The Complete BBW Hotwife

by Sadie Somerton

  “I get that,” I said. “And maybe this was prompted out of sympathy, but it was more a case of just wanting to be sure you’re okay, you know? And while you’re doing the whole strong independent thing, there are still some things you quite clearly need, and I’m just as well-placed as you to see what they are.”

  She looked puzzled, as if worried I’d seen through her defenses. “What kind of things?”

  I nodded towards her glass. “A top-up,” I said, and reached for the bottle.

  §

  “So, you and Jason. And where is he tonight, anyhow?”

  “We’re good. Never happier. Genuinely. He’s downstairs in his office, working. Lots to catch up on, he said.”

  We were halfway through the second movie by now, and most of the way through the second bottle. Take-out cartons and abandoned plates lay on the low table to one side of that deep sofa, a bag of prawn crackers in the small space between us.

  “Keeping a tactful distance in case I’m an emotional wreck?”

  I glanced across, but Celia was smiling, laughter in those big eyes. That was one of those moments I’d described to Jason: when you look at someone and you don’t know what it is but there’s a spark. A flicker of something.

  Celia was studying me and suddenly I was acutely aware of the pause.

  “Something like that,” I said hurriedly, wondering why I was blushing like a teenager all of a sudden.

  She laughed. “Really, I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t appear to have noticed my flustered moment, or if she had she was being polite. Did she know what was in my mind?

  I tore my gaze away, back to the TV. Tried not to focus on the sensations I’d felt as I’d shifted in my seat, squeezing my thighs together. The wetness. God, I’d gone from zero to sixty in no time at all!

  My eyes still fixed on the movie, I reached for the prawn crackers but Celia’s hand was there already. I almost jumped out of my skin at that contact, and she reached over and put her other hand on mine, saying, “Hey, it’s okay. No need to jump.”

  I laughed. My skin really was burning now.

  And did her touch linger just a little longer than necessary? Or was I imagining things? Fantasizing.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded. Didn’t dare look. I took a long mouthful of wine and tried to calm myself.

  When my arm came down, it pressed against Celia’s. Had she moved, or was it just a chance thing, settling closer together?

  I couldn’t help my mind racing now.

  Have you ever kissed a girl?

  No harm in fantasies.

  I reached for the bag of crackers and twisted to put it on the table. “You done?” I asked, and Celia nodded.

  Now, as I settled back, our thighs were touching.

  I felt a tingle race through me, felt a tightness, a wetness.

  What had got into me tonight?

  I was very aware then of the shortness of my skirt. Easy to slide up across my thighs. Would it be rude to slip a hand down and start touching myself? I almost laughed at that, imagining the look of shock on Celia’s face.

  She pressed closer. Could she sense my arousal, or was she completely oblivious?

  “Do you mind?”

  I looked at her, couldn’t work out what she was asking, and then she tucked into me so that I had to raise an arm and loop it across her shoulders. Her arm came across my belly, and her head rested on my shoulder, almost low enough to be against the first swell of my breast.

  She must be able to feel the pounding of my heart!

  She felt so small like that, tucked into my embrace. So fragile.

  I shifted position again, felt the pull of my panties against me. What if I came right now? Would I be able to disguise it, or would it be obvious? How would Celia react?

  And how had I got so close, just from a few looks, and a little innocent contact?

  I didn’t know what was in Celia’s mind. This could just be an innocent thing, a need for comfort even though she’d denied that need earlier. But even if it had been innocent to start with, had there been a point when something else had crept in? A point when she’d started to respond, too? When she’d sensed my arousal, perhaps, and started to feel something similar?

  A point when we might easily have gone further?

  Whatever... it was a point that passed.

  A short time later Celia turned to reach for her glass, and when she settled again we were back to sitting side by side, thighs touching, arms touching, but nothing more.

  I felt hot, frustrated, and more than a little relieved. I didn’t know what I would have done if things had gone further. The prospect had both excited and scared me. It’s all very well to fantasize, and to share those fantasies out loud with your partner, but a very different thing to be there in reality with a delicate beauty like Celia in your arms, making you hot and wet and confused.

  A short time later, the movie came to a close, and there was only a finger of wine left in each glass.

  “I should get a cab,” said Celia, moving away from me and stretching. She’d driven here for the evening, but after sharing two bottles of wine...

  “You could sleep over,” I said. “This sofa opens out. I haven’t tried it myself, but everyone says it’s as comfortable as any real bed. It’d save coming back for your car in the morning.”

  It was a genuinely innocent suggestion. The moment, such that it was, had long passed. A nice little fantasy, but no more.

  “You sure?”

  I fetched bedding, made sure Celia knew where everything was and then we hugged, briefly and chastely. We didn’t even cling together for a moment too long; nothing to fuel my naughty fantasies other than the feel of her body in my arms.

  And then I was backing out of the room, turning, heading across to my own bedroom where I knew Jason would be waiting.

  §

  I was determined not to tell Jason too much. It’s all very well to share fantasies, but Celia was real and in our house. It seemed wrong to tell Jason how we’d snuggled together and how...

