Broken

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If you want to be critical, her tits and ass were too big. How is that even possible, you might ask? If you saw her Instagram page you wouldn’t say that. She posts pictures of her tits almost every day; her ass is reserved for special occasions. Nearly 100,000 people follow her starting their day with a tease of her pinching her nipple. If you look at the pictures you might think she is curvy, some followers use the word plump. The pictures don’t tell the true story though. If you are familiar with tits and ass having only seen normally sized women you have in your mind an idea of what they would look like if she was standing in front of you and that is what you see on your computer or your phone or whatever. What you don’t know, because she wont tell you, is that she is six-foot-three. She is immense, she is an Amazon goddess and if you ever did get a change to hold one of her immense breasts in your hand you would be shocked by the pure mass of it. If you were in a position to actually take her from behind, having her bend over to take your dick, when you reached down and put a hand on each hip you would realize how far apart your hands were.

I want to say she is mine. We have been seeing each other for about six months. I have bought her a Valentine and a Birthday present. Most nights we get into bed beside each other and every time we do there is some sort of sex act. It is a remarkable and wonderful experience having sex with her. Whether we fuck or not there is sex. She has the sex drive of a man. Last night she wouldn’t let me make love to her. She thinks we are getting too close. More precisely she believes I am getting too close. She didn’t want to fuck me. She doesn’t want me to love her. Instead she jacked me off. My dick hurts this morning from it. She is not delicate. When she was done she mounted my head, fucking my face. I am a large person myself, I think if I had to I could fight her off but I didn’t want to. I wanted her right where she was so although I put up a fight it was only for show.

She was gone when I woke up this morning. She had already left for work. I showered and got ready to leave myself. There was sixty bucks sitting on the nightstand. It was so that I would pick up dinner. She wanted Thai and had written her order on a little pink slip with the word MEMO preprinted across the top. She had filled out the to and from spaces as well. She stole the little memo pads from work – they didn’t use them anymore. She used them all the time. I felt a little dirty and thought I knew what it was like to be a mistress, a woman desperately in love with a man that was never going to leave his wife. It pissed me off and I was angry when I walked to the metro.

“Can we talk?” I asked when we sat down. I had a bowl of those see-through noodles with some chicken. The seasonings were all off. I ate it though.

“Talk.” She said. It was hard to talk to her normally but next to impossible when she was like this. I had come home to find her taking her daily set of selfies. She posted one of her in her bra. One with bra, which closed in the front unhooked, and then three of her pinching her nipples until they were erect. Of course I looked. I was a follower. She had put her bra back on. She wore expensive lingerie that was mostly paid for by the advertising revenue she got from the website. If you have enough followers they pay you. When we first started dating I didn’t understand her fascination for “Likes.” When I one say saw a check she had gotten from them I understood. She had covered herself in a kimono-style robe that was about the size Muhamad Ali would have worn into the ring. On her it hugged her curves and ended above the knee. Although she had covered the black and pink lace bra and panties I found it hard to think of anything else as we sat and ate. I wished a little she had the TV, it would have filled in the silence that passed for one of our conversations.

“We’ve been dating for six months.”

“More like two.” She interrupted despite a full mouth. She slurped in a noodle as punctuation.

“January 12th.” I tried to point out. I knew the date, it was my sister’s birthday and we had left her birthday party together a little drunk and a lot horny.

“We weren’t exclusive.”

“I haven’t seen anyone since that night. You told me you hadn’t either.”

“I didn’t. I never see anyone. We didn’t agree though. We didn’t agree to be exclusive. It’s two months.”

“I like you.” I said, taking a different tact.

“Stop.”

“I really like you.”

“104,000 people like me…” she was staring at her phone. She was almost always staring at it. “5,231 in the last twenty minutes.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

She didn’t answer.

“What happened, Tessa? I want in. I want you to know that whatever it was, its not going to happen again. Whoever he was, whatever he did, I’m not him and I wont do what he did.” I’d almost said it before and she had always stopped me. One time by slugging me in antalya escort the stomach harder than anyone had ever hit me off of the football field. I had momentum though and she was distracted, counting her likes and shares and whatever else her followers did. I thought they needed another category with a penis being jacked off because I suspected that was what most of those 5,000 whatever followers were doing right now. “I love you, Tess.”

“Stop.”

“Move in with me.”

“Stop.” She wasn’t really looking at her phone anymore, just pretending to. There was a tear. A single solitary tear so like her in its loneliness my heart broke as sure as it would if she told me it was all over and that I needed to take my toothbrush and get out.

“Marry me.” I went on. “I’ll go get a ring tomorrow. I’ll get a good one. We can go to some park tomorrow. We can take a carriage ride and I will get down on one knee. We can catch a plane on Saturday and be in Bermuda by lunch and married by dinner. Lets do it.”

She didn’t say stop again. She didn’t say yes either. Instead she shoved the carton of noodles off the table. It flew briefly through the air before hitting one of the cabinets. Chicken and vegies scattered across the kitchen floor.

