'Best of times; worst of times', it was Charles Dickens who started off his epic tale of 'A Tale of Two Cities' with that phrase and I have often thought that should my life be written about then those few words would neatly sum up my biography.
However, given my life is not yet done, such thoughts maybe a little premature and there might well be a happy ending after all. Suffice to say as things now stand I'm not optimistic about ending the roller coaster that is my run of misfortune.
Growing up, whilst not completely trauma-free, was a mainly happy period of my life. I had a Mom who I idolised and a Dad who wasn't much of a positive role model given that he was completely dominated by his, it has to be said, rather heavy-set wife. I didn't see it at the time but when she used to comfort me whenever things went wrong and held and cushioned me by her large soft breasts, it gave me an appreciation for larger ladies that has stayed with me for the rest of my life. Likewise, to observe how she treated my father and made him completely subservient to her demands in all aspects of their relationship was absorbed by me as being 'normal' and I grew up not knowing any different. It was an observation that set the pattern and my attitudes toward people, women in particular, since those mainly happy days.
I was a studious child never happier than when I could bury myself in a book. I developed a love of English Literature (hence my reference that started this account) and this interest eventually sent me to college to read the subject in earnest. That's not to say that I devoted myself exclusively to books for I was also a fairly decent athlete and until injury put paid to my ambitions I was playing college hockey and had high hopes of graduating to the top tier. However, it was not to be and a broken leg and other complications made that event one of the 'worst of times' because being away from home I didn't have my Mom telling me everything would be alright before hugging me and letting me bury my head into her soft tits.
It was a wretched time and in between my studies I took solace in pursuing the possibilities presented by the embryonic Internet and masturbation. It opened up a whole new world for me and I soon discovered how to connect with people who shared my interests, attitudes and, dare I say, my fantasies. It certainly wasn't an easy process in those day given that most connections were made through email and photos had to shared by making attachments but things took a more positive turn when I discovered how to connect through 'user groups', special interest forums where like-minded people could correspond knowing that their opinions and desires could be freely shared without prejudice.
My surfing in those days introduced me to so many fantasies that had always been there lurking in my imagination. There were forums that focussed on the most explicit and perverse interests and I discovered the fact that black men were generally known to be better endowed that their White counterparts (aka 'me'). Although I didn't have a regular girlfriend at the time it didn't prevent me from constantly imagining a scenario whereby 'my girlfriend' would be hit on by black men while out shopping or maybe hanging with the girlfriends and that I would 'catch' her one day going off with one of them (or more) and her taking matters to the next level. I would get excited at the thought that when she returned home I would quiz her so I could pretend to be just a bit hurt and then to ask to hear the details. She would cry and ask for my forgiveness of her enjoying well-hung black lovers and then she would be surprised that I would only give her my forgiveness if she allowed me to lick her cunt and get some delicious after-sex sperm and pussy juice! God, I can't count how many times I wanked myself silly running through that fantasy.
However, despite the growing interest in seeing images of white women with black cock my true desires lay in the direction that was true to my history and upbringing and I identified myself with a group called 'alt.binaries.plumpers' as being my natural home.
'Plumpers', as I came to call it, was a group that catered for anyone who had an interest in big breasted women. I delighted in seeing pictures of these naked BBW, both amateur and professional models, and as I stroked off all I could see in my head was my Mom and have thoughts of how she used to treat my father and how he used to submissively accede to her every demand. Such thoughts fuelled my fantasies and fired my desires to find someone who might provide a similar relationship. Plumpers was to provide the solution.
Her name was Deidre, a married lady who lived on the other side of the country. She was my dream come true and over the course of a few months I discovered that her and her husband did a lot of wild things and I squirmed with excitement when she hinted that they might be swingers. She sent me lots of pictures of herself including a set of herself in an old style flapper's outfit lying across a player piano and slowly undressing and then using adult toys. We began to correspond by email nearly every day and she loved my comments. She especially liked to know that I was wanking over the pictures she sent and she used to ask if I had any requests. I told her that I didn't mind what poses she made just as long as I could see those large soft tits and maybe have her look as if she was inviting me to caress and suck on those delightful nipples. She often complied with the most explicit photos.
By the turn of the century we had become the best of friends albeit that we hadn't actually met face-to-face. Our relationship had improved along with the technology and email was left behind and we now corresponded, if you can call it that, by real-time Messaging.
Life had changed for both of us. I had graduated from college, my parents had both died and I was feeling quite lonely and vulnerable as I got used to my new situation working and living in Toledo.
For Deidre life had become even more turbulent, she confided in me that her husband had been cheating on her. She explained that the woman who had been a part of their 'social group' and he had secretly been seeing had somehow moved into their family home and was now slowly trying to push Deidre out.
