Maureen

We were lying in bed together, still in the afterglow of our second fuck of the afternoon, and we both knew this was the last time we'd be together like this. Maureen's fingers traced across my face, lingering on my lips. She sighed, then looked into my eyes and asked, "Are you going to write a story about me?"

"Maybe. Probably. Would that be okay?"

She paused for a few seconds, then answered. "Yes. But..."

"But?"

"Just be nice. And make me anonymous."

"Of course. You're a wonderful, passionate lover. That's the story."

She smiled. I felt her other hand reach between us and find my deflated penis, holding it gently and giving it affectionate little squeezes. Could she encourage another erection?

"Roll on your back," I told her, and she complied, opening her thighs to my touch. She was oozing my juices. Her clit was still swollen, and my cock was coming back to life.

"Do you want me to suck you?"

"No," I told her, capturing her clitoris between my forefinger and middle finger, then slipping down and curling into her vagina. Maureen exhaled her familiar deep, throaty groan. "I just want to fuck you again."

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It was one of those common Internet stories. We met in an online chatroom. We became good cyberfriends, which later progressed to open flirtation, a few episodes of phone sex, then an agreement to meet for lunch to gauge if we wanted a relationship that was more tactile than textual. And since I was regularly traveling to Maureen's home city for my consulting job, I would have a convenient hotel room at our disposal - which was useful, considering the fact that Maureen was married.

We met face to face in front of the restaurant. She had told me that she was a large woman, but I wasn't totally prepared for the reality. I'd only seen headshots of her, never a full body photo. Maureen was six feet plus, which was a few inches taller than me, and I would guess she weighed well over 300 pounds. She had a bulbous pear of a body, with ponderous breasts and thick stumps for legs. She also had dark, smoldering Italian eyes, a bright mind, a quick wit, and a fiery passion.

The mild awkwardness quickly eased into a comfortable familiarity. We sat across from one another, talking and evaluating. As the lunch date had approached, we had chatted online about the possibility of making use of my hotel room. "I don't know if I'm ready to have intercourse with you right away," she had typed to me. "Maybe just some oral sex?" How could I object to that? As for safe sex, we assured each other of our disease-free states, and Maureen told me that she was unable to have children. If I wanted to use condoms, she told me, that was fine, but she didn't see the need.

And now it was just a matter of who was going to break the ice and broach the subject. Maureen apparently got tired of waiting for me to do it. "We could go somewhere else and sit and continue to talk," she suggested as we waited for the server to bring the check, "or we could just call it a day." She paused, then locked those dark eyes to mine. "Or we could go somewhere private." I heard the sound of breaking ice.

Fifteen minutes later we stepped inside my hotel room, and seconds after that the door was bolted and we were standing a few feet from the king-size bed, embracing and kissing and caressing. I couldn't get my arms all the way around her body, and I had to tilt my head upward to reach her lips, but that didn't matter. Maureen was on fire, and so was I.

Soon we were naked in bed, skin against skin, flesh against flesh. She had big, floppy breasts with surprisingly small pink nipples, a huge belly, massive hips, only a hint of pubic hair above a bare mons that was mostly hidden between those fleshy thighs and only hinted its presence as a shy slit. Though when my mouth got down there, when her thighs spread wide and her cleft bloomed open and flowed with her nectar, her inflamed pussy was pink and pouty and alive.

And her clit was a marvel. It was small at first, but it grew as she became increasingly aroused. Her sighs became moans, her moans became gasps, her gasps became rapidfire pants and guttural groanings and breathy "There! Oh there! Oh God oh God oh God!!" chants. As her climax approached, her clit swelled into a suck-me-hard nubbin the size of the last joint of my little finger. After a few more seconds of swabbing licks and firm sucks, I discovered Maureen's true marvel - her Superwoman-strong kegel clench around my penetrating fingers as her orgasm exploded through her body and ejected my fingers.

Maureen's orgasm came in waves, each signaled by three or four seconds of that powerful clenching grip and her loud, exhaled grunt from above my head. Between the clenches, her muscles relaxed for two or three seconds as she hyperventilated to refill her lungs with oxygen, then another clench would begin. The first clench expelled my fingers with its strength, though I managed to reinsert them during the momentary relaxation. I tried my best to keep them there.

It is difficult to describe the uniqueness of Maureen's muscular clutch. Some of my lovers have had voluntary control of their kegels, blessing me with little nibbles around my penetrating shaft. Maureen's squeezes weren't gentle. They gave me concern about the prospect of bruises to my erection.

I moved upward on her body. Maureen's eyes were wild, her hands tugged at me. I positioned myself between those thick thighs and I strained forward to notch my shaft lengthwise in her flowing slickness. Our eyes locked as my cock stroked between her labia and across that meaty nubbin of a clit, and her hands on my hips gave me her answer about the question of intercourse-vs-no-intercourse. "Inside!" she breathed. "Get inside!"

