Bbw Shows Off for Captive Admirer

A story about a SSBBW, or very large woman, who takes control of a pesky internet chat-room player and taunts him with what he wants but cannot have. The story is told in her perspective. It contains mild bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, denial teasing, and fat admiration or "FA" themes.

When things get slow at work, and I'm the only person in the office, I oftentimes log on to chat-rooms to kill some time and ease the boredom. I can sit back and lurk, flirt with the men who come looking for action; or find common ground among the other ladies who complain about the men who come looking for sexy photos, cyber-sex chat sessions, or offline quickies behind their wives' backs.

One long tedious afternoon I logged into my favorite chat, "Super Big Babes", and within seconds an instant message popped up on my screen. From somebody I had never chatted with before. It was a man (of course). He wanted to know if I was really "super big", and then wanted to know if I had any photos to share with him. I sent him the link to my profile, where there is a completely G-rated photo for all to see.

He typed back that he had already seen that photo. He was interested in seeing any photos I might have of myself which were not G-rated for all to see. Now, how stupid did he think I was? I mean come on. This is 2005. Anything and everything that makes its way into cyber-space is there for good and can turn up where you least expect it. Did he really think I would jeopardize my job, much less my reputation, by sending out compromising photographs online?

Obviously he did. Because he kept bugging me and bugging me and bugging me for sexy photos every time I went online. Now, most women would just block him from messaging and emailing them, right? Not me. Something about him and his desperation tugged at the dark recesses of my mind. I thought I would see how long he would keep pestering me for a photograph. I probably could have just sent him a hot one with my face blacked out, or from the neck down. But I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Since, he wasn't getting anywhere with the photo requests, he decided to grill me about my appearance. He wanted to know if I had big tits. Did I have pink or brown nipples? Did I carry my weight in my butt or belly? Since I carried it in my belly, was my belly round and firm or loose and droopy? What kind of clothes did I wear? How did I style my hair? Did I have pierced ears? This guy wanted to know every little detail about my body.

At first it got on my nerves. Who cares what color my nipples are, I have them, isn't that enough? But after a while, it started to turn me on. It's not every day that a woman my size (fat enough that even the largest size in the plus size department is not quite big enough for me) finds such an interested admirer. It was flattering, I will admit. I started to look forward to his instant messages popping up on the screen and his emails arriving in my mailbox. I thought that since he was over the whole photo obsession, we were settling into a nice little harmless flirtation.

But, after a few weeks had passed, he brought up the possibility of meeting me offline. He knew what city I lived in, and said that his company was sending him for training in my area. He would be in town for three days. And he was on an expense account and would love to take me to dinner and get to know me better. I was completely against the idea. I wasn't looking for somebody to date. I already had a partner. And we stuck by our mutual decision to "flirt but don't touch" when it came to other people.

"But it's only dinner and conversation" he said. What to do? What to do? I had absolutely no intentions of having sex with this man, or giving him compromising photographs of myself. Still, his nearly obsessive interest in me was a turn-on and if nothing else, I am a total slut for an ego-stroke. So, I nervously approached my partner and explained that I had a male chat buddy who would be in town and who wanted to buy me dinner and spend a little time with me. My partner honestly didn't mind. He knew that I was not going to throw our good thing away over a horny net guy. And as long as I stuck by our boundaries of "hands off", he was fine with it.

My net buddy was a bit taken aback at first when I told him yes, I would meet him for supper. He nearly blew it by asking me to wear something sexy with garter stockings underneath. I told him why bother with garter stockings if he is not going to be seeing them. He replied that even if he didn't see them, he would know they were there and that was enough for him. I joked that I would show up in a sweat suit just to show him who was the boss. We set the date. I would meet him in the lobby of his hotel. Obviously his company was quite generous to put him up in a four star hotel that had a four star restaurant on site. If nothing else, I would get to dine somewhere that I could not even hope to afford otherwise.

