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My First BBW Experience - by Jay West Coast (essay)

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Jay West Coast

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Essay - an exceptonal FA reality post and comments taken by permission from a WG Forum thread, eventually destined for our Fine Arts Forum

My First BBW Experience
by Jay West Coast

I carefully sat in a 1909 neo-gothic Catholic church in Illinois, carving the plaster of a trefoil on the church’s main alter screen. I was eighteen years old, and working diligently as an apprentice restoring one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever seen. The rest of the workers were in the shop, and the sound of my lone dremel echoed through the church’s majestic chambers.

My mind wandered. Perhaps, the master craftsman, who was also my humorously unforgiving uncle, would have scorned me for doing so in such a moment, but I couldn’t resist. Suddenly, it seemed to me that I craved a symphony of silence in that church. I turned off the dremel, and put it down. I hadn’t talked to God in some time, but I think He still had something to say. I sat, and meditated.

Months before, I had graduated from high school as part of the popular crowd. I lettered in two sports, and enjoyed the attention from being a smartass in school. The popular girls all dated my friends and I, being as dating seems to be more of a social maneuver at that age then wrought of true attraction. Or, perhaps that is easy for me to say; since I never once felt attracted down deep to the girls I was dating.

I had found Dimensions at 14, and was all too aware of what I really wanted. A growing set of crude fat-girl printouts and weight-loss ads clipped from the local paper sat secretly slipped between my mattress and boxspring throughout adolescence. I had been an FA dating skinny chicks.

As I sat before the house of God, I reflected on the absurdity of it all. There was a true happiness to be had. A blessing that I had been foolishly ignoring; something not without struggles, but ever-rewarding to pursue. The coming years of college were my chance to explore who I really was, to explore the sensuality of the women that God Himself had designed me to be with. I picked up the dremel tool, turned it on, and I began to hum.

“So far so good, Jay,” my uncle announced as he slipped into the sanctuary. His hand found my shoulder. “You know, perfection is all I ask.”

Months later, I had found the first love of my life, and dove headfirst into my first meaningful relationship. She was exotic, and beautiful. Her father was the hereditary monarch of an island in the Pacific, and she carried his hazel eyes and coffee-with-cream skin. She studied at my university, had lived in a year in Japan, and waxed long nights about dreams of education reform on her island. She was smart, funny, and cute. It was getting late, and I asked if she was ready for me to walk her back to her dorm.

“No, Jay,” she replied. “I’m perfectly comfortable right here.”

The winter night crept into the tiny room through my dorm window, so I got up to pull it shut. I turned around to find that she had already slid herself between the sheets to keep warm, so I slipped in next to her. Her big eyes captured the fortunate rays of moonlight that had evaded the Venetian blinds. Her wispy black hair trickled from behind her ears, past her breasts, and onto the sheets. She was so beautiful that I couldn’t think anymore, I just felt.

My hand reached behind her ear to move her delicate hair down her neck, where I grasped softly the back of her head. My body slid against hers, almost without me realizing it. As my hard stomach pressed against her soft belly, my edges of my mouth wandered perilously close to her big, wide lips. I could feel the heaviness of her breath in my ear, and I felt so distracted I could barely remember to exhale.

I lifted her head toward mine, and as my lips carefully touched hers, I could feel the endorphins maniacally rush through our intertwined bodies. My other hand crept along her voluptuous breasts, along her wonderfully soft sides and traced her wide hips. My fingertips shivered in restrained ecstasy as they touched the sensual fat that adorned her body. “This is what a woman should feel like,” I whispered in my head. Her soft flesh seemed to cry out to my innermost passions, to the primal desires within each man that lets him know he is alive. And in that moment, I was truly alive.

My lips dove into hers, my eager hands carefully memorizing each curve of her body. Our eyes still chased each other as we moved like liquid inside the tiny bed. It seemed as though I could feel the very color of her skin as it wrapped around mine. Her thick thighs, her wide hips, her big soft belly had purchased every bit of my passions that weren’t already captured by her natural intellect, warmth, and playfulness. We had breathed so heavily for so long that we had exhausted every crevice of oxygen in the room. In my ruffled boxers, I rose from the bed to open the now-fogged window and let the crisp Oregon winter pour back into the steamy room.

