Coming Together With Curves

by Victoria Blisse

  "Don't worry, he's big but he's a softie. Which is why I can never resist him. My stupid panties get moist every time he's near, but damn, he's bad for me. So needy, you know?"

  "Not really." I make a mental note; doesn't like needy. Do I come across as needy? I don't know where to look or what to say now, and there's this awkward moment that seems to stretch out forever.

  "Hmm, you're cross with me about something."

  "Well, your attitude kinda stinks."

  "You're right, I didn't even want to know your name. I'm so sorry." She pouts like I told her off for stealing cookies.

  Aww, my heart breaks, I wanna spoil her rotten, feed her all the treats she desires.

  "Why don't we start again, eh? My name is Charlie, nice to meet you." I hold out my hand for one of those official handshakes. Probably as close as I'm going to ever get to Bella. Well, it would have been had she reciprocated. But no, she leaves me hanging. Damn, I feel silly.

  "Isabella, but most just call me Bella."

  "Of course, Bella Buxom."

  She blushes—a really pretty rose colour—and waves over a waiter and orders chow-mein for two. Exchanging pleasantries with the waiter, it's obvious she eats here often. She's sweet with the kid, asks how a job interview went. Not the girl I met in the alleyway. I suspect her cold exterior is a guard to her heart.

  The noodles arrive. Her mouth transfixes me again as she eats dinner, pausing from time to time to lick her lips Nigella Lawson-style. She even makes a meal out of her fingers when she finishes, sucking each of them clean. Shit, my prick is throbbing so bad now. I'm debating a trip to the gents' loos to whack one out.

  She thanks me and exits the restaurant. No 'see you again.' Nothing. Except for a reminder not to call her. Oh well. Probably for the best. My stiffy is sticking out a mile. It might have come across as needy if she'd seen it. Chow-mein will never be the same again.

  I go to pay the bill, but the young Asian host insists I shouldn't pay. I ask why.

  He leans forward and whispers. "This restaurant belongs to Isabella's ex, he insists she eats for free."

  Shit, what kinda game am I entwined in? Attempting to understand women in general is bad enough. But Bella, Bella is a whole different act. No standard steps here. I have to choreograph as I go.

  * * * *

  I'm alone in my apartment again, stripped down to my boxers, ready to settle in for some late night TV viewing. Another wank session is on the cards, too. I've been hard for two hours now, I can probably only just take applying lube before I release my frustration.

  There's a knock at the door. Must be a neighbour because I have to ring visitors through at the main door with there being six apartments in my building. I don't bother throwing on a t-shirt. What's the point? Besides, maybe it'll be Arlo. He can cop an eyeful of what he isn't, if you know what I mean. Yeah, I'm talking dick size. And I'm pretty buff, too. I work out every lunchtime. Don't think the same can be said for him. He's just a pretty boy with an Italian accent.

  I swing the door open. It's Bella. And she's soaked through. Her fucking nipples are visible through her wet dress. Shit. I ram a fist into my mouth and bite down, my hard-on threatening to erupt right there and then.

  "Puppy, I need your help," she cries.

  I want to throw my arms around her, make her stop sobbing. But I'm suspicious. Besides, my dick would get in the way. "How did you get into the building?" I ask, glancing down the hallway to ensure a hulking ex isn't hiding in the shadows waiting to rob me and using Bella as bait. "And what happened to not calling?"

  She trails an index finger down my chest. Shivers follow in its wake and my balls draw up. "It's my ex. He's so angry, saw us eating together at Young's and thinks there's something going on."

  "What did you expect to happen? It is his restaurant." This girl is a work of art, she really loves to fuck with me. I'm not sure if I appreciate that or not, yet.

  She pauses her touch at my belly button and raises an eyebrow. "You going to ask me in or what, puppy?"

  "I suppose." Damn, I never could refuse a damsel in distress, even if she is a bitch. "So, what's going on, Isabella?"

  "Don't call me that," she snaps. "It's what he calls me."

  "Fine." My fingers are turning white because my fists are so tight. "Bella, what's the deal? And how did you find me?"

  "A woman has her ways. Now, I need a place to stay tonight, puppy."

  "And you thought you'd hit me up for such a place?"

