BBW Maria

A few days ago -- well, last Thursday to be precise -- I was on my way to the station when something interesting happened.

It was one of those days when it kept threatening to rain but never quite did. The sun was out, but the clouds were gathering, and there was a fresh breeze. I was just about to walk past the main entrance of a building that houses an advertising agency (among other things) when a woman stepped out of the building and started walking a few feet in front of me.

She must have been about five foot four, maybe five foot five, and she was wearing a cobalt blue top and a short, loose-fitting black skirt. But what I really noticed was that she was quite a big girl and she had great legs. I mean really great legs. Also, she was wearing matt black tights which probably made them look even better.

I don't know why, but I found her curiously appealing -- and I hadn't even seen her face properly.

As she walked along in front of me, little unruly gusts of wind occasionally threatened to lift her skirt. But each time, she discreetly caught it -- until, that is, we reached the corner of Brown Street. This time, the gust seemed to catch her completely by surprise and, for a moment or two, her skirt was up around her waist. It was, as I say, only for a moment or two, but it was long enough for me to catch a glimpse of her substantial-but-wonderfully-shaped bum. It was love at first sight.

Unfortunately, just a few steps past the Brown Street corner, she walked into a clothing store. For a moment there I was tempted to hang around outside the store until she came out. Stalking? In a way, I suppose. But I was already in danger of being late for my train. So I just kept on walking.

Clearly the image of her -- her great legs, her shapely behind -- stayed with me, because that night I dreamed that she was in The Calico Café, standing on tiptoes, bending over a table, inviting me to enter her doggy style. I often (well, occasionally) wake up with morning wood, but last Friday morning I woke up with morning iron.

Later that same morning I was sitting at one of the outside tables at the very same Calico Café that had featured in my dream. I was waiting for my friend Tucker Box to join me for a mid-morning latte. If I'm spending the day working from home, I often take a mid-morning break and meet Tucker for coffee. But on that morning, Tucker was running late, so I was taking the opportunity to catch up on a few emails. At one point -- I have no idea why -- I looked up from my iPad and saw this woman walking towards me. She had a sweet face framed by long dark hair. She wasn't tall, and she was quite a big girl, but she was very shapely. Oh my god, I thought, it's her! It's the girl with the wonderfully-shaped bum!

The beautiful creature of my dreams was carrying a supermarket bag that looked to be quite heavy. And, just as she walked past the front of the café, the bag burst, spilling its contents all over the footpath. For a moment or two she froze -- as if she thought that her own lack of movement might somehow halt the movement of the canned products that were now tumbling in every direction. And then she was crouching down, trying to stop cans of tomatoes and olives and artichoke hearts from escaping into the gutter.

She was wearing a soft scoop-fronted T-shirt-type top and, as she crouched, I had a wonderful view of her full breasts trying desperately trying to burst out of a black lace bra . And then, as she leaned forward, I caught another glance of her beautiful backside. Heaven.

Of course, in less than a heartbeat, I was up and helping her to corral the fugitive groceries.

'Oh, thank you,' she said. 'The bag broke.'

By then we were both crouched on the footpath, facing each other. Not only did I have an exquisite view down the front of her top, I also had a great view of her substantial thighs.

'They probably have a spare bag in the café,' I said. 'Let me go and ask.'

'Oh, thanks,' she said.

The guys in the café had a couple of recycled supermarket bags and, within a few minutes, we had the cans back under control -- this time, double-bagged just to be sure.

'Thank you,' she said for the third or fourth time.

'You're welcome,' I said. 'By the way, I'm Rob.'

She frowned slightly. But then said: 'Oh. Rob. Yes. Thank you. God, now I really am late.'

'So I can't tempt you to a coffee,' I said.

'Umm ... no. But thank you anyway.' And she was on her way again.

It was disappointing that she hadn't had time for a coffee, but I consoled myself with the view of her shapely derriere as she walked on down the street and turned to walk up the hill.

The following Sunday afternoon, I decided to wander down to the pub to watch the match of the day on the big screen (and perhaps enjoy a pint of two). I was just standing at the bar, chatting with Sam, the barman, when I looked in the mirror behind the bar and there she was, reflected back at me.

She was sitting at a table with a couple of other women. They were chatting and laughing and she was looking more attractive than ever. Just at that moment, Sam was called away to the telephone, so I took my beer and just casually, 'accidentally' cruised past her table. 'Oh, hello,' I said. 'Did you manage to get your groceries home without any further escapes?'

