Fat Sex Secrets

Starring : Matthew R. Fraughton

Holidays are a time of giving. They're a time to share, to love, a time to reflect on the past and to look forward to another promising year with family and friends. It's also a time to appreciate, and in the case of "fat people" with the ideas of a fresh start- a time to depreciate (in size). It's a well known fact that the New Years is a time of resolution, and for the large, 99% of those "resolutions" are to become at least half the size of the skinny friends whom which they have envied they're whole lives. 99%. It's a big number, but what of the remaining 1%? What are they thinking? Doesn't everyone want to be slim and "healthy"?

The answer is no, because there is one thing more important than self image, a thing valued highly above social acceptance and fitting into the standard airplane/theatre seat, the one common denominator among all the remaining 1%- Fat Sex.

I know you're cringing. Those rippling folds moving unpredictably like an upset ocean, the gyrating pelvic bone deep beneath, that though vigorously humping and yearning for a deeper probe, appear motionless under the mounds of cellulite and flesh. Sound disgusting? It is, but for some it is music to the heart, or orgasm to the hairy dick. In order to explain the workings, the fundamentals, the DRIVE of fat sex, I am reminded of a story told to me by a dear friend, who like many others, live for fatty sex.

Matthew Fraughton is your usual 20 year old male. He is social, athletic and charming. He is handsome, from a popular family and like most other guys his age likes a good pussy. But Matthew has a deep dark secret, or as I like to refer to it as, a 300 pound + secret. Matthew is a fan of the fat sex.

It all started at the beginning of a new Semester January 2002, 5 months before graduation, when a new vice principal was appointed in our high school, her name was Beaulah Bezanson and she had undoubtedly the biggest ass, flattest tits and most malproportioned head/neck and stomach that the faculty and students had ever seen. She was so fat that the access skin which sat on her collar bones had managed to engulf and swallow her whole neck as well as most of her chin and bottom lip. Every morning in homeroom students were handed out doggie bags if for some unfortunate reason they were to pass Beaulah in the hallway and were forced to induce vomiting. She was, in fact, THAT fat. But while every girl boy, man and woman in the facility were planning they're daily routes from class to class avoiding this beast unleashed, Matthew found himself monitoring her every move and using his designated doggie bag not as a puke catcher, but to hide his massive erection every time she thundered by. You see, Matthew's resolution that year, was to indulge in his recently discovered reason of being, having fat sex.

He soon found him self out of control intoxicated with the 450 pound woman and would admit himself every hour to her office on false counts of mischievous behavior. Sadly though, he could was only able to stay under a minute every time, for standing and the small 1 foot by 2 foot area her body mass did not occupy while staring at the 8th wonder of the world which was her, made him so unbelievably randy he would escape to the boys room and wank off loads that were almost as abundant in size as his object of affection.

One day, one fateful day (shake head if reading aloud) Matthew woke up at 4:50 am (which was Beulah weight if it were transferred into time) and pulled out his high school year book to her own personal page. He searched through the medicine cabinet for his sisters maxi pads, which, when he found them, strapped 5 or six to each palm and wrapped 2 completely around his fingers. It was obvious what he was doing, he had created a hand that would resemble the size, shape and feel or Ms. Bezansons, as if she were the one about to give him the hand job of his life. He threw on a soft fleecy mitten (to avoid the sticky parts from sticking to the parts any man would not want them to stick to) and began to tenderly tug his throbbing wang all the while staring at the photo of the woman whose photo was mangled and distorted with obesity.

Matthew came 12 times. That may seem like a lot but its not when you equate the tantalizing ideas of Beulah Bezanson and fat sex together. After he'd finished he gathered some props and tools and prepared himself for school, he felt ready. Today was the day he would lift up the fleshly flaps of Beulah's pubic region and sneak a peak and a poke at her neglected noush.

