Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I met Celine at Zeller’s. For those who don’t remember, they were everywhere in Canada, like Walmart. But like the forgotten shopping chain, so too was our love lost to time.
We stayed together, mind you– but all the same, our love died.
Let me begin again.
Celine was a curvy, friendly, albeit shy redhead. She was 20, and she helped me find a remote control in the electronics section during her shift. I asked her out, and we started dating.
We were in love, but over the years, things changed.
I lost my zest for life. I became a homebody, and stopped hanging out with my friends.
Celine put on weight, and her personality soured. She might have been depressed, but we didn’t talk about it.
We never had kids. We didn’t even have pets. We just worked, and grew apart, and became different people.
Celine was now 40, and had many dead end jobs since. She was obese, and sadly, I do mean morbidly so. She would never tell me, but I would guess she weighed well over 300 pounds.
I wasn’t attracted to her anymore. It wasn’t just the weight. She didn’t bother with her hair, her skin, or her hygiene.
And she was mean.
Conversely, I softened over the years. I let her push me around more and more. She took every opportunity to put me down, or call me names. At first it was playful, but years later it felt more like resentment. Maybe she regretted our whole relationship.
Maybe she wished I would stand up to her, but I just didn’t see the point. Neither of us would leave the other. And we both knew it.
We just went about our lives differently.
I had my vices. Things that helped me get by.
I drank. I smoked weed. They kept me docile.
I liked porn. I waited for her to start snoring, then I’d pull out the phone and starting jacking off in bed beside her.
It was almost a nightly routine.
One night, the Wi-Fi died, and rather than get up to fiddle with the Wi-Fi thingy, I resorted to other means of getting off.
I put my other hand on my wife’s ass. She slept naked.
We hadn’t had sex in a while. I honestly had no idea how long it had been. We often did it in the dark. Sex was still sex, and it filled a need. But there was no passion.
In the pitch black bedroom, I explored her shapely body with my hand while I worked myself with the other.
Despite telling myself I found her heavy body unattractive, I had no issues getting erect.
Sure, it was fucked up to touch her while she slept. It was also fucked up how much her soft flesh was doing it for me. Why now? Visually, I was put off by her cellulite. But the tactile aesthetic of the purely blind sensation of touching her fat body was amazing.
Maybe it was because she didn’t like me touching her much the few times a year we did have sex.
Maybe part of it was the awareness of being turned on by a body that I should have found ugly. I can’t describe how erotic this paradox was.
Celine woke up.
I was furiously masturbating when she jerked suddenly, and hissed, “Hank, what the FUCK are you doing?”
I stopped. I was frozen. She turned the bedside lamp on. She pulled the sheet back and saw my erection, which I had since let go of.
“You’re jacking off next to me?” Her face was sleepy, and contorted. “Are you looking at porn?”
She wasn’t stoked about me looking at porn. I always lied and said I didn’t need it. But I did. This time, I wasn’t really lying when I said, “I wasn’t.”
“Were you…touching me?” she asked. I couldn’t gauge if that was better or worse in her opinion.
I didn’t want to argue, or lie. So I just nodded.
“Freak,” she said without a smile. She flicked off the light, and turned away.
Before going back to sleep, she mumbled something, but I didn’t catch it.
Little did I know it at the time, but that changed our relationship. For better or worse is the question I have yet to answer.
The following morning, Celine said nothing about what I was caught doing. We didn’t talk much after work either.
In bed that night, she turned to me.
“Hank,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Don’t ever do that again while I’m sleeping.”
“Okay,” I promised. Well, I said okay, but that’s all I said.
“Where were you touching me?” she asked coldly.
“Your ass, mostly,” I said truthfully.
“Freak,” she muttered. Not long after, she was snoring again.
I laid in bed next to her, görükle escort in the dark, trying to fall asleep.
I couldn’t. I always fell asleep quickly after I had finished, and I was addicted to that habit. Eventually I grabbed my phone.
But…something stopped me. I didn’t have any desire to look up my usual blonde bimbos. I wanted to touch Celine again.
Suddenly, I had the urge to do more. She was turned away from me on her side.
I slowly crept under the blanket, turning by body the opposite way. My feet rested on my pillow as I brought my face next to my wife’s large ass.
She was snoring soundly, not that it was a sure thing she wouldn’t wake up. I slowly inched forward, and pushed my nose into her ass crack.
I inhaled.
She smelled bad. Well, she smelled strong. She didn’t shower often enough, and I don’t think she made every effort to clean herself that well after she…well…anyways.
The aroma got me hard. Now I knew something was wrong with me.
My foot was caught on the sheet. When I went to free it, I tapped Celine in the back of the head with my toe.
Anyone else snoring that loudly would have stayed asleep.
Celine stirred, with my nose buried in her ass crack.
She rolled toward me, and she pinned me under her butt as she steamrolled upon me.
I was crushed under her weight, my face sandwiched between her massive ass cheeks. I remained still.
I didn’t want to wake her, not like this.
I struggled to breathe through my nose, as my mouth was sealed shut by her ass. I could barely pull in any air, and it smelled like her sweat mixed with unwashed ass.