  “She made me so wet! Just holding her like that. I wanted to put a hand on the top of her head, steer her down to my breasts.”

  Jason sat on the bed in just his white shorts, pretty much as I’d found him when I came in, and how he’d stayed as I undressed. I stood in front of him now, holding him against me, his face in my cleavage. His arms were round me, hands stroking my ass.

  I needed him inside me, needed that skin on skin thing, the intimacy, the build-up.

  “You could,” he said. “You could go back to her right now.”

  “She’d run a mile.”

  “How do you know unless you try?”

  It was a stupid idea. Reckless.

  It could ruin a good friendship.

  I thought of that parting hug. Had we hung on just a moment too long, clung just a little too tight? Had there been signals?

  All evening, there had been lots of touching. Squeezed hands, bodies pressed comfortably side by side on the sofa, hugging as we laughed. I’d been surprised to get so turned on by what I’d taken to be innocent things but had my arousal been because they were genuine signals?

  My head was racing in circles.

  I took a step back and saw that Jason was smiling. That mischievous grin. He was just willing me to–

  “What’s to stop you?” he said. “Just poke your head round the door to make sure she has everything she needs.”

  “Like this?” I spread my hands and his eyes couldn’t help but explore my naked curves. Next to Celia I felt like a giant, but Jason had a way of boosting my confidence with little more than a look.

  He nodded, slowly, still smiling, eyes still roaming.

  When I glanced down, I saw that his shorts were tenting up around his growing erection, and for a moment I just wanted to push him back onto the bed and make the best of our horniness, but then...

  “Go to her, babe. Go to her, but one thing, okay?”

  I r
aised an eyebrow.

  “Leave the door open.”

  §

  “Everything okay?”

  I leaned with just my head poking through the doorway, acutely aware of my nakedness.

  Acutely aware that Jason had stolen up behind me.

  His hands came to rest on my hips and he pressed against me. He was naked too now, and his dick was hard, nudging at the crack in my ass.

  I gasped at the contact.

  I hadn’t expected him to follow me, hadn’t expected him to...

  That bend at the knees, taking him lower, the head of his dick sliding back down my crack and then pushing through between my thighs. I shifted position slightly, moving my legs apart and felt him steer himself into place, that swollen head nudging at my pussy, pressing at the wet folds, the opening.

  There was a grunt from somewhere in Celia’s room.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked.

  I gasped again as Jason pressed, started to push inside me. I pushed back against him, felt that delicious sliding sensation as he slid his full length inside me.

  There was a movement, and then Celia’s head poked above the back of the sofa-bed.

  “I think I’m okay,” she said. In the dim light of the room, her hair just a little tousled and those eyes wide, she looked breathtaking.

  Jason held himself deep inside me, and I clung to the door, hoping that Celia could only see my head poking round and nothing more.

  “You sure?” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady.

  Slowly, slowly, he withdrew until only the head of his dick was inside me. I gave a little wiggle of the hips, a twist, a squeeze, then pulled away, and stepped forward through the doorway as Jason retreated into the shadows outside the room.

  Celia’s eyes widened, taking in my nakedness in the low light.

  I glanced down, then said, “Sorry. I don’t wear anything in bed. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  She stood.

  Her frame was tiny, her breasts small and pert and the nipples clearly erect. There was a slight broadening at the hip, a narrow, dark strip of hair at her crotch.

  “I’m fine,” she said. She ran one hand down her body, from the side of a breast and down her belly to her hip.

  I took another step into the room.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said. There: I’d said it out loud. No going back. Up to this point there had always been a get-out: I was checking on her, I was casual about nakedness around the house, I was being a good host. But... You’re beautiful.

  She gave a little shake of the head. “Me?” she said. Then she fixed me with an intense look. “No: you are. I wish... I look at you and I wish I was like that. I wish I had curves. I wish I had cleavage.”

  Another step towards her.

  She was giving me that look. The one Jason gives me. The one that hungrily tells me I really am attractive. Beautiful in his eyes. In her eyes.

  I was at the end of the sofa now, and I could see her from head to toe for the first time.

  I’d never done anything like this. Never allowed myself to look at a naked woman, openly explore her body with my eyes.

  Have you ever kissed a girl?

  Her lips were soft, the skin of her face smooth, no scrape of stubble. I had to tip my head downwards to kiss her.

  For a second or two the only contact was our lips, then I felt her tongue probing my lips, parting them. Felt her hands on my hips, and allowed myself to reach for her, one hand on her tiny waist while the other cupped a breast. Her nipple was hard against my palm, and I shifted my hand so I could sweep my thumb across that stiff little button.

  Celia pulled away from my kiss to give a soft sigh.

  All the time, our eyes were locked. Knowing. Excited.

  “I’ve never...” I said, and she gave a little smile, a slight shake of the head.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Just relax.”

  She hadn’t joined me in the claims of I’ve never. Had she done this before? Suddenly I felt like the novice, the seductee. Had she been hoping for this all evening, subtly leading me on?

  I lowered my head again, taking control of the kiss this time. I moved one hand to the back of her head, and buried my fingers in the silky softness of that fine blonde hair.

