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When I was a boy we used to get a store catalogue, it was a big thick book printed on glossy paper and full of good quality photos of all the items for sale. I used to enjoy browsing through the whole thing. I even looked at sections on things I had no real interest in like jewellery and watches. I would look at all of the toys of course, deciding which ones I would like to have.
When my parents were not around I would also frequently look at the lingerie section. This sated my curiosity as to what women were wearing under their outerwear, which was rarely seen. I liked the look of the panties and bras, their pretty designs. I was also impressed by the wide range available. There were many different colours - white and cream seemed the most common, but there were also blue, black, red etc. The models wearing the underwear were beautiful, a mix of blondes and brunettes, though there was no ethnic diversity. There were several different types of photo, frontal shots of women wearing matching bras and panties, above waist shots showing bras only and ones of the top half of their legs showing panties only. In most of the photos the women were smiling which felt like they approved of you looking at their underwear and enjoyed that. In some of the photos the model was on their own, in others 2 or 3 were in a group all looking at each other as if it was some kind of social event which they all came to for the fun of checking out each other's lingerie and showing off their own.
In some photos the models were wearing semi-transparent lacy affairs where you could see a fair amount of their body - their nipples were visible through the bras and a dark triangle between their legs. This was kind of educational as I hadn't seen this anywhere else. The women always seemed to have quite large breasts, suggesting that the women the catalogue was trying to sell to liked that, although maybe they were targetting male buyers looking for presents for their partners.
I think catalogues like this have pretty much died out because of the internet, which is a shame.
Back in January, I used some of my Christmas money to book a squashing session with one of my favorite SSBBWs.
As part of the deal, I booked a room at a hotel from a list she gave me. Even though the session was only scheduled for three hours (although I guess that’s a lot going by what she said in her emails), I got the room for the whole night. I don’t know if I actually expected her to stay the night or if I just didn’t feel like asking if I could book a room for a few hours, but regardless I still had the room for a night.
I wound up getting to the hotel about an hour early. I must have paced around the place about a dozen times, I was so nervous. She arrived exactly on time. She had a guy friend with her for safety, like she said she would, and he was pretty cool. He definitely gave her some side-eye when I showed her my (fake) ID, but he didn’t object. The three of us chatted for a bit to get comfortable, and after a while he asked if she felt okay with me and she said yes, so he left.
After her friend left, she asked me if I wanted to take anything off to start with, and if I wanted her to start fully clothed or not. She was fine with both of us starting in just our underwear, so that’s what we stripped down to. She had me lie down on the bed and looked me up and down. Before she sat down on me, she paused and asked, “How old are you really?”
I gulped and answered, “Fifteen.” I don’t know why I told the truth, but that bell’s already rung now.
She had a quick “oh shit” look on her face, then shrugged, laughed, and said, “Well, I guess I’m going to Hell anyway.”
She sat down on me, starting with my chest and stomach. I forget how much she weighs according to her latest weigh-in video, but it’s got to be over 450 pounds. I had no idea just how HEAVY that would feel, how completely overwhelming the pressure on my body, my ribs, and my lungs would be. Her whole ass spread out over me and I couldn’t see my arms; it was like her ass had completely devoured me.
I tapped out after no time at all, maybe ten seconds total, and she got up, waited until I’d almost caught my breath, and sat down on me again. She teased me about being a “baby cushion” the whole time and said I needed to learn how to hold me breath. She kept me just a little out of breath for almost half an hour, readjusting herself to squash my torso, then my chest, then finally my face.
Before she got up to sit on my face, she looked down at my crotch. I’d been hard since she took off her dress, and it took every ounce of control to not blow my load immediately. She looked down at me, gestured to her panties, and asked, “You want these to come off?” I nodded and she laughed, then peeled her panties off and climbed onto my face.