  "Of course. Now be a love and change the bed linen for me." She throws her huge bag on the floor and gazes at me. So beautiful, so...in my apartment!

  "I haven't said if you can spend the night here or not." I close the door behind her and curse myself for doing so. Basically, I just told her she can stay with that action.

  "Fine, fine. How about I sing you a song while you change the bed?"

  I can't roll over and play puppy, my God, I'll be destined for dog meat. "Bella, I'm not spending the night on the couch so you can avoid your boyfriend. Wait, you'll sing me a song?"

  A wry smile breaks her perfect pout. "Ex. And who said anything about the couch? You can come curl up with me."

  "Is that a promise?" I'm putty in her hands. Doomed. I probably was the first second I saw her perform.

  "If you're good, of course. So, can I stay?"

  "How can I say no? But I need to know if there's any chance of your ex turning up here."

  "Not likely, puppy." She slinks to me and fondles the elastic around my boxers.

  I'm beyond horny at this point, remembering how ample her curves are, wondering if her glowing tan is all over. I wanna see her naked, without the tinsel and tassels. Wanna....

  "Why?" I try to stay focused, try to will myself to chill.

  "He won't be bothering me any more." Her hand is now over my crotch, and I find myself moving so her touch rubs me.

  "Because?" She wraps her fingers around my hard-on and squeezes. My head is exploding with thoughts. Bella is holding my swollen flesh. She strokes it, teases it. I can't think anymore. Can't move. Can't speak. What did I ask her again? Oh yeah, what'd she done with her ex.

  "I snitched. The police will be at my place as we speak, arresting him. Oh don't look so worried, puppy. It's nothing too scary, just a small case of assault and battery."

  "Fucking hell. He's a big softie, that's what you said." My mouth drops. Nothing like finding out the girl fondling your dick has a big scary ex to kill the mood.

  "So I lied." She waved her hand, her nails coated with the reddest nail polish. "I was afraid you'd get scared."

  "Am I just a chew toy for you, Bella?"

  "Oh, don't pout, puppy." She slides her arms around me, her hands fondling the nape of my neck. It feels right, like she's been my lover for years. "Look, I'll be honest. Your kind face lured me in." She cups my cheekbones. "The kinda looks to make a girl swoon, make her feel safe, and loved. I haven't felt loved in such a long time."

  "I'll make up the bed for you."

  "Oh, Charlie, I know I have a cold, hard exterior, but trust me when I say I'm all fuzzy and cuddly when you get to know me."

  "I know. I also know you have a warm heart."

  "How could you possibly—"

  "I was being sarcastic."

  "Charlie...oh, your name is puppy perfect. Anyway, Charlie, don't take this the wrong way, but why me? There are many other girls who perform at the club, many girls half the size of me who would dote on you. So why did you single me out?"

  "They don't have your sass or your confidence, Bella. That's what makes you sexy. And your curves."

  "Hmm, I knew there was another reason I'd like you. A man who loves a real woman. You and me, we're a perfect match." She pushes me around to the sofa, shoves me down and sticks a six inch heel against my chest.

  "Whoa." I throw my arms up, ready to surrender, ready to shoot a load.

  "Wanna play?"

  I nod, thinking my head might fall off I'm doing it
at such force. Gotta love a girl who knows what she wants, especially if what she wants is me.

  She kicks her shoes off and straddles me, my prick so hard it nudges her soft mound. Fuck this, I'm not waiting. I grab hold of her squishy bottom and pull her down on me. Her clothes are damp, but neither of us seem to mind. She giggles, pushes her mouth to mine, rocks back and forth. It's no joke, Bella Buxom is dry-humping me. And her tongue is exploring my mouth. I think I'm going to come. Fuck. Heat pools in my undies. Don't think I've ever experienced this blend of satisfaction and shame before.

  "Sorry." I mumble, unsure of how to bounce back from such a thing.

  "Oops, puppy made a mess. Where's the bathroom, this way?"

  I nod, kinda speechless to my short comings. But she doesn't seem bothered, at least going by her skip and smile she doesn't.

  I wanna get into that bathroom and clean myself up, but she's in there so I make do with a kitchen flannel. I chuck it in the bin when I'm done.

  Her shiny phone vibrates and the screen flashes. A text. Impulse makes me take a glance. It's a text from her ex.