We spooned under the sheets, my arm perfectly wrapping around the soft rolls of her waist. I tucked the free strands of her ebony hair back behind her ear, and then traced its lobe with the very skin of the back of my fingers. As I held my breath, I could hear hers slow its rhythm. She was finally asleep. I kissed the side of her neck, and laid my head beside hers on the down pillow.

“Oh, God,” I whispered into the cold night air, “this is what you made me for. Thank you. Thank you for making me the kind of man that could understand the immaculate beauty of a fat woman. I don’t want anything else for the rest of my life.”
 

supersoup

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welp, i'm off to take a cold shower. :D

DAYUM mister!! that was a nice read, and totally makes me bitter i've yet to be with a true FA!
 

ValentineBBW

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Is it hot in here or what?! Jay, you have a way with words----thank you for sharing.
 

AnnMarie

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Holy Car-ap!

It does no justice to all those beautiful words, but my brain is quite literally scrambled after reading that.

Oh man.
 

MisticalMisty

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Amazing Jay, amazing. What's sad is that it's more than amazing but my mind is so deliciously numb, that amazing is the only word I can I can think of..I'm quite lucky it's there.

That's what I want someone to feel when they are with me..when they are touching me. When they are lost in my flesh..devouring my tummy.

Jay, you are the quintessential fa. You, my friend, proved that in one post.


Thank you for writing it.
 

AnnMarie

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Amazing Jay, amazing. What's sad is that it's more than amazing but my mind is so deliciously numb, that amazing is the only word I can I can think of..I'm quite lucky it's there.

That's what I want someone to feel when they are with me..when they are touching me. When they are lost in my flesh..devouring my tummy.

Jay, you are the quintessential fa. You, my friend, proved that in one post.


Thank you for writing it.
I agree Misty, and you know when we're banging our heads against walls and trying to explain what a TRUE FA is... and why we'll accept no less? That post is what should be linked to... that's it. We should be able to just shut up and nod at that point.

If a chick can read that and not get it, she deserves none of it.
 

MisticalMisty

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I agree Misty, and you know when we're banging our heads against walls and trying to explain what a TRUE FA is... and why we'll accept no less? That post is what should be linked to... that's it. We should be able to just shut up and nod at that point.

If a chick can read that and not get it, she deserves none of it.
I totally agree. I hope Jay doesn't mind me sharing this, but I asked him to write this. He asked why and I told him because he was my in my opinion an "ideal" FA. and I wanted to know what experience started him down this path. I was curious. I told him he presents himself as being very confident in who he is and I knew from his posts and how he seems..that the woman he's with would never have to doubt his attraction or ever feel that he was ashamed to be with them. That to me equals an ideal FA. I told him he's already a good person no matter what his preference. However, the way he presents himself in regards to his preference is what makes him so attractive.
I think most of ladies will agree with me.

 

BigCutieSasha

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I totally agree. I hope Jay doesn't mind me sharing this, but I asked him to write this. He asked why and I told him because he was my in my opinion an "ideal" FA. and I wanted to know what experience started him down this path. I was curious. I told him he presents himself as being very confident in who he is and I knew from his posts and how he seems..that the woman he's with would never have to doubt his attraction or ever feel that he was ashamed to be with them. That to me equals an ideal FA. I told him he's already a good person no matter what his preference. However, the way he presents himself in regards to his preference is what makes him so attractive.
I think most of ladies will agree with me.

I couldn't agree more Misty. He's one amazing guy.
 

ValentineBBW

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I totally agree. I hope Jay doesn't mind me sharing this, but I asked him to write this. He asked why and I told him because he was my in my opinion an "ideal" FA. and I wanted to know what experience started him down this path. I was curious. I told him he presents himself as being very confident in who he is and I knew from his posts and how he seems..that the woman he's with would never have to doubt his attraction or ever feel that he was ashamed to be with them. That to me equals an ideal FA. I told him he's already a good person no matter what his preference. However, the way he presents himself in regards to his preference is what makes him so attractive.
I think most of ladies will agree with me.

