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A beginning (m/f cons; pretty vanilla, actually)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
well. i've never posted a story here before, so be gentle with me :) let's
see, disclaimers.
1) this is a story about two adults of the opposite sex having sex. if that
sort of thing offends you, go read talk.philosophy.meta.
2) this story is mine, and if you like it, you can keep it, give it to a
friend, anything you like, except pass it off as yours. if you do that, i
will find you and eat your spleen.
3) the heroine (so to speak) of this story is a large woman. if you don't
think large women are attractive, go read something else.
at any rate, i wrote this at the request of an email pal. please feel free
to comment. maybe i might actually finish it. :)
Caley thought, watching Paul sleep, that she had never known anyone
like him. She shrugged herself into the pale light of the sky, thinking
how trite that was. Dawn was still a half hour or so away, the sky the
limitless blue of new beginnings. I should be thinking poetic things about
how that matches the colour of his eyes, she thought, turning again to look
at his body, flung effortlessly and unselfconsciously across the bed.
But where is the poetry in this, she thought. This is not about love. This
is not about wine and roses and moonlight glancing into our hearts. She
knew what this was about. It was about the way their bodies fitted together,
about the taste of his mouth and the weight of his chest against her breasts.
No matter what happened between them, she would always be grateful to him for
allowing the idea to take root and grow that what bound them was sex, for not
insisting that if they desired one another, they must also love one another.
Suddenly, she wanted a cup of tea, so she slipped out of bed, noiselessly,
to pad on bare feet to the kitchen. Paul was always teasing her that for a
woman of her bulk she moved with unexpected grace and agility. She always
arched one eyebrow up, giving him the "don't try to compliment me" look,
and remarked, "Overcompensation." The first time she said that, he had
howled with laughter, rolling on the couch and gasping for air like a
dying thing. "I don't know what is so funny about that," she said after
several minutes of this. "It's true." When he finally calmed down so that
he could speak an entire sentence without breaking into giggles, he said,
"Yes: that is precisely what is so funny about it." Caley did not understand
his humor, but that was all right with her, because she understood what his
body said, even when he himself did not.
When the tea was ready she took it back into the bedroom, climbing into the
windowseat where she could watch him and drink without disturbing him. She did
not understand what Paul found so attractive about her. He was perfect. His
body was smooth and balanced and erotic even when he was unaware of it. Once
she had caught sight of him reaching down to pick up some laundry on the
floor, to put it in the washing machine, and she had been so overwhelmed by
the sexual currents under the skin of his arms that she had thrown herself
into his embrace almost before she knew what she was thinking. She pressed her
skin up to his, their mouths meeting and merging like drops of mercury. The
smell of him, clean and young and sweaty, drove all thought from her mind.
His hands were everywhere, untying the sash of her robe while she struggled
to strip him out of his clothes. "More laundry," he said as their clothes
tumbled to the floor, in a brief pause before she sat him on the washing
machine and touched his cock like a foreign object. She ran her fingers along
it, reveling in the feeling of it stiffening under her lightest touch,
smelling it, nosing it, kissing his thighs and cradling his balls until she
gave him one unreadable glance and took the whole thing into her mouth.
Later, as she sat astride him, the motion of the washing machine driving him
deeper into her, Caley wondered what she was doing here: her mother called her
periodically to inquire whether she had any plans to marry and have a normal
life. But before she could begin to pursue that thought, Paul's warm hands
roamed down and cradled her ass, not particularly gently, and his lips closed
around her nipple; she consigned her mother to the darkest regions of hell and
rode him into unconsciousness.
Now she cupped her tea and watched his chest rise evenly and slowly. He did
not snore or sleep with his mouth open or drool on the pillow. He never stole
the covers from her and his feet were never cold. All of those things were
true of her, plus a habit she had picked up from years of dog owning: taking
up as much space as possible, before the dog dictated where you slept. And yet
he still loved having her in his bed.