My lower torso was free– it was only my head pinned under her. I slowly reached towards my cock. I gripped it, and slowly massaged myself as I inhaled raggedly from inside her dirty ass. When in Rome.
“So this is what you like?” said Celine.
I froze, but there was no world in which I could explain this away. I just remained still.
“I can’t believe it,” she laughed. I hadn’t heard her laugh like that in a while. Her body shifted and jostled.
“Well, might as well finish now,” she huffed.
A few seconds passed, and then, I obeyed. I jacked myself off while pulling in what little air I could. She remained still as I continued.
“I can’t even,” she scolded me as I pleasured myself, “This is so fucking weird. You’re such a pervert.”
Her words were half-muted by her flesh. I couldn’t argue with her if I tried. I was a pervert, only now I was obsessed her being crushed by my wife.
She shifted her weight a little, and suddenly, I had no air whatsoever.
“I should just put you out of your misery,” she said with a hint of playfulness. Another first for her in a long time. Sure, it was dripping in cruelty, but it almost sounded like she was having fun.
I tried to move my neck to a better angle, to get oxygen. Like a fly in a web, my struggles only brought me closer to doom. I went in deeper.
I abandoned my cock, and tried to move Celine’s weight from my head. She gripped my member as I struggled to push her off.
“What, Hank?” she said innocently, “I thought you wanted this.” She started to give me the first handjob I’d had in years.
Despite this, I was scared. I really thought she meant for me to expire under her. Wives kill husbands all the time.
I was sure she had no idea how dire my situation was. I was starting to black out. My temples were throbbing. My lungs felt like they were about to burst.
Still, she kept tugging on me. I was in hell. I was about to die. I couldn’t scream, but every cell in my body was screaming to be saved.
And yet, I came. My head pounded with an awful pain that put my usual migraines to shame.
She lifted off, and I almost forgot to breathe.
Celine stopped touching me immediately, and I felt her wipe her hand on my chest as I gasped in pain. My vision was all fireworks and black holes.
“I should have just killed you,” said a voice next to me. The words sounded psychotic, sure. But the tone of her voice had changed. She enjoyed it. And I knew she would want to do it again.
She rolled over, and left me panting as I went to the bathroom to clean up. I guess I made my way back to bed, but when I woke up the next day, I couldn’t really recall.
During breakfast, Celine dropped her usual cold demeanor.
“So,” she said with nilüfer escort only a smidge of ire, “did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yeah,” I said, flashing back to the moment I thought I was about to die. Not the highlight of the evening, but…
“I thought I was too fat for you,” she sighed. “Guess not.”
She was too fat. I still missed the young, nubile, only slightly curvy ginger I once knew. But I was turned on by her all the same, especially when she was suffocating me.
The fact that she was kind of into it was a bonus. Maybe we would do it again.
“I wanna do it again,” she said as she wolfed down a hard-boiled egg. “Now.”
She dragged me back to bed, and asked me to strip. I complied. She had never been anything but a little naggy during sex.
Now she was telling me what to do. I lay in bed, as per her instructions.
“Don’t lick my asshole or anything weird. Actually, stick your nose up there. That way I know you can’t breathe.”
She stripped, and straddled me as if we were going to 69. We weren’t.
The lights were off, but the room was brightly lit by the morning sun peering through closed blinds.
Did I mention Celine didn’t shave? Well, add it to the list of things she stopped doing a long time ago.
Her low hanging belly dragged across my face, followed by her hairy bush. Her moist pussy smeared along my chin as she widened her stance.
Her hairy asshole was on full display. I carefully guided my nose towards the stained, puckered destination. It pulsed at my arrival, and as I pushed in, it clenched, as she sat down. She sat down very hard.
The musky smell, the humid warmth. The suffocation. It was amazing. I reached for my cock, but Celine smacked it away.
“Nuh-uh,” she teased. “Don’t touch.”
I could hear her, but I didn’t understand. What were we doing if not assisting in my sexual release?
She relaxed the remainder of her weight on me, and I was enveloped in her ass.
“Fuck,” she sighed. “I love the feeling of crushing your skull. Why didn’t we do this sooner?”
Damn good question.
I needed air, badly. I tapped at her thigh rapidly, but she didn’t budge. I tried to lift her off, but I was incapable. I panicked, and clawed at her thighs.
She smacked me viciously several times on my chest so hard that I would have screamed, but I was unable.
I clenched my fists, and struggled to stay conscious. My chest was on fire, and my brain ached.
Celine leaned forward slightly. I sucked in stale air through her sweaty ass crack. She was laughing.
“Oh, poor baby,” she moaned. “Are you still alive back there?”
I choked and coughed as I took in rancid oxygen. My face was killing me, and my body was shaking.
“I’m gonna bounce, hold on,” she said with far too little disregard for my well being.
She sat back down, then started popping up and smacking me with her ass as she plopped down harder and harder as she used my face as a trampoline.
My nose wasn’t perfectly aligned every time. Her ass cheeks were fat, but it still hurt like shit when they came down hard on the bridge of my nose. Every so often I was fortunate enough for my nose to penetrate her crack, which was lubricated with sweat.
