This story contains interracial oral and anal sex.It also bisexual and gay sex. If any of this offends you STOP RIGHT HERE!
All characters ar at least 18 years old
I was enjoying a shot and a beer at my favorite watering hole by the highway when I overheard a couple arguing drunkenly. The guy was a roly-poly type with a beer gut and a comb-over. His wife had a cute face but was grossly overweight.
The jist of their conversation was that the guy had trouble sexually satisfying the lady. She wanted more sex, and he complained that she was too demanding. Their repartee seemed practiced, as though they had this conversation many times before.
She was at least forty years old. Her morbid obesity shaped her appearance, with a rounded face, a prominent double chin, and enormous breasts. Two distinct rolls of fat adorned her stomach, a testament to the challenges she faced due to her weight.
This pulchritude was crammed into a one-piece black knit dress, which over-emphasized every curve.
"Pull your hem down, Ann! Nobody wants to see your legs! Lord knows I don't."
"Well, if you find them disgusting, and nobody wants to see them, what's the problem," She retorted.
Her tone said she was ready for a fight. The guy huffed and went silent, unwilling to engage.
The woman got up and walked by me on her way to the lady's room.
As she passed by, I couldn't help but notice the impressive proportions of her ass. It swayed and jiggled with a rhythm reminiscent of Jello on springs. The softness of her curves extended beyond her buttocks, with fat hanging from her arms and her breasts swaying from side to side.
My name is Carlos. I own a small ranch out in the Valley. I'm biracial, Hispanic and black and pushing the hell out of fifty years old. The hard work of running a ranch keeps me in reasonable shape. I'm 6''1", 210 pounds.
I'm between girlfriends. The last one didn't like the isolation of living 30 miles from the nearest town. I'm bisexual, which gives me a second option. I'm a Top for several guys in the area who are in the closet; they come out occasionally and spend the night with me.
Some guys, especially the ones in a heterosexual relationship, visit me more than others. They need what we do but deny their basic essence. They're ashamed that they liked to occasionally suck a cock or feel one in their ass.
Isolation also loosens the morals of married women in and around the Valley. They become frustrated with the inattention of their husbands or stupefied by the isolation and seek someone's shoulder to cry on...and a cock to suck and fuck.
Between frustrated married women and closeted men, I fuck regularly
While the fat woman was gone, several regulars came in together and sat down at the bar near the couple and me. They were ranch hands, already drunk and in great form.
Ed, the group leader, is an occasional visitor at my place. He slapped me on my back, displaying a false sense of bonhomie. Ed is a true Bottom.
Of all my male lovers, he is my most frequent visitor. He's at my place at least once a week. In any other world, he would come out of the closet and accept that he was, at a minimum, bisexual. However, his machismo won't let him admit that he loves a cock in his ass more than he likes his cock in a pussy.
To emphasize my dominance, I demanded that he wear lace panties, thigh-high nylons, and pumps when he came by. He's a burly guy, taller and broader than me, and enjoys parading around my place in drag.
He is shacked up with a Hispanic woman whom I occasionally fuck. Neither of them knew I was fucking the other. It probably wouldn't matter if they did.
When the fat lady came back, all eyes turned to her. It was not that she was runway model material; quite the contrary. The county's population was under 2000, with approximately 40% female. She was fresh meat! Given the opportunity, every man in the bar would fuck her.
The guys stared at her huge breasts, swaying from side to side. With jugs that a big., most of the guys didn't notice the bellies and ass that come with them.
"Here comes the entertainment," one guy said, and his buddies applauded.
He was a local rancher also. But as the locals will tell you, he was all hat and no cattle. He talked a good game. However, he knew as much about ranching as I knew about nuclear fission!
"Hi, guys," she laughed good-naturedly.
She slipped back on her barstool, facing me with the regulars on either side of us.
The guys ogled her while laughing amongst themselves. They were lying about what he would do if she allowed them to get in her panties.
"Are you sure you're not a stripper? We need one to liven this place up," another one said, grinning broadly.
"I'm definitely not stripper material," she chuckled, "I don't want this old body to scare you guys."
As the quasi-sexual banter continued, fueled by the regulars' recent paychecks and rounds of drinks, they shamelessly flirted with her. I found myself immersed in the conversation, confidently drinking with the boys.
"Come on, how about a sexy lap dance, at least," one guy asked.
"Hey! You guys don't bother my customers," Carl, the bartender, chimed in.
Carl was married with a passel of kids. He and I hook up occasionally after closing, nothing serious, just getting each other off. We 69ed on the pool table a couple of times a month. I'm not horse-hung, but he's one of the few guys who can take me down their throat.