Misty, you hit the nail on the head. I too was lacking words after reading Jay's post so my response was less than eloquent to say the least. I've been trying to put together why I enjoy his posts and come away with a smile, it is because of the way he presents himself in regards to his preference.

I totally agree Misty, thank you for putting it so well.
 

AnnMarie

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Misty, you hit the nail on the head. I too was lacking words after reading Jay's post so my response was less than eloquent to say the least. I've been trying to put together why I enjoy his posts and come away with a smile, it is because of the way he presents himself in regards to his preference.

I totally agree Misty, thank you for putting it so well.
Yes, there is nothing sexier in a person that one who pursues their own happiness and joy without apologies. It's confidence and self-awareness that makes the men stand out from the boys (and that is truly not an issue tied to age.)
 

rainyday

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It's confidence and self-awareness that makes the men stand out from the boys (and that is truly not an issue tied to age.)
Amen, amen, amen.

Jay, if that post doesn't deserve rep, I don't know what does. I'm out at the moment, but I owe ya.
 

Observer

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This post, especially in light of the reactions to it, deserves in my opinion to be part of of our Essays collection inthe Fine Arts Forum. My thanks to Jay West Coast for agreeing to share it.
 

activistfatgirl

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I was inspired by Jay West Coast's first bbw story to try to paint a better picture of my first FA experience. It was a nice chance to see how rusty my creative writing skills are. But a wonderful opportunity to re-live some fun times!
---
I could tell it was him a block away by the emerald green jacket. Next to the white sky and the gray concrete, he stood out. Was he as nervous as me? When he stood in front of me and said, “hi”, I knew the answer was yes.

Yes.

I talk to drown out the sound of my heart, fearful everyone can hear it.

While I chat with my friends, I see him in my periphery, stealing glances with wide saucer eyes. He’s looking at my breasts, then, lower: at my belly. I expect him to stop looking—maybe start running--while I tell my friend about the restaurant we’re about to go to. He doesn’t. He swallows and side steps, like a foal trying to find its footing.

Months of smileys and IM conversations didn’t prepare me for those stolen glances—I wasn’t sure I was ready to be adored. It’s strange to be overwhelming to someone when you’ve been invisible for years.

“He’s cute,” I tell my friends in the bathroom later. I say it again, because I don’t believe it. He’s cute. They look at me quizzically--they don’t seem to get the significance of that statement. I look in the mirror and don’t say out loud, “but I’m cute, too.”

I do a quick turn and see someone I hadn’t ever noticed. A woman with full, heart shaped cheeks and a blown out hourglass body. I repeat my mantra, and believe it to the sound of the hand dryer starting.

Music is cascading over my face. I’m flushed by the sound of these anthems, and a thousand screwing youth. He puts his arm around me—in front of all of these people! He moves over to accommodate me, how can he not be scared? Scared like me that the laughter will tear us apart. No one laughs. He does not laugh, until I look at him and let my lips spread across my teeth, grinning--laughing.

We laugh together, nervous, and it drowns everything else out.

Everything is so new today. There’s three of us in this tiny back seat, and he takes advantage by sliding in next to me, flinging his arm around me, leaning against me. He presses me against his chest, but I don’t move. I’m sturdy and not used to being flexible, delicate, or held. Everything in the universe had flipped over, like my stomach.

Instinctually, I try to make myself smaller. I always lose this battle, just as I’m losing my silly pride. He puts his other hand on my thigh, spread out too. His hand is heavy and steady, he is certain. I am certainly unfamiliar with the feeling of a hand on my flesh, on my fat flesh. He moves closer, his hand massaging my thigh, moving inwards. How can something feel natural if you’re feeling it for the first time?

This is what it’s like to be understood. I confront my fear of being fat and naked at once in a tiny dorm room. You can not hide 300 pounds of flesh in a room as tiny as his, there is no where to go, and the bathrooms are collective. I’m pressed against the door, feeling full, feeling his hands in my hair, on my belly, cupping my breasts, grabbing my ass. I wonder where he learned to cover a vast expanse in such a short time.

