fridge."
(Moderator's note: We are happy to add this classic public domain story, cited as an inspiration for other tales to our collection.)