Her ass smelled of sweat, farts, and a hint of perfume. Her cheeks spilled out on either side of my face, completely engulfing me. She scooter and squirmed until her asshole was directly over my mouth, then she rubbed my face in her ass until I’d tapped out twice. As I gasped for air, she told me to kiss her ass or she’d squash me immediately. Even as I started kissing her ass—left cheek, right cheek, left, right, left, right, faster and faster—she lowered herself back down. “Now lick” was the last thing I heard before she was on me again.
Her asshole tasted like, well, exactly what you’d expect an asshole to taste like. I coughed. I gagged. I winced. But I licked, and I kept licking. I could tell she was putting a little less weight on me so I could rim her more easily. She moaned and purred with pleasure, and leaned forward and put her hand on the tent I was pitching in my boxer-briefs. She caressed my dick and balls through the fabric while telling me to tongue her ass faster. My tongue slipped into her asshole and she moaned even louder and slammed her ass completely down on my face and ground into me while her whole body shook.
She got off of me after a little while, looking very happy. “There’s mouthwash in my bag,” she said. “Rinse out and get back here.” I did, and now she was on her back, legs spread and belly lifted to put her pussy on full display. “Lick,” she commanded. I got between her legs and started licking, and soon her legs closed around me, trapping and engulfing me between her huge fat thighs. I didn’t quite know what I was doing, but she seemed to like it. I settled into a breathing-and-licking rhythm, although the pressure from her legs didn’t make things any easier. From time to time she slapped her belly on top of my head and laughed even as she started to twitch in pleasure (I hope).
She came loud and hard after I’d been licking her for I don’t know how long. She pulled me on top of her and hugged and kissed me. My boner was straining against my underwear at this point, and it practically hurt. As she kissed me, she slid my underwear down and gently-but-firmly guided me until my dick was in line with her pussy, and then I slid myself in. No condom, no nothing, just me fucking one of my favorite SSBBWs in a hotel room. Just me feeling her whole body jiggle beneath me as I thrust into her. Just me cumming inside her, resting a couple minutes without taking myself out or off of her, and cumming inside her again.
I rolled off her after I came the second time, and we cuddled and spooned while we both recovered from how intense it was. After a while, she turned on the TV and had me order some pizzas. We spent the night together in that hotel room, fucking, watching movies, me feeding her pizza, her making me put my dick on a slice of pizza while she ate around it (you know, normal sex-pizza stuff, lol), and her sitting and lying on me until we both went to sleep.
She woke me up just after midnight by squeezing my ass. “Hey, kid,” she whispered into my ear. “Have you ever been fucked?” I was confused because we’d just been having sex, but she interrupted me with another butt-squeeze. “No, have you ever been FUCKED?” she asked.
Reading my silence as her answer, she turned on the lights and rummaged through her bag until she found a harness, a bottle of lube, and a purple dildo. “Help me put this on,” she said, and so I did. I’d seen strap-ons before, but never in person, and never on her. It was more than a little intimidating to see her sporting a big purple dick, but I was both intrigued and aroused. She told me to suck it “like a good little bitch boi,” and that got her further turned on. Then she had me lube her up and “assume the position” by bending over on the bed.
She applied a thick coating of the lube to just about every square inch of my ass before I finally felt her hands on my hips and her weight shifting behind me. She pressed the head of her dick against my asshole, and as much as I want to say it slid in, there were starts and stops and plenty of repositioning until we found the right angle and she could fully penetrate me. The sensation was wild, absolutely WILD, and it hurt as much as it felt good. When we both got more comfortable, she was really able to give it to me and put her full weight on my ass, and it felt like she was going to split me in half. I think I came another two times, and she seemed very pleased with herself.
“Thank you,” she whispered in my ear.
In the morning, we showered together, checked out together, are breakfast together, and went our separate ways. During quarantine, we’ve stayed in touch and we’ve had quite a few special webcam shows together too. Our state is reopening soon and we’re making plans to meet up in person again.
