Marion was a big girl. She had been a big girl ever since her parents and their friends had labelled her a big girl in her infancy. Just what was wrong with saying the words fat, chubby or tubby these days was beyond her. Now it was all: big boned, bubbly, heavy set, and of course 'big girl'. Marion, like most fat women, was actually more offended by people trying to skirt around this ridiculous language problem. She wasn't too concerned with being a little overweight and chubby at all. In actual fact she championed the fact, and was forever trying to convince her teenage daughter that the people in the TV shows and teen movies she watched were not real people at all; at least not compared with them. "Many of these people," she would say, "have teams of personal trainers and nutritionists, not to mention lots of surgery!" Marion often joked that some of these movie stars bought each other new heads for Christmas. It was important to keep her daughter's feet firmly on the ground when it came to celebrities and aspiring to be like them.
Marion was a single parent. This was because her husband left her for another woman. This woman was a size ten as opposed to Marion's more curvy size eighteen. She was devastated for a short time after, but when she realised there was no point in making herself miserable in futile attempts to try and get her husband's attention, she finally fell in love with who she was. To her a size eighteen was perfectly normal. Fifteen year old girls were welcome to size zero, in her experience the real men went for the bigger, more womanly figures. This discovery made her inner confidence give her an added shine at parties, when she always looked fabulous.
Her size never prevented her from wearing anything she wanted either. She didn't bother with those clothes designed to make women look thinner, she showed off what she had and the men loved it. By far her greatest assets were her big boobs and big round ass; every man she had encountered commented on these. She had a fabulous pair of boobs and she was proud; any woman would envy them. Marion would often be seen wearing low cut tops that allowed her multitude of necklaces and pearls to plunge into her dark welcoming cleavage; they were strategically placed to direct the eyes of her male admirers. This was not all. She would also wear the tightest skirts imaginable. They would hug her big, wide ass, and celebrate its shape and the ripples of flesh where it met with her large, yet well proportioned waist.
Marion never had to try hard to get her man, they usually came to her. She never really took any of them very seriously anymore however, they were used for sexual relief and that was about it; that and maybe a free lunch or two. However there was one man in particular who she did take seriously. He was the only man since her disastrous marriage that she could truly say she had fallen for. His name was Peter, and Marion met him at her best friend's wedding party. They hit it off immediately, and he wasn't like the other men; he had a good look at her body, but he didn't find it her only point of interest. He was engrossed with her entirely, and they both found their personalities so compatible that there was no getting away from the fact that they had to see whatever it was between them through to the end.
"I'm amazed I haven't met you before Marion," said Peter with a smile, "Cheryl never told me she had such a nice friend. I am her cousin."
"She never told me she had such a nice cousin," answered Marion with a big laugh that attracted the attention of the table next to them.
She put out her arm and patted his leg. Instantly she felt something between them, like the nervousness between a couple of pre-pubescent kids when they get off with each other for the first time and don't know how to control themselves. She wanted to push her hand a little further up his leg and feel the bulk of his thigh through the soft material of his flared trousers. The smile left her lips as soon as she realised this. This feeling had become almost alien to her. She guessed that Peter felt the same because he fidgeted and inadvertently glanced at her enormous cleavage. She saw him and he looked uncomfortable when he noticed her watching. "It's alright Peter. Really, I am quite used to it," she chuckled, trying desperately to make him feel at ease about it.
"Sorry," he said, "would you like another drink Marion; I'm off to the bar?" For a moment or two she thought she had lost him, and it surprised her to be thinking this way; usually she wouldn't give a damn.
"Yes I would, thank you. I'll have scotch on the rocks please," she said, sitting a little more upright so her huge boobs weren't begging Peter to screw them just for one second. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her choice of drink and walked slowly off to the bar.
Marion watched him move away from her, stopping every now and then to say hello to people he knew. She admired his physique. He wasn't what she would consider overly muscular, from what she could tell, and he even had a bit of belly on him, but he was certainly all man; a great big, lovely, tall slice of man. He was wearing the standard kind of outfit for men at these occasions (they really did lack imagination sometimes) but it looked as though he favoured flared trousers. These didn't usually do it for Marion, but they certainly looked good on him, particularly as they went tight at the knee and hugged his thighs and crotch.
On his way back to the table she could clearly see the sizeable bulge in his trousers. His suit jacket was open and his white cotton shirt was tucked in, giving everyone a lovely view of this prize package. She squinted as he got to the table and actually thought she saw his dick down the right side of his thigh, squashed against his leg; it was quite clear that he wasn't wearing any underpants or shorts. She wanted to reach out and discretely touch it as he went to take his seat. However, cunning as she was, Marion deliberately moved her chair around a little so that Peter had to do that comical breath in, arms in the air type squeeze, as he moved between their table and the one next to them. Marion put her elbow on the back of her chair in mock aloofness at just the right height to feel the length of his cock rub against her. She almost swooned. Marion had never wanted a cock so much as she did right there and then.
"There!" said Peter, slamming two glasses onto the table as he finally took his seat, "two scotch on the rocks. A woman after my own heart," he laughed.
"Not all I am after," said Marion, not realising she was talking her thoughts for a second. Peter looked at her with his glass paused to his lips for a second. "Oh god! Did I say that out loud?" she asked, flushing red at the thought.
"You didn't mean to?" Peter laughed. "Well I am flattered anyway." He took a sip of his whiskey and added under his breath, "The feeling's mutual." She smiled at the mock look of amazement on his face as he shot his head up straight like a mere cat sniffing the air and said , "oh my god! Did I just say that out loud too?"
It was clear that they were both equally as relaxed as they were nervous with each other; they found it very easy to get on, but they didn't want to look foolish. Peter was really beginning to relax, no doubt aided by his last scotch on the rocks. He put his foot up on the chair beside Marion and then quickly removed it. "Sorry!" he said in mortification, "I don't know what I was thinking."
