See the events that preceded this in More
First posted in FetLife
Diane wanted . . . more. She had been the good friend, the good girl. Everyone’s overweight buddy, someone for all her girlfriends and male friends to talk to. She was always the nice one. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. In the short while we had been together I had told her a few things about my past that made it clear I wasn’t regular boyfriend material. Even though we had met at a party for men who were interested in “Big Beautiful Women” I wasn’t there because I just had a fetish for heavier ladies. I had gone as a favor to a friend, and I ended up talking to Diane, because I sensed something in her, a spark of attraction, the way people do when they meet someone they’re interested in. We ended up in bed shortly after that, a thousand people hook up like that every night in New York and everywhere else for that matter.
But I had been comfortable enough with Diane to tell her just a few details of my previous encounters. That wasn’t something I normally discussed with people I didn’t know well. For that matter I really didn’t discuss it with people I did know well, but for whatever reason, I did with her. She reacted. After our nice little hookup, she told me she wanted MORE.
It certainly gave me a lot to think about. I had to fly out to of town for work the next afternoon. All during the flight then later at the hotel I pondered what to do. This had dropped out of nowhere. I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone at that BBW event and I was still trying to figure out where I was headed after the end of my last, mostly vanilla, relationship. But this really struck a chord. I don’t think Diane really knew what she wanted, at least not specifically, but I resolved to find out.
I called her that night from my hotel room, and at first it probably seemed like I was trying to do the post coital hookup “nice guy” call. She seemed uneasy, almost annoyed, until I broached the subject we both clearly wanted to discuss.
“Do you really want. . . more? Something different than last night?”
She paused for a second, I could hear her let out a huge breath, “Yes, I just. . . I don’t want to be, to be what everyone else thinks I am.”
“I get that. I never wanted to be like most of the guys I know. At least not in the bedroom.”
“What do you mean?”
And then I told her. I was actually surprised that I did it, how often do you recap your sex life? Unless you are a 15 year old at sleep away camp and you’re lying through your teeth. But I told her. I told her about always feeling a bit different from the time I hit puberty. No idea specifically why, I had a regular childhood, nice parents. Like almost every kid my age, I had seen porn, but really the occasional Playboy or Penthouse, nothing extreme. So why did I decide that what I really wanted to do to my first crush was to tie her up and tease her pussy until she came? How come I didn’t want to have her hold my hand in the hallway, kiss at the dance, and then have missionary on graduation night? How come I wanted to spank my French teacher as much as I wanted to fuck her? Absolutely no idea, but I knew what I wanted was different than what my friends said they wanted, and I knew enough to keep quiet about it.
I told Diane about the women I had met who shared my interest, how it became easier to meet women like that one graduated college and moved to New York. She asked me again about the couple I had mentioned previously, this time with genuine curiosity and no judgement. Without giving her enough details to figure out who they were, I told her.
It usually hard for me to talk on the phone about personal things, I would much rather do that face to face, but in this case I think the distance made it easier for me to open up. I knew this was a lot for her to absorb, but I had an inspiration.
When I was done I waited a couple of seconds and asked “Are you still . . interested”
She answered right away, “Yes” but I could hear the hesitation in her voice.
“I’m glad. But I don’t want to overwhelm you.” I could hear her kind of snort, “No, really I don’t. This isn’t a contest, it’s not a race. The person who does the most ‘things’ doesn’t win.”
“Okay.” I could hear the relief in her voice.
“I’ll tell you what. Think about some of the things I talked about tonight. I’ll be back in the City day after tomorrow. We’ll grab something after work and see what you’re comfortable with, how’s that?”
“Good, we can do that”, more relief, she sounded excited again.
“Great.” Then we made some small talk for a while and rung off.
I was back in New York a couple of days later and made arrangements to meet Diane again after work. We spent a few minutes just getting reacquainted, talking about our jobs etc. then settled into a table off by ourselves.
I started off, “I’m really happy you decided to get together tonight. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.”
“Thanks, me too, I’ve been thinking about what we said.” I could see she was a bit nervous, but flushed and excited too.
“That’s great.” I didn’t want to suggest anything, I wanted to let her decide what she wanted and I was incredibly curious what direction she would want to go.
“Well, you remember what you said about Chicago, that girl from your office out there?” Of course I knew immediately who she meant and what I had told her about my adventures out there. Nothing too extreme. Perfect.
I had driven into work that day so we got my car and we headed to my place. Diane was quiet on the ride over, I could tell she was nervous. When we got to my apartment she gratefully accepted a glass of wine. We sat in my living room for a few minutes, then I leaned in and gave her a deep kiss. I could sense her tension, but she returned my kiss and moved closer to me. After a few minutes I broke it off and said, “I have to get ready, wait here,” then went into my bedroom.
Most people looking in my bedroom wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but I had been a Boy Scout, so I knew to “Be Prepared”. And I knew about ropes. I had a wooden frame underneath my bed inside the bedspread and I had screwed eye bolts into the wood at various points (my ex had been only mostly vanilla). I went into my closet and took out one of my “special” boxes, and in only a couple of minutes I was ready.
I went back into the living room, Diane was sitting where I left her, but she had finished the glass of wine. I held my hand out, she stood up and we kissed. I took her by the hand and led her into my room. Diane had picked this scenario, but still, when she saw the ropes on top of my bed she stopped and stared. I moved behind her and nuzzled her neck, “This is what you wanted,” then putting more authority into my voice, “This IS what we’re going to do.”
I pulled her close to me and began grinding my cock into her while kissing her neck some more, and touching her breasts. Then it was time. I moved back, turned her around and said, “Get undressed.” She hesitated, I think she was looking for a bathroom, somewhere to get undressed in private. I think she was uncomfortable about her body, nervous about what we were about to do, but I just looked at her. After a few seconds she took off her blouse and unzipped her skirt. Next came the bra, then her panties. Her lips quivered, she looked at me afraid, nervous, but kind of proud of herself too. Wonderful. I kissed her again, then moved her over to the bed. She lay down on her back, while I put the leather cuffs around her wrists, then one on each ankle. I adjusted the ropes so she was spread eagled, legs apart, fully exposed.
When I was done I saw that her eyes were closed then I took a black bandanna from my night table and tied it around her as a blindfold. As I tied the knot on that I could hear her taking short shallow breaths, excited, but very, very scared.
And then I went to work. I explored every inch of Dian’s body, first gently, then forcefully, roughly. I caressed her with my fingers, with my hands. I kissed and licked her, sometimes gently, sometimes not. Her nervousness melted away quickly, she became more and more excited. Her pussy was soaked before I went near it, I could smell her while I was still working her beautiful nipples. When I bit down on one of them, (not TOO hard), she let out a low kind of moan, completely different from her normal voice, unbelievably spontaneous and sexy. When I lowered my mouth to her cunt, I heard it again. She tried to grind her pussy up against me, but I had her tied fairly tightly. I don’t know how many times she came, but by the end I had one finger well up inside her, pressing against the top wall of her cunt working back and forth while I took her whole clit inside my lips. When she went fully limp, I knew my work was done.
I still had a raging erection, I hadn’t even gotten undressed, but I was fully satisfied. I had given her MORE.