Curvy Girls Read online

  Their bodies slammed against a box of CDs. Stretch went for Lovely’s lips first. They were softer than he’d even imagined, and they accepted his with eagerness.

  Her tongue was in fierce competition with his, wrestling with it until she had it under her control. And then she sucked on his so softly it left him weak.

  Lovely’s body was a winding road, and Stretch took his time getting where he was going. He liked the feel of fleshy thighs gripping his hips as he gave it to her fast and hard.

  She was holding back, he could tell. She didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to burst after he had only been inside her a few minutes.

  Stretch showed Lovely no mercy. He filled her with all she could stand, and gave her more, just in case a bit spilled over.

  Lovely lifted her big, sexy legs enough to draw Stretch in deeper. She threw her head back.

  Stretch ran his tongue along her throat. He couldn’t resist caressing her ass, couldn’t resist letting a finger find its way inside.

  Lovely tightened around him at the surprise, then relaxed and became wetter still as his finger began to work her rear entrance while his cock sweetly tormented her center. Her body was pouring sweat. Her hair was matted against the sides of her face. Her peach dress clung to her golden skin. She was a beautiful mess getting fucked by Stretch, biting her lips and clenching her eyes shut as he thrust and thrust.

  The sounds that came from Lovely’s mouth were enough to swell Stretch to his fullest, so much he thought he might be a bit much for her, but she took it all, growling like a beast, her body glowing like the sun.

  Lovely sucked in air between clenched teeth just before she came, and then she flowed, hot and thick like lava, around Stretch’s pulsating cock.

  He gave her no reprise, he just held her steady as he fucked her. He talked nasty in her ear as he bounced her against him, enjoying every drop of her postorgasmic wetness.

  When he was close to coming, he released her carefully in a sweaty heap on top of the box. He jerked his cock as she watched, mesmerized, and he came intensely on her exposed thighs.

  Lovely placed her hands there, rubbing, almost as if confirming that the last half hour had actually happened.

  Stretch touched Lovely’s shoulder, then her cheek.

  Before he left her there.

  Around the corner at his stand, Stretch liked thinking about the fact that Lovely was spending the rest of the day attending to her customers while she was sopping wet between her legs. That while they were talking to her about Gillespie and Springsteen, she was thinking about how Stretch’s cock had swelled and throbbed inside her walls just moments before.

  Lovely was wearing white today, a sophisticated, button-down shirt dress with a silver chain belt that hugged her waist and made Stretch think about dark rooms and Lovely being chained to a wall wearing latex that barely contained her curves.

  The fitted dress was unbuttoned dangerously low, her heavy brown cleavage peeking over the top. Her belly, soft and round, pressed against the crisp fabric.

  Stretch looked away, because if he didn’t, he would have surely been staring.

  Lovely sold a few CDs while he pretended to browse the aisles.

  Stretch waited until the store was empty except for the two of them, then he leaned across the counter and, in a bold move, ran his finger across the exposed skin of her cleavage.

  “Have you been thinking about me?” he asked.

  “You wish,” Lovely said. “What are you trying to prove, anyway?”

  “Nothing,” Stretch said, “I don’t have an Apollo complex, my dear.”

  “And I’m not your dear,” Lovely said, frowning.

  Word for word, she had a response for him. But Stretch had the key, he certainly did, and he knew what could quite literally bring Lovely to her knees.

  “I want to give you head,” Stretch leaned over and whispered in her ear.

  Lovely couldn’t stifle her smile.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I want to eat you out.”

  “Fine then. Just let me turn my sign.”

  Stretch held up his hand. “No, no. No sign. I want you right here, right now.”

  “And my customers?” Lovely asked.

  Stretch tested her. “Big, strong woman like you . . . are you scared?”

  Lovely cocked her head to the side. She looked him up and down. “Hell no.”

  Stretch circled the counter and walked up behind her. He gave her plump ass a nice feel of his solid thickness.

  His chest against her back, he could feel her pulse quicken, revealing that Lovely was excited—and maybe a little scared, too.

