In my experience, sexy is as sexy does. The only thing that is more attractive than a woman who is comfortable in her own skin is a woman who is comfortable in her own skin and smiles just right when she offers to let you touch it.
Lois is a large woman who is big on confidence. Clark is a nerd-made-good who is about to discover how delightful it can be to let yourself Go Large.
I am watching my new lover, with whom I have just had sex, review her body in the mirror. I am in the bathroom and she is not aware that I can see her as she hefts one breast, pouts and splays her thighs to display the sticky evidence of our coupling.
Lois has a substantial body and she revels in it. She knows that she looks much better naked than clothed. Her pale pink skin is soft and smooth. No bones are visible only bold curves and luscious folds of flesh. Her nipples are psychedelic pink snowcaps on her mountainous breasts. The space between her formidable thighs and the escarpment of her belly is thickly forested with shiny dark hair that a man can lose himself in for days.
Yet it is the soft warm pastures of her buttocks that I yearn for, longing to sink my fingers into that elastic flesh and feel its strength, to lower my head to her upraised invitation and navigate by tongue her dark aromatic crevasse.
We have only been lovers for two days. I am infatuated.
I shouldn’t even be here but my secretary, Sarah, who mothers me even though I am older than her, decided I’d been working too hard and accepted an invitation for me to attend a technology briefing here in Cannes. She also booked me a Sunday flight although the conference doesn’t start until Tuesday. Even in November it is a pleasant place, though a little empty. I could almost believe that all the fashionable people left when they heard I was coming. Joke. Honestly.
But wait. How rude of me. Here I am letting you ride along with my thoughts and I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Clarke Kent. No, really. My mother was a slightly scatty woman who chose the name because it sounded familiar but who had no idea of its provenance.
I am thirty nine. I have never been married although I have had two medium term relationships with women and one rather discouraging hour with a prostitute. Joan and I were at school together. She left me after four years because she said that; although I was a nice man (many women tell me I am a nice man). I was also a boring one. Sally and I worked together. She wooed me and bedded me and then left me and moved to our offices in New York. She said I was too afraid to grab hold of life. Mandie, the prostitute, just said “never mind luv, it happens to people all the time.” She even offered to charge me a lower fee.
I tell you this so that you will realise that, even when I take my glasses off, I am not superman.
So, two nights ago, I found myself in Cannes, dining alone in the hotel restaurant with a romantic view of the sunset that seemed wasted on me, when Lois came into my life.
“You don’t mind if I join you do you? I don’t speak French and I like to talk while I eat.” All of this was said as she seated herself between me and the sunset.
She was wearing a red T-shirt dress. A large T-shirt dress that still clung to her form. It had “GO LARGE” written across it at forty five degrees in huge jagged black letters. As I struggled for a suitable response, trying not to show how nonplussed and pleased I was, qll I could focus on was that the nipple of the right breast formed a prominent punctuation mark in the centre of the letter O.
“How did you know I spoke English?” I asked.
She laughed and said, “Well you could hardly be French.”
She took my raised eyebrow (too many Roger Moore movies in my youth I’m afraid) for the interrogative interjection that it was and explained her reasoning.
“Well Watson, firstly you have no wine on the table. Dining in France and drinking only water with your food is like getting to an orgy and then declaring your celibacy, everybody wonders why you didn’t just stay home. Secondly there is the matter of the clothing: this season’s GAP you-can-wear-this-without-offending-anyone range of casual wear, not a typical French choice. The most obvious sign of course is the English language copy of ‘Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire’ that you’ve put on the table to keep people from joining you.”
“!” I said, silently.
“I take it you’re here for the conference. You have that nerd-made-good look. My name is Lois. Lois Lewes. My mother values alliteration.”
She looked away from me and summoned the waiter by raising her hand and, in the process, rearranging the topography of her T-shirt. I couldn’t take my eyes off her breasts. I knew it was rude to the point of being pathetic but I was hypnotised by the sheer mass involved.
The waiter brought her a menu with commendable alacrity while seeming to reappraise my status.
“That was the point where you were supposed to tell me your name” Lois said. “My face is up here by the way”.
“Clarke Kent” I said making certain I was looking her in the eye, but feeling my cheeks redden.
“Yeah right. That’s a new line. Haven’t heard that before”
“No, really, it’s my name” I said in an it’s-not-my-fault tone.
“Cool. Now I feel like I’m one of those characters in ‘Magnolia’ linked by some huge chain of co-incidence that challenges the nature of free will. Watch out for flying frogs”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
“I’m rather afraid that our waiter, who probably hasn’t seen the movie, thinks that you’ve just used a derogatory term referring to French pilots.” I said.
“Screw him.” Lois said.
“I’d rather screw you.” I said.
The moment the words were out I wondered who had said them. I wanted to look around for the culprit and give him a good thrashing. The pace of the conversation combined with the impact of Lois’s physical presence had made me giddy. What had I done?
“I’m sorry…” I started to say.
Lois was no longer smiling. She was looking into me, searching for something. I felt like she was the one with x-ray vision. With speed that belied her size, her hand moved under the table and found my erection. The sun shone again. I breathed.
“Whoa” she said “if this is you on mineral water, wait until we get to the Bordeaux”
Her hand was back on her side of the table but where she had touched me still tingled and I knew there was now a wet spot on my GAP easy-fit chinos.
