Star-Crossed Curves: BBW Erotic Romance Boxed Set

by Carolina Moon

  She pulled back a little to catch her breath. "I was going to say yes, you know. About the project. Don't stop trying to convince me, though."

  "I want you," he whispered. "I can't get you out of my head. You've bewitched me, woman."

  She smiled against his lips. "I'm glad."

  "Am I the first-?"

  "Man? Since my husband? Yes. I didn't think I needed this kind of attention, but with you around it's all I think about."

  He pushed her onto her back and rose above her, looking down with a hungry expression on his face. "Good."

  Still kissing her neck, he moved so that he was kneeling between her legs. Using his arm to hold his weight off of her, he then bent to kiss her throat and neck and finally, her lips, and then slid into her wetness.

  She stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped everything. He filled her, and the friction between them made her eyes roll back in her head. Her legs came up to pull him into her, and she adored the roughness and heat of his skin against hers. They moved together, and it was only a few moments until the crash of sensations overwhelmed her and she cried out, grabbing his wrists, arching her body against him one final time, and riding on the waves of pleasure that shuddered through her, causing every muscle to tremble. His own release followed, and she felt him pulse inside of her and growl out into the room.

  When he looked down at her again, there was a smile on his lips, but he didn't speak. Tenderness filled his eyes and melted her heart.

  When he slid out of her and pulled away, she was cold again, but he pulled her against his side and wrapped his arms around her. "This had nothing to do with the project, you know. I don't care if you hide in this house forever, as long as you keep letting me in."

  "No more closed doors, no more hiding, I promise," she said. "I've got a lot of catching up to do."

  Amber's Lamp

  Prologue

  Once upon a time long ago, when science only existed as magic, there was a man who was so bad at his job that his employer gave him a thousand years off to do some serious thinking about his career. In fact, this happened to him several times. He was getting tired of it.

  Also…

  Once upon a time not so long ago there were born three sisters. They all grew up to be beautiful but one of them grew up just a bit more than the other two. Her name was Amber.

  Amber and our chronically unemployed man from the past are going to meet very soon in a way that may seem a bit contrived, but I assure you this type of thing really does happen all the time.

  We all end up where we are for a reason and the reason usually has something to do with each other. Free will doesn't kick in until after the universe has made the larger decisions for us. But then, those tiny details where we do have free will can change the universe.

  Amber's Lamp

  "Where did you get that old bottle, Amber? It looks unusual. Sorta...bendy."

  Amber Tate glanced over at her sister and the object in question. Jenna Tate didn't appear to be much bigger around than the object she was holding, Amber observed with the distracted envy of someone who had spent a lifetime being compared to her thinner siblings.

  "It's actually an old lamp, Jenna. The kind that they used when a burning rag dipped in grease or oil was considered state of the art technology. Lay it on its side. See anything familiar? Like from old pictures?" Amber realized she was in schoolteacher mode. It was an easy role to fall into - given that her sisters didn't weigh much more than her second grade students.

  Jenna laid the lamp on its side and giggled. "It looks like a dick!"

  Amber blushed. Her second graders were actually a bit more mature than her sisters, but now that she mentioned it, it sort of did. "Oh, for crying out loud! Please stop sexualizing my antique."

  Taking the lamp out of Jenna’s admiring fingers, Amber placed the curious old object back on the bookshelf. Just touching it brought back memories of the vacation that seemed so long ago where she had found the relic washed up on the beach. At the time she had been head over heels in love with Richard, her English professor, and had only taken the thing home as a keepsake of their time together. But Richard had left her for one of his skinny college students and she kept the object without paying much attention to it.

  Damn that Jenna! Now the thing really did remind her of a curved, erect phallus, she thought as she forced her gaze away from it.

  "Come on Jenna. Niki said she'd hold a table for us if we would come join her right now!" Amber shooed her sister out of her living room, turned out the lights and locked the door behind her.

  Unseen by human eyes, the antique glowed faintly in the darkness.

  ***

  "I'm tellin' ya, sis. It's an ancient dildo!" Jenna was wound up after putting away more food than Amber would have eaten in a week, along with three glasses of wine while Amber nursed one. Not that she was counting, Amber thought sourly as she slowly chewed her chef salad to make it last. The other women ordered dessert.

  "It's an antique glass dildo and it's this big!" Jenna held her hands out comically for Niki’s amusement as well as anyone else who couldn’t help overhearing their conversation in the crowded restaurant.

  "Now we know why she never dates! She's got everything she needs at night right there on her bookshelf! At least twelve inches worth of it anyway!" Jenna continued her pantomime somewhat graphically - to Amber’s embarrassment, Niki's amusement, and the titillation of the young men at the next table. Those men were too young to have been forced to watch ‘When Harry Met Sally’ and therefore had never seen a woman fake an orgasm in a restaurant before. Niki laughed so hard that wine shot of her nose. Keeping her head down, Amber handed her an extra napkin. From the looks of the guys at the next table they'd be needing napkins to clean up a different kind of mess if this continued.

  "Check, please!" Amber said to the waiter as an anticlimax to Jenna's moans of faux passion. You could dress these two up but you just couldn't take them anywhere.

