Fat Fetishizing

 

Painting of Lola by Erics Figure Art

[Continued from Feedie for a Night]

It was the Saturday before Halloween.  The night of the party.  Lo had tried on, adjusted, removed, retried, readjusted the Princess Leia costume at least ten times.  She tried manipulating a sash to go across her tum, but that didn’t work.  Not only would it not stay up, it also disguised the costume to the extent that she just looked like a woman from 1001 Nights.  She tried a cape that, if she felt she needed it, she could drape it around her.  She thought that would be a good compromise and she tucked the cape into the collar of the costume.  But it kept falling out.  She tried using a binder clip to affix it, but that was uncomfortable.  In the end she said, “Fine.  Fuck it!”

“That’s what everyone will be saying to you at the party,” I reassured her, “Very fine.  I’ll fuck it.”

“I’m not an it,” she reminded me.

“I know, but I get poetic license for the sake of a pun.”

“Whatever.”

She was in a grouchy mood because, no matter what she did, her round rolls of her tum were prominent.  “It’s like I have three sets of tits,” she complained.

“What?” I asked.

“Here, here, and here,” she said, running her hands over her breasts and then her first roll round the middle of her tum and then her second roll just above her black triangle.

“Lo, but that’s what Mr. Biggs (and I, if I say so myself) find so fucking attractive about you!”

“Fat fetishizing.”

“Darling, if you weren’t fat, I’d fetishize on something else about you.”

“So you’re saying I’m fat!”

“You said it!”

“Grrrrrr.”

BBMPDG Lola

Lo’s phone rang.  It was Mr. Biggs.

“I gotta run!” Lo said to me, darting towards the door.

“No kiss?”

She scuttled back in her brown, strappy heels to give me a peck on the cheek.

“I wish I could go with you,” I said.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” she said with a wink.

“You’ll have fun at your party,” she said.

As it turned out, I had been invited to a party down the street.  Lo said that if the party she was going to with Mr. Biggs was a bust, then she’d join me.  In order to keep with her costume theme, I had bought a Boba Fett outfit, just in case.

Lo was off.  I heard the car pull away from the curb.  For an account of the Hutt’s mistreatment of the Princess, I had to wait until later that night when Lo returned home.  She never did make it to join me at my humdrum Halloween party.

A.I. of Lola and Leia with Darth Vader

It was past three in the morning when I heard the clickity-clop of my princess’s heels on the wooden floor in the hallway.  She took her shoes off there and then silently slipped into the bedroom and into the master bath.  She turned on the light and left the door slightly ajar.  I saw her from the darkness of the bed as she brushed her teeth, still dressed in her costume.  She then sat on the toilet, peed, and came to bed.

“Daddy, are you awake?”

I feigned sleep.  I didn’t want her to think I was so eager.

“Daddy,” she whispered again, closer to my ear.

I grunted.

She reached for my cock under the covers.

“You’re hard,” she whispered with joy in her voice.  She wanted to get laid, I could tell.

I grunted again.

“Stay asleep,” she coaxed, “roll on your back.  Let me use your cock.  I’ll be quick, I promise.”

I rolled on my back.  She pulled my pj bottoms down.  She lowered herself down on my erect shaft slowly.  She was soaking wet.  I slid in easy as could be.

She began bopping up and down, using her index and middle fingers of her right hand to rub circles around her clit.  She was cumming within seconds.  Her moans, groans, and prayers to God were not quiet.  I opened my eyes.  I saw she was still in her princess getup.

“Lola?” I said, as if startled from a dream.

“Shhh, Daddy, I’m almost done.”

“How was your night?” I asked.  I didn’t want her to be done.

“It was good.”

“Good?” I asked.  I was looking for something a bit more descriptive than “good.”

She was posting up-and-down on my cock, revving up for her second orgasm.  Her front teeth were biting down on her lower lip.

“Tell me more,” I implored.

“Grab my tum,” she said.

I did.  It was bouncing up and down and jiggling, just how I like it.

“Am I fat, Daddy?”

Trick question.  Was she in the mood to be fat?  Would saying yes ruin the mood?  I rolled the dice.

“Yes.”

“Fuckable fat?”

“Yes.”