The conversation slowed to a canter after that. Over three courses (I can’t remember what they were but I remember watching Lois relish them) I learned that Lois was an MIT graduate, with a experience in technologies that made her a hot property in the telecoms market. Like me she was here for the conference. Unlike me she had no intention of attending. She was going to “scalp some data” as she put it, give her name to a few recruiters, and have a dammed good time. There was no mention of a significant other.
I charged the bill to my room. Lois checked the number and said “We’ll go to my room, it has a better view.”
I paused. Women don’t do this to me. Oh they have dinner with me; I’m a nice man and I listen well. But at the end of the meal it’s traditional for them to find someone they can have some fun with.
“Are you sure?” I said sounding twee and ever so English to my own ears “we’ve just met”.
“No” she said, “so far we’ve talked. We’ll meet when we get to my room and we take our clothes off.” The waiter chose that moment to pick up my bill. I blushed.
Lois was standing now. “Hey, you changed your mind?” she asked, “or are you waiting for us to be formally introduced?”
She was smiling but there was some vulnerability there. For once in my clumsy life I did the right thing. I kissed her. Then I did it again.
Her room was a suite with a view of the Med. I didn’t notice. As soon as we entered the room Lois pulled the dress off over her head. She glowed. I was blinded by the heat from her. Smiling, she knelt in front of me and unzipped me. I was about to have oral sex and I hadn’t even had to ask, never mind beg. Then I came; all over her hand. I was mortified.
Lois laughed, a hearty, full-blooded laugh. She was still holding my shrinking cock. If she had let go I think I would have run from the room.
“Well, Clarke, that was faster than a speeding bullet.” She licked my sperm off her hand, grinned at me and said “Now let’s see if we can find the man of steel”. She put my cock in her mouth and flicked her tongue under it.
I should have been ecstatic; instead I was deeply depressed. I knew what would happen now. I would stay soft. She would get frustrated, then angry, then she would tell me that I was a nice man but it was time for me to leave.
“Ah” Lois said, sitting back on her heels and letting go of me. “It’s like that is it?” God, she had gone from lust to leave in a couple of seconds.
She stood up. I took a last look at her glorious body and prayed that my limp flesh would choose that moment to show its appreciation. It didn’t.
“I should go.” I said.
“No” said Lois “You can’t go until you come; and you will come.”
“I know what you need. We’ll soon get rid of the Kryptonite effect. Just leave it to Lois.” She folded her arms and let one hip jut out. “Now STRIP”.
No one had ever spoken to me like that. It felt weird. It felt good. I undressed. Lois tapped her foot when I started to fold my clothes so I just let them fall on the floor. I found myself standing naked with my hands in front of my shrinking genitals.
“Put your hands behind your back and kneel”, Lois commanded. I didn’t question, I just knelt.
Lois twisted my nipple. “Good boy” she said, pushing her thumb into my mouth. I suckled obediently.
“I’m going to tie you now Clarke”. Lois was circling me. She produced three scarves. Lois used one to tie my hands behind my back, pressing her breasts in to my shoulderblades and letting my hands brush against her luxuriant pubic hair. Still pressed against me, she folded a scarf and blindfolded me.
I felt relaxed and excited at the same time. I gave myself up to her and her scarves. With my blindfold on and my hands tied all I could do was wait.
I must have sighed. Lois whispered in my ear “One more and you are mine.”
Her fingernails scraped over my chest and down my belly. One finger and thumb went round my balls pulling down gently but firmly. When she tied the scarf there my cock rose like a balloon being filled rapidly with helium.
“You’re mine now, Clarke, until you come, and that won’t be for a long time yet.”
She was in front of me now. “Open wide Clarke.”
My mouth filled with the satin-smooth warmth of her breast. She pushed into me until I was gagged with her flesh. She held me to her by my hair, her other hand twisting my nipple. It became hard for me to breathe. But it was wonderful. My cock was so hard it throbbed in time to the beat of my heart.
“That’s better,” Lois said. “Let’s see if you are a good fit”.
She withdrew her breast, letting me breathe but leaving me gaping blindly for more flesh to suckle. Effortlessly, Lois pushed me onto my side, then rolled me onto my back, trapping my arms behind me.
I smelt her cunt before I tasted it. Tangy. Salty. Like the earth and the sea combined. Without needing to be told, I started to lick. Her thighs were tight against my cheeks. Her moans reached my ears as tremors, not sounds, each one making me more excited.
Just as my tongue was tiring, she moved down my body. A hand gripped my cock firmly.
“Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it’s supercock.” Lois said, stroking my cock on each question and lowering herself onto me when she gave the answer.
Her muscles were a surprise; a grip as firm as my handshake but slick and hot. She rode me and rode me and rode me. I was her flesh dildo, her sextoy and I was glad of it.
As she felt her orgasm approach, she reached behind her and released the scarf around my balls. My cock erupted. I found myself yelling “YEEEEEEEE GODDDDDDS”. I had never come so hard before. Never.
The light hurt my eyes, when Lois pulled off the blindfold. She was pink and sweaty and smiling at me.
“Well” she said, “do you still want to leave?”
“It would be rude to leave now” I said, “I’ve only just come”
So it’s been two days of room-service meals and continuous sex. I’m exhausted but happy. Lois is just getting her second wind. Neither of us will be going to the conference.
Whoops, sorry, I have to go. Lois is getting off the bed. Any minute now she will release me from the towel rail I’m cuffed to.
(c) Mike Kimera 2003 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from firstname.lastname@example.org
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