After a while she became aware that his eyes were open and that he was
watching her. She smiled at him, already warm in her belly and her head filling
with the thought of him. "How fortunate, " he remarked, " that only garbagemen
are up at this hour. I am certain you are providing anyone who happens to look
up with a spectacular start to their day." She swiveled her head and looked
down at the empty street. "Why yes," she said. "Three men in suits are staring
agape at my uncovered splendor, and one mean looking old woman is coming out
of her house to chase them away with a broom."
Paul snorted, and lifted the bedclothes, almost negligently, to peer under
them. "I had a wonderful dream," he said to his torso, his voice muffled by the
blankets.
"You lie," she said. "You never remember your dreams."
He dropped the covers. "But I do remember that I have them." He paused,
then said: "I have been thinking all night of something particularly
perverse to do to you this morning, so you must either come over here and
submit to it, squealing with rapture, or I will come over there and ravish
you, in full view of the broom bearing guardian of neighborhood morality."
Caley regarded him for a moment. "That would not earn you any points in a bar,
but that is certainly an original pickup line. What is the nature of this
perversity?" He smiled lazily at her and slithered out of bed to go to the
bathroom, saying over his shoulder, "As is, lady, as is. You take it or you
leave it. Ravishment or willing obedience, those are your choices."
They met at a birthday party. Caley was tending bar and Paul was trying to
avoid being pursued by a tall thin woman in a blue dress who bought him
drinks and made inappropriate remarks about what she could do with her mouth.
Finally he said he could not take her home with him because he was already
taking someone else home. The woman's eyes narrowed and she asked who, as if
she did not believe that any man would turn down the opportunity to get a blow
job from her. He smiled and turned to Caley and said, "I'm taking her home.
What's your name?" And the thin woman in the blue dress left, highly offended.
He winked at Caley and released her hand. "That was kind of rude," she said,
but without much sting.
"I hear she bites," he said non-chalantly.
"Teeth are erotic, biting is kinky," she answered.
"Biting is painful," he said. He looked at his drink. "Imagine buying me a
screaming orgasm. Get rid of this, will you, and then would you please pour me
a beer?"
"That is a very good drink, I'll have you know," Caley said, obligingly tipping
his turquoise orgasm into the sink. "I know because I made it." But she poured
him a beer anyway, in a tall fine glass with a little frost around the rim.
Some hours later Paul came back to the bar and said, "Are you coming home with
me?"
She blinked at him. "Are you serious?"
"Sure, " he said. "You come home with me, we have glorious sex all night long,
in a year I'll buy you a diamond, then we'll have six kids and four dogs. What
do you say?"
"I don't do relationships," she said. "They complicate my life and they
always make me feel like I should change something about myself."
"Okay then, come home with me and we'll have wild sex all night long and then
I'll buy you breakfast in the morning and we'll part like civilized human
beings."
She regarded him for a minute, unsure what to say, or even if he was in fact
serious. He leaned over the bar. "Lean forward, and take a very surreptitious
look at my trousers, " he said, and sat back onto his stool. She craned her
neck slightly and cast a quick look at his crotch. "Did you stuff some socks
in there when you got dressed for the evening?" she asked.
"I only own one pair of socks. They're on my feet." He lifted his trouser leg
to show her, and at that she laughed in spite of herself, and decided to go
home with him.
Paul's house was low and flat and looked like he lived in it and cleaned it
himself. It was tidy but not impeccable, and he did not appear at all nervous
about having a strange woman in it. He took her coat and hung it up, along with
his own, and said, "I noticed you weren't drinking while you were working;
would you like a drink now? I can't offer you a screaming orgasm, at least
not in a glass, but I have some Catamount." She laughed again and said yes
she would like a beer, so he got two bottles from the refrigerator and pulled
the tops off.
"You don't mind if I snoop, do you?" she asked, taking the beer and turning
to look out toward the bay windows.