  After dropping her sisters off at their apartment, she drove back to her own. She still had papers to grade and a miniseries she wanted to watch and… "Stop looking like that!" she said to the lamp sitting on her bookshelf, right where she’d placed it earlier. "It’s indecent!"

  She tried to return to the task of puzzling out the printing of 8 year olds but her thoughts kept straying to the lamp. Jenna and Niki were such perverts sometimes. She wouldn’t have dreamed of using the old thing that way. It really did look like it would work for that. The part where the wick would have gone was towards the back.

  "Just rub it against the outside for a bit," she thought she heard a voice say, and realized that it was her own.

  Hmmmmm…

  Amber’s thoughts strayed to a certain game that she and Richard used to like to play in bed. She would spread her legs as wide as she could and he would rub the bottom curve of his hard cock up and down against her pussy without putting it inside of her. The point of the game was to see which one of them would climax first without actually having intercourse. Then the one who outlasted the other would get to choose how they wanted to come. Richard usually won, and alternated between wanting to come in her mouth or wanting to take her secret rear opening from behind while cupping her breasts and kissing her neck.

  Amber had usually played to lose. But not always. Sometimes she was able to distract herself just long enough for him to lose control and shoot all over her splayed pussy. She loved the idea of him losing control like it was his first time. Combine that with the hot spurts and the sensation of his still hard cock rubbing against her through the added lubrication of his cum always made her climax too of course, but that didn’t count. She would claim her victory by guiding his head down to lick her nice and clean, thrilling to the idea of making him a slave to his passion. The sensation of his hot tongue licking his own creamy essence off of her brazenly exposed secret places would send her right over the edge again.

  She blinked and realized she was holding the lamp. Wh
en had she crossed the room to retrieve it? She was starting to lose her mind. First you couldn’t find your car keys and then you did things without remembering you had done them. She had heard that when it goes, it goes fast.

  The lamp had a smooth curved prow. The center of its bottom was flat to allow it to sit on a table. But that curved rise on the underside reminded her of the dorsal edge vein of Richards cock rubbing up between her folds to tease her clit. The lamp felt warm to her touch rather than cool as she would have expected, so she carried it back over to the heavily padded leather love seat and sat down with it in her hands.

  Almost without realizing she was doing it, she found herself lifting up her skirt to her waist to expose her smooth satin panties. She knew the crotch was wet and her pussy even wetter inside. The sensual heat flooding through her had grown more intense when she thought about making love with Richard. Kicking off her shoes, she swung one leg over the arm of the loveseat, which spread her open nicely. Then she placed the curved prow of the lamp directly against the satin of her panties and squeezed her thighs tightly against it.

  "Oh my!" Amber exclaimed as she rocked her hips to increase the pressure against her clit. The end of the lamp was against the arm of the love seat and she slid herself against its bottom as she squeezed her legs tighter and tighter. A minute later, she stopped just long enough to rip her wet panties off and toss them to the floor. Then she went right back to the game with the smooth glass pressed directly against her very, very wet pink places.

  It felt even better than it had with Richard.

  It had been a very long time since the mood had struck her to touch herself and she was so very close to climaxing. In spite of this, she wanted to make the thrilling sensations last as long as she could. The delay always intensified the pleasure, even if there was no payoff to follow as there had been with Richard.

  For the first time since Richard left her, Amber made a conscious decision to put him out of her mind and focus on the present. As though reflecting her slowly rising body heat, the glass grew even warmer. Amber rocked her hips back and forth, squeezing her thighs tighter and tighter. Oh how she wanted to come! She squeezed her full breasts with both hands and felt the little points of her nipples. Biting her lip, she focused on the sensation and delaying her orgasm just a little longer, just a little bit more, making it better and harder.

  Perched on the edge of ecstasy, Amber was just about to finally let herself come when the universe shifted just a teensy bit. She blacked out for a moment as she rolled limply off of the couch and onto the floor with her dress still pulled up around her waist.

  Now, the modern reader will understand just enough of quantum physics to understand that on a subatomic level, the rules of conduct for matter can easily resemble magic more than science. Suffice it to say that the audible "POP!" which Amber heard just as she blacked out had to do with something suddenly being there which had not been quite there before. Two hundred pounds of something came into existence, and every other molecule in the universe shifted to the side just enough to make room for it. As the epicenter of the wave was directly between her thighs Amber felt the effects of this in the most tangible of ways, and it resulted in her temporary unconsciousness and the interruption of her imminent orgasm.

  Elsewhere, the effects were more varied and subtle. In Apartment 4B, across the hall, Mr. Denton’s teeth feel out for no reason. Upstairs in 5C, pregnant Mrs. Esperanza felt her baby kick. Across the street a cat shook its head as it felt something brush its whiskers. The tide washed up on the coast an inch higher than it normally would have and on the other side of the ocean a butterfly flapped its wings one extra time. In the butterfly’s version of this story, it was her flap of the wings which caused everything else that happened. Butterflies and philosophers have their own way of explaining the unexplainable, based on their own sense of self-importance.

