A Bbw Weekend Ch 01

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PART 1

Fourteen inches of freshly fallen snow up in the mountains, and I was totally prepared for a week-end of cruising and schussing the slopes. Not to mention the lodge bar after a long day. Come to think of it, the night life, after a day of skiing, was just what the doctor ordered.

I spent all week perusing the ski shops ensuring that my gear was top notch. I was sparing no expense. I was going to own the slopes.

PART 2

Probably the first inkling that my skiing career was going to be short-lived was when the instructor advised me that I was going to be assigned to "Lollipop Run." I guess asking which ski pole was the right one, and which the left, caused him some concern.

After about thirty minutes of basic instruction, predominately how to "snow-plow" and the correct way to fall, the instructor cut me loose.

No sweat. A few minutes with the kids and I knew I'd be ready to tackle "The Bowl." I think I even pictured myself ski jumping for the National team. I even wondered who would do the interview on TV.

Thirty seconds into my inaugural run I found out some very interesting things about snow and skiing.

ONE. When you stand on snow in boots, snow is not very slippery. When you stand on snow in skis, it is VERY slippery.

TWO. You should never ski straight down the slope. If you ski straight down the slope, you build up A LOT of speed.

THREE. If you build up too much speed, and you've lost control, just fall over. DON'T try to ride it out.

Shortly after my thirty seconds of terror on the slopes, I learned an extremely interesting skier's term.

Interestingly enough, when a skier wipes out so badly that his hat, skis, poles, gloves, goggles, and most of his self-respect, is left strewn over a 200 yard area, skier's call it a "yard sale."

I had, what was described by some in the ski patrol as, a "yard and garage sale rolled into one." One guy told me it was the most spectacular wipeout he'd ever witnessed. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he'd seen his share of wipe-outs, and that he was honestly impressed. I was so proud. Sheesh!!

PART 3

So here I was, later on in the day, back at the lodge.

The crackling fire wasn't helping my spirits at all. Other than a veritable plethora of bumps and bruises, I had escaped my disaster virtually unharmed.

I was nursing a nice single malt scotch, and was wondering how much I could recoup on slightly used ski equipment in a resale shop, when I heard a voice off to my right.

"Hi Mr. Stone," a voice said. "I thought you might like some company."

I turned and saw the snot-nosed kid from the ski patrol wheeling a woman in her early-40's towards me, in a wheelchair.

Earlier the kid had given me, unsolicited and unwanted, instruction on how to fall on skis. I had wanted to give him instruction on how to fornicate with himself, but I'd held my tongue.

As for the woman, two things jumped out at me immediately. (No pun intended.)

The first was the immobilizing brace on the woman's right foot. The other was the look of utter disgust on her face. It was the same look I'd had on mine when I first arrived back at the lodge.

"Lollipop Run is taking 'em out right and left today," snot-nose chuckled.

My first thought was to leave nothing but smoke and rubble but I realized that it was just a kid without a lick of sense, and no skills at personal interaction.

The look on his face said, "Look into something a little safer next time like...checkers or solitaire."

I couldn't even see the kid as he spoke. I was picturing a pair of smoking ski boots where he stood. He must have been able to read my mind as, when my eyes locked on his, the "better-than-thou" smirk quickly dissipated.

He quickly pushed the woman over so that she sat directly across from me.

"Mr. Stone, this is Mrs. Walker. Mrs. Walker, Mr. Stone. I'm really sorry about your accidents. (Too little, too late.) If you need anything, the lodge staff will be glad to help you."

I noted a slight hint of a smile as snot-nose got ready to leave.

"Thank you and good luck," the woman said sweetly.

"Break a leg," I said in not as sweet a tone. I wasn't wishing him "good luck" like a stage performer. At that moment I was hoping he really would break a leg. Snot-nose got the message.

Finally, satisfied to see the smile completely disappear, I said "Thanks."

The kid quickly walked away.

PART 4

"You were a little hard on him don't you think?" the woman asked.

The tone of her voice, and the question she asked, told me volumes about her. I had no doubt that she was a kind and caring person, but there was still a slight edge to her voice that said, "Thanks. He deserved that."

"No," I said with a slight chuckle. "He's young. He'll get over it. Besides, if his personality doesn't change he's destined to hear far worse."

The woman laughed heartily.

"He wasn't the brightest bulb in the knife drawer was he?"

Now it was my turn to laugh. I'd never heard it put quite that way before.

"Mrs. Walker, my name is Don Stone. It's a real pleasure meeting you."

"Thank you Don, but please call me Hillary," she responded.

We spent the next hour or so making small talk. I found that she was a second grade school teacher from San Antonio. She wasn't married, which surprised me as she had definitely been introduced as "Mrs.," and she hadn't corrected me when I used that term.