But the next impact would almost assuredly land to the left or right, and I felt like my nose was broken already.
Suddenly, she stood up. She bent her knees, and jumped.
Celine’s several hundred pounds were airborne for half a second. Then she collided with my face, and the blow could have given me a concussion for all I knew. She bounced once, then settled on me as I was once again trapped under her.
My erection was still present, but like my sanity, it felt a little weary.
Again, my air was absent, and I struggled to relay to my cruel, obese wife that I needed her off me. But I worried that the next blow would be on my cock, so I held back a little.
I twitched, and writhed under her as I buried and pushed my face deeper inside her balmy crevice.
I thought absentmindedly about our jobs, totally aware that both of us were playing hooky. Both of us obsessed so much with my newfound fetish– and presumably, hers as well– that I didn’t even think of work until now.
She enjoyed this– that much I knew. But was it sexual for her at all? She didn’t make that clear.
I choked under her crushing weight. She remained. bursa sınırsız escort I almost lost consciousness again.
She sat forward, and this time, crawled off of me.
“Lay on the floor,” she demanded.
We had hardwood. This could be fatal.
“I can’t,” I said, gasping. “You’ll…”
“…I’ll what?” she snapped. “What are you saying.”
“You might…seriously hurt me.”
She pondered this with a smile.
“I’ll be careful,” she said sweetly. I didn’t trust her.
But, as always, I did as I was told.
I crawled to the floor, and lay on my back.
Celine hopped off the bed with a thump. She waddled over to me. She put her heels on either side of my head, facing away from my feet.
I looked up her legs, at her hairy crotch, as she bent her knees.
“I’ll go slow,” she said almost kindly. “But you’re gonna take all my weight.”
“Just…hold on,” I stammered. I wasn’t ready.
“I won’t drop. That would probably crush your skull.” She clearly imagined doing it, but didn’t see jail time being worth the experience.
“This time, I do want your tongue in my ass, though.”
She lowered, and spread her cheeks apart. Without being told twice, I stuck my quivering tongue out, and aimed for her hairy asshole. I had never tasted her ass before now.
The tip of my tongue pressed against her unshaved asshole as her fat ass closed around my face. I pushed in, tasting the chalky, putrid, rancid flavor of my morbidly obese wife’s orifice.
“Ffffuck…” she moaned.
She kept relaxing her weight, and the back of my cranium felt like it was starting to split.
I stuck my tongue deeper as her cellulite entombed me. I felt hands resting on my chest, my cock ignored. It pulsed at the overall situation. It begged to be handled. Precum dripped, and the tip rubbed against my abdomen.
Celine started to grind on me, forcing me painfully against the floor, into her asshole, into a state of panic riddled suffering.
I coughed and sputtered under her, dying for air, gagging at the taste of her insides.
“Hank,” she moaned.
I probed the walls of her cavity, tasting things she had digested.
She took one hand off my chest.
She started to touch herself as I shook, desperately thrashing around for air. I clawed at her massive thighs. My nails dug into her skin.
She didn’t punish me like last time. Not any more than she already was.
I was past the point of fear. I was losing my mind. I kept tonguing her hole out of some broken sense of reality, like I wasn’t there for any other reason.
My hips gyrated, legs twitching and kicking pointlessly. My cock twitched against my stomach, finding wet friction as I tremored and shook.
She was squashing me. Crushing me. My skull felt like it was caving in. My air was gone. My brain cells were fizzling out, one by one.
Celine masturbated as she humped and shifted, moaning louder than my muted struggles.
She was a void goddess. A vicious black hole of a woman. She was devouring my life by trying to cram me inside of her ass, flatten me under her swollen folds.
She was disgustingly powerful, and horribly, selfishly cruel. And she was never going to get up.
I seized up, empty, like a juice box squeezed dry of its sweet life force.
I had nothing left.
Except, I did.
Cum.
I had so much cum.
I climaxed through minimal contact between my dick tip and belly.
I came silently and weakly, but the feeling was profound. Godly. The pleasure was indescribable.
Celine’s moan crescendos into a banshee’s scream, and she came too, twitching and shaking as she let out her primal groans.
She was still suffocating what was left of me. My pleasure was gone, and the hollow, cold futility returned.
She was coming with the tongue of a nearly dead man jammed up her ass.
She let out a long, satisfied sigh.
She sat fully relaxed for a few terrifying seconds.
Only then, did she sit up.
I weakly drew in breath.
Then I gulped it in painfully, drowning myself in oxygen, pulling as much of it back in like I couldn’t take in enough.
My eyes took a while to adjust to the light, and for the stars and spots to fade.
Celine stood above me, smiling.
I wish that I could tell you that this fetish saved our love life.
But I think it’s something…else.
I don’t think she loves me.
I think I’ve created a monster– a mean, careless beast who will continue to push the limits of my ability to survive.
I don’t think there’s any way out of this now.
I think that it’s going to be even worse next time.
I think I’m just a seat to her.
A surface.
A throne for my queen.
Celine.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
