Curvy Girls Read online

  His hand started to slip under the flimsy skirt of my red dress, but he stopped abruptly and broke away from our passionate kiss. “Shit!”

  The second he spoke, I heard the telltale hiss of sauce boiling over and splashing onto open flames. He raced back to the stove and switched off the burner. But he didn’t even bother to wipe up the sticky mess. Instead, he turned off the oven and pivoted back to me.

  “That’s going to be hell to clean up when it dries,” I warned.

  “Fuck it,” Jay declared and took my hand. “Bedroom?”

  “Yes, please.” I snatched my purse from the counter and tried to keep up with Jay’s long strides as we crossed the living room.

  His bedroom was exactly as I’d expected: a low bed with a slate-gray headboard and crisp white bed linens. There was only one bedside table, and on it was just a lamp and an alarm clock.

  “I know,” he said, as if reading my mind. “It’s not very warm and inviting, is it?”

  I smiled reassuringly at him. “Different strokes for different folks, right?”

  Jay laughed and tugged me close again. “You’re something else, you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.” I slid my hand along the back of his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. He growled against my mouth as he toed off his shoes. I followed suit, my mouth glued to his as I awkwardly reached down to tear off one slingback sandal and then the other. Jay chuckled as he bent down to match my strange angle and the jerky movements of my undressing.

  When I started to lift my skirt, he closed his hand over mine. “Let me.”

  Nodding, I turned and presented my back, lifting my hair so he could reach the zipper. As if unwrapping a Christmas gift, he took his sweet time drawing down the zipper and peeling the dress from my shoulders. It fell to my ankles, and I stepped out of it.

  Suddenly nervous, I crossed my arms in front of my body and hesitated. It was one thing when we were both flirting, fully clothed, but now, every ripple of cellulite and every plump, fleshy curve was exposed. I’d come to terms with the thick thighs and wide hips and megabosom years ago, but this felt different: Jay was the kind of guy who could have any woman. So what the hell would he want with lumpy, chunky me?

  Jay pressed on my shoulder, nudging me to turn around, and I reluctantly spun to face him. He gently pulled my shielding arms away from my body and took a good, long look at me. “My god, Celia,” he breathed. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  His gaze burned my skin as he studied my Rubenesque form. He circled me like a prowling cat, pausing behind me just long enough to unhook my bra and drag it free of my arms. My heavy breasts ached as they bounced free. My nipples were already pulled tight with arousal. Jay slid his arms around my waist and palmed my breasts in his big hands. I closed my eyes and leaned back against his chest as he caressed and tweaked and massaged.

  When he nipped my neck, I shuddered and clenched my thighs. I could feel my pussy getting wetter and wetter. Then his hand left my breast and slipped into my red silk panties. I almost came when his fingers slid between my pussy lips and brushed across my clit. He turned my chin with his other hand and claimed my mouth again before dropping to his knees behind me and kissing the small of my back. He slowly dragged my panties down over my wide hips, his tongue gliding a path over my juicy apple bottom, his teeth nipping here and there and making me giggle.

  He stood and moved in front of me. Taking my hand, he led me to the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Jay worshiped my curves as I stood before him. He buried his face between my breasts, then sucked and licked my nipples until my toes curled. I sifted my fingers through his short hair as he circled my belly button with his tongue and squeezed the plump cheeks of my ass.

  Never, not once in my twenty-seven years, had I ever felt this beautiful, this wanted. Whatever doubt I’d held about Jay’s possible attraction to me fled. Only a man who found me irresistible would lavish this kind of devoted attention on my curves.

  Jay’s eyes burned with lust. “I want you to ride my face.”

  The bottom dropped out of my stomach. I’d never had such a dirty request from a lover. My face flamed with embarrassment, but I couldn’t say no. There was something deliciously kinky about the idea of sitting on his face as he tongue fucked my cunt. “Okay.”

