(I hope this doesn't belong in the "stories" section---I'll keep it short)
It's receding into distant memory. It's been 10 years.
But her name was CV.
She was Italian---from Italy. A fireball. Petite. Lots of hair. Beautiful, glowing skin.
I remember it was fun---at first. Then, as time went on, as usual, something was missing. That insane drive wasn't there. It was sweet, it was loving, it was fun, but it was not atomic.
She was thin. Taut. "In shape". The type who men would turn their heads at to check out. I ought to have considered myself lucky to get wit' her. But in bed, nothing. Out of gas. She might as well have been a guy. I just wasn't into it.
They say when the sex gets sour, the relationship gets sour. And so it was true; we went seperate ways, eventually. Because ManOWar likes sex. A lot. It's in his DNA.
But he only likes sex with a certain type of woman, and that is a woman who is very, very, very fat.
The next woman I had a date with was very, very fat. I remember one thing in particular---she was wearing this cotton dress, it was fall, and when she came back into the living room after getting something from the bedroom, she stopped but her belly kept moving. The belly that was so fat it hung almost to her knees. She stopped, but her fat kept going. I don't remember what she said---just that one sight drove me out of my mind.
In that moment, I knew I had to have her. At that moment I received a shock of sexual energy.
When I finally had the priviledge of laying naked with her, it was almost holy. A mountain of a girl, giving herself to me, body and soul. Letting me see her fat body, letting me have my way. Surrendering.
Nothing like this ever happened with skinny girls.
I don't suppose I will ever be with a skinny girl again, maybe for the rest of my life. A foot massage, sure. But sex? Not for me. I like big, fat, flabby girls.
It's receding into distant memory. It's been 10 years.
But her name was CV.
She was Italian---from Italy. A fireball. Petite. Lots of hair. Beautiful, glowing skin.
I remember it was fun---at first. Then, as time went on, as usual, something was missing. That insane drive wasn't there. It was sweet, it was loving, it was fun, but it was not atomic.
She was thin. Taut. "In shape". The type who men would turn their heads at to check out. I ought to have considered myself lucky to get wit' her. But in bed, nothing. Out of gas. She might as well have been a guy. I just wasn't into it.
They say when the sex gets sour, the relationship gets sour. And so it was true; we went seperate ways, eventually. Because ManOWar likes sex. A lot. It's in his DNA.
But he only likes sex with a certain type of woman, and that is a woman who is very, very, very fat.
The next woman I had a date with was very, very fat. I remember one thing in particular---she was wearing this cotton dress, it was fall, and when she came back into the living room after getting something from the bedroom, she stopped but her belly kept moving. The belly that was so fat it hung almost to her knees. She stopped, but her fat kept going. I don't remember what she said---just that one sight drove me out of my mind.
In that moment, I knew I had to have her. At that moment I received a shock of sexual energy.
When I finally had the priviledge of laying naked with her, it was almost holy. A mountain of a girl, giving herself to me, body and soul. Letting me see her fat body, letting me have my way. Surrendering.
Nothing like this ever happened with skinny girls.
I don't suppose I will ever be with a skinny girl again, maybe for the rest of my life. A foot massage, sure. But sex? Not for me. I like big, fat, flabby girls.
