I’m not a very masculine guy. In fact, I’m downright girly. I blame my body. I’m 5’3” and weigh 110lbs, but the first thing people notice is my fat ass. It’s fat, tight, and juicy. It’s the kind of ass that women these days pay a queen’s ransom for. It flares out with my wide hips from a narrow waist and flat stomach and is complemented by proportionally thick thighs. My calves are well-defined, my ankles thin and delicate, as is my upper body. Other than my ass and thighs, the only fat on me is on my chest (of course). I certainly don’t have back-breakingly large tits, but I can fill out an A-cup, a fun fact I know thanks to a high school girlfriend.
My big ass, hips, and thighs make my 3-inch cocklet look even smaller than it already does. My wife Amy loves it, probably because she’s never had another. She affectionately calls it my clit. I blush every time she says it, but it never fails to turn me on.
On this particular day, I was curled up on the couch watching Great British Bake-Off. It was the end of an episode, and I was crying, as you do. Even though it was winter, it was warm in the house. I had on an old t-shirt, which had shrunk to just above my navel, and some old sweatpants. The shirt was thin and gauzey with lots of holes in it. Normally I pull my pants up past my belly button, since that’s the only way to keep a big ass covered, but since I was home and not expecting company, I didn’t bother. I had pulled my knees up to my chest, exposing the small of my back, and my sweatpants were riding low, exposing the pink thong I was wearing.
My wife had accidentally thrown out all of my underwear earlier that day when she was getting rid of some rags, so I was borrowing some of hers until we could get me some. In fact, she was supposed to be doing just that as I lay on the couch and hugged my knees and felt the silk material rub my little boi clit and my pretty pink boi pussy. I felt very sexy.
I could hear Amy laughing outside as she walked up the front walkway. She got to the door and suddenly the laughing stopped. I heard her squeal.
“OH! Mmm oh my goddd … hnggg”
A few minutes later she opened the door and stood there with Joe, an asshole that has bullied me since high school.
“Hey honey,” she said. I scrambled to stand up and pull my pants up. I did it so fast that I pulled my sweatpants hard into my asscrack. I had to stifle a moan.
“Hi honey, everything okay? It sounded like you were startled out on the porch,” I said. I cast a furtive glance to Joe as my face flushed. He was tall, muscular, handsome, and a total dick. In short, he was my exact opposite.
In high school, he stuck it in every girl who would let him, and most of them did. The girls at our school gave him the nickname “Wrecking Ball”. I never really understood what that meant. He hadn’t grown up much since. He and my wife had become good friends, and I had no earthly idea why.
“Oh hi sweetie, yeah, umm…”
“Amy saw something big out on the porch,” Joe said with a smirk. God, he’s such a smug asshole.
“Uhh..” Amy’s eyes looked panicked. “A moth! A really big moth! Yeah, that’s what I saw.”
“Oh wow, how big was it?” I said.
Amy locked eyes with Joe as she said in a low and sultry voice, “It was huge. The biggest I’ve ever seen.”
Then they both burst out laughing. Amy slapped Joe on the chest as she laughed and walked past him.
“I’m gonna go freshen up honey. I’ll meet you upstairs later.” I knew this was my cue to leave the two of them alone. They had a special bond, as Amy had told me repeatedly when I objected to how much time they spent together. She said she didn’t know the reason why they were so naturally close, but whatever it was, it was massive.
Amy made her exit to the downstairs bathroom, and I started to head upstairs. As I passed by Joe, he grabbed my arm and said, “Whoah, hold up, baby girl.” He always called me that. I hated it. “Grab me a beer, will ya?”
I rolled my eyes. This guy was such an asshole. He’d been to our house dozens of times. He knew where the beer was. He just enjoyed bossing me around.
“Fine,” I said. He smirked. My exasperation only entertained him more, seemingly.
“Thanks, baby girl,” he said, squeezing my non-existent bicep. I swear that man’s face is permanently sneering.
I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. God, the cold air felt good. I hadn’t even noticed how flushed I’d become.
As I stared into the fridge looking for beer, my puffy nipples hardened under the holey, gauzey material of the old t-shirt. My wardrobe seemed to have changed recently. I know my wife had recently given a bunch of clothes to Goodwill, but I would have thought this t-shirt would have been a natural choice to give away.
Come to think of it, some of my newer clothes had gone in the donation bin but a bunch of old ones stayed. Not all of my new clothes, mind you. And some of my old ones had gone. But my ultra-comfy, lay-around-the-house clothes were now all the clothes of a randy slut who spends all day taking booty pics for Instagram and waiting to get fucked.
My little boi clit was stirring in my panties. Thankfully, if it got out of control, I could secure my little guy in the waistband of my panties, since I’m only 3 inches fully engorged.
I fished a beer out of the fridge, walked back to the living room, and handed it to Joe.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Umm, no?”
“You forgot to take the cap off.”
“Seriously? Uggh.” I was so over this guy, although, in all fairness, it was an import and not a twist-off. Luckily I was an experienced barmaid from my college days, so I went over to the fireplace to use the brick mantle as leverage to open it. As I brought my hand down on the top of the bottle to open it, I must have agitated it too much, because the cap came off and the beer exploded all over my face and chest.
“Ha ha ha! Oh my god, what a fucking clutz you are!” This was the last thing I wanted to have happen in front of Joe. All of the blood in my body rushed to my cheeks, and my clit.
“FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”
“You’ve got a filthy mouth for such a dainty little thing, baby girl,” Joe said, enjoying this way too much.
“Fuck you. Well, I guess you want another one?” As much as I hated him, I found his demands… Irresistible. He some weird power over me that I didn’t understand.
“It’s fine, give it here.”
I walked over and handed it to him. He looked me up and down.
“Mmm, mmm,” he said, shaking his head. I couldn’t quite tell what he was on about.
He took a sip of the beer and as he lowered it, it erupted again, getting all over his shorts and the couch.
“Whoah! Looks like this one’s a squirter!!” he said. I laughed, he laughed. We laughed together briefly. I hated him, but I had to admit it was funny.
“Let me get something to clean that couch up, you perv,” I said and went back to the kitchen. I got some paper towels and came back. Surprisingly, his shorts were almost dry. I don’t know why, but I felt a slight twinge of disappointment.
I stopped to give him a look. He was tan, with brown hair, blue eyes, and perfectly sculpted muscles.
“Your shorts look almost dry already!” I said, more breathless than I should have been.
“Dri-fit,” he said. “Works like a champ!”
I walked over to the couch where he was sitting and knelt down so I could wipe up the several spots on the couch.
“Do you need me to move?” he asked.
“No, you’re fine,” I said. That word “fine” echoed in my head as I sopped up the spill. “But could you lift your leg please?” His legs, which could more accurately be called tree trunks, since they were the size of my waist, were resting on the coffee table.