Archive-name: Hips.Out.to.Here

From: jfriday@ada.stat.uga.edu (Paul Stacy)

Subject: ARCHIVE: Hips Out to Here

Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories

Path: think.com!yale!cs.utexas.edu!news- server.csri.toronto.edu!utgpu!utzoo!telly!erotica rom: apple!well.sf.ca.us!well!avery@uunet.uucp (Avery Ray Colt- er) Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica Subject: Hips Out to Here! Keywords: Fat Fantasy Message-ID: <19466@well.sf.ca.us> Date: 8 Aug 90 23:37:00 GMT Sender: erotica@telly.on.ca (Evan Leibovitch - moderator) Organization: Sound Software Approved: erotica@telly.on.ca

HIPS OUT TO HERE!

Yup! That's what someone said when I told them about you. They said, "It ain't the size of the ship, but the motion of the ocean."

"Well," I had replied, "the ocean's pretty damn BIG now ain't it!"

So it is with you now, as I see the splendor of your ample form silhouetted against the candlelight. True to my Taurean birthright, I feel the power of the Dark Horned God, consort to the Great Mother of the Universe. You certainly are born in her image.

I see you slowly remove each piece of clothing, deliberately pulling it as tightly around you as you can, then letting go and sending these paltry textiles hurling from your body with the forces formerly confined within. Your breasts rest comfortably on your defiant tummy, which thrusts out in holy revolt against all stifling restrictions. No one controls you, and that scares many. But it doesn't scare me, as I sit there undressed, watch- ing your giant silhouette; for I know the ultimate love lies within your spirit, unfettered by narrow minds.

Your hips span from here to eternity, and they dance in the darkness as you slowly saunter toward me, singing a song of joy and freedom, making a barely audible pulsing baseline of their own in the charged silence. Your whole body is one great stand- ing wave, a fundamental vibration that sets my heart atremble and my body shivering like a frail leaf. My mouth waters at all the tender flesh; it waves to me, beckoning me to prepare for the quintessential meal. I can feel my canines growing in length by the minute, and my ears grow upwards, and my mustache flair out into the most delicate whiskers. I am quivering ever more now, purring like a kitten, as you walk.

Just to tempt me, you stop, then turn, and make for the kitchen. I rise and follow, to see what you have in store for both our sweet tooths. You produce the most exquisitely rich and heavy chocolate and caramel pie in the history of the universe, just as I strike from behind, sending my bony arms around you, temporarily confining your freedom-loving softness as it gushes out over and under my limbs, my front pressed deeply into your pudding-like ass, my tool ready to mine the shimmering gelatinous gold beneath your skin. You turn about in my arms, and my body has no choice but to bend in a deep curve around your right hip, my hands just barely clasped around your perfectly-sized middle, and then feel my whole front blessed by the revolutionary belly. A huge slab of the pie is on a dish you hold with one hand as releasing the sterling fork with which you had given yourself a bite of your own secret recipe - you expertly use the other to find those secret places in between my unbuffered ribs and the ounce of sensitive softness over my steel-hard hips, humming a low melody of pleasure all the while.

I shudder with delight, as I take up one of my elfin hands, so built for precision, and with the sterling fork indulge myself in the mass of chocolate and caramel. And as you take your turn pressing your chubby fingers where you know they will make their mark, you sensuously roll the sweet dessert in your mouth. How is it that you can look so sexy when you're eating? Watching you enjoy the heavy richness makes me ever more aroused...

As the evening snack is finished between us, we walk holding hands back out into the living room, where on a huge couch before a roaring fire we explore each other.

As we raise each other up level by level, you get an idea in your head, which you voice enthusiastically. You tell me that we must make love in the bathtub. I like the idea, but I suddenly remember how little my bathtub is, and the limits on the distance the door slides. I tell you of this, that it might be hard for you to fit. You smile, take my hands in yours, and say, "You're an engineer, I'm sure you'll find a way."

So hand in hand, we trek to the shower room. I slide the transparent shield just as far as it will go, and stand by. You slowly, sensuously but daintily place one foot on the marble surface, and begin to wriggle in. Wondering whether I can keep control of my member long enough, I watch my hands spring into action, applying pressure first here, then there, as you work on into the shower. The steel frame creaks and your body growls in reply as your voice is marked by long, sultry groans and your hands press on the window from the inside. Your flank presses flat against the rear pane, and you begin to turn your yardstick hips to follow the path, as my hands still work to provide the extra help where it is needed. And the defiant tummy warps in an ever deepening curve as it encounters the frame. And I press my body further into yours, warping your flesh still further and edging it little by little around the hard metal. Finally it is done. You are inside, faced sidelong as your great hips' width ranges down the axis of the closed space. And I step in, and wriggle into the small space between your deeply curved ass - still a little red from the pressure - and the wall.