  Back in Amber’s apartment, she woke up confused and dazed. At first the world appeared as a hue of abstract blue flowers. Then she realized that the hem of her dress was up over her eyes. She groaned and pulled it down and tried to make sense of what she saw now that she could see. The bald man sitting on her couch didn’t make visual sense so she assumed he wasn’t really there. She shook the cobwebs from her head and sat up, then closed her eyes again and though about where she was and what she had been doing. She opened them again, just a slit.

  Yep. Big bald man. Sitting on her couch. He looked as confused as Amber felt.

  Then her eyes flew open wide, and she screamed and crab walked backwards away from him. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

  "Il’ya gotha hai golka. I’wanaf." the man replied.

  "ENGLISH!" Amber snapped, reflexively, and a bit more rudely than she usually would have expressed herself. Having to press "1" in order to speak to an operator in her own language was one thing but this was her own living room. "We speak English here!"

  The man blinked and Amber noticed that he seemed to have no eyebrows or eyelashes. She felt an odd sensation on the back of her neck as the universe adjusted itself around a new set of facts and the man spoke once again. This time he spoke in English with a British accent.

  "Yes, ma’am," he said. He pronounced it "mum" as Peter O’Toole had in a movie she’d seen years ago. "You have freed me from captivity and I am here to serve you," The man said calmly.

  Amber felt her head spin as something on the floor caught her gaze. The old lamp was on the carpet by the man’s bare feet, but something was different about it. Fighting panic and disbelief she looked closer and saw that something was different about it. The top of the lamp had been a glass stopper which Amber had always thought to be permanently sealed into its neck by salt and sand and time. Now, that stopper was missing. But where had it gone? Her gaze travelled upward from the lamp to the new hole in her ceiling.

  Amber thought about stories she had heard as a child and the Disney adaptations. She thought about the implied connection between the lamp on the floor, the hole in her ceiling, and the man on her couch. She swallowed and said the first thought that popped into her head.

  "Bullshit."

  Behind her she heard something plop into existence and plop again as it fell to her carpet, accompanied by an unmistakable smell from her rural childhood. She turned and stared at the mess on her floor. This time it was the clockwork inside her head that had to adjust to the universe being different than it had been before. The shock wave was all internal.

  "Clean that up," she said and passed out again.

  ***

  Amber was dreaming, for surely this weightlessness and pure pleasure she felt could not be real. She was riding the crest of a wave of pleasure that somehow lifted her from inside. She opened her eyes and gasped, the bald man was underneath her and she was astride his hips. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she rode him onward to the climax she had begun back in the waking world, before reality had left her. Before this figment of her imagination had appeared. Oh, but he was real enough now though, and deep inside of her, lifting her up even as she bore down upon him to take every inch of him.

  "Who are you?" she gasped, as her orgasm threatened to overtake her.

  "I am yours," he replied without moving his lips. "Take pleasure from me."

  And so she did. She imagined herself riding a wave as a surfer would. Yet the wave was inside her as well as beneath her and the moisture was coming from within her.

  She had never been comfortable on top of a man, even when she had weighed a bit less than she did now. She always had felt her least flattering attributes were too emphasized this way.

  But she didn’t feel that way right now. She felt alive and in flight and wonderful. She was aware of her own body as though she were a voyeur watching it, the way her hips rolled, the way her rear worked up and down as she took him, the way her breasts bounced and her hair spilled down over her shoulders.

  This was what it was to be a woman in the throes of passion! And when her climax caught up wi
th her at last she felt as though she’d been tossed into the air, flipping end over end while her muscles spasmed and she cried out with sincere pleasure that was much louder than her sister’s faked orgasm at the restaurant had been. At last the intensity subsided and she felt herself gliding down, settling to the earth like an exhausted butterfly, ending up on her back, warm and safe and soft in her bed.

  But didn’t he need to climax too? She prided herself at giving as good as she got and often more. She reached out for her mysterious stranger and saw something so odd that her mind couldn’t process it at first. Where she had thought a truly magnificent erection had been she saw only a column of blue smoke. At first it seemed as solid as he had felt inside of her but it grew thinner and smaller in the dim light as he pulled his odd robes back around him.

  Okay, so he smoked after sex, was her last insane thought as she drifted off to sleep. Her body was well pleased, but she fell asleep not knowing if she was already dreaming, or whether her strange guest would still be with her in the morning.

  ***

  The next morning, the man was still there. Amber found him in the kitchen, ready to prepare her breakfast, and decided to just accept her own delusions.

  "So you are the last of your kind?" Amber asked as she ate her breakfast with gusto. She was starving and his cooking (or, as it turned out, magic) was magnificent.

  The man had identified himself with an unpronounceable name with no vowels in it so she decided to call him Genie. So far he had conjured her ingredients for breakfast and coffee out of thin air with only a few awkward misunderstandings. His first attempt at eggs had produced an actual trio of live clucking chickens...which then laid the eggs. Since Genie had never seen a chicken before he accidently created them, he’d been scared enough of them to hide in the bathroom for several minutes. Amber had collected the hen’s eggs from her couch cushions and then shooed the birds out into the hallway.