She looked up -- straight at me -- and frowned slightly. But then she smiled and nodded. 'Oh. Yes,' she said. 'Thank you. Yes. And thanks for your help.'

'My pleasure,' I said. 'Sneaky things, canned vegetables.'

'Yes. I suppose so,' she said.

It was clear that I had interrupted some sort of girls' conversation. 'Right,' I said. 'I'll leave you to it. Maybe see you later.' She said nothing, but smiled politely. And I took my beer and went and found a seat from where I could get a good view of the game.

I sometimes think that pub landlords must prefer it when the game of the day is a dull game. Or even a frustrating game. I'm sure that on such occasions they sell more beer. If the game is an interesting game, about half of the drinkers make one beer last for an entire half. And then at halftime, everyone wants a refill at the same time. Sunday's game was a real cliff hanger from start to finish. And all around me, people were nursing empty glasses, unable to take their eyes off the screen for even a second.

After the final whistle, about two-thirds of the patrons immediately drifted off. But, having no pressing calls on my own time, I decided to treat myself to another pint. I was just standing at the bar, waiting for Sam to do his thing, when I glanced into the mirror and noticed that the BBW goddess was now sitting all on her own. Trying not to look too eager, I strolled over to her table.

'Oh, hello,' I said. 'Your friends have left you?'

'Umm ... yes,' she said. 'They had to go.'

'Well, then perhaps I could buy you a drink,' I suggested.

'Umm ... no,' she said. 'I mean ... thank you, but I'm just waiting for George, and then we're going to go to a movie.'

'Oh. OK,' I said, trying not to sound disappointed -- even though I was. 'Well ... enjoy the movie.'

'Thanks,' she said.

I went back to the bar and collected my pint. George! What a lucky bastard he was. Mind you, I don't know what made me think that such a heavenly creature would be unattached and simply waiting patiently for me to appear in her life. It was hardly likely, was it? Theoretically possible; but hardly likely. A couple of minutes later, I again glanced in the mirror and she had gone.

That night I had another dream about her. She was kneeling on a bed, wearing a black chemise with a soft frilly hem. She had her back to me and she was leaning forward. The hem of the chemise came to an end about halfway down her ample buttocks, leaving the lower half of her bum and the backs of her shapely thighs exposed. I could clearly see the generously proportioned outer lips her of her pussy protruding from between her thighs. The bright pink inner lips -- which appeared to be glistening with pussy juice -- were just peeking out from between the outer lips. Once again I woke with morning iron rather than morning wood.

On Monday I was late leaving work. And then, to make matters worse, the train driver decided to park in a tunnel for what seemed like an hour or two -- just for the fun of it. So, by the time I left the station for the walk home, it was already well past eight.

Not only was I late, I was also hungry. I hadn't had time for lunch, and the only sustenance I had had since breakfast was a slightly stale piece of shortbread.

Initially, I decided to pick up something ready to eat from the deli counter at the supermarket. But then I remembered that it was Monday. On Monday, the supermarket closes at eight.

I didn't feel like a burger or anything like that, so I decided to see if the local convenience store had any of its famous rotisserie-style chickens left. I was in luck. There was one; just one; but one was all I needed.

The middle-aged woman (who I think is one of the store's owners) had just put the chicken in a foil-lined bag when the goddess appeared.

'Do you have any more of those?' she asked.

'Oh, hello,' I said. 'We meet again.'

'So it would seem,' she said. And then she turned back to the store owner and an answer to her question.

'Sorry,' the woman said. 'That's the last one.'

'Damn!' the goddess said. She looked really disappointed.

'You could have this one,' I said generously.

'No, no. I couldn't do that,' she said.

'Or we could share,' I suggested.

'Share?'

'Half each. In fact, a quarter will be enough for me.'

'Are you on your own?' she asked, frowning slightly. 'You don't have a family to feed?'

'On my own,' I said.

For a few seconds she looked me up and down as though she was seeing me for the first time. And then she said: 'OK. You bring the chicken. I'll throw together a bit of salad. And I'm pretty sure there's a bottle of wine in the fridge.'

'Well, if you're sure,' I said, hardly able to believe my luck.

'We both need to eat,' she said. And she smiled.