  Jay rose from the bed and quickly undressed. His cock sprang loose from his black boxer briefs, which he whipped off and tossed aside. I couldn’t help myself and reached out to stroke his erection. He groaned and sucked in a shuddery breath before pulling away abruptly. I was thrilled by the realization that he was that hot for me.

  My belly flip-flopped with excitement and uncertainty as we climbed onto the mattress. He rolled onto his back and grabbed my hips. As he dragged me closer, the well-defined muscles of his arms and shoulders flexed. I tossed a leg over his waist and placed my knees on either side of him. With a little shimmying, I moved into place, my ass resting against his chest and my pussy poised mere centimeters from his mouth. His fingernails bit into the fleshy cheeks of my butt as he pulled me a little closer and dove into my cunt.

  “Oh, god!” I cried out at the first flick of his tongue against my throbbing clit. It traced my slick folds and fluttered over my clitoris, then stabbed deep inside my wet hole. He sucked my clit between his lips and teased his teeth over the pulsing nub.

  I’d never felt anything like it. My pussy was so open and exposed. Anytime I tried to pull away, his strong hands held me firmly in place. Jay showed no mercy as he ate my pussy like it was the most delectable dish he’d ever been presented. He moaned with enjoyment as he devoured my cunt and brought me closer and closer to climax.

  I played with my breasts as my lower belly tightened and my clit buzzed. My breaths came in fast little pants. My thighs flexed and released as I chased the panicky sensation that heralded my orgasm.

  “Fuucckk!” My body exploded with waves of pure bliss. My hips swiveled and rocked as I rode Jay’s face. He urged me on and on, moaning excitedly and slapping my big ass.

  Just as the first climax ended, Jay latched onto my clit again and forced another orgasm. The sensations his skillful tongue evoked were almost painful as he flicked and circled the oversensitive pearl. Part of me wanted to pull away, but most of me wanted to see it through. Jay’s tongue slid slowly over my clit and picked up speed as my breathing changed.

  When I came the second time, I shrieked and wildly pumped my hips. Jay’s tongue seemed to be everywhere at once. There was no holding back the little gush that accompanied my mind-blowing climax. Once or twice, I’d squirted while playing with my vibrators and watching particularly naughty porn, but never with a partner. Goddamn but Jay was good!

  Jay licked and sucked my pussy as if trying to swallow every last drop of the nectar he’d produced. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and fell off to the side. I ended up next to him, our arms touching. He wiped his shiny chin with the back of his hand, and I let out a loud belly laugh from the craziness of that orgasm. “That was fucking unbelievable.”

  Grinning, Jay pinned me to the mattress. He teased my mouth with a few sensual kisses, the salty taste and heady musk of my pussy heightening the intimacy of the moment. I reached between us and grasped his stiff cock. As I stroked him, I was reminded of my dirtiest fantasies. “Would you do something for me?”

  “Anything,” he whispered as he nuzzled my neck.

  “Would you come on my tits?” I held my breath as I waited for his answer. When he broke into a wide grin, I knew I’d get exactly what I wanted.

  “You dirty, dirty girl.” Jay kissed me deeply, his tongue swiping mine. “Any particular way you want me to do it?”

  I embraced my inner putita and decided to go for broke. “Do you have any lube?”

  There was no mistaking Jay’s enthusiasm as he nodded. He didn’t even have to ask for directions. He knew exactly what I wanted him to do. I vibrated with eagerness and lust as he hopped off the bed, made
a trip into the bathroom, and returned with a bottle of lubricant. He squirted some of the slippery liquid into his palm and worked it along his ruddy shaft. Another shot of the wet stuff went between my breasts. He painted my cleavage with the slick lube and then tossed the bottle aside.

  “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this?” he said, moving into place, his knees on either side of my ribcage. “I’ve been dreaming of sliding my cock between these gorgeous tits for months.”

  “Sometimes, when I touch myself, I imagine your cock is right here, like this,” I admitted. “I come so hard when I imagine your come splashing all over my skin.”

