I was adrift.
I'd just broken up with my longterm girlfriend, Grace. It was a familiar story. We'd met in high school and stayed together for far too long. She wasn't a bad person - in fact she was lovely - but we were a bad match. Though beautiful and creative she was uptight, anxious, and by the end of the relationship, codependent. I could tell we were holding each other back. And there was something else.
The sex.
It had never been great. She was shy, conservative. She had trouble getting wet. We would often end up giving each other hand jobs rather than have full intercourse. All of this is theoretically fine, but I just felt like we were missing out on so much. Plus, we were physically a bad match. I was dark, short, strong, with a thick patch of chest hair. She was thin, willowy, fair, with thin limbs and small breasts. We just didn't do it for each other.
Towards the end of the relationship, someone else had caught my eye. Melanie. She first caught my eye at a big loft party. I'd seen her around before, it seems like we ran in similar circles. She was pretty, with dark hair, nice full lips, smooth skin, and large green cat-like eyes. But this time was different. She had gained weight. As I saw her happily chatting with a group of friends, I leered at her new shape. Her previously sizeable breasts had grown into huge heavy hangers. Her hips had widened, thighs thickened, her ass had plumped out. Her belly had grown to a squishy band of flesh below her lovely big tits. Her arms strained against the then sweater sleeves. Where before she'd been a sweet little treat, now she was a feast.
We smiled at each other, and later in the evening engaged in some small talk. She had an exhibition she wanted me to see, I was working on a script, this that, whatever. Nothing to right home about. But there was a palpable energy of mutual lust passing between us.
Before I left, to head home to another chilly night with Grace, she handed me a scrap of paper with her number.
"You should call me," she said with a coy smile. "See what happens."
But I didn't call. Not right away. Because the other shoe was about to drop.
Hope had been fucking her neighbour. For months. I couldn't understand why she hadn't told me before, as we'd been having by a thread for a long time. But maybe she was scared. We broke up and I moved out, and after a few weeks of pain I started to feel happy. Free. And so so horny.
I started jerking off 3 times a day. I'd been repressed for too long. It was summer and I spent hours sitting on patios and street corners, drooling over fat asses in short shorts and yoga pants, big sweaty tits in tank tops, women bending over showing me their big behind or tangling cleavage. I had a perpetual boner. But I was still too raw to try anything.
I finally ran into Melanie one afternoon like that. I was early fall now but still warm and sunny out. I was sipping an americana at a shady cafe, watching a woman struggle to find something in her purse, giving me a clear view of a her big jiggly cleavage.
"Like what you see?"
I turned an there was Melanie, sitting beside me. She looked good. She was wearing a flow skirt that hugged her generous hips, and a tank top that flashed just enough cleavage but clung to her massive titties. I was caught.
"It's okay, she has nice tits. So do I, though."
She thrust them out for me.
'Yeah, you do. Very nice."
"You never called me."
"Yeah, sorry. I was still dealing with my ex."
"I get it. I'm not mad or anything. Just wish you had called."
"Is to too late?"
She thought for a moment, running her hand through her long hair, showing he a flash of her hairy armpits.
"No, not too late. But it'll cost you."
"How much?"
"Flowers."
She got up and turned to go.
"Looking forward to hearing from you."
I went home and jerked off, summing so hard my cum shot out across the room.
*******
The conversation was brief. She said she was "in the middle of something" but we could meet the next night at a bar near her place. She was direct, not unpleasant. Afterwards my cock was rock hard.
*******
How to describe the feeling as I walked through the chill night air from my new apartment to the bar... I had always been pretty omnivorous in my taste in sexual partners. Different styles, different kinds of connections, and of course, different bodies. But I felt something had been awakened in me. After several years of surviving on the meagre morsels of sexual gratification of my last relationship, Melanie represented a true feast: the lush body, the rampant horniness, the frank, direct expression of desire. It was like throwing gasoline on an ember, and I was bursting into flame.
*******
When I arrived she was already there, sitting at a small table against the wall, candle aglow, a carafe or red wine on the table.
"I hope you don't mind," she said, pouring me a glass.
"Not at all."
"Just felt right, for the occasion."
"To the occasion"