The day was approaching and he started increasing his instant message and email campaign to get me to show up in sexy attire. He sent me links to plus size clothing and lingerie websites, pointing out sexy outfits and telling me what he thought would flatter my build, my skin tone, and my hair color. I started getting a fluttery feeling in the pit of my belly and a tingling feeling a little lower down when I thought about what I would wear, and how I would act when I met him.

I realized that I knew next to nothing about his appearance. He said he was of average height, average weight, clean-cut, in his late forties, with brown hair. Nothing stood out about him. Oh yeah, he did mention that he had a big cock. But what man online doesn't claim to be packing at least eight inches? He said that when we met, he would be wearing a navy suit. Like any of a million middle management career men, there was nothing particularly unusual or interesting about him. Except that he had a preference for very fat women and had an apparent fixation on my body.

He emailed me to let me know that he would be leaving for the training seminar early the next week, and it would be best if we met Thursday after his seminar was over. I went out Wednesday evening with a girlfriend to Lane Bryant to see if on the off chance they might have something nice that would fit me. They had a button up sweater that fit, but not much else. Luckily I had a long skirt that would go with it. No sense in getting his hopes up too much. All I intended on showing him was a bright smile and a little cleavage.

There was only one cashier and a woman making a complicated exchange, so I drifted off to the lingerie section. A display of brightly colored and lacy things caught my eye. I do love lacy frilly things, and my partner loves for me to wear them for him. And as I may have mentioned, I have a little bit of an exhibitionistic streak. So, I picked up a pretty black lace garter belt, matching front hooking bra, and a black satin camisole with a matching pair of black satin tap pants. Of course they had stockings for the garter belts, so I grabbed a pair too.

Thursday I was as nervous as a teenager getting ready for her first date. My partner had to work late and teased me about my "date" that evening, and said that he would see me later that night and I could tell him all about it. I came home a little early so that I would have plenty of time to get ready. Even if I was not dressing to impress him, I was going to one of the top rated restaurants in town, so I wanted to put forth the extra bit of effort.

I soaked in the bath and made sure my legs were smooth and silky. Aside from legs and underarms, I go "all natural". My pussy hair is silky and finer than most other bushes. I enjoy having it stroked and played with, so I never shave it off. Besides, who was going to see more than the little bit of leg my skirt didn't cover? I dried off, smoothed my favorite vanilla scented body lotion all over my ample soft body, and carefully did my hair and makeup. I went to get a pair of pantyhose out of my lingerie drawer and saw the package of stockings. I got a perverse little thrill. He would be fantasizing about me wearing them, but knowing that I was wearing boring old hose. But in reality I would really be wearing them and the secret joke would be on him. And if I really wanted to tease him, I could "accidentally" hitch my skirt up and give him a peek of stocking top.

Of course, a woman can't wear sheer black stockings with a support brief and boring beige bra... I hooked the lacy bra in front, and gently eased my breasts up and towards the center, to achieve maximum cleavage. Instead of putting on a pair of little panties under the garter belt, I put the satin tap pants on over it. So I would not have to wear a slip. The smooth cool satin felt amazing against my body. It slipped over my softly lotioned thighs and ass, while cupping slightly under the low round curve of my belly. The garter straps rubbed beneath the leg openings and pulled the fabric across my pussy, tickling the silky hair down there, occasionally pulling the entire crotch of the pants aside as I walked. The matching satin camisole went on top and by the time I finished putting on my lingerie, I was completely turned on.

I put those thoughts out of my mind. I could take care of scratching that particular itch when I got home that night. I pulled my skirt on, buttoned the sweater, and put on a silver heart necklace that hung right at my cleavage. And after a spray of my vanilla perfume and one last touch up of my lipstick, I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my bag and went to meet my admirer.

I arrived at the hotel a few minutes late. Traffic was a bitch on the way over. But it was well worth the drive. The hotel was even more beautiful on the inside than on the outside. The lighting was subdued and warm, there was a pianist playing a baby grand in a corner near the bar, and across from the front desk was a large lounge with intimate clusters of oversized cushy sofas and chairs surrounding a large central glass-walled fireplace. The carpet was the kind that my rarely worn high-heeled shoes sank into luxuriously. The place exuded elegance at every turn. My net buddy must be something special with his company to rate business accommodations like this.

