DISCLAIMER! READ BEFORE YOU READ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This one took me a while holy shit. I couldn't stop writing though, so sorry for the length lol.
This is a story about BBW MILFs with cocks. Based highly on the works of DittoChad, Fellatrix, SleepyB, RadRoachHD, and HoneyBread. Please look them up before reading as it taps into a specific body type that isn't everyone's cup of tea. Mainly women with some weight on them and some body hair. Mature women at that. So this will not be like super model women with dicks, please be aware lol.
Nasty raw sex and force as well. This is in noncon for a reason after all. So please make sure you're aware before you read!!!!
Again I do not condone coercion, non consent, and some of the abusive themes present within the story. Please ask consent, don't be weird, match each others freak before doing anything, etc.
Also while we're on the topic of education and informing. I don't write futa stuff all that much, just due to personal moral conflicts. Porn is inherently fetishizing something, and in this case it's trans women, who probably have enough going on. Due to this, I'd like to make it clear, please do not fetishize trans women, they are human beings who exist and have personalities and fears just like you and I. If you do meet a trans woman that you're clicking with romantically, do not be weird, and do not start asking shit like 'do you top' right off the bat. They aren't a femdom fetish, they are humans. They have enough going on from all sides. Sorry to tangent, but given that I'm basically contributing to stigma within society, it's fair that I at least educate readers to a small extent.
ANYWAY! This is dirty and unrealistic smut vomited from the deepest parts of my brain while I'm bored. Best way to outlet it? No clue, but I'm doing it anyway because the urge is fucking strong man... I can't even describe it haha. Sorry for any spelling mistakes or errors!
ENJOY!
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My name is Ike.
I'm a 23 year old college grad. I have black feathery and fluffy hair that hangs in front of my eyes a little bit. My lips are nice and plush. My skin pale with light freckles across my nose. I'm very skinny and have been described as 'cute' throughout my life, rather than handsome.
I was always naturally hairless, and rather than let that create insecurities, it was actually a blessing. Thankfully I grew up during a time where men like me were seen as more attractive than the more masculine types, among women and gay men at least. As such I was a hit with both guys, girls, and nonbinary folks in university. I should also mention I'm bi, important to this story, because I had a lot of... experience... in college. As a natural switch and player of both sides, I kept a firm effort to keep myself smelling nice and keeping clean, even if I hadn't bottomed in a really long time. I didn't really like receiving in bed all that much, but douching just felt nice more than anything. I also always presented as straight, my body was admittedly effeminate for a guy though.
I was emo during high school which contributed to my overall aesthetic. Naturally I grew out of that in college, and dress a little more punk nowadays, I had yet to earn a battle jacket though. Usually dressed in either a cut off graphic tee, or a tight white shirt with dark pants and black sneakers.
I'm currently staying with my parents to save on rent while I look for a full time job. I live in the Midwest of the United States, where the winters are harsh, and the summers are beautiful. My neighborhood was always quiet and nice too.
This story isn't just about me though, sorry...
In our neighborhood of the suburban Midwest, there's a woman that lives by herself down the block. Nobody knows why she's alone, but it's certainly an oddity in suburbia, a single person with an entire house to themselves. On top of that she took poor care of the place. It was a very small one story black tiled house with a screen porch. Her fence was chain linked and covered in weeds and overgrowth. Her lawn was mowed maybe three times a year, creating a brown and uneven patch of a front lawn.
Her name is Megan. She's gotta be in her mid to late 40s at least. She had a similar look to that woman in LA from the billboards, Angelyne (look her up if you don't know what I mean). Her face was different but she had the same white blonde poofy hair, pink hairband separating her bangs, an ugly shade of hot pink lipstick that covered her puffy lips, and heavy black eyeliner that was often smudged or poorly applied. She colored her brows as well. She had no plastic surgery from what we could tell though. Her face was slightly weathered and she had some lines, but she wasn't wrinkly or hag-like. At least the alabaster foundation she wore was covering it if so.
She was also huge. She stood about 6 foot something, towering over most of us. Her frame was wide and motherly, admittedly there was a voluptuousness to her curves. Her rack and ass were massive but clearly sagging with age and weight. She'd often wear baggy shirts that still managed to cling to her body. She'd be seen in sweats or pajama bottoms a lot too.
Megan was rude, confrontational, and miserly. Her reputation got to the point where she was essentially isolated by the rest of the neighborhood, not really seeming to affect her much. If anything it seemed to be her preference.
I never really met her, I saw her time to time, watching me on her front porch, chain smoking a pack. Sometimes I'd see her make small talk with the young man who delivered the paper, he clearly looked uncomfortable. My best friend Michael lived next door to her, and he made a point to tell us to never interact with her. His parents as well doubled down on this.
There were rumors that she was a bit of a cougar, and aggressively went after young men. Michael told me himself she tried hitting on him one time, that it was the most uncomfortable experience of his life. That his parents literally needed to come out and tell her to back off.