  Her body felt tiny against me. Hard angles of bones and joints, narrowings, taut muscle. She bent one knee slightly then, forcing my legs to part. Her thigh came up against my pussy, and I felt the hardness of her hip against me.

  We almost toppled, caught ourselves. I took her weight in my arms, then, took control of keeping us upright as her thigh ground upwards, hard muscle against wet softness. She did a thing then where she just twisted her leg, a subtle thing that made the muscles shift, an intense rolling sensation against me. My jaw sagged open, and her smile widened.

  No doubts now: she had done this before. She was playing my body, finding just the right way to move and press.

  One arm still coiled around her back to take her weight, I moved my free hand down, pressed against that narrow strip of hair.

  I was struck then by how strangely the familiar mixed with the totally new. My hand on that soft mound, my fingers curling under her, sliding into the folds of her sex. My middle finger found wetness and then the tight opening of her pussy. Such a familiar feeling: I’d felt all that before when I touched myself. I knew exactly what pussy felt like.

  And yet... When you touch yourself there’s the act of touching, but also of being touched. The sensations in your fingers are matched by those in your pussy, your clit. I pressed, and my middle finger slipped inside. Celia groaned, tipping her head back, but I only had her response to go on. I drove my finger deeper, feeling the joint at the base of that finger grinding up against the hardness of Celia’s clit, and she groaned again. I felt softness around my finger, felt the hardness of muscle and pelvis, felt her thighs clamping tight around my hand.

  That focus on her response, the uncertainty of whether squeezing just so would hit the right spot... it intensified everything.

  Finger deep, my hand cupping her, I pulled upwards, lifting Celia to her toes so that most of her weight was on my arm around her back and my cupping hand.

  Her leg flexed in instant response, and that sent stabs of pleasure through my belly.

  By now I’d forgotten all about Jason standing somewhere out there beyond the door. I’d forgotten everything apart from what was happening between me and Celia.

  Later, he told me how he’d stood in the doorway, watching us advance on each other, watching that first, tentative kiss. His dick twitching in his hand, he’d watched as Celia’s leg had come up between mine, as I’d reached down and started to rub at my new lover’s pussy.

  How he’d mostly lost sight of us when I pulled away from Celia, so close to orgasm just from the pressure of her thigh against me, taken her hand and kneeled, and then lay. And how, after that, all he’d seen beyond the high back of the sofa was the occasional flash of leg or other flesh as we moved, changed position, and all he knew was the sounds we made, the sighs and groans, the sharp intakes, the wet sounds of pussy and mouth and pressing flesh.

  How he’d stayed there, so close to climax. Not once allowing himself to pass the point of no return, not wanting to lose the intensity of voyeuristically sharing in that moment.

  I don’t know how long he stayed there, so close to the edge, only that he was almost fit to burst when I joined him in bed the next morning...

  §

  We dropped to our knees, Celia’s hands in mine.

  I raised my hands to cup her face and we kissed again, and I was intensely aware of the smell of her on my fingers.

  She took my hand then, put one finger into her mouth and slowly drew her lips along its length. Then the next finger, the next.

  “You really are beautiful,” she told me softly.

  In that instant, I came to understand something that should already have been blindingly obvious. Kneeling ther
e, her fragile, delicate body so unlike my own, Celia really did find me attractive. She loved my shape, my softness, my curves and lines; the fullness of my breasts, the generous hour-glass of my figure. And for the first time I understood that the world isn’t simply divided into two kinds of people – it’s not just men and women, but rather an infinite variety, every one of them different in their looks and their responses, and I was just beginning to explore this.

  Celia put a hand to my shoulder and pushed gently.

  I rocked back on my heels, then leaned back, moved my legs, lay back.

  Her mouth came down on one of my breasts, sucking the nipple in sharply, filling her mouth with me. She found my other breast with a hand, stroking its smoothness, brushing across the stiff nipple.

  She lowered herself until my body took her full weight. One leg came up between mine, so that the thigh pressed against me, and I felt the soft heat of her pussy grinding down against the top of my own thigh.

  I rolled my hips, pressing against her. Felt the delicious roll of my leg against her pussy, felt her thigh driving up against me, the whole thing a complex dance of legs and hips and grinding and pressing. Each response triggered a movement, another response, unlike anything I’d known before.

  Her body was a magical mix of hard and soft, her strength and energy breathtaking as she writhed and twisted against me.

  I could feel that sweet tension building again. I’d been so close before, but now...

  It was rising inside me like a force of nature, all of a sudden. A whole-body thing, the sensations focused on my breasts and my pussy. Muscles tightening, straining, my back arching.

  My body bucked and I cried out. I clamped her to me, then panicked that I might be squeezing her too hard, and then forgot everything as another pulse of contractions ripped through my body.

  That cry wasn’t all my own.

  She was there, too. Crying out, arching her back so that she jerked her head away from my breast and forced all her weight down through where she ground her pussy against my thigh.

  Another sharp cry and she held herself there and I could feel the quivering of her muscles... her pussy, a tremor passing through her inner thighs.