She had one child from a brief encounter in college. The child was a junior at Alabama, majoring in electrical engineering.

Surprisingly I found she was 51 years old. She honestly did not look a day over 40, and I consider myself a good judge of age.

I let Hillary do most of the talking as I was thoroughly enjoying listening to her, and looking her over.

For 51 she took good care of herself. Hell, for 40 she took good care of herself.

She had black hair, but with a definite red tint. It was extremely hard to define. Whoever did her color should be highly recommended. It was worth every penny.

She had hazel brown eyes and a beautiful smile. I can honestly say that I never met anyone who's smile did more for their face than her's. She was a pretty woman when she wasn't smiling but, when she smiled, she was absolutely beautiful.

Damn, when she smiled, her whole face lit up. Lines, curves, color, that just didn't seem to be there, appeared as if by magic. If I'd been an artist I would have wanted to do a portrait of her. It was a face that should be immortalized. Beautiful was an understatement.

Her body should have been bronzed for immortality. 48FF chest measurement. Who knew they came in sizes like that? They were certainly not a sight I was going to soon forget. 46 waist and 51 hips. Definitely if I was in the business of making bodies, or hourglasses, this was how I would make them.

I found myself thinking less and less about bumps and bruises, and more and more about what she and I could do for the rest of the weekend.

PART 5

"I know what you mean," Hillary was saying to me as I was coming out of my reverie. "I was really looking forward to this week-end. I never thought it would be so hard."

Apparently I wasn't completely back from my day-dreaming.

"Someone that looks like you has no problem making it hard," I said matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me," Hillary said as a look of shock crossed her face.

I quickly tried to recover.

"The skiing. Of course. The skiing is hard," I stammered. "I'm sorry. My mind was a million miles away. I should have been listening more closely. I'm sorry."

(Let's face it folks. Once you put your foot in your mouth there is no way to recover. You take your lumps.)

At first I thought she was going to be really angry. Her face flushed a color of red I hadn't seen before. The look quickly dissipated though and a quizzical look replaced it.

"I'm making you hard?" she asked. "Just sitting across from you?"

The look on her face was a mixture of disbelief and excitement.

"Just from sitting across from you," I said matter-of-factly. "And that's with your clothes on. I can only imagine how hard I would get if your clothes weren't blocking the view."

Hillary stared at me dumbfounded.

"You're pretty sure of yourself aren't you?" she looked at me intently. "What if I'm not in the least bit interested?"

"Not at all," I replied. "I'm not sure of myself in the slightest. It's just that Mother Stone didn't raise any foolish children. This weekend was going to hell pretty fast until you rolled up."

"Now I have a choice," I continued. "I can sit down here and watch the fire and think about just how miserable a skier I am, or I can take you up to my room and prove to you just how hard you make me. If I have a choice I'm going for Option B, but it's totally your call."

I reached down and slid my hand slowly across the front of my slacks for emphasis. Hillary's eyes followed every movement of my hand. Finally she licked her lips and stared into my eyes intently.

"Let's give Option B a try."

Part 6

If they time such things, I want to place my name on the record for wheeling Hillary to my room, and getting our clothes off. I am sure that, if it wasn't a world record time, it was damn close.

Hillary lay on my bed looking at me. I stood next to her looking at her in awe. She was the perfect definition of the big, beautiful woman.

Her smile was radiant. Her skin soft and supple. Her breasts were magnificent with large dark aureoles. Her nipples were already stiffening though they were, as of then, untouched.

I was dying to slide my cock on her belly. I wanted to feel the pillowy softness against me. There is nothing like the feel of a soft, large and lovely belly. As I looked at it I wanted to trace rivulets of precum across its expanse. I wanted her to know just how much it excited me.

My eyes traveled to her exposed pussy. A thick growth of black hair, already matted with her juices, lay in wait for my probing tongue to separate, so that I could explore and savor to my heart's content. To my surprise the hair had the same reddish tint. I realized it was her natural color.

As I watched, Hillary's right hand slid across the hair, and her middle finger dipped into the fold slightly and began to rub.

I hoped I wasn't drooling.

The only thing that kept me from jumping onto the bed and fucking her like a caveman was the brace on her foot. I did not want to hurt her.

Hilary saw the expression on my face change when my eyes traveled to her foot.

"Don," she called to me. "Come over closer to the bed. I need you in my mouth. I want to taste you."

I looked at her face. The lust and excitement was unmistakable. If it was possible she looked even more beautiful.

She slid over to the edge of the bed and I stepped over near her head. Taking my cock in my hand I traced my cockhead across her lips, leaving a trail of sticky precum across them.