I remember when I was visiting home my Freshman year of college one time for Independence Day. Michael and I were tossing the football back and forth. When it accidentally sailed over his fence into her backyard, I remember the absolute dread on his face.
I went over to go get it and knocked on her door.
She stood over me, hands on her hips. Her voice was fried and husky. A deeper feminine tone.
"Yeah? Whaddyou want?"
"I... uh, we accidentally threw our ball into your yard, I was wondering if I could grab it super quick?"
"That right?" She took a puff of her lit cigarette and blew away from my face.
"...Yeah... sorry ma'am."
"Well. Since you have such good manners, I don't see the harm. Come on."
She gestured inside and walked through her house. I followed meekly.
The house smelled of dust and cigarette smoke. It was surprisingly cleaner inside, but certainly wasn't too appealing. The house was clearly old, stains were on the walls, and there was a lot of clutter in the place. The wood was creaky, and the TV was old as hell. It's as if the place was stuck in the 90s as well. It was very dark in here, not well lit in the slightest. It didn't help that it was fall and the weather was a murky overcast.
"Don't touch any of my stuff, 'kay?" She rasped, but had a serious look in her eye as she turned slightly.
"No. Of course not."
"Mm. Good, I like a man that's obedient."
She took me to the back door. A shoddy glass door with a broken screen covering it. I looked to the left to see an ugly laundry room, and an even uglier bedroom. Her bedroom was rank and humid, stacked dirty clothes in the corner, and stained bed coverings on a queen sized bed, held up by a rusty white metal frame with a headboard. Two old lamps on two older side tables gave the room a sickening glow. The house contrasted with the grey skies of fall gave it an eerie look. To top it off it smelled musty and... raunchy in there. Lord knows the unspeakable things she did to people on that bed.
"Well?"
I snapped to, and saw that she was holding the back door open for me. I'd been staring at her bedroom awkwardly for a little bit.
"What? Did you wanna get in bed with me instead?"
My face turned bright red as I let out a nervous chuckle.
"Uh... haha... no, sorry I just... your house is very nice."
"Isn't it? It's an antique. I can show you around more some if ya want honey..." She grinned.
"Uh... no sorry, I need to get back..." My voice rose an octave as I pushed past her into the back yard.
It was covered in patches of dirt and dried up grass, hardly a backyard. There was a kiddie pool that she used during the summer, now filled with brown water and leaves. I saw the football right in the middle of the filthy yard and grabbed it.
I threw it back over the fence.
Megan was standing in the frame of her back door, waiting for me to come back inside.
"You boys can play in my yard if you'd like..." She called out, "Not like I'm using it for anything..."
"Oh... no thanks Ms. Megan. I think Mike and I are heading back in..."
"Suit yourself sweetheart." She chuffed, "Come by again sometime, I didn't know Mike had such cuties for friends..."
"Ah... sure Ms. Megan. If I have the time..."
I quickly used the side path around her house to get back to Mike's. Not going back into that house ever again.
When I saw Mike, he was inside, he'd been watching through a window.
"She's a fucking creep right?"
"Holy shit dude, what the fuck was that?"
"I know! She said the same kinda shit to me!" Mike quietly exclaimed.
Since then I'd also made an extremely conscious effort to avoid Megan and her house. As did seemingly everybody, and now I know why.
When Megan wasn't antagonizing the neighborhood, she was going out of her way to flirt with every man in their 20s. She clearly had a type as well. Michael was a little beefier than I was, but was still rather skinny. She clearly liked men who were shorter than her.
One year, Mike said he saw the pizza delivery guy, a dude we knew from high school, drop off some food for her. He said Megan practically forced him inside her house. He heard awful things coming from next door, and within three hours he saw him come outside like he'd seen the devil and speed off in his car.
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We cut to now.
I'm living with my parents and so is Mike. Along with our two other friends who we were close with. Their names were John and Marcus. We had known them since middle school. Our dynamic was basically a set of two best friends who ended up together in one group. Mike and I were inseparable, and Marcus and John were the same. That doesn't mean we hated each other, it was simply the vibe.
We were all working dead-end jobs, part time, until we were wealthy enough to move into a place together or get our own apartments in the city. Either way, we were a set of four post-grad losers living with our parents.
One night we were at Marcus' house getting drunk. His parents were away and he was housesitting.
About six beers in, we were all pretty buzzed. It was then that we started doing our favorite game, 'What are the odds?'
'What are the odds?', for those who don't know, is basically a game between two people.
One person will initiate a dare of some kind, the recipient of the dare will set a range of numbers between 1 and however high they choose. Someone counts the two people down and if they guess the same exact number then that person MUST do the dare no matter what. You cannot back out, it's purely honor rules however.
"What are the odds I piss on your Dad's bed?" John slurred, giggling.
"Fuck no! I'm not doing that bro." Marcus argued.
"Come ooooooon, what are the odds?!" I cheered.
"1 in 50 Marcus, come on dawg." Mike laughed.
"1 in 500!" Marcus argued.