I’ve had many people say they wished they looked like me. Well I paid a huge price to look like this. I guess i should have been a model or actor like people said. At least I’d have money.
My name is Cassidy. I’m 26, newly married, and I recently learned a friend of mine is a BBW fetish model. She does mostly-clothed photo shoots—I think the most she’s ever shown is her butt—and she mostly does it by herself.
This is the story of how she paid me to have sex with her.
I don’t know exactly why she picked me, except that she and I have completely different body types—I’m about 110 pounds in a soaking wet t-shirt, she’s 400 pounds—and “contrast” videos and photo sets are apparently popular. I’m straight—yes, I still call myself that, even though I just said I had sex with another woman—don’t really watch much porn, and I wasn’t even hard-up for cash then. I think it was because of how I found out and how I reacted.
I found out about my friend’s modeling business purely by accident, when she showed me some meme on her phone and her husband happened to text her. “New shoot’s ready,” he said, and he attached a photo of her, wearing a flowing dress hitched up over her butt, and no underwear.
I tried not to spit my drink out, but she could see my eyes grow wide. “I think your photos are ready?” I volunteered, handing her phone back.
She said a polite “oops,” tapped out a couple responses, and then put her phone down on the table, but still face up so I could make out a few more samples her husband sent over. She saw where my eyes went and smiled. I asked if those were boudoir shots and she smiled and told me about her modeling business.
Like I said, I’m a pretty boring, pretty straight petite lady. This was all new to me, and I was fascinated. I kept asking her how she got into it, how she felt about it, what kind of money she made from it, etc., and she just went through it so matter-of-factly. She offered to let me look at some other photos she had saved on her phone, which of course I accepted, and it was amazing to see this new, secret, super-sexy side to her.
That’s when she asked if I’d be interested in shooting some sets with her, and I agreed.
About a week later, she and I and her husband were in a park with a decent-sized playground, doing some basic “contrast” photos—showing off how much bigger she was than me. We agreed that these would be strictly clothes-on, maybe some hugging or hand-holding or carrying, but no kissing required. We went around and took a whole lot of photos of just the two of us having fun, sitting in swings and slides and seesaws, me playing hide-and-seek behind her, and her giving me some bear hugs and piggyback rides. We could have been any other couple taking engagement photos for all anyone else would have known.
The raciest it got was when I stumbled off her back, leaned over forward to catch myself, and she got behind me and grabbed my waist while I was bent down. We laughed, she gave a couple bumps with her belly and said “mama likey,” and we laughed some more before I got up. I still don’t know why, but just then I looked her in the eye, looked back at her husband, and awkwardly asked if she wanted to kiss, and she *did*, and then *we* did. Her husband got it all on film, but promised it wouldn’t go into the final collection (it didn’t, though he did send me those photos later).
We drove over to her house to do another photo shoot, this one in our underwear. My heart was racing from the kiss, and again when I saw her in her bra and panties, and again as she and her husband explained that we were going to do some tape measure comparisons and that it was “okay to be horny” there.
There’s something about having tape measure stretched and wrapped around you, of being restrained and appraised and knowing you’re being looked at in that much detail, and that you’re about to do the same to someone else, that’s just … I guess it’s like bondage, but without actually tying each other up. I had to work so hard to get my arms around her waist, her legs, her arms, her breasts, I was so close to her and felt her skin against mine … and then she just got both arms around *my* waist and stared down at *my* crotch to read out the measurements. I giggled like I did back when my then-fiancé and I had just started dating and were getting used to each other’s bodies and turn-ons. She pulled me in close, using the tape, and held me there, right up against her belly, and kissed me on the lips.
Her husband asked if we wanted to do the next part by ourselves, which snapped her a little out of her reverie and she answered yes. He helped us set up a video camera in her bedroom and left the house while we climbed onto her bed so I could “give her a massage.”