“Freaky fat?”

“Yes.”

She brought herself to an orgasm.  She lifted her pussy up off of my rod to rain her cum down on me and then turn around, reverse cowgirl, and slip right back into the saddle.  I noticed as she did so that she was clean shaven.  When she left the house a few hours ago, she had a hairy bush.

She rode me as I watched her ass rise and fall with stronger and stronger strides down on my cock.  It was as if she needed more, deeper, longer, harder, thicker, fatter.

I could hear her sloppy, wet pussy slapping down and splashing on my hips.  She groaned and growled in rhythm with her own beat.  The sound grew more insistent.  She was reaching, striving for that second (or third?) orgasm, but not quite reaching it.  She pulled forward and turned around on all fours.

“Get behind me!” she insisted, as if there was no time to lose.  “Get in me and fuck me.  Fuck me hard!”

I was on my knees pounding my pelvis into her, slamming her with every ounce of energy I had.  Her head was bouncing forward into the headboard of the bed.  She didn’t care.  The new position wasn’t doing it for her.  She pulled off of me.  She got on her back and slid to the side of the bed with her legs in the air.  The sheets and blankets were soaked by now.

I stood on the side of the bed and held her ankles as I entered her pussy.

“Grab my tits,” she said.  “Pull.”  I pulled her nipples.

“Grab my tum,” she said.  “Slap it.”  I did.  I held it with my fingers like it was dough for kneading.  I slapped it.  I slapped her tits.  She grabbed my right hand and moved it to her cheek.  I knew what she wanted.  I don’t like to do it.  She slowly moved my hand in the motion of what she wanted me to do.  I followed through.  I slapped her, gently at first, across the face.

“Again!” she said.

I slapped her again.

“Harder!”

I slapped her harder.

I did this around ten times.

“Now my pussy,” she said.

I pulled out and slapped her pussy with my palm.

“Harder, faster.”

I gave her pussy about ten hard slaps.

She was frustrated.  She pushed me away.  With her legs in the air, she slapped her own pussy as if punishing it severely.  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  Until she was squirting all over the floor.  She fell backwards and collapsed in the sopping wet bed.  She passed out, leaving me standing over her, hard-up.

I walked away, went to the bathroom, washed up, dried off, and then walked to the living room couch where I went to sleep.

In the next installment – Leia and the Hutt

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Sunstroke

[Continued from Young Lust, Dirty Woman]

Lola at the nude beach

The dad was lying back, sleeping or simply suntanning.  I was sweltering in the sun and so I got up and asked Lo, “How’s the water?”

“So refreshing!”

“Looks a little chilly,” I said as I looked down at her pointy nipples.

“It’s delightful.”

“Seems like you’re delighting in more than the water and weather.”

“Go on, Daddio, try it for yourself.”

Was she trying to get rid of me?

I walked to the water.  It was like bath water.  I didn’t hesitate to get in and cool down as much as I could.  I felt myself burning in the sun, but didn’t want to curtail Lo’s little jaunt.  I thought that maybe, if I stayed in the water, I would avoid a burn.  I knew from experience that was not true, but it felt better to be in the water than shriveling up dry in the sun.  I sat in the shallow water looking out at the Mediterranean.  To my surprise, not much later, the mom walked into the water beside me.  She passed me.  I saw from the back that she was much more heavyset than I had thought when I saw her sitting on the blanket.  She was rather round on the bottom.

Model, Jennifer Battistoni Kincade

She stopped about five feet in front of me and bent over to splash water on her face and shoulders.  As she did so, I could see her FUPA (fat upper pubic area) fall forward like a curtain in front of her.  Her ass was large and round.  There was so much flesh that I couldn’t even see her pussy.  I wondered to myself how her husband fucked her, but then I remembered his enormous member and realized he probably could fuck her from a foot away when fully hard.

The thought crossed my mind that she might be putting on a show for me.  She was very attractive and this view was. . .

Uh oh!  Now I was getting hard.  The tip of my cock was pointing upward like a mushroom growing out of the water.  I dared not stand up because then I’d be even more conspicuous, but what will happen when she turns around?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out because no sooner had the panicked thought presented itself, than she did turn around and look right at me.  I saw her eyes glance down at my attention-grabbing appendage and she smiled!

