We Need To Talk by Rojodi (BBW, Romance)

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Rojodi

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~BBW, Romance - We should talk every day like this!

We Need To Talk
By Rojodi

I had been nervous all day, ever since my wife Nancy called and told me "We need to talk." Those words are never good. I thought about it, drove myself crazy. I didn’t accomplish a thing after her call. Quitting time came, and for the first time in years, I didn’t want to go home. I was not looking forward to seeing her.

The last time she told me we needed to talk was back in college. She had received erroneous information about me, about a weekend where I went to Florida for an indoor soccer tryout. Someone from my past - an upset ex-girlfriend - had told her that her and I spent the three days I was away, supposedly in St. Petersburg, in a hotel room making love with her, laughing at her naiveté, believing I actually had a tryout. When I returned, Nancy said we needed to talk. She proceeded to spend the next two hours calling me all sorts of names, calling me a lying, and cheating bastard. And that she no longer wanted to be with me. We were through.

I was devastated; I couldn’t function for the rest of the day. I sat in my apartment all night, not moving from the chair. Fortunately for me, for us, my ex confessed that she made the entire thing up. We made up and have been together ever since.

I thought as I parked the car something wasn’t right. Usually, the living and dining room lights were on, along with those in the kitchen and our son’s room. Tonight, there were none on. The only light I saw was flickering, like candles where lit. This was a good omen.

With trepidation, I entered. Again, something was not right. I saw no lights, I saw no wife. All I saw were two candles in the dining room. I put down my briefcase and turned to call out for her.

“Hi honey.” Her voice was soft; her voice was coming from the landing. “Welcome home,” she added as her footsteps moved back to the second floor. There was something in her voice that told me something: I needed not to worry. Her voice was sexy, inviting. I loosened my tie and headed up the stairs, skipping every other one.

I reached the top of the steps and inhaled. The aroma of vanilla hit my senses and I smiled. She knows what that scent does to me.

“Hello, handsome,” she whispered in the threshold. Before I could say a word, my eyes saw her, a vision in blue. She stood there, a smile on her face, backlit from half-dozen or so candles. I saw blue lace hugging her curves.

Periwinkle was the shade of her stretch lace chemise, the princess lines giving me a great look at her body. I wanted to tell her how lovely, how wonderful, how sexy she was looking, but the words were escaping me. I was lost in thought.

“Nothing to say?” she asked as a mischievous grin came. “I thought you’d love this.” There was a bit of a pout on her lips, but I knew it was for show. She knew that when I was speechless, I thought she was hot. She knew I was deep in lust.

I shook my head, my eyes wide. My mouth was dry. I could feel my heart begin to beat out of my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment in a futile attempt at calming my body. I opened my eyes and inhaled deeply. With each look at Nancy, I loved her new lingerie more and more.

“Like what you see?” she asked as she pulled me into the bedroom. I could only nod my response. She kissed my lips and unbuttoned my shirt. She leaned over and turned on the radio, a soft jazz channel playing. She sat me down on the edge of the bed.

“Yes,” I whispered. My voice cracked like a teenager’s. My heart was beating faster. I could swear she was hearing it. She smiled broadly as she turned around, giving me a better look at her entire body. I sat and stared as she turned. I looked into her ample cleavage: I was loving the princess lines. She noticed.

“Now, now, young man,” she began. “Are you staring at these?” She squeezed her gifts, as I love to call them, together. She leaned down and kissed me on the lips. I wanted more, was searching for more. She broke the embrace and stood. She twirled to the music.

“This makes me feel so sexy,” she said. Her hands slowly traveled her body, rubbing her belly, touching her thighs. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve felt like this.”

I wanted to take her, wanted to show her how sexy she was to me. But, something in me stopped this. She began to dance more, moving her hips to the music, slowly and steadily. She was making me thank God more that she, indeed, still loved me.

“We need to talk,” she said as she pushed me down onto the bed.
 
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Give me "More to Love"
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‘We needed to talk.’

Ok, you got my attention. Don't make us wait to long for the rest.;)
 

Rojodi

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‘We needed to talk.’

Ok, you got my attention. Don't make us wait to long for the rest.;)
The story ends here. I wanted to get people to use their imagination, and I wanted to write something that did not go off into the pornographic, for once

Roger
 

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Give me "More to Love"
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The story ends here. I wanted to get people to use their imagination, and I wanted to write something that did not go off into the pornographic, for once
I can respect that. But i do believe there can be more without being graphic. Please think about. I sure I am not the only one who whats to know where this could lead. (ideas: she could have found his collection of BBW pic on his PC an wants to be that fantasy for him or she is loving to find out if he really is still genuinely attracted to her etc.)

I think you get my point.
 

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