The fat lady giggled and squirmed but didn't say no. I could tell she was into it but didn't want to seem too eager.
Her husband looked pissed. However, he accepted the free drinks and tried to ignore the fact that with the drinks came the guys flirting with his wife. Finally, he accepted that she might as well dance as long as the cowboys were buying the drinks.
"My husband says it's OK. I'll dance, but no touching," she said.
She stood up and bowed at the waist to drunken applause. Her humongous jugs hug from her chest like udders on a cow.
"If you're going to do it, Ann, hurry the fuck up! We have to be on the road early tomorrow morning. We need to be getting some sleep."
Her husband was intimidated by the guys paying attention to his wife. It was a take on the old story about sour grapes; he said she was too fat, and he didn't want her but was jealous of the attention she was getting.
The bar was part of a rest area just off the Interstate. The rest area consisted of the bar with an attached restaurant and a motel. It sat on the edge of town.
The man who had requested a lap dance found a seat at the end of the bar. She positioned herself in front of him, her back facing his direction, as she began to sway her hips with a captivating fluidity, perfectly synchronized with the pulsating music. With a deliberate and enticing motion, she turned around, gracefully bending forward while maintaining the rhythm, causing her dress to ride up slightly at the back. Her ample bosom leaned forward in this seductive pose, nearly grazing the man's face, leaving him captivated by her sheer presence.
She was a pretty good dancer and carried on, reveling in the locals' lewd comments. Despite her size, there was a feline grace about her that suggested hidden depths. She turned around and bent forward, pushing her ass in the guy's face.
Her knit dress rode up her thighs, exposing her huge white ass. Her ass and thighs were so dimpled with cellulite that they looked like pink golf balls. She wore a black g-string that disappeared in her ass cheeks, so it appeared as if she was naked. Despite her obesity, it was sexy.
She was the kind of woman the average guy wouldn't date but would definitely fuck if his buddies didn't find out.
She turned to face the guys just as the song ended. The regulars loved it, and the guy who got the lap dance loved it the most. He pulled her back onto his lap before she could pull her dress down. He positioned his hand on his lap just before he pulled her down, so his hand was now on her bare ass. I'd find out later that his finger was in her pussy.
She laughed and kicked her legs in the air, wriggling her ass on his hand as he held her there with his free hand. Her husband seemed upset but did nothing to stop his wife.
The guy wiggled his hand and arm, copping a good feel while finger fucking her. She was still giggling, though her gyrations slowed. She was drunk, getting more attention from the bar patrons than she ever got from her hubby, and the finger in her pussy felt good!
Finally, her husband grabbed her and pulled her off the guy's lap. Her dress was around her waist, and her ass was displayed again. She plopped down on the barstool beside her husband as though nothing had happened.
The bar patrons laughed, applauded, and started talking, planning the remainder of their night. There were few options other than this bar and one about 10 miles away in the next town. They decided and were off, thanking the lady.
That left the three of us. We were drunk from the drinks the guys bought. I tried to strike up a conversation, but her husband was fuming.
"Just because they liked me, Harold doesn't mean you should get upset," she spat at him.
"They were laughing at you! Nobody likes a fat old woman!"
"I hate it when you talk to me like that," she said, her voice cracking.
"Hey folks," I said, trying to calm the troubled waters, "it was all good fun, and no one got hurt."
Her husband glowered at me but kept his seat. It was a wise move. We weighed about the same, but I was taller by roughly two inches and in reasonable shape. He looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy.
"The one whose lap I sat in wasn't calling me fat! He fingered my pussy while I was sitting on his lap," she snapped at him.
Harold looked shocked. His face turned red, and the muscles in his neck corded.
"You slut," he growled.
"You watched the whole thing; you saw where his hand was," she said, looking at me.
I nodded yes.
"Was he complaining about me being fat," she asked.
I shook my head, no, and she grinned at me.
"Ann, those guys would have run away in disgust if they had to sleep with you every night like I do," he spat out.
She gave him a long hard look. Then she got up, walked, and stood before me.
"Would you run away in disgust if I sat on your lap," she asked with a wicked grin?
"Leave the poor guy alone. If he let you sit in his lap, it would only be out of pity!"
Harold was pissing me off. I didn't care for the way he was talking to his wife. I was pretty drunk after drinking with the regulars and what I had already.
"You can sit that lovely ass down whenever you want," I told her.
He turned and glared at me but wisely kept his seat.
Ann smiled, faced her husband, leaned forward a little, and lowered her fleshy ass onto my lap. Emulating the guy who got the lap dance, I put my open hand on my lap. Just as she was about to sit on my open hand, she tugged her dress up over her flabby ass checks and sat her warm fleshy ass on my right hand.