The table was next. It was pushed with even more force and its mass hit the cabinet with the sound of wood splintering. There was no visible damage but I suspected I would have to replace a hinge or something in the morning. There was nothing between us now. She moved from her chair to the floor and approached me on her knees. I’d had plenty of girls pull the catlike crawl seduction maneuver. With Tess, she was more a tiger.

“Don’t.” I objected. “We have to talk.” When she got to me she slapped my dinner from my hands. She went for the fly of my jeans and I batted her hands away. She went for it again. Her large dark eyes stared up at me. She was putting on an act and she was good at it. She moved right, she gave the correct facial expressions. I had always said she should knock off taking boob selfies and instead just try modeling. She would be good at it. She laughed it off with the same sharp sarcastic sneer she used if I told her how pretty she was or how much I liked spending time with her.

I tried to hold her hands. I am strong. I am stronger than her. I didn’t want to hurt her though. We are both sizable people, wresting the way normal people did broke furniture. Her bed rested on the floor without any sort of bedframe for this very reason. We had gone through three before giving up on them. She got to my cock, she took it into her mouth. The conversation was over.

I was actually uncomfortable with how good she was at what she was doing. It wasn’t that I thought she had done it too much, acquiring her skills though practice. it was what she said one of the first times she had performed oral sex on me. We were at my apartment. At the start she would actually come to my place from time to time. She had started and I had relaxed. She had undressed me completely and laid me in the bed. She had stripped down to her matching lingerie. It was funny how incredibly arousing I found her expensive bras and panties at the start. She started and I was moaning it was so good when suddenly she stopped. She continued to stroke me, moving her hand up and down while at the same time twisting it. “You know why its so good, right? I suck dick like a man. That’s why you like it so much isn’t it. I remind you of that quarterback in college that blew you in the shower after practice.” She slipped my dick back into her mouth at that point. I watched her and it was as if she had learned how to suck dick from watching porn. She took me deep into her throat, gagging on the head of my cock while she tugged and grasped with my balls. She moved slowly at first but as I grew closer she moved her head up and down more quickly stroking my cock while grasping the shaft with her hand. When she had he ready to cum she alternated jacking me off and sucking just on the tip until I sprayed cum at her. She put on a show of that too. When I came she took my cum across her face. She beat my dick against her chin. She would take my load into her mouth showing me her jizz-covered tongue before swallowing it down. “Now fuck me.” she ordered. I had fucked her. She spat profanities as I did.

She sucked me the same way for a long time in the kitchen kneeling on the floor in front of me. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t going to do it for me. I wasn’t even staying hard. I was, if you can believe this, not interested. What I wanted from her that night was not head. She could tell. She sat on the floor, her ass on her calves her tits about to break loose of the bra and stroked me, her eyes locked on mine. She wasn’t the type to give up. She understood that she needed to change approaches. In a single fluid motion more agile than you would expect of a woman of her size she rose from the floor and pulled me by the hand from my chair and took me to kemer escort her bedroom. She undressed me and put me in the center of her bed. We didn’t speak. I think I knew already. She definitely did. It would be a while though before it came up. She approached me again as a tiger, this time somewhat more awkwardly, a three legged tiger, because she held in her hand her magic tube. That’s what she called it, an intentional misreading of the label. She put my cock back in her mouth and focused those eyes on me. Her expression was wanton and lustful but it wasn’t honest and it hurt more than what she was about to do. I folded my arms behind my head and closed my eyes.

The first time we wrestled it had been playful and fun. She was without a doubt a freak and when she had threatened my ass I had pushed her away. She had fought back. We tussled and rolled and alternated, one of us pinning the other. She smiled gleefully both when I had the upper hand and when she took it back. I had not expected either that she was serious about her intentions nor the extent she would go to achieve them. The wrestling escalated. At one point I had her down, my weight fully on top of her, my hands locked tightly around her wrists. “That hurts.” She said. I let go. “Pussy.” She responded, flipping her body around quickly and grasping my head in a figure four, her thighs wrapped around my head her calves locked behind my neck. I had two choices at that point. Rather than overpower her I simply pressed my face into her pussy. As I fucked her with my tongue she introduced me to the magic tube. With my cock fitted deeply into her wide open mouth she slipped first one and then two fingers into my ass. She was not delicate about it. “I fuck like a man.” She had told me at my sister’s party. “Most men can’t handle it.” I suppose I proved that I could.

On our last night together there was no wrestling. I just took it. I spread my legs wide. She sucked my dick and fucked my ass. She knew to find the prostate. She used it to induce an erection my mood wouldn’t kill and then worked it assuring she could torture my cock with her tongue and lips as long as she wanted preventing my orgasm with a firm press of two fingers to the right spot. When she let me come it was good. It was earthshattering and I found myself dizzy, my ears ringing.

