Jennifer knew she was fat. With a heavy sigh, she sat on the edge of the immaculate porcelain bath in her richly decorated master bathroom. Completely nude, she smeared herself with baby oil, her alabaster white, perfect skin taking on a shiny, mirror-like reflection. The fact she needed a bottle for her massive breasts alone made her smile, as she knew her size was an attraction. Jennifer liked her big tummy and huge round ass. Coupled with her tits, she knew she looked like a round ball. She smiled to herself as she touched herself all over, but this little round ball knows how to use her fat, she thought.
The oil was part of a unique weight loss theory. Spread enough oil and your body would eject the oils it had. So, naked, alone and in her rich bathroom, she liberally covered herself. Jennifer even slicked down her blonde pubic hair. She had coated her legs, stubby and short, but correct in proportion to the rest of her. Each fat roll was meticulously done, even her deep navel and between her toes with their manicured nails. Smiling Jennifer covered her puckered anal entrance with a teasing swirl of her finger. In response to the tingly feeling, manually stimulating her anus gave her, Jennifer farted. It was a loud, thunderous rip that made her snort and laugh. Achingly, she moved on to her now aroused and wet pussy.
In her vaginal and anal teasing, Jennifer had taken a wrong step, knocked several open oil bottles over, creating a pool of baby oil on the floor in front of her. Slick and mirror-like on the black tiles, she could see her voluptuous figure in the reflection it created. Jennifer looked from the floor to the wall mirror. Lifting her armful sized breasts up, their weight taxed her arms. She pouted and shifted her body to amplify her cleavage. Jennifer made her best "I'll suck your cock face," then laughed, letting her big tits free and squeezing the sensitive nipples. The oiling-up was making her more than normally horny.
The oil was warm when it flowed onto her toes, as the heat lamps she had on were warming the black tiles. Looking down, she swore to herself and looked around to find a path out. She sighed with a hint of exasperation. Three bottles had fallen over.
"Stuck. Why did I take all the towels out?"
Was it because her tiny, weedy husband was not in the house this month, thus allowing her to strut around nude and masturbate where she liked; well, at least until Junior came home.
The thought of being alone and masturbating in here and then scooting out of the room oil covered and on her knees did appeal, she was horny after all. But damaging the carpet was something she couldn't bear. Jennifer thought, could I grab a towel from the linen press around the corner, could I use the curtain or could I use the shower to hose it all down the drain? All the ideas sounded like they would make a terrible mess. Jennifer then remembered that, at this time of day, she was not alone. She was not the rich, lonely, horny housewife. No, this time of day, Junior, her step-son, was home. Jennifer yelled out for him.
She'd flashed him before, revealing cleavage, bikini tops falling off in the pool, outright panty flashing. This would be her ultimate flash. Jennifer naked and shiny with oil. She wondered how hard this would make him. Then. Not that she knew of other times But she liked to imagine him going back to his room and wanking to the memory. Deciding to look her most slutty she hefted and cupped her massive breasts and made kissy faces in the mirror.
Ever since he was kicked out of college, he had been forced to look at less savoury income streams. As he had not wanted to follow his father into the police. However a cam whore for strange gay and bi guys had not been his first choice. His cock ached from the five cumshots he had forced out of it last night, and the memory of the ejaculations came with a haze of bad memories. Chatting with horny dudes desperate to see his cock was tiresome, and in some cases traumatising. There it was again, someone calling his name. It was female and distant. Maybe it was the fat-assed maid. No, there was no accent. That narrowed it down to one person.
Junior was half asleep. He sat amid total debauchery. The computer in front of him was playing a constant loop of anal pornography, both transgender and female, a vibrator buzzed next to him on his wide, easy chair. Lube, condoms (used and unopened) were scattered around him and he was wearing a pair of too-small speedos. Shaking his head, he swore he heard his name being called. Checking the chat program, he saw all of his fans had gone inactive, so it wasn't them. Stretching, Junior yawned, it had been a late, but lucrative, night. Checking the time, he realised his target audience was now at work and he could get some sleep.
Jennifer, his father's wife and the biggest BBW land whale he knew. Crass and uncouth, she had belched with nervousness when she married his father. At the time, he didn't mind. He even thought it was funny. Jennifer was a person you got used to, then regretted the familiarity. She went to the toilet with the door open, belched and farted, told racist and off-colour jokes while laughing like an idiot. Jennifer was like the worst frat boy thrown into the body of a woman, a woman with big tits and an even bigger ass. In his mind she deserved a loveless marriage.
"Probably drunk, and stuck on her back," Junior said to himself with a smile.
