Monster Sex

R u there?

Even though he always txts the same thing to me, he pretends not to know what I'm talking about. There?

Fancy a bj from a girl in glasses?

what's special about a girl in glasses?

you can imagine i'm a kinky geek goddess

there is that

should I come?

If you can come for a few minutes.

I go up to my room, brush my hair. I slip a sharp-edged condom into my bra--foil wrapper.

Max is in the same room as me, writing. I pat his blonde hair. "I'm going for a walk."

"Oh?" he says, looking up.

"Is Jesus your friend?" says J. from the floor.

"No," I say. I go out.

My breast buzzes.

Well?

I txt back, coming.

I regret it a little. Mr. Six would have let him wait. Mr. Six would have made him think he wasn't coming. Then, only when he was at the very top of the stairs with Rufus inside thinking he would never come: Knock knock.

Halfway down the street I start hiccuping.

Rufus is sitting with his knees on the sofa, waiting. hic! excitement. he looks out the window, anxious. hic! Must stop--isn't sexy. hic!

I hold my breath.

"God fucking dammit!" I yell.

Hic.

Rufus is panicking, both hands over his mouth. Giggles.

Scream. Yell: reset. Someone come up from behind and yell, "Boo!"

hic!

Half a street away, I hold my breath again. This has got to stop.

Rufus opens the door. Mr. Six holds up a bottle of Orange Crush. Nervous, Rufus shows him in, trying not to hiccup, fails. Mr. Six says "Aww, here," gives him a drink. Rufus gulps it down, swallows the hiccups, gasps.

Mr. Six is drinking too, laughing at him.

"Shut up," says Rufus, kisses him.

hic!

Hold breath again. Moment passes in which I imagine my diaphragm erupting. Somehow it calms. I don't feel calm.

Cross the street. Headlights.

Peering in the dark--which door? Up the creaky creaky stairs. I leave the door open, on the bottom, even though it is also open at the top. Anyone could get in. Robbers.

Last time he was watching TV. This time he is already standing. Big shape--comes to me. We make out. He finds my chiffon skirt, perhaps he'll pull it up--I want to be bare-assed to anyone looking up the stairs from the street.

The french kissing ends. He looks back to the sofa. He wants to sit down. No, he's turning off the TV. "It's dark," I say. He reaches to turn on a lamp, but instead AC goes silent.

Uh-oh, I think, as he takes my hand in his large, dry palm. It's so dark there's nothing to see, only touch, and I know how my mind will people the dark with shapes. He's ahead of me, opens the door. I remember the first time, party outside, he pulled me in the same way. "I wish we had done it when we weren't drunk", I had told him then.

All dark, just shapes. In the dark he will not have a face, just a blank hole. "Wait," I say, laughing a little, "let me take off my sandals."

First time we did this, my grandmother had been dead. My father had called and told me the week before. His room is a wreck: clothes, boxes, a hatrack. But only in the daylight. Now just big lurking shapes.

Last time, I had realized that he could have been anything. I couldn't see anything but black, I only knew he was there from his mouth on my pussy. He could have been doing anything else without me seeing. He could have switched his body entirely, changed to a wolf, silently swelled to fill the whole room...

He pulls me down onto the bed. Swell of his belly. Perhaps pressing my hand to it will make it cave in, the sides will clamp down on my hands, cutting them off. Teeth, blood, scream. His mouth is a warm wet hole on mine, probing tongue. He lifts my thigh, I realize something about myself.

"I'm so wet," I say.

"You are." He closes my legs, lays a hand on my knee.

"Aren't you going to put them in?"

"I will," he says.

His fingers slip in easily, without a hint of the pain that usually threads the sides of my cunt hole. All the while we kiss, his tongue encircling mine, his mouth wet, covering my chin. My hands in his hair are wet, his neck is slippery. Only touch, can't see a thing. Perhaps in the throes of it his head will detach from his body, big drops of yellow ooze, and I won't realize it until I reach for his body and realize that it's somewhere else, that he's nibbling the back of my ear while his chest is still in front of me. I put my hand in the crook of his neck so I can feel it in case he decides to detach. Tongue. I bit the tip and realize his whole tongue is extended out of his mouth, the length of it.