  Stretch reached both arms around her waist and let his hands fall to the front of her and meet at her middle. His hands met in a diamond, pressing firmly against the wispy fabric of her dress. Lovely was moistening her panties, and the dress as well.

  Quickly, and without warning, Stretch pulled the dress up to her thighs, and then again, just as swiftly, up around her wide, round hips.

  He rubbed his cock against her ample ass, teasing her so sweetly that her soft body quivered.

  Stretch could get straight to business, and he knew it, and it would be such sweet relief for her, being bent over the counter, her face pressed against the glass as he pressed inside of her.

  Instead, he crouched, and, on bended knee, he parted her thighs. He felt her heat on his face as he drew nearer. Then he snatched down Lovely’s lacy panties. In one swift movement, he tore the fabric from around her thighs.

  Lovely’s pussy was exposed, fuzzy and plump, like an apricot, and when he placed his tongue between the folds, he found that it was just as bitter and just as sweet.

  Stretch whispered into Lovely’s wetness, “If you can stand ten minutes of me kissing your pussy, I’ll give you ten more.”

  And what began as a giggle from her lips became a whimper. Her thick thighs weakened and trembled against his cheeks.

  Stretch dug his fingers into Lovely’s hips, holding her as still as he could, but she was strong, and her body tried to pull away from the sudden explosion of pleasure. She was strong, but Stretch was stronger, and he kept her there, where he needed her, his face pressed between her thighs, kissing and licking. He wouldn’t move until she was coming in his mouth, mashing her pussy violently against his lips.

  Helplessly, Stretch reached down. He hadn’t thought he would need to, but he did. He released his engorged cock from the confines of his pants. Once free, he began massaging himself and licking Lovely’s pussy simultaneously.

  “Are you—” Lovely started, then, “oh my . . . you’re . . .”—because she could hear the slick sliding of Stretch’s hand over his own cock, could feel the motion of his hand working on his shaft.

  Stretch’s groan against Lovely’s pussy caused her to raise up on her toes.

  The bell over the door sounded.

  Lovely gasped, but Stretch didn’t so much as pause.

  “Let them carry on,” he whispered, pulling only slightly away from her cunt. And carry on they did. He heard footsteps head toward the back of the store.

  “Let’s see how silently you can come.”

  “Um, um,” Lovely managed breathlessly.

  Stretch whispered, “Oh, you will come. I’m not stopping until you wet my mouth.”

  Her body slumped in surrender.

  And Stretch sucked harder; licked faster, rougher. He worked vigorously on himself.

  Lovely was a six-foot-tall vibrator when she came, and Stretch wasn’t far behind—wetting his palm, her calves, and the floor, all at once.

  He pulled her dress back down, and Lovely straightened it.

  Stretch waited until the customer paid and left before he stood up, smacked Lovely on the ass, and walked from behind the counter and out the door.

  Lovely stood there, and she didn’t seem upset, or even surprised.

  She just asked for a paper and thumbed through a magazine.

  Then she
said, ever so sweetly, “I hear you have a little problem with how I’m running my business, sir.”

  Stretch said, “Oh, really?”

  “Next time,” Lovely said, “you should talk to me.”

  Stretch nodded.

  Lovely added. “We should get together sometime and talk about vendors. I know where you could get a deal.”

  And Stretch could have said “Alright.” He should have said, “Okay,” and left it at that.

  But he pulled down the shade on his stand, turned the corner, and followed Lovely down the street.

  Decadence

  BY SATIA WELSH

  Just as Victoria ducked under the awning of Decadence—the restaurant she had both discovered and fallen in love with nearly six weeks ago—the clouds opened, and the rain poured down.

  She smiled to herself, acknowledging her good fortune that she’d made it to the restaurant before the downpour. It’s about time I had some luck, she thought. The blind date she’d just escaped from was the worst she’d ever been on. As a consolation, she’d decided to head to her favorite place to indulge in some of her favorite food.