Thankfully she didn’t say anything.  She just splashed water on her heaving breasts and lifted them up, probably to cool down the underside where they pressed up against her belly.  I found it all captivating (and arousing).

While I was contemplating the plump Aphrodite before me, I noticed she was pointing behind me.  I couldn’t see by simply turning my neck and so I had to stand up.  I figured she had seen an erect penis before and that perhaps she’d take it as a compliment, so I got up to look behind me since she seemed insistent that I see.  She was smiling, as if delighted by the vision.

When I turned around, I saw Lo and the boy wrestling or wriggling on the sand.  Then I realized they were having a tickle fight.  The mom said, “Bella, bella!”  That I understood.  She thought it was beautiful how they were getting along.  She was indicating to me her approval.  She doesn’t know Lo.

I walked back up to the blanket and saw that the two of them had separated.  Lo was sitting in the sand, her legs spread, heaving heavily.  I saw that between her legs, the sand was darker – wet.  Oh boy.  Did she?

“Squirt or pee?” I asked her, judgmentally.

“Both?” she said, guiltily.

“Lo.”

The father said something to me and I turned my head and saw the mom still cooling down in the water.  The baby was in a small carrying seat with a makeshift tent over it.

The father repeated his question to me.  I turned to him.  He was holding his massive cock and pointing at Lo.  “Scoparla?” he said, or something like that.

I was ignorant.

“Fuck,” he finally said in English.  “Fuck her.”  This he knew.  But I was still uncomprehending of whether he wanted me to fuck her or if he wanted to fuck her himself.  So I did the only polite thing and said, “Si, si.”

I soon had my answer, for he got down in the sand on his knees and stroked his cock as he looked at Lo’s shimmering body and glistening pussy lips.  Soon he was inside her.  He fucked her violently.

Lo, for her part, wrapped her legs around his wide torso and began to moan and groan and say, “Yes, fuck me.”  I think it then dawned on her that he couldn’t understand anything she said other than fuck, so she repeated the term many times.

I looked at the boy who stood to the side of the four armed, four legged beast and watched with wide eyes and an erect penis.  He held his diminutive dick in his hand just as his father had done.

Lo then started saying, “Fuck me you ugly, fat, disgusting old perv!  Fuck me with that massive cock of yours!  You are so abhorrently hideous!  A sea monster, really!”

Occasionally, other beach goers would walk by without stopping.  The mother was in the water, no doubt aware of what was happening, but unconcerned.

“Yes, you gross fucking single tentacled kraken!  That’s my spot.  Fuck!”  Lo is quite poetic when her pussy is activated.

Then she was unable to speak as her body began convulsing.  She looked up, directly into the eyes of the boy by her side, and her eyes communicated everything: delight, ecstasy, pleasure, pain, longing, satisfaction, disgust at herself and the man on top of her, triumph.

The dad kept on plunging into Lo’s gushing cunt, oblivious of her climax and desirous of his.  He pulled his torso up off of Lo’s and held her by her ankles, her legs up in the air, as he fucked her like a piece of meat hanging in the outdoor market.  He then let go of her ankles and greedily grabbed and squeezed her breasts.  He began to slap them and she responded with more sounds of pleasure.  He slapped her tits silly.  She began to cum again, but before she could, he spurted his spunk deep inside her.  She could feel it and that was all she needed to push her over the edge.  Her legs began to tremble and her tits rose and descended with her fast, deep breaths.

All this time her eyes remained fixed on the boy and it was as if the two of them were telepathically communicating mysterious words of love and compassion in a common, yet private language.

The father pulled his incredibly long lance out of Lo’s clam and soon after liquid pearl began to drizzle from her widely dilated lips onto the sand.

The dad and the son stood side-by-side looking down at the kill.  There was a touching moment when the son’s little hand reached to his father’s large one and held it as they gawked at Lo lying on the ground, immobile.

Then, from between Lo’s legs a sudden dribble of pee percolated and puddled by her ass.  The father and son duo smiled at the sight and, as if it gave them both the idea and permission, they too released their bladders and showered Lo with their golden streams.  More than once the father’s and son’s lines crossed and crisscrossed again over Lo’s body as they drenched her in a double dosage of warm urine.