I started scanning the lounge for a man in a navy suit. There were about a half dozen of them. I narrowed it down to the three men sitting by themselves. One had white hair and very little of it, so I ruled him out right away. That left two possibilities. One was sitting close to the fire talking on a cell phone. The other was seated across from him, reading a newspaper. I didn't know which one he was. I had never seen a photo of him and they both were of average build, average height, with brown hair. I decided to just walk towards them and see if either of them recognized me.

As I approached the two men, the heels of my shoes were sinking into the carpet, making me take slightly exaggerated steps. The stockings swished between my ample thighs, the garter straps pulled taut and pulled the fabric of my tap pants back and forth across my pussy. It felt incredible and I almost didn't notice when the man with the paper, put it down and looked up and smiled at me.

So, that was my net buddy. He wasn't exactly what I expected. He just looked so normal and average. I guess I expected a man who pestered women for sexy photos to be sleazy, or at least not perfectly normal looking. He said: "You must be Full Bloom".

(Yeah, I go by the name "full bloom" online). I never told him my real name. He didn't need to know. I knew his name though, or at least the name he wanted me to know him by. Early in our correspondence, he told me to call him Nick. I said hello, and offered my hand for him to shake, and to my surprise he kissed the top of it instead. He made a comment about my vanilla lotion making me smell good enough to eat and gave a sly raise of the eyebrow.

Great. We had no more than said how do you do, and he was starting with the come-on. He said that we had a few more minutes before our table was ready, and he had a little present for me. He handed me flat box the size of a notebook that was wrapped in lovely gold paper. We sat down on a sofa with our backs to the rest of the crowd while I opened it. It was a pair of stockings. Like the ones I had on. Rather than being offended, I thanked him kindly for the gift. Hey, a man has to keep on trying, right?

He stood up first and offered his hand to steady me as I rose from the sofa, and he escorted me to the restaurant where we were seated at our table. It was the type of restaurant that offered understated intimate elegance. High backed tables were situated among screens and tall potted palms. It was the kind of place where high-level business negotiations or romantic trysts were planned over a fine meal. There was no menu; the waiter simply described the selections the chef had created for that day. Nick asked if he could order for me, and I had no problem with that.

We enjoyed a multi-course meal in the manner of several plates of lightly portioned but excellently prepared foods. During the meal, I tried to make small talk with Nick, but he just wanted to talk about how beautiful he thought I was. That I far exceeded what he expected from that casual photo on my public profile. And how sexy he thought it was when I walked across the lounge towards him. With my hips swaying and my belly rising and falling with each step. He complimented my outfit and said that he would love to dive headlong into my cleavage.

He was coming on very strong. About how a woman as beautiful as I am should not hide her body away from men like him who would give anything to see it, and touch it, and make love to it. And how cruel I was to deny him the pleasure of a photo of my body in all its nude glory. He promised he wouldn't share it, or post it on a photo sharing web site. He would keep it just for himself. No. I'm not that gullible. If I gave him a photo of myself nude, it would be all over the world within a week.

Before dessert, it hit me. I would play the player and start laying it on thickly myself. I'd start flirting back and see what happened. I felt that he would run like a scared rabbit. When our chocolate mousse arrived, I licked my lips seductively and made a sexy sound. And I told him how much I loved chocolate, that I liked it almost as much as sex. But just almost... I accidentally on purpose dribbled a tiny bit of the whipped cream onto my cleavage and made a big show of wiping it with my finger and licking it off; sucking the tip of my finger as I finished. My goblet of mousse empty, I pushed it away with a contented sigh and told him how good it all was.

I asked if he wanted an after dinner drink and he suggested we have it in his suite, there was a fully stocked mini bar and a balcony with an incredible view. He was doing his damnedest to get me into his room. So, I said, "okay baby, let's go".