And so I did. My cockhead breached the still-snug ring of muscle at her entrance, discovering her liquid silky heat inside. Deeper, I had to get deeper. Maureen opened her thighs as far as she could manage, bending her knees and holding them back with her hands, and I pressed forward, pushed forward, forced my way forward to get more and more of my cock inside her very snug and very wet snatch.

I knew I wasn't going to last long.

I tried to find the right position between her thighs, the best position of my body given the size of her tummy, which would allow me to stroke as deep as I desperately wanted to get, to enjoy as much of her delightful cunny to embrace my shaft as I could manage. In, out, in, out. I positioned myself almost upright and caressed her clit with my thumb as I rocked my hips - which, I discovered, was a major winner in her book. That thin muscle ring nibbled around my shaft, though it was a poor shadow of the massive, much broader clench that my fingers had felt during her earlier orgasm.

She was getting close, too, which was good timing because I was getting there faster. "Can I ...?" I breathed, and she answered with gasps, "Yes. Yes. Inside. Inside me." I extracted my strumming thumb and steadied myself with outstretched arms and just gave her - maybe more accurately, gave myself - a final few strong, driving thrusts until I jetted my juices as deep as I could get inside her soft silk. Maureen didn't cum that time. She just stared at my face with an open-mouthed broad smile as I pulsed, again and again.

When my cock softened and slipped out, I glanced down to see Maureen's vagina oozing my white fluid. I flopped beside her on the bed and kissed her. My free hand caressed her moist skin, face to breasts, belly to thighs to dripping pussy. She kept her legs spread wide. Maureen was a glutton for being touched.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

She and I went on like that for almost a year. Once a month I'd travel to my job for face-to-face meetings with co-workers and face-to-face sex with Maureen. My first day in town was devoted to Maureen. She'd knock on my hotel room door in the late morning, and we'd spend three hours together in bed. Her first orgasm was always from my mouth - and always with the same explosive clenches, although I'd learned to anticipate them and to keep my fingers happily buried deep.

Then we'd fuck. Because of Maureen's size and weight, it was always in the missionary position. She'd spread her thighs wide open in the most delightful way, and I'd nestle between them and stroke my cock up and down her pussylips and still-stiff clitoris. Sometimes I'd stay outside like that until she climaxed a second time, though more often - especially for the first round - she'd reach a hand between her legs and press my shaft downward until I slipped inside and was captured by her snug, furnace-hot slickness.

Maureen was a marvel. She was vocal in a throaty, gasping-groaning-moaning way. Her forehead would get damp and stay that way. Her hips would rock upward to meet my downward thrusts, deep and stretching, and her orgasm never needed a verbal announcement. Her breathing quickened, her eyes took on a wild look, and I learned how to anticipate her explosion and to time my final thrust to bury my cock as deep as I could get it and to use my strong legs to fight her Superwoman clench that would otherwise have popped me out. I'd count, one-two-three-four, and hold myself there inside her, then when the clench released for a few seconds and Maureen's hyperventilating breaths restarted, I'd give her another few in-out thrusts, then bury my cock again, just before her next massive clench grabbed around my shaft. And when her orgasm was finished, I'd pound back into her now extra-juicy vagina and unload my own liquid contribution.

Afterwards, on one such morning when my heart rate had slowed to a mere hammering thump and my erection had shriveled and departed from her honeyed grasp, I eased off her body and slumped on the bed next to her, my arm slung across her chest below her ample breasts. "Jesus, Maureen, you always make me come so hard."

I felt her hand find my penis. Without hesitation her hand embraced its wet, sticky length, then began a gentle, rhythmic caress of subtle squeezes and pulls. "Now where did that big hard thing go?" she whispered. "Can it come out and play again soon?"

"Oh, I think you can count on it," I told her. Maureen giggled and nuzzled moist breaths on my neck, her hand working its magic on my penis, my hand finding her still-spread thighs and tracing her juicy folds. A large dollop of semen oozed south, below the opening. I worked the fluids back to her pussy, causing her to moan softly and murmur something indistinct.

"Mmm?" I kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then my lips found hers. "What did you say?"

"I was thinking of how I can smell myself on your face. And I was thinking how much you flood me," she said.

"Is that bad?"

"Oh, no! No, I love it. I love that smell. I love that feeling."

"Tell me." I had her fat labia yawning open again. Her clit was stiff and obvious and happy to be played with. I didn't have to look to know she was bright red down there.

"Some of the time - well, most of the time - I can feel it when you come. I mean, not just feel your cock throbbing. I can almost always feel that. Unless I'm coming at the same time. But sometimes I can feel your juices. Kind of an extra added warmth, and I feel myself getting more slippery." She paused for a moment. "It's very special. I don't get that at home."

