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Possession - by LuvBigBoned (~BBW, Erotica)

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LuvBigBoned

Well-Known Member
Joined
Dec 24, 2008
Messages
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~BBW, Erotica -

Possession
By LuvBigBoned

Matter of time, Bella knew, deep in the heart that beat beneath her ballooning bust line.

At one point, she’d wondered whether the glint she’d always seen in Hal’s slightly narrowed brown eyes could be just wishful projection. If so, it was a wish she shared on some level with most of her female coworkers at Pritchard & Rowe. Tall, with boyish looks and movements, low cut hair, a leanly athletic body and – judging from a few discreet peeks – seriously packing, Hal drew more female attention than most other 37-year-old fathers of one. That he was married up until his wife’s death a year ago only augmented his appeal. After all, he’d already done ‘til death do us part.

But, Bella concluded after many months of gliding around each other in their Scandinavian Design furnished offices, Hal felt something, too. Each time Hal moved into her orbit, Bella was sure Hal experienced the same electric tingles that rippled through her big 5-6 body.

Big, yes, but with a correspondingly big well of self-confidence. Oh, Bella wasn’t completely bereft of self-doubt. No woman is and if Bella was anything it was total woman, from the ankles beneath her bulbous calves to the black hair that showered down to her tummy in front and in back to what she called her “cock tail” (“you can get all the cock you want if you have a tail that you can sit a drink on,” an ex-boyfriend once said while patting her backside).

Her 31 years taught her that despite what mainstream advertisers said, many men found her massive, sweeping thighs and diamond-shaped calves as sexy or sexier than supermodel skinny stems; that while some other (usually Caucasian) women snickered disparagement at her prominent, ever-growing butt – 50 inches last week! – she liked how it put a nice rump bump in skirts and shorts; that years of walking and the occasional volleyball game helped maintain tremendous health and energy well beyond the stereotypes for big girls.

Bella loved and liked herself. She’d had enough relationships, fielded enough come-ons, from men and women both, to know others did, too.
Particularly Hal, though none of those come-ons had come from him.
Soon, they would. Bella knew that as surely as she knew her bra size (40DDD) and weight (248, without clothes), job title (accounts supervisor) and that the corner coffee shop’s lunchtime takeout hash browns could be a little dry. Besides, the waiting made every conversation with Hal pregnant with anticipation.

“Ketchup is the Coke of condiments.”

Surprise almost got Bella’s red knee-length dress as Heinz-ed as the hash browns on her desk. Hal had a habit of appearing with an observation and disappearing without a customary benediction. Standing in her doorway with one hand in a pocket, black two-piece Armani suit over a white t-shirt outlining his meaty pectorals, he smiled impishly at her brief fluster.

“Whoa,” Bella said, backing away from the ketchup on her desk edge even as she inwardly cursed her sudden lack of eloquence.

“You didn’t get your dress did you?” Hal asked, tilting his head to look over the desk. “Hate to ruin a great dress. So few of them around.”

“Especially at my size,” Bella said, scanning her lap for maroon spots.

“At any size,” Hal countered, now leaning against the doorway. “My wife went from a 12 to 20 while we were together. Not going to say the same volume of clothes was available as she got into the serious plus sizes, but no matter the size, there was way too much ugly, ornate crap on the racks.”

Bella nodded, “The wise Latina concurs.” Satisfied she’d done no damage to her wardrobe, she slowly unveiled a smile with “So what brings you to my this part of the office this time of the Friday?”

“My mother-in-law.”

“Oh?”

Any mention of Marilyn, the mother of Hal’s late wife, had the effect of E.F. Hutton’s name around the Pritchard offices. Not only had this brilliant woman, crack the glass ceiling as the firm’s first female vice president in the late 1960s, but she had done so as a single mother. Even in retirement, her good word had helped fast track Hal. But it was well known she’d given that assistance not just, or even primarily, because Hal and her daughter Elizabeth shared a home. Elizabeth observed almost to the point of complaining at various office gatherings that she might be the odd person out in their like triangle. Hal and Marilyn could talk for hours while Elizabeth and Marilyn shared the love/can’t stand relationship common to many mothers and daughters.