  No jail 4 me. Wanna come play? Got bottle of Bacardi & an empty bed calling yr name. Or R U still chasing suit-guy? What did U need his address 4 anyway? Hope UR not shacking up with the dude? X0X0X Stevie.

  Do I delete it? She's already confessed to having a soft spot for him. I debate this. I almost leave it be, until she bursts out the bathroom wearing a see-through baby-doll and no panties. No way am I going to run the risk of going into competition with some guy called Stevie who's fist-fast. Nuh-uh. I hit delete and slide the phone into her bag.

  "Puppy ready to play again? I'd love to feel you inside me. Is this your bedroom?" She pivots and slinks right into my bedroom. Damn, fucking dreams do come true.

  The second I slip under the covers, she wraps her warm mouth around me. Normally, I'd need a break between sex sessions, chance to re-gather the strength and make more spunk. But as soon as her velvet tongue licks the length of me, I'm hard and eager to plunge into her, pleasure her with my gift. Somehow, while giving me a blow job, she wraps a latex sheath over me then straddles me.

  Her pussy is naked, her entrance nudging my end. So tight, hot, I push down on her hips and her slickness engulf me, swallows my thickness. She rocks back and forth, the pleasure in her glazed-over eyes and the soft moans escaping her make me easily excitable. Then she belts out a song and slams up and down on me. Up and down. Her boobs bounce, her red nubs point at me. I grab her tits and suck on a nipple.

  She squeals, and tightens her thighs around me. Sweet delight, I spurt cum into the condom while her tunnel flutters around my length. She rocks on me for a moment, her nipple still in my mouth. I don't want her to climb off me, for our first lovemaking session to end, so I grab her bottom, pin her down, and kiss her.

  Bella moans, sweeps her tongue over mine, then declares, "Best. Orgasm. Ever."

  "You're beautiful," I whisper, not even trying to stop the triumphant smile I can feel spreading.

  She rolls over, buries her head in my shoulder, and whimpers, "No, I'm not. Not without all the glitz and glamour of burlesque. You're just being kind."

  I tilt her head, swipe soft tendrils from her perfectly oval face, and smear away her tears with the pad of my thumb. "Bella, you really are. You're beautiful, and sexy, and a fucking sex goddess. You made me come twice in an hour, and I could probably go again in a minute."

  "You're so sweet, puppy." She wraps a leg over me, and pulls up the sheets. "So sweet."

  I sigh, somehow feeling I just got a glimpse at the real Bella Buxom, a vulnerable woman who just wants to be loved. It's like I know a secret the rest of the world is yet to discover and I feel special, and now I wanna wrap this beauty in my arms and never let her go. Protect her.

  * * * *

  Friday. It's the weekend tomorrow. Two full days of playing with Bella. I can't wait, can't focus. All I can think about is my buxom beauty lying in bed waiting for me. Maybe tonight we'll make love again. Thrice? I drag through the day, go through the motions. Finally, when work is through, I leap out of the office and race for the Tube. After battling with rush hour, I'm outside my building in fifteen minutes. A guy I know from the club, Steven—we'd chatted casually at the bar and he'd interrupted the show with his loud laugh—is waiting outside.

  "Charlie, looks like the better man won." He pats me on the back, wearing a grin I'm not liking the looks of. Crap. Is this her boyfriend? Stevie. Of course. Steven. Oh, he's big. Very big. Like seven foot tall or something. What do I do? I make fists, prepared to fight if I have to. I'd do anything to keep my Bella.

  "Hi there, what brings you around here?" Smooth, Charlie.

  "I could say I was just in the neighbourhood, but I'd be lying. Look, pal, just be careful with Isabella. She's not your average woman."

  "I know."

  "No, you don't. You won't know until you've experienced her for yourself, but she'll drive any man to madness. She got me there in a matter of months."

  "I can very well believe it, too."

  His eyes slant, brows knit. I'm scared. His glare is piercing, confrontational.

  "Look, I've got to—"

  "One day you'll get it, Charlie. Until then, I hope you enjoy yourself. Good luck. Give her my best, won't you?"

  "Erm, yeah, will do."