  As she moved toward the front door, she slowed to a stop. An old woman, bent over a walker, her head wrapped in a multicolored scarf, was moving toward the entrance. Victoria smiled at her and stepped back to let her pass.

  That’s when she noticed the handsome young man holding the door open for the old woman. He’d mistakenly thought Victoria’s smile had been for him, and he smiled in return, letting his gaze roam over her, obviously enjoying what he saw.

  It was why she had chosen this—her favorite dress, a saffron-colored silk two-piece—to wear this evening. The top portion was snug around her bust, lifting and presenting her girls very nicely, and the skirt wrapped perfectly around her lower body, flaring out at her waist to fall just above the knee, accentuating all of her glorious curves. For a touch of elegance, she had pinned up her long, chestnut curls.

  Though foremost on her mind, from the start of this evening, had been getting her brains fucked out, that hope had been shattered when her date turned out to be such a nightmare. Still, she was above seducing this young man, who was obviously out to dinner with his grandmother. Even if he was hot.

  Inside, it was considerably emptier than Victoria had anticipated, especially because of the crowd that had been milling around outside. She glanced at her watch. Ten o’clock . . . but it was Friday night.

  Off to the right, yet another good-looking man in a chef’s coat stood speaking to two middle-aged women. From her previous visits, she recognized him as the owner and head chef. Hotties everywhere, Victoria thought. Everywhere but on that horrible date I just escaped. The chef looked up after a moment, his blue eyes finding hers. She inhaled slightly at the intensity she found in those eyes.

  When Jack saw her standing there, so lovely and curvy in her form-fitting yellow dress, he found himself frozen. (Well, except for the physical heat he was feeling.)

  It was her—the one he had been secretly watching from the kitchen for the last six weeks. Every Tuesday she came in, at about nine o’clock. She sat alone at a back corner table and relished every bite of food that came from his kitchen. Her expressions, her beautiful smile, even her body language suggested that each bite she brought to her lips was a tiny celebration. Her enjoyment of the food hinted at unbridled passion under the surface.

  Still, he was a little surprised that he was so fascinated by her. He had never been interested in anyone her size. It wasn’t that he found full-figured women unattractive. He desired confidence most in a woman, and he hadn’t met many large women with much confidence—especially around food, his chosen profession and his life’s passion.

  This woman was different. Every movement of her body screamed confidence. And she virtually dripped sensuality.

  He couldn’t help excusing himself from his customers, and as he sauntered over to her, his gaze never left her beautiful full figure. He could see right away that she gave as good as she got: Her gaze—both tempting and teasing—boldly took in his athletic, lean build.

  When Victoria saw the chef walking toward her as if hypnotized, she had to fight to hide a triumphant smile.

  “Can I help you?” His voice was rich, pleasant.

  “One, please?” She heard the hope in her tone and tried not to blush.

  “I’m afraid we’re closed tonight for a rehearsal dinner. The sign was posted on the door.” His tone wasn’t chiding, merely informative.

  Victoria smiled slyly. She hadn’t noticed the sign, because she had been more taken with other things at the entryway. Glancing around the quickly emptying dining room, she nodded toward the two women he had been speaking to. “Then why do those poor women you were talking to look so sad?”

  “The wedding was called off by the groom when he found out his bride-to-be was having an affair.”

  “Ouch,” Victoria said, wincing. “Guess my night could have been a lot worse.” She turned her smile on him. “There’s just a little thing I was hoping for.”

  Jack’s eyes dropped to her neckline, lingering over the flawless, pale skin of her lovely cleavage. “And what is that?” he asked with just a hint of suggestion.

  “I have just come from the worst blind date of my life. All I want right now is a cigarette. But I quit six months ago—which is, incidentally, when I found your restaurant—so I can’t have one. I was hoping for a piece of your French silk pie instead.”

  Jack smiled. “Well, since I certainly can’t refuse a loyal customer, you are welcome to sit at the bar. I’ve sent my entire staff home for the night, but I’ve still got some cleaning up to do. Would you like some coffee?”