"No," he answered, but put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face
him. "But I'd rather you did it later." He ran his fingers under her chin, and
then he kissed her, slowly, as if he had known her a long time. "Okay," she
said, when he released her mouth. He smiled and began to unbutton her shirt,
one button at a time, planting a kiss on every new bit of exposed skin.
She took a swig of her beer and put it down on the counter, because she needed
both hands to undress him. He left her shirt on, but open, and removed her
pants and underwear, shoes and socks, and then he hoisted her up onto the
counter. Pushing lightly on her shoulders so that her hands went behind her to
support herself, he kissed her again, running his tongue everywhere, sucking
strongly on hers when she pushed it into his mouth. Then he ran his hands down
over her shoulders to cup her breasts, still beneath her bra, the nipples
poking out, and then down to her legs, gently pushing them open. She closed
her eyes then because she knew what he was going to do, and he did: she let
her breath out in a long sigh when he placed the first kiss on her pubic hair,
and then she felt him slide his tongue between her lips and find her clitoris.
Instantly she went soft and wet inside, and her brain was many miles away.
When he paused and she could think, her legs were over his shoulders and he
smiled at her, and tentatively poked two fingers into her opening. Her eyes
opened up very wide and he bent his head to her pussy again, licking at the
same time that he jamed his fingers in as far as they would go. She cried out,
and he moved them faster and rolled her clitoris around his tongue. Suddenly
she could see herself from very far away and up close at the same time, and
she knew she was about to come and she struggled to sit up, but he pushed her
firmly back and worked his fingers harder, moving his whole head around as he
ate her. Her fingers grabbed onto the counter edge with the last bit of
coherent thought she had, and every nerve in her body reverberated into a
thousand different colours and sounds and textures.
When she could breathe normally again, Paul said, "That was fantastic."
"I thought that was my line," Caley said, and smiled.
"I've never seen anybody come like that," he answered, and brushed his
fingertips over her breasts.
"If you still have that lump in your trousers you can see it again," she
said, pulling him down to kiss him. Without taking off her shirt, he pushed her
bra up, freeing her breasts to spill out into his hands. She pulled at his
zipper, and finally got him out of his underwear. He sighed into her ear, and
swept his tongue over it. "Any other time I would be interested in the
difference between erotic and kinky," he said, but did not get any further
because she slid him inside her and wrapped her legs around him, driving him
deeper into herself. She kissed the side of his face, running her hands down
his back to squeeze his ass, and she heard him groan in appreciation. "Nails,"
he whispered, and she brought her hands back up to his shoulders to dig her
nails into the skin, hard enough to be noticed but not enough to break the
skin. She felt his breath leave him in a whoosh, and then she felt him move
faster, as if he wanted to crawl completely inside her. She moved with him,
feeling her own orgasm build, simply from the knowledge that his was
approaching, and she dragged her nails down his back. His breath was coming
short and fast now and she gasped out, "Give it to me. Give it to me," even
though her grip on sense was almost gone. His orgasm began in his tongue,
quivering in her ear, and rippled down his body as he slammed himself into
her. She felt it running wild inside her and zoomed out of her head, shivering
and clutching at him until they slowly settled back down into their bodies.
After several minutes of lying close and sweaty on the kitchen counter, Paul
said, "Would you like to take a bath? I have a terrific bathtub."
"Sold," she said, and they walked to the bathroom, stopping every now and
then to kiss. It was a large bathtub, deep and square and sunk into the floor.
He turned on the water and said, "One day I really must experience sex in this
tub."
Caley laughed and said, "That would not earn you any points in a bar, but I
accept." The water was warm and slid over their skins like light.
When Paul came out of the bathroom, Caley was still sitting in the windowseat,
hands cupped around her tea. He stood before her, his cock at half mast, his
hands on his hips, smiling slightly. "Well?" he asked. "What is it to be?"
She put her cup down. "You know I don't do willing submission very well," she
answered.
"True," he said. "You do, however, squeal with rapture quite nicely." And he
scooped his arms beneath her legs and her back and hauled her to the bed. She
was laughing by the time he deposited her inelegantly on the rumpled
bedclothes.
