(photo is (c) farrahfoxx.com)
It’s been a while since I last spoke of Farrah, the sweet goddess endowed with the softest curves. The truth is I think about her a lot, often times before closing my eyes to go to sleep. Her smile and stare melts me. It’s this torrid look of a real woman who really, really want you, that can give you an abundant amount of pleasure and asks back all of you, all your love, body and soul.
I love thinking at her marvelous thighs and all that flesh. They are big and fleshy thighs, they look squishy and soft. My desire is to caress the inner part of those thighs, sink my hands in there. Massage her. There so much cellulite. She is so rich and opulent. I wanna squeeze her meat gently and hard, I desire every ounce of her. I love how dimply she is.
And yes, I love her smile so much. It’s sweet and maternal, and erotic and lustful at the same time. That’s her peculiar beauty, to my eyes: nurturing health and comfort on one side, and on the other the pure-sex look of her body, full of curves everywhere. The body your mom would disapprove of. Too much hips, too much thighs, too much bust. A young man can lose his mind for a woman who can keep you warm at night, and busy all along as well.
I for one would like to cook for Farrah. I have a dream. I dream of her coming to my place after work, dressed in a form fitting business skirt that does nothing to hide the bumpiness of her curves. She asks me to cook her something rich and full of calories.
“Like that pasta dish you used to make me,” she says.
I ask her, “is that the one with heavy whipping cream, prosciutto and peas?”
“Yes, yes! I want that cream-sauce pasta, with the fat prosciutto, I need it… I want to make my thighs a little fuller than this,” she says, lifting up her skirt on one side.
The most beautiful, dimpled thigh emerges. It’s fat and bumpy beyond belief. Mounds of the softest cellulite are everywhere.
She starts talking about her day and complains how small the sandwiches are at the cafeteria at her job, while I can’t take my eyes off her leg. It’s just so beautiful. She notices my stare, and smiles.
“You like them big, don’t you?” She runs her hand from her knee up to the hip. Her fingers easily sink in into all that fat. “You can’t stop looking, can you?”
“I really can’t,” I say, running my tongue on the inside of my mouth and on my lips.
“You wanna put those lips on my thighs, baby?” She walks up to me lifting her skirt even more. “Look at how it jiggles.”
Her thighs jiggle as if they were shaken by a seaquake. Her hips bounce and splash like a hanging lake of whole milk. I kneel down to her and dive into her thigh with my whole face. It’s wide and soft.
“I love your fat thighs, sweet Farrah, I wish I could kiss them every night…”
“You can, sweetie, you can,” she reassures me. “Pull down your pants so I can see you.”
I stand up, undress, and show my shameful reaction to her. “I love you, Farrah, I love you so much…”
“Oh, you are so sweet, come here… you love auntie Farrah lot, don’t you?”
“I do, my queen, I do…” I reach over to hug her, but my hand stops on her hip, as if it was the most natural thing to do. I stare into her eyes, and with a whisper I say, “I do, I do…”
She hugs me back, letting my hand stay on her hip. Her plump belly touches mine and her boobs softly poke my chest. Our lips meet. And our eyes are locked onto each other.
I kiss her lips, belle succose come fragole mature, and as I stare into her eyes I start caressing her hips. Fondling them. Squeezing them.
“You like my big hips too, don’t you? My big fat hips. They got fatter not too long ago… in fact, this skirt is so tight right now. Do you want to see all my meat?”
“Bella grassona, che bella che sei Farrah, how beautiful you are…”
“Here, how about this?” Her skirt goes off, and she stands in front of me. Her hips are wide and massive, and her thighs covered by bulging layers of cellulite.
She walks toward me again. “D’you like my fat, baby?” It’s like she is offering me those big maternal curves.
I grab them and push myself toward her. “So fleshy, so full and beautiful… I love to hold you by this giant love handles.”
She is so much wider than me.
“Oh yeah, baby, squeeze my booty, squeeze it…. you love this big ass and these fat thighs… all that pasta that you feed me, and mortadella, and cheesecakes and… you know, if you keep feeding me, I’ll keep eating.”
“Sei una cosciona grassa e larga come una bella maialona, Farrona.”
“My big thighs keep getting fatter, you wanna feel?”
She pushes me back and makes me sit down on the short stool behind me. Then she steps forward opening her legs around me. My cock get enveloped by her thighs. She squeezes them one against each other. I can feel her lard pressing against my penis, massaging me slowly. That’s what she meant by “feel them.”
I grab her hips again, inviting her onto me. I want to be her King, and give my Queen all my love, everything I have. I love to feel my entire body surrounded by her huge hips, I love to bury myself deep inside them.
“You like all that flesh around yourself, don’t you? Can your girlfriend give you this much?”
I love a woman that flaunts how plump she is. “No, she can’t,” I responded. But then I quickly corrected myself.
“Actually, yes she can…” I stared into her eyes. I tapped on the upper part of her enormous thigh and grabbed two big chunks of flesh, holding and pushing myself into her.
“Mate with me, dear, fuck me….”
“You’re so maternal, and sweet, Farrah, and large, full of flesh… I love you so much. I love you love you love you…”
Hips, buttocks, legs, every single crater of cellulite.
Everything was jiggling.
The most incredible softness.
The most amazing smile.
An imposing, statuesque figure.
Farrah, the Queen.
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