Her hand had me half-hard again. As for Maureen, she never stopped being ready for more.

"You almost never talk about him, you know."

"I know."

"I don't mean to pry. Really, it's really none of my business."

"No, it's okay," she said. Now she was adding a slight sideways thumb movement that was brushing the base of my cock. "At home I don't get touched very much. And you touch me a lot. And I don't get oral sex."

"You know I love doing that. I do it for me as much as do it for you."

"I know that." She was squeezing more firmly now. "And he's..." Maureen paused. She was searching for words.

"He's what?"

"Oh, you men get your egos so easily bruised. I'm trying to think of how to explain this."

I was at full staff now. Her fingers loosened their mild grip and began to lightly stroke along the length of my shaft, from base to tip.

"Bob," she began, "Bob is bigger than you are." I winced. "But for me that's a big, big negative."

"Because?"

"Because of lots of things. He's always in a hurry. There's not much foreplay. So I'm tight. And dry. He just sort of wants to get inside me and just - you know. Just get it over with and get back to the tv."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be. We've been in this rut for years."

"Ouch."

"Yes, sometimes 'ouch'." I curled two fingers up inside her. Maureen definitely wasn't tight and dry now. "But with you... Not that you're small!" Her hand clenched around me and held tight for a few seconds. "With you," she continued, "I can feel much more. I can feel you moving inside me." Her hand stroked me to emphasize her words. "I can feel more of your shape. I can feel your cock spreading me open when you first go inside me, and I can feel it moving higher up inside. And you don't bash my cervix and bruise my ovaries."

It was time. I rolled on top of her again, hooked my arms behind her knees and raised her vagina into position. Nestling closer, my shaft homed in on the heat of her furrow, gave a few slow strokes to greet her clitoris, then dipped lower. Maureen's heavy lidded eyes grew darker, her mouth pursed with an O of anticipation. My cockhead found the spot.

"Oh," she whispered, "Like that..." and my bulbous cockhead parted her labia and inched inward into her silky embrace. Maureen, her body, the bed, my face - it all smelled of sex. Raw, primal sex. Her juices. My juices.

"Like that," I echoed her, and then I pushed harder, burying myself in her slickness.

"And that," she breathed heavily. "You're hard again."

"That shouldn't be news to you," I told her. "You had your hand wrapped around it."

"It's not the same," she replied. Her eyes bored in on mine as I began to fuck her. "It's never the same."

Maureen came first. My lazy strokes were matched by her soft moans until an internal switch got flipped and her breaths quickened, her eyes closed, and her hips rocked with a "go faster!" rhythm. Red-faced, she climaxed with a groaning, pleasured release and clenched long and strong around my cock that was buried deep and rooting in stretching circles. I felt all-powerful, rock-hard and in full control, and Maureen's involuntary squeezes weren't going to drag me over the cliff - at least not yet.

Maureen's vagina had gone from creamy to liquid. My thighs pressed hers high, my hands held hers above her head, and I fucked her with steady, assertive thrusts. "I love your cock," she breathed, and I notched up my tempo. I knew her body. When she was turned on like that, she was going to pop again, and soon.

I took her there. Again and again, gradually faster and faster, harder and harder until my pubic bone was thwacking against her inflamed pussylips. This time Maureen's climax was a long, sustained peak of grunting, gasping breaths, a stiffened body and frozen face, and an upper vagina that quivered against my shaft as I held myself deep inside her.

And then I was ready to let go. I restarted slow strokes. Maureen's eyes reopened and focused on mine. Her face was flushed. Strands of hair glued to her perspiring forehead. Her mouth pursed open. "Do you feel how hard you make me?" I asked.

"Come for me," she gasped.

She didn't need to ask twice. I found the rhythm that I knew would get me there, those deep thrusts with just the right side to side movements. "Give it to me," she breathed. "Hot and sticky." I smiled at her, and she nodded back.

My buildup was slow, but the end result was inevitable. It began deep in my abdomen and expanded into an all-body aura. My cock stiffened into its final rigid glory. I dug my knees into the mattress and strained my hips forward and exploded that first glorious jetting stream of white fire. Maureen's magical kegels gripped around the base of my shaft and clamped down. My second spurt forced its way through. She released her clench, I spurted again, then she reasserted her grip in time to welcome my next pulse. "I feel it," she spoke to me with her whispers and her eyes, urging me onward, "I feel it. I feel it."

My spurts weakened, Maureen's kegels relaxed their hugs, and we clung together, both of us spent. Maureen's fingers slid up and down my moist back. We kissed, we nuzzled, we whispered sweet nothings into each other's ear, and for a few minutes I forgot about her husband.