“She feels like being supergrandma the next couple of days,” Hal said. “JoAnn will willingly help in that matter, leaving me a free man. So, I could cook for myself, but as I do that every night with the small one, I figured I’d see if a bigger one might like to pound beef with me at MooDerne tonight.”

Bella replied, “Hmmm, let me thi-yes” and put a laugh to her exaggerated nods.

“Tres bien. See you at 8, then. I’m wearing this, if you want to know.”

“I should be OK in this, right? I’ve got a minidress in the car…”

“You’re fine. You look great. Although I certainly wouldn’t mind you in a minidress” He started away, then paused. “You keep a minidress in the car?”

“Yeah. It’s both ready-to-go club wear and a spare for here, although it’s really a little too clubby for the office. But it could work in an emergency.”

Hal nodded. “I keep a Barney’s suit in the car for same reason. Now, I really have reason to hope for just such an emergency.” The warmth of his smile remained after he disappeared.

Two thoughts struck Bella: can’t beat a steak-centric restaurant whose design reworked 1920s modern, had Kandinskys for the eyes and Brazilian club jazz for the ears.

Also: Bella, the track is now open for practice or qualifications.

Bella loved devouring filet mignon with béarnaise sauce. Every bite was caressed lovingly with her tongue before being thoroughly, slowly masticated to drain every bit of taste before the swallow. Each bite of such perfectly cooked and sauced beef brought groaning sighs from Bella.

She heard soft-pitched grunts of similar sentiment from across the table when Hal wasn’t watching her with unabashed enjoyment.
They’d entered the packed restaurant a half hour before. As Hal formally gave his name and reservation time to the expensively, but scantily clad hostess and her tresses, a tall man who looked more than a bit like Sadaam Hussein glided up with a loud salutation, right hand extended, left arm hooking around Hal’s shoulder. Hal shook his hand, looking both honored and embarrassed at such a grand welcome.

“Why are you standing here? Have you been seated yet?” the man quickly asked as if he’d just discovered an hour-old emergency via blundering crew.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, Max, Lourdes has got it,” said Hal, clearly wanting to spare the busy hostess any hell.

“I’VE got it,” Max stated, shoving two menus under his right arm. “Wait 5 minutes? Have a drink at the bar. On me.”

Hal introduced Bella. Max clasped her hands and kissed her on the cheek. Suddenly less expansive in gesture and voice, Max turned to Hal. “Good to see you back.”

“Thank you,” Hal said. He started to lead Bella to the bar.

Lourdes was explaining to a man with a too-obvious hairpiece why he and his sylph date were a good 25 minutes from being seated. As they passed, Hal shook his head and said to air, “Should’ve spent less on that rug, more on tipping hostesses and feeding your woman.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like to eat,” Bella giggled.

“A woman who doesn’t like to eat? Don't have time for that...” Hal waved dismissively.

Once at the table, conversation pinballed over topics, although in a halting manner – neither Hal nor Bella liked to talk with their mouth full.

Formula One careened to Eva Marie Saint roles to the blacklist to Cuba to the viability of communism or capitalism. The steak gave way to creamed spinach, which gave way to a Max-sent dessert, a chocolate-wafer-whipped cream concoction, which gave way to Hal and the waiter arguing over the tip (“You know I don’t do this for the money. Besides, you’re tipping on the tax.” “Call it a preemptive makeup for the Euro geeks who can’t get up off 5 percent…”).

She felt put off when Hal answered his cell phone with but a glance at the number until hearing, “Hi…I’m eating dinner…What’re you going to do tomorrow?...OK. Are you being good for Grandma? Good. I know you usually do, but remember to help Grandma clean up after each meal and around the house…Well, her Dustbuster’s not as new as ours, but it still works, it’s still good and you don’t need to mention that to Grandma, OK?...Night-night. Daddy loves you.”


Bella cared not that he still had a photo of Elizabeth on his bathroom wall. Just as she wasn’t bothered that Hal had taken her to a restaurant he and Elizabeth clearly frequented. In fact, she wanted that. She wanted Hal to think of his former wife, wanted him to compare and contrast. How much more clearly could she make him realize that she was as perfect a match for him, maybe better?

