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I manage a shoe store at a big mall. There’s not much point in describing any of it further than that because hey, all malls are alike, right? Except the ones with more closed than open stores, but we’re not there yet. So we get a decent amount of traffic, and girls of all ages, although I’ve started to notice a funny thing which is that they get younger and I get older. Doesn’t matter, really, I guess, since you can check them out at any age (though somewhere below 18 you’re starting to be a perv) and it doesn’t really matter because you’re not going home with any of them. Trust me, that’s the reality of working in a mall, you can look all day but nobody with a nametag on is going home with any of them. People date their coworkers, but nobody goes home with the girls they see walking through the mall all day long.
Now, one of the innovations in how girls dress that I really like, I mean really like, is this thing of wearing the low cut jeans that practically ride right on your hips, and wearing a top that cuts off a little above that point, and leaving a couple of inches of exposed belly and hip. I see that, the top of a butt peering out from those low-riding jeans, and I can just imagine sliding my hand down that belly and into those jeans, roaming through fur until you find the slippery spot deep down. You see a really cute girl dressed like that, and it’s enough to get you through the rest of the day and most of the night, pounding your meat at the thought of her.
Then you see something that kind of puts you off the whole idea. Like a few weeks ago, I saw this fat chick dressed like that. Jiggly belly and fat round haunches sticking out between her top and her pants. Doesn’t she know that she’s showing enough for three chicks? Moooo, who needs to see that?
But the funny thing was, after I saw it, I couldn’t help think about her. And in a funny way, I kind of came to respect her for showing off the latest fashion even when it was so unsuited to her. It was fearless, you had to give her that. That was a pretty good word for her whole attitude, actually–there she ankara escort was, round and sturdy, and she just showed it off like every guy would want it, and if they didn’t, too bad for them. I even kind of thought about her for a second as I was beating off that night, though I quickly put her out of my head and concentrated on real sexy chicks. Skinny chicks.
I saw her again a couple of days later, dressed the same way, and this time I really paid attention. It wasn’t just seeing that big slice of her fat again, but the way she moved–her big buttcheeks rising and falling with every step like a couple of cams, her fat round tits sticking out proudly, and most of all the cheerful look on her dark face–was she Hispanic? Middle eastern? Hard to say, but she had luminous dark eyes glowing in a setting of olive skin. Maybe that was why she seemed so proud and unafraid, she belonged to a culture where her size was still prized. Where guys dreamed of burying themselves in her mounds of flesh, of taking her from behind and watching that ass work up and down like cams with their cock in it. Jamming it into that massive ass which I could see the top of, circling an arm around that strip of fat tummy flesh as they pounded away at her steaming snatch. These were the things I dreamed of unashamedly as I pulled my pud two, three times a night and then again in the morning.
It got to where I started watching for her every day, disappointed on the three or four days when I wouldn’t see her, almost tongue-tied when I did see her go by, inventing errands to follow her to another store before I’d race back to my own. If I saw her turn toward the food court I’d take my dinner early, like 2:15, and sit at an angle to her where she wouldn’t see me watching her. She never seemed to notice, thank God.
It was a busy day when I hardly had time to think about her, let alone sneak into the back and give myself the relief of a hurried jackoff into a discarded shoebox. And then suddenly–she was in my store, looking at some sandals. And there it was, that strip of flesh going all the way around escort ankara that I dreamed of running my arms around, feeling the softness of her belly squishing in my grasp, the warmth of her butt as it pressed up against me. That was what I was dreaming, but at the same time I was thinking, how, how could I make it come true? What could I say that would get an invitation to dinner or something accepted–“Gee, for a fat girl you seem to have a really positive self-image?”
In the end there was only thing a guy in my position could say–“Would you like me to see if we have that in your size?” Hoping that she wouldn’t take that as a size insult, believe me, I have something else I would love to see if it fits. She nodded and I hurried back to pull it from the shelves, praying she wouldn’t leave in the meantime (as many people do, sending us back just to get rid of us).
She was still there. I brought two sizes out and said “We really should measure first.” She sat down and kicked off her present pair as I knelt before her, admiring her thick thighs in her shorts as they tapered down to a plump little foot, chubby yet delicate little toes. I took her foot in my hands and guided it into the measuring device, then adjusted it. I gazed at that perfect foot, then followed it up and looked into her eyes. She was watching me, she knew I was a weirdo, she was about to call a cop.
She said, “I’ve seen you in the food court. You always sit by me.”
I was stricken. I could say nothing in my own defense. There was only one thing to do, and that was show her my absolute devotion. I lifted her foot up, those delicate olive-pink toes painted in dark red, and I began to suck the second toe, licking it and kissing it. She adjusted herself and I watched the tummy jiggle as I kissed my way up her leg. She shifted downward as I reached her thighs, spreading them as I buried my face in their vast thickness. I reached the triangle at the top of her trunklike thighs and tried reaching inside to the scratchy paradise inside.
“We better go somewhere out of sight,” she said.
In ankara escort bayan seconds I had the store closed and locked, and we went into the back. She lifted her shirt over her head and I saw what that little strip of tummy flesh had promised, the vast jiggly belly and the fat tits hanging over it in a white bra. Then she slipped the shorts off and revealed her bare ass. She bent over the table, sticking it out to me. But I wasn’t ready to fuck yet. I knelt down in front of those massive hams and spread them wide, licking her hot steamy snatch as my nose nestled in her asshole. I licked as she got wetter, the tangy scent of a dry pussy giving way to the musky nectar of a flowing wet one. Then, my face covered in her juices, I worked my way up to her asshole, and licked it too, squeezing my face between those big beautiful cheeks as she reached behind and rubbed her clit, her vibrating hams rubbing up and down the sides of my face. She came and clamped my face tight, and I was ready to smother there, tongue in her ass, chin in her wet slit.
A second later she let me go and, turning around, hopped up on a table, her tits still hidden in her bra but her belly and hairy snatch exposed wide for my pleasure. I dropped my pants and opened my shirt as I climbed on and her pussy seemed to suck my cock deep inside her. The table creaked under our combined weights but she seemed to hear only her own moans as I fucked her hard and her legs wrapped around me, holding me as if she would never let me loose. It was only a minute and then I came, shooting my seed deep into her. She relaxed for a minute and I stepped back, and then as she lay there I saw doubt cross her face for the first time. Was I going to fuck the fat bitch and then dump her, she seemed to be thinking. I had to think of a way to let her know that this wasn’t the case, that I was in love.
Finally, it occurred to me. I knelt down before her again and, spreading her fat thighs with my hands, began to lick my own cum out of her fat, sloppy pussy. From that position, as my mouth filled up with my own slippery jism, I admired the sliver of her tummy that had started it all for me, and all the bountiful womanhood that it had promised.
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Look for more BBW stories by Joris K. Huysmans on my profile, which is linked above and below the story.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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