Let me put it all out on the table; I'm a horny guy who loves curvy ladies. Bigger ladies may not always be everyone's bag, but I can say from present experience that they are VERY hot in bed and total sweethearts out of it.
In times like those, it's always good for a man to step outside of his comfort zone once in a while. If I hadn't, I doubt I would have found my current girlfriend and traveling partner.
I wasn't always this way. For ten years, I was married to a girl who was a head turner. Quite frankly, sex was the way Melissa and I got together back in high school. She was a cheerleader (and what dude doesn't fantasize about banging one of those?) dating some jock at the time. Some of her girlfriends made a bet for a hundred bucks that she and her best friend wouldn't blow a nerdy guy. The best friend lost and had to pay up, but Melissa took the challenge.
Guess who the nerdy guy was? Yeah, me.
I didn't exactly break mirrors, but I wasn't gorgeous either. I look pretty much the same now, maybe twenty pounds heavier, but still in good shape. I'm five eight, have blond, shoulder-length hair that's kind of wavy in places, and blue eyes. The only thing that's different these days is that I'm not the quiet loner I was twelve years ago.
Anyway, after the homecoming game in our senior year, I was in heaven when Melissa approached me. Imagine a short nerd like me getting the attention of a cheerleader with a killer figure, round ass, and big tits. After everyone was gone, I asked where her boyfriend was, hoping he wouldn't show up and kill me for being with his chick. Melissa told me he'd gone to get drunk with his buddies and we could hang out for awhile while she nearly dragged me under the bleachers.
Imagine my surprise when she yanked down my jeans, her eyes huge at the sight of my cock. Even back then I was pretty big–nine inches and cut–but I'd been a virgin right up to the moment my dick went down Melissa's throat. She gave me a deep-throat blow job until I shot my load down her gullet. Some girls would probably get pissed, but she didn't, taking down every bit of creamy, hot cum.
We met under the bleachers again the following Friday, but that time, Melissa wanted to fuck. She was my first pussy, and it felt good, even with the rubber she'd given me to use.
Melissa moaned as her body shuddered in what I would discover it was one of the ways to tell a girl was having an orgasm. I too was getting close; her pussy was so hot!
"Ohhh, yes, Brandon," she cried. " Fuck me harder. I want all of your cock in me! FUUUUUUUUUUCK ME!"
When we'd both cum, I pulled out and ditched the condom, hiding it well in a trash can. It was shortly after I returned that Melissa confessed that she sucked my cock the week before and had sex with me that night only to win a bet. But I was such a sweet guy she wanted to see me again. She even showed me a video of us doing it!
"Why and how did you tape us fucking?" I asked, alarmed.
She pointed toward a thatch of weeds, saying she set up the video camera there and just retrieved it while I was throwing away the used rubber.
"Have to have proof that we did it for my bet," she added. "I have the one of me sucking your cock on here too."
"Oh my God. You're one sick bitch."
"Don't worry, Brandon; I'll be the only one to see it after I collect on my bet. I'll need some visuals to make me cum again while thinking about what you and I did tonight. I loved having you in me."
"Did it really feel that good in your pussy?" I asked.
"Better than I ever imagined, even when I sucked you last week. And you were so gentle with me both times, not like my boyfriend. He just throws me down, shoves it in, pushes it in and out until he cums, then collapses. Believe it or not, Mike's dick isn't even anywhere near as big as yours."
I didn't ask why she stood with him. He was a jock and as popular as Melissa was, so it was par for the course.
After that, we would hook up under the bleachers following the Friday night games. And Melissa always provided the rubbers. Even after graduation, we would meet for sex twice a week at the shitty apartment I'd rented with two other guys at the time if I had the place to myself. If I didn't, we'd fuck in Melissa's car.
"I love having you do this to me, Brandon," she panted. "You always knew how to make me cum. Mike doesn't get me off like you do. I have to fake it with him and then get myself off when it's over."
Despite secretly having the two-day-a-week trysts with me, she was still openly dating Mike. I should have known back then she was a slut, but I was enjoying both the attention of a hot girl and the easy pussy she gave me, so I had no cause to complain at the time.
I guessed she and Mike were still fucking the rest of the week—in spite of his smaller cock and her faking orgasms with him—because Melissa came to me in tears one weekend. She was pregnant, and the asshole dumped her after she'd told him about the kid. Worse, her father had called her a whore and threw her out. She had nowhere to go, so I did the logical thing—I asked her to marry me.
Tiffany was a beautiful baby, and I loved her as if she was my own. I spent as much time with Tiffy as possible and bought a house for all of us to live in when I got my first earnings as a long-distance trucker. Melissa always hated my job, but the bitch loved the paychecks.