I suggested that she lead the way. And, once out of the store, we turned left, in the opposite direction from the street in which I had originally seen her.

As we walked, I tried to strike up a conversation. 'Have you had a busy day?' I asked.

We were walking side by side, and I could only see her face in profile, but I knew from the brief silence that she was probably frowning. It seemed to be what she did whenever she was asked a question.

'Busy? Yes, I suppose so,' she said. 'Most of my days are busy.'

I was about to enquire what it was that filled her days with busyness, when we reached a gate that led into a small walled courtyard.

'This is us,' she said. And she reached into her bag for a bunch of keys. Finding what she was looking for, she unlocked first one lock and then a second lock, and pushed open the door to the modern-looking townhouse.

'This is nice,' I said.

She nodded. 'George owns it,' she said.

Ah. That lucky bastard George again. 'So ... is George ...?'

'Away on a course,' she said.

'Ah. Right,' I said. Well, that was something for which to be thankful. It seemed that I would at least have the goddess to myself for an hour or so.

The goddess led me through to the kitchen and started gathering ingredients for a salad. 'Oh, and the wine,' she said. And she produced a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a couple of glasses. 'Can I get you to look after this?'

I opened the bottle and poured some wine into each glass.

'Look, I'm terribly sorry,' I said. 'I seem to have forgotten your name.'

'Maria,' she volunteered.

'And I'm Rob.'

'Yes. You told me that the other day,' she said.

As Maria peeled and chopped and sliced, I contemplated her ample beauty. She was -- as I hope I have conveyed -- stunning. Great legs, a fabulous arse, a nice rounded tummy with a clearly-defined waist, and awesome breasts. And, on top of this near-perfect body, a near-perfect face and long, dark, gorgeous, silky, hair. That George was one lucky bloke.

But it didn't stop me from fantasizing. Just the thought of her naked had my cock stirring. As she peeled and sliced, I imagined her bent over the table, her skirt up around her waist as had it had been the day the wind had caught it, and me, my hands on her ample breasts, fucking her from behind.

Within a matter of minutes, Maria had cut the chicken into pieces and arranged the pieces on a large serving platter which she had placed in the middle of the dining table. Next to the chicken she placed a bright-looking salad of tomatoes and capsicums and cucumber. And next to that she placed a basket of warm, yeasty-smelling bread rolls and a big pot of rich yellow butter.

'Right,' she said, 'I don't know about you, but I'm starving.'

I do like a girl who enjoys her food. And Maria certainly enjoyed her food. There was nothing finicky about the way she attacked the chicken. But neither did she wolf it down. Rather she savoured it, each and every mouthful.

'Mmm, that feels better,' she said when we had demolished about two thirds of the chicken.

I topped up her wine glass. 'Have you lived here long?' I asked.

Maria shook her head. 'No. I'm a new girl,' she said. 'I only moved down here about six weeks ago. It was a bit of a life-changing move, but the job was too good to pass up. I guess once I get to know a few people ....' And then after a moment or two she added: 'How about you?'

'I've been here for almost five years,' I said. 'And I'm surprised that you haven't met heaps of people.'

'Well, I have met quite a few people,' she said. 'But it would be quite nice to meet a single man.'

Now I was confused. 'I thought that you and George ....'

Maria frowned. And then she gradually broke into a big smile and nodded knowingly. 'Oh ... George. George is Georgina. And while I think she probably swings both ways, I definitely prefer men, the genuine article. The problem is ... as you may have noticed, I'm not exactly skinny.'

'I think you're perfect,' I said.

She laughed. 'It's OK,' she said. 'You don't have to say that. I am what I am. It's how I've always been.'

'Yeah, and I think you're just perfect.'

She looked across the table at me with a degree of incredulity. 'Are you serious?' she said.

'Never more so,' I assured her.

'Oh ...' she said. 'Really?'

'Really.'

'Oh.' She seemed somewhat taken aback. 'In that case I don't know what to say.'

It was at that point that I got up from my chair, walked over to her, drew her to her feet, and kissed her. Yes, it was a risk, I know. But instead of resisting -- or slapping my face -- she melted into my arms. Our bodies came together: her beautiful thighs against my legs, her rounded tummy pushing against my hardening cock, and her big, soft breasts engulfing my lower chest. It was every bit as good as I had imagined.

