Nora looked in the mirror before leaving to go on the date. She had pulled her favorite first date dress out of the closet, a black knit empire waist dress that had a deep neckline that showed off her large soft cleavage. The dress was casual, so she had thrown on a jean jacket. She turned in the mirror trying to like the body she was in, fat, fleshy. She threw her auburn curls up into a loose bun, several ringlets immediately springing out of the elastic she used to fasten it. She leaned in and put on a deep red lipstick, smiling as she realized it matched the manicure she had gotten earlier that week, and the underwear she had bought this afternoon.
She had met Gil on a dating website for plus sized women, so she knew that at least he wouldn't reject her outright based on her appearance. She had tried to post accurate pictures of herself, showing off her round stomach and heavy thighs in various poses. Living in Berlin, she had found herself mainly attracting men with a particular fetish, who were fairly aggressive about pursuing it. Nora usually dodged or ignored such messages, as being a object held little interest to her. Unlike most men on the site Gil hadn't immediately complimented her appearance, instead he had sent her a message letting her know his German was not good.
"Mine either," she responded.
"Oh, you're not German?"
"No, American, you?"
"Italian, I just moved here for a year though."
After a few days of small talk back and forth on the app, he had finally suggested going out to get dinner. He asked her for suggestions and she fumbled trying to think of a place. She had arrived in Berlin married to a mean man who had given her a weekly allowance that never let her go out to eat. While she had been here five years, she had no real good places to go, even one year out of their separation. She finally mentioned a coffee shop close to her apartment and they agreed to meet.
She checked her reflection in the mirror one last time, her hands resting on her ample stomach and smiling. She knew she was supposed to dislike her body but she loved it. Wide, powerful, soft, strong all at once. She blushed just thinking that, as if loving herself was a taboo. Her husband had berated her looks, a sad small man who used controlling her to make himself feel better. But even after a decade of living with that constant beratement she still enjoyed the way she looked, frequently taking photos of her curves, of her belly, her breasts, her ass. Smiling at her reflection she turned around and walked towards the coffee shop.
Gil was not what she had expected, although his picture certainly aligned with what he had posted. A red headed Italian, with freckles seemed such a novelty to her. He was an art professor and while he stumbled over his English, he managed to talk about the book he was working on without sounding pretentious. But what really intrigued Nora was his attention to her. He asked questions and then leaned in close to hear her answers, occasionally saying "I'm sorry." When he didn't understand her, and then clarifying her comments when she repeated them. After an hour or so he leaned over and stroked the side of her hand, the touch immediately making her smile.
They left the cafe and she hesitated for a moment before leaning in to hug him, her cheek brushing against his. She turned her head and was surprised to find his eyes focused directly on her, she leaned up and kissed him, he grabbed around her waist almost immediately and returned the kiss, forcefully. She stumbled backwards a little and then grabbed the lapel of his jacket and kissed him back even harder, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She then pulled back, blushing as she realized there were quite a few people walking around them.
She paused for a moment, staring at him, his skin flushed and a content smile on his face. "Do you want to come home with me?" she asked. She was almost as surprised as he was that she asked.
"Yes, please," he said to her.
They walked a few blocks, their fingers entwined. "What do you like?," he asked, somewhat jarringly but he didn't seem embarrassed by he question.
Nora looked at him quizzically. "Like?"
As opposed to answering her inquiry he replied "I like it if you take control, do you like that?"
Nora felt a surge between her legs and a wicked smile immediately went to her lips. "I can do that," she said her hand squeezing his.
They walked silently for a few more blocks before turning into the courtyard of her building, she walked in front of him on the small path, her hand pulling him towards the door. She fumbled slightly with her keys at both the main door and the one to her flat. He rested his hand on her waist as the last door opened. She turned to face him in her hallway, her eyes quickly darting around to see if there was anything she needed to hide. But midway through her scan he took his hand and put it on her cheek softly bringing her face up to his he kissed her, not as forcefully as on the street, almost sweetly, she returned his kiss, gently pushing his body against the door frame.
Pulling back and smiling she went in to kiss him again but he asked if he could use the restroom. Slightly flustered, she nodded and pointed to a door down the hall. "It's there."
He nodded and walked to the restroom. She went in the kitchen and poured two large glasses of water. She slowly drank from the glass, feeling a blush creeping over her cheeks as she thought about the conversation they had on the street. She had immediately felt excited when he asked if she liked to take control. Her marriage had been characterized by an initial period of sexual exploration that had devolved into her needs being completely discarded. She had primarily been submissive with him, but mainly their sexual interactions (which became fewer and fewer) had been him relentlessly banging into her while she tried to do anything but be bored.
So why had she agreed so readily that she could take control? She had some moments with ex boyfriends that she still thought about where she had been more dominant. She even had one ex who's hands she had tied to the bedframe several times. But she never really had considered that she might just naturally be dominant. What if she didn't know what to do?
She ran her finger around the condensation at the rim of the water glass, nervously biting on her bottom lip, when she looked up he was standing there. She reached for the other glass of water and handed it to him. He took it and smiled at her, sipping slowly. They both stood in her kitchen for a moment finishing their water, before almost in synch they put their glasses down on the counter.
She moved towards him, her anxiety fading as she closed in, pushing her lips firmly against his and then moving him against the counter. Her soft breasts pushing against him as her tongue pushed into his mouth. At first he seemed startled by her approach but then he returned her kisses, his fingertips landing gingerly on her hips. She pushed against him more, her hands wrapping around the back of his head, her fingers latching onto his soft red curls.
She pulled his hair a little, letting her kiss slide down his neck, biting softly on the flesh, a thrill shooting through her as he moaned when her teeth hit the skin. She looked up at him and said "come to my bedroom?" He nodded and followed her down the hall.
She closed the door behind them and immediately pushed him down on the bed, ignoring her usual concern about her weight being too much and sitting on top of him, her mouth finding his again. He moaned against her lips as she thrust her tongue into his mouth, her hands again instinctively finding his hair.
She suddenly sat up, her knees on either side of him as he laid back on the bed. She smiled, loving this position and how content he looked. "You like me on top like this?"
"Oh yes," he replied, that soft Italian lilt almost betraying a vulnerability. She twirled one of her curls around her finger staring down at him, taking a second to assess the situation, to decide what she wanted to do next. His hands started moving over her hips squeezing them and writhing slightly.
She smiled, knowing exactly what she wanted to do she grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them over his head. He immediately thrashed a little underneath her, his hands pushing upwards and his head leaning forward, trying to kiss her. She pulled her chest back a little, keeping it right out of his grasp. "Please" he said softly, and that soft syllable lit something inside her, she suddenly felt completely in charge, completely in control and she loved it.
"Please what?"
"Please let me touch you."
"Oh you want to touch me?" she said, smiling wickedly down at him and shifting her weight slightly so that her thighs pushed right against the crotch of his pants.
"Yes, please."
"Please, please, please," she said mockingly, her hands pressing hard into his wrists. Leaning over him she pushed her lips hard against his, almost knocking their teeth together, feeling a thrill as he moaned onto her. She pulled back again, moving backwards until he couldn't reach her with his mouth anymore.
"Oh please," he said again, "Please let me touch you."
"You want to touch me?" she said, moving his hands lower and then pinning them under her knees, grinning as he winced when she pressed them down.