Things seemed to be okay until Melissa got pregnant again when Tiffy was eight. I was thrilled about the baby; she clearly wasn't. All she did was bitch about how she worked to get her figure back after having Tiffy and keeping it all those years, and now there was going to be another brat to ruin it again.
"I'm not getting any younger, Brandon," she complained. "Do you know how hard it is to get back into shape after having a baby? Besides, you're rarely here anyway. I don't see why you didn't go to college and have a real career like some of my friends' husbands do."
Ignoring her ranting about my chosen vocation, I tried to appeal to her about Tiffy being excited about getting a sibling, but it fell on deaf ears.
A couple of months later, Melissa had gone into the hospital while I was on the road. For a long time, I thought she'd lost the baby. I was devastated about it, but when I found out later she had an abortion, I became pissed and threatened to divorce her and take Tiffy. Looking back, I should have.
When I calmed down later, we talked for a long time and I changed my mind about divorce. Things went downhill from there, though; I was lucky if Melissa and I had sex once a week when I was home between runs, and whereas she'd complain when I went on the road before, it seemed now she couldn't wait to get rid of me.
When I came home early from a run shortly after Tiffy's tenth birthday, I found out why her mother was so anxious to keep me away.
I discovered Melissa in OUR bed while Tiffy was in school, riding the cock of a twenty-two year old college kid who lived across the street.
Apparently last couple of years, while I'd been away on runs, he replaced me in bed. If that wasn't enough, I found out later Melissa went on birth control pills not long after she'd aborted our baby.
I saw a lawyer that afternoon and filed for divorce. Since I didn't father Tiffy, I didn't get custody, but I didn't have to pay her whore mother child support either.
Frankly, the bitch didn't get much, since most of everything we had was in my name and her lazy ass hadn't contributed shit toward the bills. Yeah, I was smart enough to do that.
I doubt her young stud would provide for her as well as I did before she slept around on me. The only drawback was that I couldn't help but feel sorry for Tiffy. I tried to stay in her life since I'd been the only daddy she'd known her whole ten years.
But Melissa took Tiffy and moved out of state after Melissa's sex toy dumped her for a younger, tighter pussy. Last I'd heard, rumor was she'd been working as a high-class hooker.
It didn't surprise me since Melissa being a whore dated back to high school the first time she'd sucked my dick under the bleachers, and who knows how many other guys she had fucked between Mike and me.
I briefly doubted Mike had even been Tiffy's dad; Melissa probably got knocked up with the poor kid by some other guy she'd sucked and screwed to win a bet. But hindsight is always 20/20.
***
I didn't see anyone in the two years following my divorce. Sure, in my business, I'd either occasionally fuck one of the hookers who hung out at truck stops or the rare young hitchhiker who happily gave me a blow job or a piece of ass in exchange for a ride to the next town.
Then I met her. Taylor.
She was always very sweet to me when I would come into the truck stop during my runs where she was a waitress. The poor woman had to have sore feet and be tired from working such long hours for shitty pay. But it seemed as if she loved her job in spite of the thinner, hotter waitresses having fuller sections and getting bigger tips.
I also noticed something else, but thought nothing of it at the time. A few of the other waitresses would take guys back where the restrooms were, be gone for several minutes, and then return. Sometimes, the men would have flushed appearances.
She was no Melissa, but Taylor was a pretty girl. She had near-black hair and wide blue eyes that always lit up when she smiled—which was often. She was plump, about a hundred and eighty pounds, but I couldn't help but look at Taylor's delicious ass when she'd to bend over for something.
It was all I could do to conceal the hard-on I would get at the sight. I was always an ass man, and Taylor even had my slut ex-wife beat in that department, let alone every other waitress in the place.
Over the ensuing months when I'd visit the truck stop and Taylor wasn't busy, we'd chat and had gotten to know each other a little. She knew about my divorce, how lonely it got on the road sometimes, how much I missed Tiffy and the way Melissa whored around on me before we split up. And of course, I'd give Taylor hefty tips, no matter how much my bill was.
"What made you start sitting in my section after you first came in here, Brandon?" she asked one day.
"Why shouldn't I? You have a great smile and the service is much better in your section. I have yet to have an empty coffee cup. You could teach some of those bitches over there how to treat a hungry trucker right."
Taylor blushed. "You are just the sweetest man."
"I should be as lucky as your husband to come home to such a good woman," I said, getting a sneak peek of her ass while she turned to get a coffee pot.
She turned around to refill my cup. "Oh, I'm not married."
I took a sip of coffee. "Boyfriend, then."
"None of those either."
"You have to be kidding me. You're a lovely, intelligent young woman. You're what, at least twenty-five?"
"Try adding seven years," she laughed softly. "Brandon, look at me and then look at girls like Ginger over there. Men want to be seen with the Gingers of the world, not a Taylor."
"You only have a couple of years on me, Tay. And don't put yourself down so much. You have a lot to offer someone."