She lied down on her belly and gave the most adorable little sigh and shake. I unhooked her bra without even thinking about it and ran my hands along her back, her shoulders, her arms. She was so warm and soft, and she moaned just so right; I looked down and suddenly I was straddling her and gently grinding against her butt.
I slid my hands down, down, down, scooted back so I could grab onto her butt. I kissed her back as I went down, we all knew what was going down here, and she giggled with each tiny little smooch.
“I need to pull these off,” I told her, trying to sound confident. “To get the best massage, I need, um, access.”
She grinned and looked back and just positively *purred* out an “Okay.”
I slid her panties down, kept going past her knees, and tossed them off the bed. I was face-to-face with her naked ass—the closest I’d been to another lady’s ass since I’d been born—and I found myself almost drooling. I squeezed her ass with both hands, kneading it like dough, and it felt like playing with the world’s biggest water balloon.
Within two minutes, I wasn’t even pretending to give her a massage. I’d taken my top off, then my bottoms, then started to kiss her legs, her calves, her thighs, even her butt cheeks. She panted, moaned, pushed back into my face when my fingers met her pussy. My heart started racing as I realized what was happening; that I was fucking my friend; that I was being filmed fucking my friend; that I was being PAID to fuck my friend; that I hand my fingers inside another woman and was getting her off and I was only horny for more. What was I going to tell my fiancé? *Was* I going to tell my fiancé?
I didn’t care. My friend flipped over and threw her bra aside and I climbed on top of her and kissed her until she pushed my head down and between her legs. I licked her. I tongued and sucked and slurped her and tickled her thighs and held my breath as long as I could until I heard and *felt* her come, and then I was on top of her again and kissing her deeply. When she wrapped her arms around me I felt safer than anywhere else in the world.
Now it was my turn to get on my back. She was on top of me, pressing me down hard into the mattress. One hand clamped onto my neck, tilted my head up and back, and she was kissing and licking and biting my throat while her other hand started to finger me. I yelped the first time I felt her teeth against my skin, which just made her laugh. I could feel the hickeys she was leaving me with, and I didn’t care—at least, not enough to ask her to stop.
I came so fast to just her fingers, but she wasn’t done. I was still massaging my throat when I felt her tongue inside me, and soon I was loopy from coming twice in less than five minutes.
I vaguely heard her ask me to get something from the nightstand, and I guess I handed it to her, and when my vision started to clear—I get *so* loopy when I come—she was looming over me with her blue strap-on ready to go, and then she was holding me down, hard, with both hands and pounding me, pounding me, pounding me. Her belly slammed and slapped down onto mine as she thrust into me, and she gave me the most wicked and satisfied look on her face when it dawned on me what she was doing. My arms tingled where she was pinning me down, and I squirmed a bit because, yeah, it was a little scary. She got a look on her face when she was close to the edge, and suddenly her hands were back around my throat, and then she screamed a huge and primal scream as she came while fucking me and I felt the tremors of another orgasm wreck me.
Her hands came off of my throat, and now she was just lying down on top of me, panting and sweating, kissing me, still inside me. When I could move again, I hugged her and cried, just out of sheer … everything. I fell asleep in her arms.
In the morning, we had sex again—no cameras, just faces and fingers and tongues and toys—and then she paid me for the photo shoots and I went home. I have done a few more photo and video sessions with her, and she pays me and lays me very well every time. The only strange thing about the whole thing was how NORMAL she was after it all, like she can just switch off that part of her brain. We’ve hung out with each other and with other people in non-sexy situations since then, she was even in my wedding, and she just acts like nothing unusual happened.
As I write this up, I’m about to go over to her house for another session together. Tonight, she is going to introduce me to a friend of hers, and I have a feeling the three of us are going to fall asleep together in a big sexy pile in her bed. Wish me luck!
I confess that I'm kinda fashion freak. The first thing I notice about another person is their style, what they wear, how they dress. I literally hate people who set no great store by dressing good.
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