  I didn’t know where the impetus for my shocking confession came from, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted—needed—Jay to know I’d rubbed out orgasm after orgasm with him in the starring role of my kinky fantasies.

  I held my breasts together, compressing my cleavage, as he slid his cock into the fleshy tunnel and thrust back and forth. He took his time, rocking slowly as he enjoyed the sensation of my huge breasts hugging his erection. The expression on his face betrayed him. He was fighting for control. I licked my lips and whispered filthy encouragements. He fucked my tits a little faster, a little more forcefully. I pressed them together even tighter, increasing the friction against his sensitive shaft.

  Even though we both wanted the moment to go on forever, the inevitable end arrived much too soon. With a pained growl, Jay pulled back and took his thick cock in hand. He stroked fast and furious as he shot hot jets of ropy white cum all over my breasts.

  With every splash of the sticky fluid, my clit pulsed and throbbed. I held Jay’s gaze as I rubbed his come into my skin and then licked it from my fingers. He groaned and fell onto the bed beside me, hauling me tight to his side. Content in my postorgasmic buzz, I snuggled close.

  “You know,” Jay said after a while, “this is a pretty good marketing technique for the catering side of your business. I’m ready to sign a contract right now.”

  “Hey!” I playfully slapped his arm and narrowed my eyes at his smiling face. I threw my leg over his waist and straddled his hips. My teasing wiggle seemed to awaken his recovering cock. I leaned down and brushed my lips over his. “Play your cards right and you just might earn a nice, fat discount. . .”

  Small Packages

  BY TENILLE BROWN

  It had started with the newspapers. Then gradually, it turned into magazines.

  Stretch had heard about it from customers, but he had wanted to leave well enough alone. When he saw somebody, one of his regulars, walk by with a new paperback tucked under his arm, he knew he had to put a stop to this thing. She was running a music store, and she needed to stick to that. Instead, she had started branching out, adding the morning paper, then the celebrity magazines, and now books.

  That was his territory, and she had stepped over the line, directly into it.

  Stretch’s intent this morning was to tell her as much, but the tall, curvy structure of a woman walking past interrupted his thoughts. Coffee in hand, she strutted by, shoulders back, head high.

  The sight of her made Stretch tell the well-dressed businessman in front of him that today’s paper was on the house. It made him pull the shade down on his newsstand, put up his paper clock, and set it for an hour later. It made him leave his stand to go follow her.

  The exact reason he followed her, he couldn’t pinpoint. He could have easily waved or something to get her attention.

  She hadn’t seemed to notice him, though, standing there behind his newsstand.

  But all she’d had to do was look over.

  Stretch might have smiled, or winked, or something, just to keep her looking, though he never claimed to be a ladies’ man. He knew he was no toad either.

  Truth be told, Stretch liked what he saw in the mirror every morning. He had all his teeth, decent skin, an alright, though on the shorter side, build.

  His hair—he liked that the best—was full and curly, and he could grow the hell out of a beard. He kept one, a full one, because it added years to his boyish looks, maturity to his youthful build.

  Stretch was nobody’s giant, but that was okay, too. Big things came in small packages; this he knew. But he wasn’t one to brag.

  But this one, she was a big package. She had wide shoulders and meaty arms. Two bags were slung over broad but soft shoulders.

  Her breasts filled the lacy red cups that appeared now and then as teasers from the top of her spring dress. Stretch liked a woman who filled out her clothes.

  Even her hair was big. Light brown and fitfully curly, it was piled in a messy heap on top of her head. Freshly fucked hair, it was.

  Stretch licked his lips. This one was certainly woman enough for him.

  Now, here he was, a few feet behind her on the sidewalk. Her maxi dress swayed. Her ass swayed. Stretch kept his eyes there.

  He didn’t know where the woman was going, but he knew he wanted to be there, too. He wanted to stand next to her and inhale, or get close enough for their arms to touch. He wanted to be the one standing behind her in a line somewhere in a place so crowded that he’d need to press against her soft and voluptuous body to make room.