He takes off my shirt and his saucer eyes are back as he kneels down, wrists deep in belly fat. He groans, and smiles--a series of events that will continue for the next several hours. I stop holding it in, defeated, deflated, and suddenly able to breathe. When he stands up and presses his slender body against me with incredible force, I realize I need the extra air.

He says “sexy” and I wonder if the room is spinning, or if it’s just me. Like a fat bottomed top, spinning faster and faster until all the energy is expended. I won’t be able to lose my virginity on this college futon. I’ll lose my fear.
 

AnnMarie

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I was inspired by Jay West Coast's first bbw story to try to paint a better picture of my first FA experience. It was a nice chance to see how rusty my creative writing skills are. But a wonderful opportunity to re-live some fun times!
---
I could tell it was him a block away by the emerald green jacket. Next to the white sky and the gray concrete, he stood out. Was he as nervous as me? When he stood in front of me and said, “hi”, I knew the answer was yes.

.....

He says “sexy” and I wonder if the room is spinning, or if it’s just me. Like a fat bottomed top, spinning faster and faster until all the energy is expended. I won’t be able to lose my virginity on this college futon. I’ll lose my fear.
Perfect capture of how heady and intoxicating it is. Bravo, woman.

I have to say, as much as it's "out of body" first time, to this day it's never quite "in body"... it's always this mixture of pleasure and awe and a little bit of shock that this is happening to "me".

Thanks for writing it out, I've been too lazy to try, but I'm getting more and more inspired with these contributions.
 

activistfatgirl

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Perfect capture of how heady and intoxicating it is. Bravo, woman.

I have to say, as much as it's "out of body" first time, to this day it's never quite "in body"... it's always this mixture of pleasure and awe and a little bit of shock that this is happening to "me".

Thanks for writing it out, I've been too lazy to try, but I'm getting more and more inspired with these contributions.
You should do it! I can't tell ya enough how much fun it was. I've been wanting to write more, and its a perfect theme as its hella fun to think about--even the worst moments are great fun to think about. Better than a HBO special, they are. Because they're ours.
 

Observer

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OK - I'm moving this to Fine Arts earlier than normal because of its unique subject matter to give it a little extra marquee time.
 

curveyme

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I am new here and amazed by the acceptance of this community. After being a fat girl all my life and having been married to a man who never liked my body, it's so encouraging to know there are actually men out there who could appreciate all of me - body and mind. Of course, all I have to do now is find that man!!
Anyway, THANK YOU for sharing such an amazing read!
 

URTalking2Jenn

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The word fat is something that has become apart of my identity. I've always been overweight with big hips/ass. In my world or circle of people it was something that was the negative side of me, like oh Jenn is such a nice person but she needs to lose the weight. That if it weren't for my weight I'd be the ideal person.

I don't hate myself because I'm fat; it's something I just am. I've always thought different people looked good at different shapes. Yet on the other side I don't love my fat. I think I'm a pretty girl, but it hard for me to see an event where someone was feeling like Jay,


Her soft flesh seemed to cry out to my innermost passions, to the primal desires within each man that lets him know he is alive. And in that moment, I was truly alive.
[/SIZE]
Yet I'm very glad to have activistfatgirl’s side, the womens side, because it make what Jay said more real and not a lie. Understand what I'm trying to say?

He presses me against his chest, but I don’t move. I’m sturdy and not used to being flexible, delicate, or held. Everything in the universe had flipped over, like my stomach.

Instinctually, I try to make myself smaller. I always lose this battle, just as I’m losing my silly pride. He puts his other hand on my thigh, spread out too. His hand is heavy and steady, he is certain. I am certainly unfamiliar with the feeling of a hand on my flesh, on my fat flesh. He moves closer, his hand massaging my thigh, moving inwards. How can something feel natural if you’re feeling it for the first time?
I can identify with her thoughts in her experience.
 

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