When they were done, Lo was recovered and she got up and walked right past me into the sea.  I saw her exchange smiles and some words with the mother who was still bathing there.  I glanced at the father-son team and smiled a ridiculously twisted grin, feeling awkward and stupid.  They both laughed and went back to sitting on the towel together.  I noticed that the father’s meat hung down now, nearly to his knees.  It no longer had the arch to it that it did when we first arrived.  It was completely flaccid.  The son’s was still rigid though.

When Lo returned from her purifying bath, she said, “OK, Daddy, I think it’s time to go.  I’m beginning to burn.”

“No doubt from the jealousy of Aphrodite Ourania and Aphrodite Pandemos.”

“What?” she asked.

“You make the goddesses of desire hot with jealousy.”

“You flatter,” she said, smiling.

I put my clothes back on.  Lola put on her bikini top and bottom, but carried her shorts and t-shirt.  Lo waved and smiled at the family and patted the little boy on the head before giving him a matronly kiss on the cheek.

The Orgasm Heard ʼRound the World or Orgasmic Orchestral Accompaniment

 

 

May is Masturbation Month, but Lo’s self-pleasure cums three hundred and sixty-five days a year.  It turns out that May is also Mental Health Awareness Month.  Coincidence?  I don’t think so.  A large part of mental health is sexual health, sexual pleasure, and sexual self-stimulation.  So, go for it.  Yes, you may!  Yes, you should!

In honor of this annual celebration of manual manipulation of the genital variety, I bought Lo two gifts: a Lovence Lush remote-controlled vibrator and concert tickets to see the philharmonic.

These were separate and distinct gifts, but leave it to Lo to combine the two.

She put on her sexy, contour-fitting blue dress with a little black jacket over it and her new toy securely and secretly inserted in her hideaway under it.

Lo, Dressed for Success

Off we went to hear some beautiful music.

On the ride there, Lo said to me, “I want to take this sexy little pink plaything for a test drive during the performance.”

“But Lo,” I tried to protest.

“But Lo nothing,” she said, shutting me down.  “The vibe is a gift and so are the tickets and I want to enjoy both simultaneously.”

She is a master debater and am no match for her oral skills.

We filed in and the show began with a contemporary violin concerto with which I was unfamiliar.  Lo had her right hand on my left knee and indicated that she was not impressed.  But then, without intermission, the main event of the evening began – Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony.

Lo indicated that now was the right time to test out her new gift.  I inconspicuously pulled out my phone and turned on the toy.  Throughout the first movement I gently and thoughtfully applied the vibrational intensity to the mellow and subdued melody of the orchestra.  But, as the piece transitioned to the second movement, increasing in passion and drama, I followed suit with the controller I had in my pocket.  I could feel Lo’s grip on my knee holding on for dear life and I saw her bite down hard on her lower lip.

Her legs pressed tightly together.  The she crossed her legs, one over the other, pressing her inner thighs against each other as she rocked back-and-forth a little.  She began to perspire just a bit on her brow.  And then, she let out a primal scream like I had never heard before that echoed and reverberated throughout the acoustically dynamic hall.

From my long experience with Lo, I knew that this meant she was also simultaneously squirting and that her Kegel strength was clenching on the small but powerful device.  I immediately shut off the remote and pretended to be looking forward as if nothing were happening, but as soon as she regained control of her vocal emanations, I could see, without drawing attention to it, the small puddle that had accumulated under her seat.

Thankfully, the band played on and eventually, people stopped staring at us.

It was impossible to get up and leave in the middle of the piece without further drawing the ire of the polite audience upon ourselves and, in the process, demonstrating Lo’s very wet bottom.  But as soon as the symphony was over, we made our way out of the concert hall as the audience around us was still applauding.  Lo held in her hand the little pink conductor whose baton had caused her crescendo.  She placed it in her clutch and we slipped into the night.

Little did we know that her vocal accompaniment to the concerto would be caught on tape and that her little performance would headline the evening.  Perhaps she has a future as an opera singer.

One thing is for sure, Lo’s lullaby proved that there is a permeable line between art and porn.

The End

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