It only took a moment or two to unbutton her shirt and then to run my hands over her ample bra-clad breasts. 'Mmm ... gorgeous,' I mumbled as I began kissing the exposed upper part of her breasts. 'Absolutely gorgeous.'

As we hugged and kissed and caressed, my hands worked their way down to her waist and sought the means by which her skirt could be removed.

'This might be easier in the bedroom,' she suggested.

We kissed once more, and then she took my hand and led the way to her bedroom.

She turned on a lamp that was standing on one of the bedside tables. The shade on the lamp was a sort of hot pink colour, and it gave the light a warm and slightly cosy glow. With Maria's help, we removed her skirt and her unbuttoned shirt.

'Let me look at you,' I said.

She looked at me shyly. 'Are you sure you want to?' she asked.

'Oh, yes,' I said. 'And maybe the tights should go,' I added.

Together we removed her tights. She was now standing there in just her bra and knickers.

'You are so beautiful,' I said. 'So beautiful.'

'And you have too many clothes on,' she said.

I laughed. But she was right, of course. I unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged it off.

'And your trousers,' she said, fumbling with the buckle of my belt. On her third or fourth attempt, the buckle came free, she lowered the zip, and my trousers fell to my ankles. Expertly, she pulled down the front of my briefs and freed my erect cock. 'Mmm ...' she said, 'you are pleased to see me.'

'I am indeed,' I told her. 'And I want to see more.' I reached behind her and found the fastening of her bra. It was a two-handed job, but in a trice her breasts were free. I gazed upon them -- briefly -- before covering them with kisses.

'Oh, yes!' she said.

My tongue made little circles around the nipple of her right breast. And then I turned my attention to her left breast.

'Mmm,' she murmured softly . 'That feels so good.'

On the one hand there was no hurry. But on the other hand there was. I wanted to taste her pussy. My kisses headed south. And when my mouth reached her fabric covered mons, I paused and allowed the warmth of my breath to flood down over the prominent mound.

'Oh, god, yes!' she said. And I felt her hands on the back of my head, guiding me onward to her fecund secret valley.

'I think it is now you who are overdressed,' I suggested.

She smiled. 'Maybe,' she said. And, with a little help from each of us, her knickers made their way to the floor.

Gently, I pushed her back onto the bed, spread her ample thighs, and placed a little kiss on the inside of her right knee. One kiss led to another. And another. Gradually, I worked my way up to her waiting pussy. For a moment or two, my lips tarried. And then I eased back and began kissing the inside of her other thigh.

'You're a tease,' she said.

'I am,' I acknowledged. But I didn't tease for long. Soon I was kissing her soft crevice, my tongue darting between her hardening clit and the waiting entrance to her tunnel of lust.

'Oh, god, that feels so good,' she said.

'And so do you,' I said. 'And you taste of nectar.' I slid one finger into her. And then a second.

'I want to feel your cock inside me,' she said.

'Soon,' I told her.

I lifted her legs and allowed the tip of my tongue to explore her, from her sweet rosebud to her clit and back again.

Oh, yes,' she said.

And then it was time. I gently pushed her legs still further towards her chest and lined up my cock with her warm and wet waiting entrance.

'Are you ready?' I asked.

'Oh, god, yes.'

'Are you sure?' I said, teasingly.

'Just do it! Just fucking do it!'

I allowed the head of my cock to slowly slip between her wet lips and into her pink tunnel. And then I slowly pulled it out again. In again. And out again. But only just the head of my cock; only just a hint of what might be to come. In again. And out again.

'I want it all,' she said.

'You're a greedy girl, aren't you,' I said.

'I am,' she replied. And she raised her hips to capture more of my cock in her hungry cunt.

'OK,' I said. And I pushed all the way into her in one smooth thrust.

'Yes!' she said.

With my thumb now working her clit, I thrust into her in long, strong stokes. In. And in. And in. And in.

Her breaths were getting shorter and she was rocking in rhythm with my strokes. And then she was there. 'Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, god, yes!'

And I could hold on no longer. I pulled my cock from inside her hot cunt and, after three or four rapid pumps with my hand, sprayed her glorious belly with my cum.

For a couple of minutes we just lay there, exhausted, me partially collapsed on her sexy body.

'You are one sexy woman,' I said.

She just grinned.

And then I rolled off her and we lay side by side, gently hugging each other, exchanging little kisses, neither of us able to wipe the smile from our faces.