You turn just as much as you can, one hip impinging on the long glass side pane, the other against the smooth tiles of the wall, torquing your supple thighs against the resistance, pres- suring your right hip back, back, back, tile by tile, until you manage an angle of about 30 degrees off-axis. Then you relax the tension in your lungs, and raise your left leg onto the rim below the long side pane, evoking yet another friction-shriek from the glass. Those sounds drive me wild, and combined with your very nearness, they set my usually small-size erection straining painfully out to touch you. Just a few inches separate us.

I reach around from behind, again closing my arms with such sweet effort about your round waist and clasping them tight to sink into your silk-tender belly. Slowly, you move backwards, until my own ass is pressed flat against the rear pane, and your own flows around my front. You slowly begin to bend forward. My fingers remain interwoven over your tummy despite the new stress fighting back against them, and your ass warps ever more around my slender frame. Reaching back with your left hand, you take hold of my member, the longest it's ever been, and test it for its readiness. I arch my pelvis in response, push you just enough forward for a moment, and thrust home.

Or at least I try to. But I quickly discover that you are still not quite close enough to sink my entire length. So you begin to torque your thunderous thighs again, and I reach both hands over the flare of your beleaguered right hip, and begin to crush it even further, tugging it ever farther back across the tiles. You growl fiercely as you send repeatedly thrust your hip back, and the rolling fat rhythmically squashes and relaxes.

"Al...most...there..." I grunt as I continue tugging, and trying to aim the member now lost to all earthly sight just below your deforming hemisphere, and thinking, "shit, that shower door's made good, it hasn't even derailed!" And you moan back, "I'm TRYING...!" Then, switching my grip to take the fronts of your thighs, I pull you back farther, millimeter-by-millimeter. Then, sensing your now copiously seeping tidepool right above my cock, I lower my body, aim straight up, and finally the connec- tion is made as you ravenously take me in.

As you continue pressing me into the wall with the quick hard thrusts of your right leg, the stormy waves of your ocean crashing against the rocky cliffs of my own spritely skeleton, we both sing ever louder, ever higher. I move along with you, playing with my fire, keeping a tight hold on my machinery, until your body gives the unmistakable signal. You take in a deep breath, so deep your vast body momentarily gets even fatter, and then like a vice from hell you clamp down on me. For a shining moment, all logic leaves my mind, my body loses all strength, and I drop my hold and feel my own flesh melt into yours, feeling the exquisite pain and pleasure of the fundamental pulsation that now has total control of both of us. Your waves strike with a crack against my skin, and the feeling goes on for minutes as I feel every ounce of fluid leave my body at hypersonic speeds.

Finally, it is over. I stand there, my legs too weak to hold me, yet held firmly in place by your stalwart rear. We stay like this for a long while, as I run my hands over as much of you as I can reach.

Reversing your power, and with a mighty shove from myself, you free your hips of the vice grip into which they had been worked. You wriggle forward, and turn on the shower. The hot water feels good, and on hands and feet I squeeze around your calves and rise up to face you. You smile as we warmly embrace.

The shower done, I proceed, this time from the inside, to assist you in escaping the grip of the shower frame. By the time that is done, I am ready for more, and you are happy to oblige. We both saunter off to the bedroom, where I lie on my back and feel your ponderous mass bear down on me. You bend toward me, playing your tummy and breasts out across me, and we kiss, and we again fill the pitch black night with shrieks of delight.

Finally, it is time to rest. You roll over onto your back, a heavenly smile on your pretty face, and your hair in a wild rush across your eyes. And I rest my head on the defiant tummy, and sink into a peaceful, happy sleep.
Avery Ray Colter Internet: avery@well.sf.ca.us | {apple|hplabs}!well!avery o/~ Mama, mama, mama, keep those skinny girls at home, o/~ `Cause this skinny boy wants a BIG FAT BLONDE! - The Rain- makers


Last modified (10/09/96 12:14:42) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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