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I've never been what you'd call a skinny girl, but the day I hit 250lbs... or, at least, the day the scales
said I'd hit 250, because who knows if these things are truthful or not, I have to admit I really didn't want to leave the house. Ever.
Oh, don't worry, my weight and size have never bothered me. My mom is a big lady, my gran was a big lady, and I'm a big lady too. And a very happy one for the most part. But psychologically, that reading flipped a switch and the next thing I knew, I was signing up to Weight Watchers, sorting the pantry between good foods and bad, and wishing beyond any wish I've ever wished in the past that I didn't have to go out tonight.
But when your best friend has a birthday party, and has booked the best restaurant in town to host it... I thought for a moment, then grinned to myself. Fuck it. My diet starts tomorrow. No way am I going to spend tonight gnawing rabbit food, while everyone else pigs out.
I knew most of the people at the party, and Jenny, my friend, introduced me to the rest... Mark and Sharon, Cassie and Sue, Lisa, Briony and... oh yes, Debs and Donny from work, who then corrected her by telling me "call us D&D. Like the game." I made a mental note never to stoop that low.
And Dave, a six foot something beanpole who smiled and extended a hand to shake. "Pleased to meet you. Jenny's told me so much about you."
I glanced quizzically at Jenny, hovering beside us. "Really?"
"Don't worry," she replied. "Only the really bad stuff."
"That's alright then," I shrugged. Although Jenny knew so much "bad stuff" about me that I did wonder exactly what Dave had heard. Not that it could be too awful, because we spent most of the evening talking, first at the restaurant where we were seated side by side, and later at the nightclub upon which we descended when we'd eaten.
It was the dance that really got me interested, though. Until now, he'd been charming, solicitous, a great talker and a good listener. And the first few dances, where the tempo was high and the riffs were dynamite, he got me moving more than I had on a dancefloor in years, simply to keep up with his own exuberant movements.
Still I wasn't expecting, when the mood toned down, for him to wrap me in his arms and all but fuck me on the dancefloor. A long slow smooch that he accompanied with one of the most thrilling hip grinds I've ever experienced. Even the fact that our difference in height meant he was mostly moving against my abdomen didn't matter to him... or to me. His cock felt fabulous, wherever it was touching me.
One song ended, another began, and now he was whispering in my ear. "You feel amazing, I love holding you like this." I wanted to answer with a similar sentiment, but my heart was beating so fast, my breath was catching in my throat, and I couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound glib or stupid. "I love it too," I finally blurted out. "Don't stop."
The lights were low and dipping lower. The evening was almost at an end. But first, the DJ put on that perennial slow dance classic, "Love Me Like You Do," and I was back in Dave's arm, back feeling his hardness pushing against my body, while my blood boiled and my heart raced and my cunt felt so wet I was glad I'd worn a skirt. Pants would have been soaked through long ago.
I looked around. Even the people dancing closest to us were little more than shadows shifting in the darkness. Occasionally a strobe would flash for a few moments, transforming the room into a flick book of jerking shapes and snapshot glimpses. And I had an idea.
Reaching behind my back, I unclipped my bra, then raised the front of my top, my hand first brushing and then lingering on his cock. "Take it out," I whispered and I watched as he looked around as well. Then a fumble as he undid his pants and there it was, so hot against my abdomen, so hard...
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