Mommy Me Series Justina Pt 2
- 3 years ago
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They're Just So Damned Hot free porn video
APRIL 2006
AUTHOR NOTE: Just what the hell, I ask you what is wrong with a large woman? Does she not eat like a skinny woman? Does she not feel and love like a woman much smaller? When in heat does she not fuck your brains out? And when she is ill does she not deserve the best care you can give her?
For more than thirty years I've been lovingly married to such a woman that most men would scorn. She is a large woman both in body and bone but mostly in her heart. There was a time when she wasn't quite what she has become but who am I to deny her my love as she gives her to me?
Pick or name the Web sight and you will easily find thousands of large breasted young women, most of whom are artificially enhanced more than willing to expose their underfed bodies. Even those with small busts are prolific on just about any Web sight you can find or even think of but known hold a candle to those few women that are a bit larger.
I guess what I'm saying is simply don't judge a large woman harshly. They have everything the skinny broads have and more. They have the same sexual needs and desires and why the hell not give them a chance? I know I would but my wife would certainly make sure I only did it once, ouch.
What follows of more fantasy than that of reality. Those of you who have followed my stories will certainly recognize my style and taste of what will never take place. Still I feel this is a story that needs to be written mostly for those BBW women most men shun.
In The Beginning
My first vision of her was expansive to say the least. The second was her larger than life stature followed by her extremely lovely face with her sparkling blue eyes. God, those eyes of her could cut diamonds or pierce your heart cutting into tiny ribbons. As for her expanse I will say her hips were very wide but that's not what you want to read. Admittedly it was her bust that first caught my eye and attention. 44DD if I wear to be any judge and I've had some experience the matter of guessing a woman's bust.
An older woman by my guess and she affirmed my assessment a short time later as we stepped off the elevator. I was so taken aback I nearly stumbled over my own feet before drawing up the courage to ask her to join me for a coffee. I must advise you I never make a move on a woman I don't know but there was just a certain something about her that appealed to me, drawing me like a light would a moth. An instant later I realized I was hooked.
She introduced herself as Margaret but preferred Marge. My offer of coffee was accepted and soon enough we sat across from the other at a small diner. We talked and I noticed Marge's short stature caused her bosom to rest on the table top. The effect was to push her bust up a bit and deepen her already impressive cleavage. Unlike so many other large women Marge seemed comfortable wearing a dress. It had buttons in front and she had left two of them undone. I was pleased by the expanse of bare flesh she exposed and found it difficult to keep my eyes looking at hers.
"You seem distracted, T.M.," she commented.
"I just can't get over how well the color of your dress enhances your already beautiful eyes," I managed to counter.
"Oh posh young man," she retorted. "You're just surprised to find an older large woman wearing a dress when these days it's mostly pants. Besides I can't help but notice how your eyes keep drifting down from my face." At this point Marge inhaled deeply forcing her bust out and really giving me a show of her cleavage.
"I agree with your statement about dresses and pants," I stammered feeling my face burn with the shame of getting caught peeking, "but I must confess you're right about the other. I'm sorry to have offended you."
"How can I be offended when a young good looking young man like you takes such delight in looking? I'm sure I'm old enough to be your mother yet that seems to not matter to you."
"True enough, Marge. I often find myself secretly wanting to become closer with older women. There have been a rare few I've fortunately been intimate with and I haven't been disappointed. I find it difficult to replace maturity and experience."
"Mature I am but what makes you think I have all that much experience?" she shot back.
"Again I'm afraid I've offended you. I don't presume you are so vastly experienced that one would think of you as being loose and fast. My thoughts are more to the thinking that whatever amount of experience you have had would show that you are very good and strive to please."
An awkward silence ensued while I sipped my coffee and tried to look casual glancing around the room.
"Are you as much a tit man as your initials indicate?" Marge suddenly asked.
"I really can't believe I'm having a conversation like this with you," I gulped. "As for my initials, where did you come up with that?"
"Actually it was a very wild guess on my part," she replied. "I often visit a Web sight that deals with only erotic stories. When you said I should call you T. M. I instantly thought of my favorite author, T. M. Trog also known as Titmilker." She paused gauging my reactions. "I see I was right. It's been sometime since you last posted anything."
"I'm flattered and pleased. T. M. Trog at your service my lady and no I've not written for quite sometime."
"Well, depending on how the afternoon turns out I'm hoping you will finally have a story to post."
Author comment: I hope you don't take the dialog as what was really said between Marge and me. I can only write what I think was said to the best of my recollection.
"I would never presume anything other than pleasant talk over coffee would take place, Marge. I do find you extremely attractive both physically and to my taste in women. Anything beyond what I offered would most definitely be a plus and I'm certain very pleasurable."
"Now that we've established your identity it would be my wish and desire to take things to the next logical step. I know from your blog and your writings two of your favorite fetishes. Large breasts is one of them and as you can plainly see mine are quite large. I wear a 42E bra and there are times when it becomes much too tight like it is now."
I found myself having to rethink my assessing of bust sizes as I watched Marge lightly caress the expose expanse of her bust with one long unpainted fingernail. She stopped at the deep valley between her breasts and slowly slipped three fingers into the tight crevice. I heard her chuckle knowing she was watching my eyes remain glued to the erotic teasing she gave me.
"I don't live far from her," she was whispering, "if you would like to indulge further."
Half and hour later she unlocked the door of her house and invited me inside. I followed and admired her heavy calves. Most men instantly think that because a woman is large her legs, calves and thighs are huge to the point of disgust. With Marge she was the opposite. True her calves were large and slightly thick but that only made them seem sexier. Admittedly I couldn't say about her thighs as the hem of her dress brushed her knees but I was certain while being meaty they would compliment her calves.
"I don't wish to seem forward, T. M., and I don't want you to think I do this sort of thing all the time. On the contrary, you most definitely are the youngest man I've every thought of entertaining. Oh, that did come out rather badly."
"Don't give it another thought, Marge. I think your intent was to say you've never thought of having an intimate relationship with a man of my few years. I just might have you fooled. The fact is I'm well into my thirties."
"You do carry your age well. I would have thought under twenty-five. Myself, I'm nearing fifty but I still feel like a young woman."
"I return the compliment. I would have placed you at closer to thirty-five and damned good looking at that."
"Flattery will get you just about anything but then you already know that," she said blushing. "I really must confess to being nervous. Sex is not at all new to me but we've only known each other less than two hours. It's been some years since I last dated and that puts me at a disadvantage."
"Nonsense, Marge. You just do what feels right. Tell you what, I've had enough coffee. A glass or three of a nice red wine would taste good and it would help you to relax."
"Oh my," she again blushed. "Two hours after meeting you and already you're trying to get me drunk. Would you then proceed to take advantage of me?"
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