He's doing it, I think, he's doing it now. He pulls my hand down--feel my cock. "Can we turn on a light?" I ask. "Want to see what I'm doing."

"All right," he says. As wet as its made me, my libido won't take much more of this, soon I'll start to freak out.

The light is on in a moment. He is wearing a t-shirt, bare legged, his broad face. He's grinning. Human. I sigh with relief and we kiss--he lays back, pushing my head down towards his crotch. Blowjob.

I look up and realize the mirror on the wall, we're exactly even. I can watch myself give him a blowjob. I smile at myself, like that girl with the website--will I tear with love? (link) My face takes on the same elongated shape as hers.

Good sloppy blowjob. Sloppy seconds. even thirds (link. make it exact). my hair makes a webbing around my face, sticking to everything. My own hair in the blowjob.

The bed begins to squeak--our combined weight is rocking the whole thing.

I can't come. "Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon!" Rufus barks as he thrusts into Mr. Six's arsehole over and over again.

Smell of fruit. Did he fart? Pause half a beat. Thrust, thrust, thrust...

My hips are killing me, stretched to accommodate his bulk. Why must they ache? I stretch my legs up--pilates--he goes wild. Thrustthrustthrustthrustthrust. What is that, oh god, my ass, his hand, no, it's his balls, with every thrust his balls are swinging and hitting me square in the pink pucker-up of my ass.

"Ohohohoh," I say.

His cock slips out, he lets it go, it brushes the lip of my pussy and he thrusts it right back in again. Press. I glance up and see him with his head up, his eyes shut tight, holding.

Oh, I think, this must be it.

Ejaculation.

For a second I'm afraid he's going to collapse on me. His head drops, then he kisses my breast. Smiles, eyes nearly closing. The he pulls himself up, goes out into the hall still naked. I catch a glimpse of the condom hanging halfway off his dick, full of sperm.

I lay on the bed where he left me. My skirt is around my waist, one leg drawn up, falling against one another. No orgasm. Unhappy? No.

Mr. Six laughs. He tilts a bottle of orange crush and drinks and drinks until his belly is round and hard--belches. He caresses the curve of it and that's all, what a thousand licks had not been able to put into me is lit up. My legs begin to stir--another round?

The BHM is back. He turns off the light, gets in bed with me. We tangle up together, belly bulge against mine. Might collapse. I think he can eat me, now.

"Hi," I say, in between kisses.

"Mm," he says.


Related:

◆ Confused as to who the heck it is that I'm writing about? Check out the Who's Who of Stuffies.

Quickie: Strange Things

A "quickie" is a fragment of story that doesn't quite fit anywhere else. But if you read them, you'll find that they might illuminate a few points of the larger story.

* * *

A constant source of marvels to any of his lovers or acquaintances was Mr. Six's seeming inexhaustible libido. Sometimes, when they had nothing better to do, they would sit and mythologize about it, as if Mr. Six were a movie star or a historical figure and not someone they shared their bed and house with--adding to it, speculating, embroidering truths. it was true, however, that once at a dinner party the topic of the very strangest things to get off to came up...and Rufus found himself blushing as Mister Six had begun to slowly, subtly...then not so subtilely, to lead up to that time in the garrett when he had forced Rufus to drink six bottle of--

"Is there anything you don't get off of?" Rufus cut in, so abruptly that people laughed.

It took the table a moment before they realized Mr. Six had actually taken the question seriously. The silence lengthened.

"Chewing gum," said Mr. Six at last. "the noise it makes. And I hate the flavor."

* * *

"He gets off from watching The Thing--"

Rihanna had yet to see the movie.

"There's this bit in it where a doctor is giving this guy a shock treatment and the guy's stomach caves in and grows teeth and bites off his hands..."

Rihanna's eyes widened. "He gets off from that?"

Rufus had been laying with him on the sofa in the half-dark, as usual. "And I have my head in his lap, right? And all the sudden I realize he's popped a stiffy!"

Rihanna laughed at the phrase he used and immediately regretted it when she saw how distraught Rufus looked. "Maybe it was just you...", she tried to soothe him, thinking that the weight off Rufus' head on her mound, all that silky hair, would be enough to get anyone off.

"He wasn't even looking at me! You know how he gets, right? The Look..."