It was time. He just needed a push. Or a pull. Bella loosened the five buttons on her dress. Then, Bella figured, in for a penny, in for a pound…or 250. She slid the dress off of her, remaining only in heels, lace blue thong and bra.

Hal had turned for the living room after pointing her to the bathroom. Shortly, she heard jazz. Bella took a gamble that meant he would be in the bedroom perhaps ditching socks and shoes or even changing clothes.

She threw open the bathroom door and walked, buttocks, thighs and breasts wobbling into his bedroom, sighted a pleasantly surprised Hal and found the happy place between Plea and Command: “Come to me.”

He did. Hal bent to kiss her breasts and she pushed them together to frame his face in their smothering warmth. With his head buried in her chest, she yanked his shirt up to his shoulders. He straightened, snatched his shirt off, then bonded his lips to hers. She felt the rippling upper arms as they encircled her, his hands trying to cup her overflowing butt and lift her toward the bed. He barely got her off the ground, moved her a few inches, then aborted the maneuver. Unsurprised at his failure, she drove her face into Hal’s muscular chest and pushed forward with her thunder thighs and monster calves.

He was surprised at her success, finding himself on his back on his bed. With impetuous quickness, Bella pounced on Hal, who was almost painfully erect just watching all that flesh, some firm and some flabby, undulate so briskly. Also, goodness, those billowing curves, those huge aureole so perfectly fitting those breasts. She grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts gently, but firmly and hummed, “Yes…yes…yes.”

She scooted up his prone body, sliding excruciatingly slowly over his erection. That enormous butt pushing down on his penis, her weight mooring him to the bed, Hal felt under sensual siege by a sexy, hefty juggernaut.

“Oh, Bella…” he whispered repeatedly. He lifted his hips as she glided across him, his manhood straining to find her feminine.

“No. We’ll take care of that later,” Bella grinned. She reached the top of him, her thighs starting to squash his face, her womanhood just millimeters from his chin. “Now…”

She slid her thong off, reversed and plonked her butt on his face. He saw only darkness, felt only the heat and tonnage of her gluteus very maximus, could smell only her wet vagina. He reached a tongue out to paint her lower lips with long strokes. He felt a hand on his head and another hand on his chest, bracing her while pinning him.

A few seconds of fruitless struggles to position later, Hal understood. She’d imprisoned him and he’d have to lick his way out. So, he went to work, drawing his tongue around her lips, finding then making sure to graze her clit on each lap. Bella’s grand hips moved in rhythm with his circuits. She barely noticed his arms snaking across her thick thighs.

She definitely noticed when suddenly he hugged those huge hips and thighs, freezing them as he sucked seemingly her whole pussy, clitoris and all, into his mouth. As she gasped, Hal expertly, gently, held her clitoris between his teeth and strummed it like his tongue was a hand playing a banjo. Bella could feel the waves coming and had prepared to ride them…when Hal stopped.

Damn him! Damn him! Bella fumed. He wanted her to beg for the finish and, oh, she would beg, beg like a starving bitch, but he would pay, pay so dearly he would learn she wouldn’t be toyed with like this, oh, no, she would crush him, break him down in every way until he felt himself no more than an ankle high pet lucky to serve her every whim…

That four seconds of vengeful rage melted as Hal began humming with his tongue on her clit. He hummed in time with the song on the stereo with long notes, long trains of vibration. The waves returned, but, now, as massive rogue waves. Bella felt the rise and prepared for the glorious crash.

Her whole body began shaking. Subjugated by her densely distributed weight, Hal momentarily feared she might forget herself and accidentally truly smother him. Yet what he felt were the south end of several full body jerks. He turned his head slightly to grab a whisper of cool air before his lower face, mouth and throat were drenched in Bella’s woman juices. As Bella felt each crash, her own waves of female fluid cascaded onto Hal’s face, rolled down his cheeks and onto the bed. Used to women cumming, but not used to so much wetness, Hal barely gulped, preventing gagging.