The image of her near nude, in a bikini, flat on her back trying to get up assaulted his mind. "Probably ask if I want to shove meat in her ham wallet." Her euphemisms were frat-boy level as well and had an acidic quality that etched their way into your brain. The expression, drop a load into the shit washing machine, a reference to ejaculating in her during anal sex, shocked even his porn-addled mind. Junior dealt with in-the-closet alpha wannabes, and even they would run screaming from Jennifer.
Still wearing speedos and rubbing his eyes, Junior made his way through the opulent house. His father's job paid for everything. Though he wanted for nothing, the idea behind the cam whoring was to set up a site for amateur porn. The one thing he knew his father would not fund. For a rich guy with an over-sexed land whale, his father had some odd morals. Junior pondered this as he climbed the white, deep-pile carpeted stairs. These led to the garish, pink master bedroom. These two design decisions were an architectural example of Jennifer's horrific jokes. Jennifer called it the cream-pie room: pink for the pleasure chamber, as she called it, and the white stairs for the spunk running out. His father, like always, had nodded and merely said,"yes, dear'.
Junior got a mild erection thinking about the fat-assed Latina maid cleaning these stairs with her tiny maid uniform jiggling as she went. He swore to himself as he felt the sensitive head of his penis swell. The last thing he needed was for him to greet Jennifer with a chubby. Last thing he wanted to hear after a night of cam whoring was a joke about his cock.
Ending his climb up the overly opulent stairs to the garish bedroom, and expecting to see his massive-mammaried and scantily-clad step-mother sitting on the bed watching her "stories", instead Junior was greeted by an empty room and a lacy robe discarded on the floor and silence. Maybe there was a real problem here and not some twisted opportunity to flash her stepson. Maybe she was hurt, or sick, with no flash, no jokes and no innuendo. It was alien to think that and he genuinely hoped it was not the case.
"Jennifer?" Junior tentatively called out.
"In here," was a muffled response.
Junior rolled his eyes. What now? A flash of tits in a bubble bath? The flashes had become tiresome. However, in that moment, an idea struck him. Some of the pictures he had been fed last night by his coterie of horny men desperate to watch his cut cock ejaculate, suggested that bbw women were a thing, a big thing. Maybe he could convince her to be a model and he may even get her on the cheap. He moved suddenly. He couldn't do that if she was sick of hurt, and maybe, if he helped her, they would be nice to one another for once.
Opening the door Junior decided to make an entrance. It might remove any chance of her flashing him. He pushed open the bathroom door and strode in defiantly, hit the oil puddle and slipped. As he fell, his hand yanked on the ornate chrome handle, breaking it off and slamming the door shut.
Arms and legs flailing, his out-of-control body landed flat on his back with. arms outstretched above his head. Banging his head on the floor, his vision swam. The last thing he saw in focus was a very naked, oiled and rotund Jennifer. As he struggled to retain his consciousness, he thought, "she looks concerned".
Junior, nude except for black undersized speedos, lay on the oily floor groaning. Although his fall had been dramatic, and she had wanted to laugh, she didn't. Junior's head had made a sickening "thwack" as it hit the floor.
"You OK, sweetheart?" Jennifer asked as she slid over to him on her knees.
Her fat rolls wobbled with every movement and her tits swung wildly as she leaned into the slide.
Junior appreciated the show on some primal level. Part of his brain was reeling from the blow it just took, the other was admiring his stepmother's oiled figure and sending his brain all the wrong signals. How would she feel on his cock as he slid his cock around her opulent fat rolls and geographic-sized tits. Blood flooded into his penis and, like a well-oiled machine, it became erect. Junior felt Jennifer's warm and oiled body slide up to his inert form and pick his head up.
"You ok?" Jennifer said with a concerned smile, her face framed by her huge, oiled tits. Her voice was a little more high-pitched and her worried tone disarmed Junior.
"What the fuck happened?" Junior was slowly gathering his thoughts.
"You slipped. Then fell. I think you may have broken the bathroom door." Jennifer said with a sigh as she patted Junior's chest, and leaving it slightly oiled.
Junior's eyes swept the air in front of him, not really seeing, but an automatic response, as his brain tried to process the sudden physical and mental stimuli. Junior rolled his head towards Jennifer's voluptuous frame. His mind focused on her slicked and trimmed pubic hairs. Another part of his brain, the one that didn't want blood filling his cock, saw this and finally woke. Junior sat up.
It appeared to Jennifer that he had decided to get up and run. She often had this effect on men and it never failed to make her smile. Some men just could not handle the curves, she thought.
Junior, in his haste to get up, forgot about the oil, slid, fell, righted himself then fell again, like some bizarre dance. When he fell the final time, he experienced his own hoisted-on-his-own-petard moment as his speedos caught on the remaining ornate bathroom doorknob. The fabric slowed his fall with an epic and almost cinematic tearing sound, followed by the clatter of another broken doorknob.
"Fuck," Junior said.