  But then she stopped on Main, in front of a record store.

  The record store.

  LOVELY’S, the pretty sign read. It was the store that was adding all that extra to its inventory, that was snatching the fiscal rug right out from under him.

  The woman fiddled with her keys and opened the door. Since it was opening time and all, Stretch went inside, too. He watched the woman sling her purse aside and tinker around with the register.

  Then the phone rang, and she snatched it up. “Lovely’s,” she answered. The name matched her voice; matched her wide, white smile. But her tone soon grew low and cold, almost a growl. Stretch thought he heard the words “not on your life” before she slammed down the phone.

  “Well . . . can I help you?” she asked. Lovely, if that was her name, was talking to Stretch now—voice softer, but no less cold.

  “I was waiting for you to open,” he said.

  Softer still, she said, “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Then he asked, “Crank caller?”

  Lovely rolled her eyes. “Idiot caller. Been in the store before and thinks he can just call up for a date, like I’m hard up. You know how it goes.” She leaned over the counter. “So, what are you looking for?”

  Stretch almost told her . . . until he realized she was talking about the music. So he said, “A little Billie Holiday, if you have it.”

  Lovely cocked her head. “I have it all.”

  And Stretch already did as well, but he’d duplicate his entire collection if it meant getting next to her. He figured he could wait to talk about their little conflict of interest. Wait for a day when she was looking a little less sexy and he was feeling a little less horny. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after.

  For now, Stretch took his Billie Holiday and a newspaper and slipped away.

  A week and three days of cat and mouse, and Stretch had yet to mention the inventory issue. Instead, he tried to impress Lovely by naming the tunes she had playing in the background. Lovely would try and stump him by changing it up now and then. She’d play some old, some contemporary. She’d play some jazz and some rock ’n’ roll.

  Customers came and left, but Stretch remained.

  It seemed trite to ask if she had a man. And frankly, he was afraid of the answer. How could she not?

  But Lovely did the talking for him. She asked, “Your woman know you’re spending your time in here . . . stalking me?”

  Stretch tried to measure his response. He didn’t want to seem too quick or too eager. He said, “There is no woman.”

  Lovely looked at him, and her eyes seemed to be asking, Well, what are you gonna do with a woman like me?

  Stretch liked that Lovely’s confidence was big. That she was sexy, and she knew it.

  “I’m gonna be straight with you,
Stretch,” she said finally. “You haven’t been sniffing around here, buying music you probably already own, just for the hell of it.”

  Stretch said, “Okay.”

  “Okay, so what’s the deal?”

  And this was where he could have come out with it, but the thing of it was, she smelled so good, and her lips were so full and glossy, her eyes so big and bright, that all that came out was, “Well, Lovely, I—”

  She put her hand up. “Let me guess. You want to fuck me, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, let me tell you something. My last man was a big guy. A perfect match for a woman like me. He knew what to do with all this.” She let her hands roam over her well-formed body. “And if you had a little more meat on your bones, I’d give you the business in a New York minute.”

  “And I don’t?” Stretch asked.

  Lovely looked like she was considering it. Then she said, “Well, do you?”

  “I’d rather show than tell,” he said.

  Stretch knew he could have easily redirected the conversation to the real reason he was here—why he had shown up here the very first day—but Lovely was talking again.

  She said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you ten minutes with me in the back, ’cause I think you’re kinda cute. You do good in those ten minutes, I’ll give you ten more.”

  Lovely was extending a challenge.

  And the words sounded like they could have come from a blues record. Lovely looked like she could sing nasty blues, her full lips hugging a microphone like a cock.

  Stretch was hard.

  He ran his hand across his bearded chin. He didn’t bother to tell Lovely that he wasn’t a ten-minute man. He wasn’t even a twenty-minute man. Of course, she would see that for herself.

  Lovely locked the front door and turned the BACK IN TEN MINUTES sign around.

  Stretch almost laughed.

  They’d be back there until closing time if he had anything to do with it.