Bella rolled off of him. She caressed the grand bulge in his erection. “Now that you’ve had a post-dinner snack, how about some dancing?”


Her trip to Evolution’s restroom lasted 20 minutes. Long lines for the stalls and in some of the stalls. Bella didn’t mind. Before they left his apartment, she hadn’t let Hal do more than gently dab at his face. No shower. No new suit. She’d allowed a new shirt.

“Just play along with me,” Bella airily requested.

Now, he sat back in one of the corner tables. The club’s lighting would take another five years off Hal’s already seven-years-younger look. Good prey in this meat market.

Bella knew she need not worry.

Hal could make out the bulbous hourglass silhouette sashaying out of the purplish light, undulating toward him much more confidently and slowly than the urgent bass beats of similar thickness. The light could’ve tricked Hal into thinking the woman was wearing lavender hose under a violet minidress if Hal didn’t already know the minidress was blue and the woman hated stockings.

She stopped just close enough to him to violate polite personal space.

“All alone?” Bella purred. Hal nodded.

“Do you know why?” she whispered, settling onto his lap, back to him and facing the floor. “It’s not because you aren’t beautiful or sexy. Or, too old. In fact, there might not be a hotter guy in here tonight. Certainly, none better dressed.”
“That’s one Latina’s opinion…” Hal said.

“Does anyone else’s matter?” Bella breathed into his ear. She wiggled backwards until she felt his already rising erection. “And, you’re right, nothing feels better than Armani.”

She reached behind her back like a handcuffed escape artist and let Hal’s penis free. Then, she raised her mini to slot herself on and against Hal. A medium hard kegel squeeze brought another gasp from Hal. She reclined, completely pinning him to the chair, then threw her head back onto his shoulder. Through her long, black hair, she breathed in his ear, “It’s because they smell me on you. They know you belong to someone. To me.”

Her hands on the sides of the chair to brace herself, she slowly began small lifts of her hips. Hal could feel himself growing inside her. He reached around to cradle those full water balloon breasts and finger the nipples just as she liked – rough enough to indicate something between hunger and starvation. Each hip raise became longer, accompanied by a kegel grip through each upstroke. “You remember…how many times I came?...All that…pussy juice? Its taste?”

Hal nodded, “Uh-huh…”

“That’s just me. That’s how much woman I am.” She breathed deeply, her great chest rising and falling like a pump in his hands. “That’s what you’re going to have on you, in you, mornings before we leave for work, before any night we go out. You’re going to be filled with my taste, my smell. I’ll be in your very breath all day.”

She kept up her steady rhythm while Hal felt like his entire penis was straining to escape his skin. “You might not be able to….handle that. Not many men have been…But I think you can.”

She raised herself until just the head of his little big head was inside her, then let herself plop heavily onto his lap. Hal could feel the tip of his penis grazing her depth. Again, vagina gripping his member, up, up, up, loosen, DOWN. Again, up, up, up, u-DOWN.

“Woooooo…” she whistled, before biting her bottom lip into silence. Staying still for a few seconds, she let them wallow in the involuntary shudders of her entire body against his and the once again flowing orgasm fluids. She resumed, but now with a smooth up and down rhythm, longer kegel squeezes, pressing her torso almost through him to envelop him more in her heat.

Hal could feel his breaths turn short, squeaks of pleasure spitting from his throat. Bella took those as the sound of the final tumbler, “Come on, my love. Say it. Say it.”

No, he thought. No. No. No, I can’t, I can’t…I…can’t…I can’t be without this woman. Not caring if the club music obscured his declaration, he screamed, “YES! YES! OH, MY GOODNESS! YES! BELLA! I AM YOUUUUUURRRRRRS! I AM YOUUUUURRRrrsss…Bella.” His throat felt as sandpaper coarse as it sounded when he croaked, “I am yours.” His entire body – well, almost his entire body – fell limp. He gulped air as if he had nearly drowned. He realized he would have to be comfortable being drowned.

Bella steadied herself, rose, reversed herself and gently kissed him. “Yes, you are mine. I will take good care of you. We will take good care of each other. We both will take good care of JoAnn.”
 

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