(image is (c) of bigcuties.com)
This is kind of a different post. I wrote it a while ago and never got around to publish it. Here it is, finally.
A couple nights ago I went to see the Swans in San Francisco, at the Independent. This heavy, hypnotic band, with songs that last ten and more minutes. A sound so heavy and hard that people have passed out during shows in the past. All this sound, all this volume around you. The bass so heavy that it shakes your flesh. Your flesh tingles, you are in sync with the crowd, with the flow. That’s Swans.
With all this amazing beauty around me, my secret desire is to share it physically.
A sound full of lust.
Think of a big, tall, really curvy goth. The blackest hair. Red, pouty lips. Eyes that are deep, so deep you can get lost in them. Her hips stand out just the same. So full of flesh that she had to have the dress cut out just for her. The huge yet narrow waist is a refuge for your hands, with all that alluring vastness below.
The opulence of her body and the romanticism of the rock music demands my attention. As the band surrounds us with their divine music, I hug my lover from behind. My body wants to touch hers. Her buttocks, her hips, her belly. Her fat. All the fat that covers her body.
Her long fat legs, bursting through the fishnets.
She welcomes my embrace. I run my hands up and down her body, along her legs, feeling her up. She even opens her leg a bit, forming a tall, imposing figure, like an upside-down “V” shape. Her dimply, bubbly thighs are exposed.
She lifts her leg, inviting me to caress her. I squeeze it. In front of everyone. A public display of desire. I fondle her flesh, slowly and deeply. I grab a large chunk of meat from her thigh, adoring it for what it is. Meat, the fattest, softest meat. Just like the music. I follow the rhythm. I lift her flesh, shake it, and slap it a bit when needed. I can dig into giant mounds of lard. I love the feeling of abundance, the gluttony in having the fattest woman.
But she has you, too.
“I love your hands,” she says. She takes one, and lifts it up to her chest. Her maternal breast is protruding with a generous cleavage. Her boob meat is stacked on itself, abundantly bursting out. Everybody can see it.
The opulence of her body awakens the spirits of the males around me. She sees their lust, and invites one of them to touch her thigh. The guy salivates over it and has fun. For five long seconds. After that, she pushes him aside, and invites a couple more.
As she kicks them away, she grabs me closer and lifts her thigh up all the way. She is offering it to me. Especially the lower, inner part, the fattest one. I slide my hand from the inside, and I watch it disappear in the mountains of buttery cream. She is super-squishy. She really wants the sorry men who touched her just a few moments ago to see. She wants them to see what they’re missing.
Her skirt lifts up all the way showing the huge, pillowy moon of her hip. She is immense.
Her thighs are bare. She flaunts her huge pillows of cellulite, hundreds of craters and bumps everywhere. The poor guy who first touched her jerks himself off. Others are just as enraptured. Her black lipstick, her confrontational stare and her cellulite-ridden body is seducing other males, following the primordial rituals of life.
She wants everybody to watch me squeeze her flesh as if I were deciding to buy four pounds of meat instead of three. My hands can go anywhere. Anywhere they go they found softness. Lard. Pure cellulite. Especially her ass is something amazing.
She gets close to a guy who looks rich and very well off. One of those fake goths with a smug face who are really jocks in disguise. Whose parents are full of money. He looks so “proud” of his skinny girlfriend. I look at him. Then I look at the giant buttocks of my woman. My hand slowly descends down there. She lifts her soft skirt some more, uncovering half of her giant ass. All that fat.
He never experienced the real pleasures of flesh.
My hands go right there into the fattest points of her hips. They protrude so much I cannot reach the backside all the way. But I can hold them. I can jiggle them. I can press them together, one against the other. All this meat.
The jock drools. His penis is getting excited by the excessive femininity of my woman. My hands sink in the blubber with ease. She is meaty, all fat. The hip bones must be buried in there somewhere. I indulge, shamelessly, making her flesh jiggle and clap.
In his lameness, he gets some courage and reaches over as well. My fat woman lets him touch, but his girlfriend cannot believe it. She worked so hard for that slim body, and now she is cuckolded by this fat giantess.
She takes off her clothes too to shoe off her trim body, and a black stud approaches her. She unzips him like taking the shrink wrap off a new toy. She lets him do want he wants, she likes to see this stranger all excited. She doesn’t know he’s looking at my woman’s jiggling booty to get that hard, not her. It is in this way that she gets to feel the pleasures of fatness, too.
You and the poser both squeeze from her hips, savoring her flesh. You lift her ballooning buttocks to feel all that flesh drop down heavy. The poor jerk comes in his pants, like a school boy.
Now it’s time to show him how you do it.
You lift her booty one more time, and zip out your male extension. It’s really hard from all that rubbing and squeezing. The Goddess knows and sticks out her big fat ass for you.
You mate with her, grabbing her lard with passion. She pushes you back against the wall. You have no escape. You lay back and let all the meat get to you. The band is doing a slow, tribal dance.
It’s so much flesh, so wide all around you.
When you come, you make no effort to get out. It would be useless anyway. As she feels you climax, she pushes herself even more against you, her soft pillows smashing some more onto you. You grab anywhere along her hips and squeeze as you come. It feels good to hold her hips, it gives you an impression of dominance even if you are, in fact, being dominated. Your body jolts. The spasms of pleasure are happily received by the soft, ballooning body in front of you.
You spoon her, gently. She keeps milking you, periodically. The gothy jerk is now holding her drink, feeding her some grapes when she demands it. You caress her fat hips, giving her soft pats on the bulkiest points.
The sound is deep, in the dark.