Hillary's tongue washed the precum from her lips and she flicked the tip of her tongue into my cockslit, pushing and burrowing against it, almost as if her tongue were a cock and my cockslit a pussy. I honestly think that, if she could have driven her tongue in, she would have.

Suddenly her lips parted, and my length slid into a tightly formed "O." I could feel her teeth graze the skin of my shaft as I slid further forward. It was heavenly.

The tip of my cock pressed against the back of her throat and I began to pull back. The suction was indescribable. Hillary's mouth was like a vacuum. It was relentless.

When my cocktip was just about to pop free from her suctioning mouth, I pushed forward again. This time a bit harder. A bit faster. Saliva squirted around the edges of my cock from the sudden thrust. Hillary grunted her approval.

"Ummppphh."

Hillary's left hand was slowly, tantalizingly, tracing it's way up the back of my left leg. One moment she would massage the muscles, the next she would lightly caress the skin with her fingertips.

I was gradually increasing my pace and rhythm. Hillary showed no signs of decreasing the pressure on my shaft, and the faster I drove into her mouth, the more Hillary grunted her acceptance.

"UMMPPPHHH! UMMPPHHH! UMMPPHHH! UMMPPHHH!"

Over and over again as my rock hard pipe pistoned its way into her hot, willing mouth she would grunt another, "UMMPPHHH."

The constant noise from her throat acted like a small vibrator on my cock, adding more and more pleasure to the sensations coursing through me.

Her hand had worked its way to my buttocks and she would drag her fingernails down across my buttocks, across my anus, past the sensitive area between my asshole and my scrotum, and eventually across the ball sac, fondling my balls with each pass.

The excitement she was generating in me was indescribable.

I love the feeling of a woman's hands on my ass. I began to spread my legs wider and to squat somewhat to give her better access to me. This caused me to slow down my movement in and out of her mouth, which normally would have decreased the sensations. Hillary made up for this with her tongue.

Her tongue, which had been lathering my cock on each stroke, suddenly pressed up along the underside of my glans, applying perfect pressure. The combination of pressures from her lips and her tongue was exquisite.

Hillary had begun lightly circling my anus with her fingertip, driving me crazy with lust. If she kept up much more I knew I was not going to be able to hold out for long.

My balls were clenching and I could feel my cum beginning to well within me. It had been a while for me so I knew I was in for a monstrous ejaculation.

Hillary was simply beautiful. Her nipples stood taut and proud though neither her, nor I, had touched them. The middle finger of her right hand had disappeared inside of her pussy. I was momentarily jealous of it. Her skin was ablaze in color as the blood ran to the surface in pools, in myriad locations.

I had slowed to an almost dead stop as I watched my cock disappear one more time between her lips. I was savoring every last second of this moment just prior to cresting.

Suddenly Hillary drove her finger into my asshole. Fast, hard, and deep.

The surprise of the moment, coupled with the intensity of Hillary's suctioning prowess caused me to unload in a flood of juicy, white-hot cum.

"OH MY GOD!!," I exclaimed as blast after blast of creamy fuckjuice burst from my cockslit onto her tongue.

At the moment of my release, I felt Hillary stiffen and cry out, "OHHHHHHH!!!!"

It didn't quite come out as "OHHHHHH!!!!" though. It was more of a gargled sound as her mouth was full to overflowing with sperm –laden milk.

When her mouth opened, the suctioning on my cock ceased, and it slid from her mouth still firing jet after jet of thick gizz.

Some of it passed across her face and landed on the bed sheets next to her head. Still other spurts jetted onto her forehead and the bridge of her nose.

As I began to slow down, small rivulets of cum spread across her lower face and lips.

Hillary didn't seem to care. Hillary swallowed several times in quick succession and cleared her throat of my cum. Her head thrashed from side to side as she rode out her orgasm., never speaking intelligible words, just moaning and breathing sharply.

Eventually she started to regain her composure and reached up to scoop some of my cum from her face. She slowly began to massage it onto her still hard nipples.

Her finger was still buried up to the hilt in my ass, and I was still squatted low next to her, dribbling the last vestiges of cum from my now deflating cock, onto her cheek.

I reached down to help her massage my cum onto her nipples.

"That was very nice Don," she smiled at me sweetly.

"But I hope you have more of this," she said as she licked a dollop of goo from her lips. "I have several other places that you might want to put some, if you're up to it."

Hillary licked the last drip from my cockslit as my cock began to harden again.

I looked down at my large and lovely Hillary as she winked, then slid her finger out of her slit and slowly slid it downward across her anus.

I realized; it was a rough life, but someone had to lead it.

I turned Hillary on the bed so that her legs hung over the side. I then placed my arms under her legs and raised them up so that her pussy was wide and exposed to me.

I realized just how nice this weekend was going to be as I lowered my face into the thatch of dark hair.

To Be Continued...