  What was that about? Weird. I shake it off, telling myself he doesn't matter so long as it's me Bella wants, and inch up the stairs. I've got take out for my lady. But not from Young's. Doubt I'll be stopping there again. I'd rather not run the risk of bumping into Stevie again.

  I enter then call out her name. No answer. I slump, ready for the worst. Has she gone? Scanning the place, I see her big bag is leaning against a cupboard in my kitchen and makeup is sprawled out over my countertop. I can't help but rummage. The bag isn't full of show clothes like I suspected, but everyday clothes. And changes of underwear. So, she is here to stay? Chick doesn't waste any time.

  I want to appreciate this, but what her ex said makes me, well, cautious. We barely know each other, and she's moved in. Without asking. Yeah, I should be freaking out. But he probably never got to see her tender, weak side. Never got to know her like I will.

  Then I hear the shower. And she's singing Just Squeeze Me. Her sweet, soft voice...ahh.

  I drop the takeout and prowl to the bathroom door. I knock once. Twice. No answer. I want to burst in to the bathroom and soap her down. Fuck it.

  I charge in and grab a wash flannel from the sink top.

  Bella Buxom puckers her mouth and spreads her thighs, showing me her dark, thick curls. "Great idea, puppy! Come wash me, get in all those nooks and crannies." She purred. "And I'll return the favour."

  Soaping up the cloth, I can't shake the huge grin straining my cheeks. Who was I to say no to such an offer? I reach up, take her plump breasts in my hands, and squeeze. I've wanted to do that ever since I first saw her. It only took me a year, but I got there.

  Even if she drives me to the brink of insanity as promised, she'll be worth it. I just know she will.

  Captivated

  © Elizabeth Lapthorne

  Chapter One

  Zoe was playing hooky. The sun shone warmly and nothing could make this day better, she decided. She'd talked herself into this walk to burn off some of the extra calories she'd had with lunch. The double chocolate mud cupcake wasn't exactly in her healthy eating plan—but today was special and she'd not been able to resist.

  Any time Zoe worried her womanly physique might be getting too round, she reminded herself none of the skinny exercise freaks at the gym would ever know the pleasure of putting on a Double D sized bra and filling it to perfection, nor could they carry off summery, fifties style halter-necked dresses that showed off her every feminine advantage. So her thighs were a shade thick and her belly wasn't flat, who cared? She knew how to dress her shapely form to perfection and men frequently whistled at her voluptuous form.

  The sound of
squealing tires on the asphalt broke into her reverie. Idly, Zoe paused and looked around her. A large, black, unmarked van rounded the corner almost on two wheels as the driver made the turn in great haste. The windows were tinted so she couldn't make out how many people were inside. She wondered what they were doing to necessitate such a rushed and dangerous drive.

  Astonishingly, the van screamed to a halt in front of her and she frowned, confused now more than curious. She looked to the left and right, wondering who the people in the van sought.

  The sliding back door of the vehicle was wrenched open. Two balaclava-clad men dressed head to foot in unrelieved black—like terrorists or secret agents in the movies—jumped out of the van and rushed towards her.

  For the first time that afternoon fear shot through her body as understanding dawned. She raised her hands defensively and took a couple of hasty steps back, bumping into a gate. Terrified as her brain calculated what was about to occur, Zoe hardly had time to utter a word, let alone think of a way to escape. In her business suit pants, white working shirt and low-heeled boots she didn't have a chance of outrunning the men or their van.

  "Wait! You've made a mistake. I'm—"

  The two men didn't pause as they came to her.

  Zoe trembled, petrified.

  With firm but not rough hands they stuck a velvet bag over her head. She was lifted by her arms and legs, a deep breath assuring her this was real.

  "Help!" she screamed, blinded. "Somebody, please—"

  "Shut it or you'll regret it," one of them growled at her.

  Her heart pounded madly, her terror was palpable, an enormous lump of fear lodged in her throat. She couldn't breathe, utterly overwhelmed.

  The distress caused by the man's simple words silenced her more effectively than a gag. Determined to not go easily, Zoe struggled, lashing out with blunt fingernails and kicking with her boots.

  It was useless.

  The two men lifted her and carried her to the van. They did this in perfect tandem—almost as if they had done it before. That thought added to Zoe's panic as they tossed her into the empty cargo area, climbed in after her and slammed the door shut.