He was a little shocked at first, and then guided me from my chair across the lobby to the elevators. He occupied a large suite at the end of the hall on one of the top floors. The sitting room was elegant and spacious. And of course, the balcony he praised was in the bedroom. Which was appointed with a large high bed, an armoire, table, dresser, and an antique reproduction chair in the corner.

I set my purse and package down on the small bedroom table, and peered out the French doors that opened onto a small balcony. He sidled up behind me with two champagne flutes and asked if I liked champagne. I figured that he thought he had closed the deal and was going to be in my panties soon, if he was willing to open a bottle of the good stuff. I shook my head at him and raised my own eyebrow. I told him "Uh-uh baby, let's save that for later. I have something else in mind first."

His face brightened up and he moved forward to try and put his hand on my tit. I playfully pushed it away and explained to him that he was going to get his wish of seeing it all, but on one condition. He couldn't lay a finger on me. He had a "you've got to be kidding" look on his face. I stepped towards the chair in the corner and told him that he could sit there like a good boy and keep his hands to himself, and I would show him anything and everything he wanted to see. I pulled the chair out of the corner and set it about two feet from the side of the bed. From it, he had a full view of the bed and bathroom just beyond. "Sit down" I told him.

He started to get into the game. He took his jacket off and started to undress. I told him that he could get as comfortable as he wanted to, but he had to leave his shorts on. My rules, my game, and he could play it or I could leave. I stood by the chair and watched him undress to his socks and boxer shorts. A bulge was already starting to form in the front of them as he sat down. I picked up the box of stockings and took them out and walked behind his chair. I asked him to put his arms behind his back. He wasn't quite sure about it, but I told him that the only way I was going to strip for him and share my body with him was if he was securely tied to the chair so I would be sure he wasn't going to try anything.

And as with all men who are thinking with the little head, he agreed to whatever the terms were that would get him the tit and ass show. I tied his forearms together behind his back, very securely. And then had him bend his knees backwards, and I tied his ankles together behind the chair. So, he was effectively my prisoner. Tied to a chair, in his boxers and socks, sitting a couple feet from that big cozy bed.

I walked around the room and shut the curtains over the French Doors, dimmed the lights, and found some soft sexy music on the radio. He said he didn't care about lights and music; he just wanted to see my sexy fat body. I told him again. My game, my rules, he could play my way or nothing. He started to whine and I picked up his silk tie from the floor and gagged him with it. "Just relax", I told him. "I want to show it to you as much as you want to see it".

I started my show by sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him and unbuttoning my sweater, button by button, looking him straight in the eye. I bent over and pulled my shoes off, giving him a very good view of my breasts underneath the camisole. I told him I had a little surprise for him and pulled up the hem of my skirt just high enough to show the stocking tops. He moaned and I saw the bulge in his shorts twitch. I sat back on the bed and pulled off the sweater and ran my hands over the silky fabric of my camisole. I pulled it off slowly over my head and ran my hands over the lacy cups of my bra. I asked if he wanted to see my tits. He moaned again, and I slowly unhooked the front clasp and pulled the halves of the bra aside. My full heavy breasts fell out of the cups and bounced against my chest. I picked them up and squeezed them together. He was mesmerized.

I stroked them and kneaded them and pinched my hardening pink nipples. Like many other fat girls, I have very large pale areolas and I traced circles around them with my fingers. I asked him if he liked my big juicy tits and he moaned. I lifted them up and let them bounce back down. And then picked them up one at a time and lifted my rosy little nipples upwards. I bent my face down and licked and sucked on them one at a time, then pressed both of my tits together and flickered my tongue from side to side. I was starting to really get into it, and was getting very aroused. While I flicked my tongue across my nipples, I squirmed around on the bed, letting the fabric of the crotch of my pants rub the cleft of my pussy. Oh God I was wet. I almost thought I could smell myself by that point. I squeezed my tits together and told him that I knew he was wondering what it would feel like to slip his big hard cock between them and pump it until he shot his cum all over them. He whined and started squirming in his chair, the button on his boxers straining.