My love is a BBW.
She is a BBW with all that connotes, the zest for life, the sensuality, everything.
She is heavy, though not as heavy as some. She likes to eat and is not ashamed of that. She likes all that the senses can provide her. She loves to sing, dance - she is a surprisingly skilful dancer -- and read, write, listen to music. She's sensual and natural; she loves to go barefoot, to sleep in the nude, and when alone at home she seldom or never wears any clothes. And she loves sex. My, does she love sex.
I still remember the first time I met her, in real life (we'd been corresponding over the net for over a year before that). Since we are from different countries and half the world lay between, I had to fly to her. It was a complicated process involving two days' journey for me, three changes of aeroplane, and virtually no sleep; so when I arrived at her place in the late afternoon I was practically sleepwalking. We hugged, and kissed, but all I wanted to do was fall asleep, and I hit the bed as soon as I could get unpacked.
Around ten that evening I woke to a gentle stroking of my brow and face. I opened my eyes and found her standing by my bedside, completely naked. The dim light through the window (it was summer and the extreme Northern latitudes, near the Arctic Circle) shone on her bare white body and the curve of her breasts and belly. Still half asleep, I slid over toward the wall and she got into bed beside me. We hugged and kissed, and her hands slipped under my shorts and T-shirt to rub my rapidly arousing body.
You have to understand that although my body was prepared for sex, my mind was jet-lagged, half-asleep with exhaustion and still on autopilot. I had naturally known that we'd have a lot of sex together but had never actually imagined that it would happen within a couple of hours of my arrival. (Later she told me that she had simply been unable to keep off me.) As my hands naturally slid over her breasts to cup her nipples, she began to sigh and moan. My hands slid lower over her belly and found the moist cleft of her vulva. She was already wet and opened for me easily as I slid a finger in. My previous lover had hated me doing this, and had long since banned me from finger-fucking her (not much to be surprised that we broke up, huh?). Not this woman. She raised her hips to allow my finger deeper access, and I slid in and out of her warm wet vagina, my finger encountering the little bump of her G spot. And when she came, she sighed and trembled from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.
A little later I discovered that I was naked. I have no memory of removing my clothes and I don't recall her removing them either. Does it matter? I was naked, and we embraced, our nude bodies touching, and I buried my face between her breasts and kissed her nipples, feeling them crinkle and harden under my tongue.
She lay down on her back and urged me on her. I entered her easily, holding myself up on my arms so my pelvis was pressed against hers, feeling her take me in and hold me inside her, and as I moved, she undulated under me, her vagina clasping my penis until she came, and again, she came.