After homeroom Matthew raced into her office. She was obviously exhausted from reading the three announcements that morning as she was, dripping sweat like she had been spinning on rotisserie for hours and out of breath as if she had tried send a message from her brain to bat her eyelashes. To us, the sight would have been disconcerting enough for you of to begged her to eat you because you could not go on as a normal person living with that disturbing image haunting your every thought. But, for Matt, he'd never seen sexiness until that very moment.

Matthew took off his collared shirt and flashed his toned, sparsely hairy young chest. Her eyes lit up like he was offering her an all you can eat buffet, or a human sacrifice for her to pick at. After he removed his pants though and slipped his silk boxers down his muscular thighs she hurled a grunt out of her lungs that sounds like "taw mah jynah" which Matthew knew after looking in his pocket sized Fat/English dictionary meant "touch my vagina." He gallantly pulled the "jaws of life" from his knapsack and winked at her as he walked forward. He knew getting her out from behind that damned dainty desk required extreme measures and force. Her body finally burst through the remaining planks of oak (once thought humanly impossible) and the shards splintered through the air, her gut force lodging them deep into the walls. He continued to cut his way through her clothes that were so tightly clung to her skin it was almost surgical, and if there were ever a poem about getting fat person undressed, it would have been written in that room, that day.

After Matthew had the massive skin ball completely stark, he began to plot a route to find mother natures sensitive crevice, which was going to prove to involve a lot of brain teasing as she had created a sort of camouflage by having so many other nooks and crannies littered across her flesh as a result of her unnatural weight. He began lifting one flap of her at a time, but it was increasingly difficult as he could hardly hold them long enough to see if her pungent poonannie was hiding or rather "trapped" underneath. He than drew his industrial staple gun which he had ingeniously pawned off the janitor earlier that week. He stapled back 46 flaps as he searched diligently, as a child would lift up innumerable amounts of random rocks searching for a salamander, not the best analogy but the resulting rewards are equally slippery, slimy and smelling of landfill. He even stapled 3 of her double chins up around her head to the nape of her neck thinking maybe a thing so alien would have genitalia in an equally alarming place. Finally he found her beaming box, it surprised him by possessing more beef curtains than most but that only made Matthew more intrigued and eager to chart this uncharted territory. Matthew reached in his holster which he had found buried beneath one of Beulah's left love handles (god knows how long THAT'S been there) and pulled forth a blade. He dove in head first, shielding his eyes and wielding a machete, cutting through her pubes like he was in the thick of a Brazilian jungle, or a swampy wasteland.

Than he saw it, he was face to face with her bearded taco. Oh, wait, no, yup that really was a Taco, just another lost snack in the folds, but rather that feel a turn in his stomach he barley took notice as he brushed it aside like sliding open the rock that lead down to Jesus' tomb. It really was that sacred, and that day Matthew felt like finding god. Things had become increasingly dark and as Matthew looked around he noticed that some of the staples must've broken free as her skin has fallen all around him to make a meaty flesh tent. Perfect to give himself some privacy with the pussy. Happy New Year.

With just him and the poontang, now free of its barriers, bald as the day she be born, he pick up his pecker (which seemed mildly insignifact next to a gash of such grandeur) and weaseled his way into the gaping abyss. She was excited, he could tell by her incontrollable dry heaves and the slapping of movement from outside. He squirmed and twirled his jolly Johnson, though it was really like a needle in a haystack, or more literally a nice sized cock in a disgustingly fat cunt. And it lasted for hours, it lasted for weeks, until he poked around that pussy enough to charge up the whale and cause a discharge of female secretion, he estimated 3 tones of spunk, 13 lost tampons, and condom wrapped hot dog and a small statue of a sphinx.

His dick would later tell Matthew it was like swimming through and pleasuring a really fun and vast inner workings of a waterbed, a morbidly overweight waterbed that he compared to the size of the late continent Pangaea. He never talked about it to any of his friends or family as they would not have understood and just the idea could induce any normal persons suicidal tendencies. No, it would be and always maintain to be Matthew's dirty little Fat Sex Secret.