  Victoria grinned. “Only if you put Bailey’s in it,” she answered saucily. “By the way, my name is Victoria.”

  “Jack.” He took her outstretched hand, bending slightly to kiss the top of it, keeping his blue eyes locked on hers. The kiss sent sparks up her arm, and she shivered deliciously.

  Fifteen minutes later, everyone except for Victoria was gone.

  Jack went to lock the doors and returned to the bar, where he had served her a piece of his French silk pie, only to find she hadn’t even taken a bite yet. Refilling her coffee with Bailey’s, he said, “Aren’t you going to eat it?”

  Victoria seemed to flush slightly. “Sometimes I enjoy the anticipation.”

  Jack’s dick tightened at the innocent remark. He suddenly imagined her blindfolded in bed, waiting for him.

  She looked up at him, her eyes earnest. “You make the absolute best food I’ve ever tasted.”

  It was Jack’s turn to flush. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

  “‘Worship’ is more like it.” Victoria picked up her fork and sliced through the whipped chocolate and cream.

  As she lifted her fork, she eyed it as if it held a piece of heaven. Her eyes closed before it was in her mouth. Her movements were languid; her lips pouted as she slid the fork off them, empty. Her jaw moved slowly, savoring the decadent flavors exploding in her mouth. Before taking the next bite, the tip of her tongue dipped out to capture a dab of whipped cream.

  It was nearly Jack’s undoing. He white-knuckled the bar, imagining her going down on him with that same expression on her face. He took a deep breath to compose himself.

  When she opened her eyes again, he excused himself. “I’ll leave you to it then,” he said and left.

  Victoria tasted another bite as she watched him walk away. My, but he has a cute ass.

  But she couldn’t make much more headway with the pie. After two cups of coffee with Bailey’s, the pie seemed a bit too rich. But she was going to need a takeaway box, because she would definitely be finishing it by the end of the night.

  She hopped off the barstool and made her way toward the kitchen.

  The swinging doors were closed, and she paused to look through the circular window. Jack stood in the middle of the kitchen, putting trays of uneaten appetizers away. He worked quickly a
nd efficiently. His chef’s coat made it hard to appreciate all his muscles, but the short sleeves allowed a fabulous view of sinewy, muscled arms. And his hands. For a moment, Victoria let herself wonder what they would feel like on her body, caressing her nipples, rubbing her clit, grabbing her hips as he fucked her against the walk-in cooler door.

  Victoria flushed again—this time without a hint of embarrassment. The images alone were making her wet. She needed an orgasm badly. Obviously, she was probably going to have to go home and give one—or multiples—to herself. If only I’d had more to drink, some liquid courage, she thought. She didn’t think two coffees and Bailey’s would lend her enough nerve to march over to Jack and rip his clothes off.

  Or could it? She squared her shoulders and pushed the door open.

  Jack was pulling his dinner out of the Salamander broiler above the oven when he saw Victoria approach. Though he was genuinely surprised to see her, a devilish, knowing smile escaped his control.

  He put the hot dish on the wooden island just as she stopped before him. Her nose twitched slightly, and then her eyes discovered the source of the aroma.

  “Are those stuffed mushrooms?” she asked, and Jack chuckled at her rounded eyes and her look of anticipation.

  “Yeah, my dinner—left over from the rehearsal. Would you like some?”

  She nodded enthusiastically, and Jack pulled out two forks. “Be careful, the plate is extremely hot.”

  Victoria stuck a cap with her fork, pulling the whole thing out. She turned it over like a lollipop and began to blow on it.

  Jack nearly groaned, watching her. He didn’t know how this woman made eating such a sensual act, but it was driving him a bit crazy.

  As soon as it had cooled down, Victoria gave him a triumphant look and popped the whole little cap in her mouth. Again, her eyes had closed as she took the first bite. She moaned, and her body began to sway slightly as she chewed slowly. A delighted sigh escaped her, and her eyes came open.