[Author's note: I dedicate this to the delightful JuanaSalsa who I follow and who has given me hours of pleasant reading about fat girls having fun.]
My girlfriend of the month is the classic butterball of a woman. Well, of a girl I suppose, technically. She had just turned 18, was one of my students in my American History 101 class, and whenever we went out she had to order Coke because she was always asked for her ID. I would order boilermakers and slip the shot into her Coke. She has one of those sweet round faces that will have her being carded when she's 40.
I have always been partial to big women and when she came to my office, all 300 pounds of her on her five-foot nuthin' frame and said, "Mr. Morgan, I'll do
anything
for a B. I have to keep my scholarships up," well, I always did think the whole don't-fuck-your-students thing was silly anyway.
I had her report to my office when I finished my last class at 2:00 and then took her to my apartment.
What's that? Oh, no. I'm not a professor or anything. I'm a Teaching Assistant which is to say, I'm a slave to a full professor for whom I handled the "discussion" part of his two Introduction to American History classes, two classes a day, two days a week, and then sat through his lectures the third day. Meanwhile, I carry my own load.
I'm going to school on the GI Bill, which makes me old enough to be "older" to my students, most of whom are around Myrna's age while I'll see 30 before I get that Master's Degree.
I took her home and she turned out to be a keeper. Well, at least for a while. I'm not really looking for a life partner at that point.
But she IS good in bed. It's true what they say. Fat girls try harder.
And she's a VERY big girl. One evening, and alcohol and pot were involved, I measured her. 50-68-56. She's delightfully flat-chested, with oversize brown nipples on a slightly bigger roll of fat. Besides that, she has one of those belly aprons that hang almost to her thighs, a truly fat girl's natural modesty. Her thighs, each as big as many women's waists, are deeply dimpled with cellulite and have their own rolls before tapering into oddly delicate ankles and small feet.
She's cute rather than pretty with one of those big moon faces, soft cheeks with deep dimples, a tiny cupid's bow mouth, button nose, small ears, a cap of thick blonde hair, and eyes that make you think of the words "cornflower blue" and "guileless."
But she has plenty of guile.
That first time, when I took her home, she goddam near fucked me to death.
She was big and warm and seemed to be absolutely insatiable.
She likes to be on top, something I like in a big girl. And the first time she came I thought she had lost bladder control the way she wet my cock and balls and, for that matter, the sheet under us. She was grunting and bouncing, sweating so much that sweat was dripping off of her nose and chin onto my face and chest and her boobs and belly and I liked the salt taste of her.
After that first orgasm she was panting and her hair was wet with her sweat, and she looked, well, "happy" is the word.
And the thing is, I hadn't finished but wasn't in any particular hurry to. She had that kind of an effect on me. I liked watching as she got her breath back and then started her hips rocking again.
That first night she must have cum a dozen times before she finished me. And when we finally lay side by side, my face buried in the roll of fat that held her nipples, her big arm and thigh holding me pressed to the mattress, I had the thought, "I could get used to this."