"That would be much more romantic and flamboyant if I didn't outweigh you by
seventy pounds," she said, and he agreed, but remarked that it was immaterial,
as he now had her where he wanted her.
Suddenly there was a stillness in the room, and she looked up at him,
wondering what he was thinking. He ran his fingertips down the line of her
jaw, tracing gently an old scar beneath her chin. His fingers trailed down
to her breasts, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. When
she sighed and closed her eyes he fastened his mouth to hers, his tongue
pushing urgently into her mouth and running over her peppermint teeth.
She thought, when he lifted her onto her knees, that doggie style, while a
wonderful position, was not particularly perverse, and wondered why he had
given it such a lead-in. But he placed his hand flat on the small of her
back and said, "Don't move," and she twisted her head to look at him. "Don't
move," he repeated, and obligingly she swiveled her head back. She heard a
few noises she couldn't make out, a popping sound and a sliding squishy noise,
and then, to her utter surprise, he bent down and began to kiss her ass. His
hands roamed over her cheeks and down her thighs while his tongue rolled
around her asshole, sending shocks of surprised delight through her. He poked
two fingers into her pussy, which was wet and sharp smelling, and then very
gently placed one against her asshole and pushed it slowly in. She gasped.
"Okay?" he asked, evenly, and she nodded, unable to take her attention off the
sensation long enough to answer. He added another finger, and began to move
them all, slowly and strongly, the two fingers in her pussy and the two in her
ass. She began to rise toward an orgasm, and when he pulled them out, her hips
kept moving, as if she could acheive the orgasm just by the motion alone.
Paul placed his hands on her butt, to still her. Then he pulled her cheeks
apart slightly and she felt his cockhead resting against her anus. "Here we
go," he murmured, and then he began to push. She felt her sphincter resist,
and then it occured to her to forcibly relax it, and the tip of his cock slid
into her asshole. She thought she would faint, it felt so good.
"Okay?" he asked again, and she said, breathing sharply though her nose,
"Wait. Lemme get used to you." After a moment she nodded her head: "More." He
began a short slow pumping, adding another few centimeters of his dick every
time he went in, until she started to push her hips back to meet him, and he
took hold of her hips and shoved himself deep into her ass, his balls coming
to rest against her pussy.
"God, your ass is so tight," he gasped out. "So hot and tight. I'm not sure I
can be gentle..." and his voice trailed off into a moan of pure pleasure as she
wiggled her hips.
"Don't make excuses," she grated out. "Fuck. Do it. God. Fuck me hard up my
ass," and he realized that she had gotten her hand to her crotch and was busily
masturbating. She heard him take a huge breath and hold it, as he always did
when he was getting ready to abandon himself to the motion of his hips, and
then he did, his cock sliding unhindered and clasped into her. She felt like
she was going to be split apart, first by his cock, and then by her orgasm,
which rose and swelled like a greedy child, gripping her and sending her
flying in all directions. She became aware of something she had never
experienced before, the sensation of her ass muscles closing spasmodically
around his cock, which apparently sent him over the edge, because he grabbed
her hips, hunched himself deep into her and came. To her surprise, she could
feel him come much more strongly in her ass, felt his sperm sluicing all over
her, and the feeling of his warm fluid in her pitched her headlong into another
orgasm.
After a while, she noticed an even rasping sound, and realized it was their
breathing, rising and falling ever more slowly, and then she felt his torso,
bent over her back, warm and sweaty. He kissed her neck and licked her ear,
langorously, teasingly. "You didn't squeal," he said, running his tongue over
her neck.
"Next time," she answered, stroking the inside of his thigh from between her
legs. He pulled out, very gently, and lay beside her. "You are beautiful," he
said, as if he wanted to say something else.
"So are you," she said, "especially when you are being perverse." And they
snuggled down into each other's skins, and the bright light of full morning
fell into the bedroom.
that's all there is, so far. let me know what you think.
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