Rufus had been shutting his eyes. He himself was "sensitive", with a private list of movie scenes he could hardly bare to look at--everything from Violet Beureguard in Willy Wonka to the last thirty minutes of Akira--when he'd noticed Mr. Six's growing "problem".

"And I said, are you getting off? And he said, 'His stomach caves in,' very simply, like if there's a tummy in it he just "has" to get off! But there's this other bit, where the head kind of oozes off the table--"

"Stop!" said Rihanna, laughing and putting her hands over her ears.

"--and he's still hard! I mean, I'm a pervert too, but I'm not perverted like that!"

Rihanna began to laugh again, this time at Rufus' mix of awestruck and indignant.

"I've just never thought of what the inside of his mind is like--tentacle porn and medical texts and The Cell and all that vore by mamabliss... it's all gotten mixed up in his head until I just can't imagine what he's envisioning when we're having sex. How can real life sex be enough for him, anyway... sometimes I think he's lost all sense of boundaries when it comes to fantasy..."

"Maybe he likes the idea of kissing your lips when the rest of you is someplace else. Maybe he likes the idea of your morphing into a lot of tentacles to pull him closer, or splitting down the middle so he can get his whole body inside you. Isn't there that scene in Alien where he puts his tail up her ass?"

Rufus just shook his head.

Janie Blooms Talks About Her Tummy

Janie has been one of my favourite sex bloggers ever since she wrote so hilariously about her first try at anal sex. In Janie Dresses Up, she writes about her late blooming love for dresses. How they make her feel girly, sexy, for almost the first time. And her changing view of her own body, which a lot of us sexy BBWs can relate to:

Which isn’t something I talk about here, really. My chubby issues. It’s not that I’m trying to pass as some skinny girl of my readers’ dreams. It’s just an issue that’s a blog on its own and besides, my tummy has never prevented me from having orgasms or good sex. In fact, my stomach has become my most erogenous zone, apart from the obvious ones (pussy, breasts, ass). It was a scary thing when someone first touched my stomach and I found it very arousing. Because it is a place on my body that holds for me, historically, tons of shame, insecurity, and doubt. However, there is a miracle that happens in sexuality. Or at least in mine. All those negative-ish feelings about my tummy translate into physical sensitivity. My fears about my stomach not being attractive are eroticized and, bam, kink is born. Touch my stomach in a certain way, grope it, massage it, and well, I get very, very wet kids. And boys who have elicited this reaction out of me, well, this reaction has often made them touch my stomach even more, and in turn, I have started to treasure my tummy. As a place of power, of VULNERABILITY. Vulnerability is power, folks.

Read more...



Related:

◆ See more beautiful bellies in Molly's Flickr favorites!

Belly Brigade: buckleup

buckleup, originally uploaded by death and gravity.

Stuffer Boy Sunday: Bartleby Jones

I love before and after pics.

Take a good look at this boy's belly, my tummy-loving peeps: what do you think? You might be hearing more about him on this blog in the future.

Related:

◆ Bartleby Jones' Myspace

◆ See more beautiful bellies in Molly's Flickr favorites!

◆ Are YOU the next stuffer boy? Submit a photo: missmollyren (at) gmail (dot) com

Belly Brigade: Stuffed

bloated belly, originally uploaded by poketo.

Stuffer Boy Sunday Isn't Just for Sundays: n2bfed

me 230, originally uploaded by n2bfed.

EDIT: Hey all, sorry about the lateness of this one. I somehow scheduled it funny--one of the hazards of late night updates.

Belly Brigade: over_under

over_under, originally uploaded by golo.

It is with great glee that I announce a new feature on my blog: the Belly Brigade! Once a week I'll be posting a particularly amazing photo of a tummy, stomach, belly, or gut...or guts, as the case may be.

Stuffer Boy Sunday: cxanadu24

"How Big Can My Belly Get?"



[Via.]

Cxanadu can inflate himself to a shocking size even among stuffer boys. You can always tell it's him by the way he has to lean way back to compensate for all the weight in front.

The comments for this particular video are rather funny in that no one can figure out whether this is actually something someone can do:

berit542: guys its a different guy

cman18000: it's two different people, watch carefully at 0:17, the skin color changes


What do you think, all you stuffies, gainers, and drooling FAs? Shouldn't something that stretches the human body this much out of shape be fictional?