When she said she made love like a man she wasn’t referring to fucking my ass. Yes, she fucked my ass, with both her fingers as she blew me and from time to time with a rubber dick she strapped onto her hips, but when I said she fucked like a man what she meant was that once I was inside of her she moved with intent. She was aggressive with her hands and her body. She worked with a single purpose in mind and that purpose was her orgasm. I was a tool she used for that purpose. She put on a show when she sucked dick but when she climbed on top of me or when she laid back and pulled me on top of her she was after her own satisfaction and pursued it with a dedication to purpose most women don’t understand. On my back, with no time to recover from the orgasm she had induced she climbed on and rode me forcing herself down on me hard. Our bodies slapped together, my cum she had intentionally left on her lips and chin dripped off of her and onto my chest. She sweated from the exertion.

She didn’t moan or sigh like other women. She didn’t make sounds because she thought I liked them or because she was giving me hints about what was good and when and where to do what. She grunted when she couldn’t hold it back as if she was bench-pressing a new personal best. She pinched her own nipples because she liked it. She pressed her hand to her clit forcing her fingers between us because it got her off and that was what she was after.

Some day I know I will miss being twenty-five and force fucked by an amazon princess. I will miss my muscle mass and my flat stomach and a cock that quite literally lasted all night but on that occasion I just wanted it to quit. I wanted it to lose its enthusiasm and end it. I still hoped to finish our talk. I still believed there was a chance she would relent. I wouldn’t push marriage but maybe we could officially live together. I would give up my apartment if it made her feel better. I would keep the apartment if she wanted me to. It would be okay to just keep a few things there. Her tits quivered when her body shook. Her eyes were closed and her read rolled back and she was smiling from ear to ear. It was the one time I really felt her smile was in earnest. I watched her go through her post orgasm bliss and even raised my hips a couple times. Finally she looked down on me.

“Tessa.” I said. I mean “I love you,” but I said “Tessa.”

“You didn’t come.” She said in a matter of fact way. She wasn’t upset, she was just making an observation as if she was noticing the sky was clouding up and she said, “It might rain.”

“Tessa.” I said again. I was pleading. It would crack my friends up to see konyaaltı escort their buddy, the guy they had called tank since college, pleading with a girl to talk rather than fuck.

“Do me.”

“Tess.”

“Do. Me.” She moved off of me. She rolled over and spread her legs, gripping her ankles. “Fuck me, asshole. Put a baby in this cunt.”

She said that a lot. I thought it was cruel. She said she couldn’t, had seen a doctor. It wasn’t gonna happen. Her lady pieces were for show. It was one of the things she said to be a hard ass bitch. It was her defense mechanism. She said shit about herself so that you didn’t get a chance to say it. She also begged me to “Fuck her fat ass.” The worst was when she wanted to be struck. We would be fucking and she would tell me to hit her. She didn’t just want to be slapped she wanted to be hit. She would snarl things. “I think I’ll fuck your brother, I bet his dick is bigger.” Or “I’m only fucking you because Todd is married. God, I want to fuck him so bad. Can you set it up? Can you maybe invite him over? I’ll let you watch. Shit, I’ll let you fluff him. You can suck him hard for me. I bet you’d like that.” She would say this shit while we are fucking. She wanted me to get distracted, to not be thinking clearly, then she would change her taunts to commands, barking instruction. “Hit me, you pussy. Stand up for yourself. You know you want to.”

The first time I hit her I did it softly, like playfully slapping her ass while she did dishes. That just pissed her off. For her I tried. I would swing my arm from a little further back. I even once used the back of my hand. I couldn’t really hit her though. I hated the couple of times I had tried. One night at my place we were watching TV. She had put on some movie. Between ads for tampons and fat free yogurt a woman was being emotionally tortured. I sat through it watching her more than watching the show as if it would give me some sort of insight. It didn’t. When the asshole finally hit her she simply snarled. “Fucking bitch had it coming.” She turned off the TV after that and fucked my brains out. I was still into it at that point. I still didn’t hit her though.

“Tell me you don’t want this pussy.” She said. She was stroking it. I had gotten up to take a leak. I thought for a minute my cock was finally cooperating by not cooperating but when I came back into the bedroom and saw her hand knuckles deep inside of her, he twitched to life.

I fucked her because I still wanted to. I needed to. In my mind I was making love to her. Her large soft body was pressed against mine and our flesh was hot and sweaty where it touched. I suckled at her breasts and moved my hips in time with hers. I felt her long strong thighs against mine. Mercifully she was quiet. There were no taunts or vulgar commands and we simply made love to each other. We even kissed. She didn’t much like kissing which was sad because her mouth was beautiful, her lips inviting. We didn’t kiss hello or goodbye, just occasional pecks as we prepared for sex or afterwards when I was feeling vulnerable and wanting to hold her. It was her way of telling me to roll over. That night though we kissed as I moved on top of her. Her hands moved over my back. This time I came for her and when I did she held me, her hands lacing into my hair pulling my head to her neck.

“Andy,” she said. Her voice was small, feminine, and fragile. I knew what she wanted. “Will you do it for me. One Last time.” I ignored the last part. I kissed her on the mouth, the neck, and slowly and gently on each breast. She cooed. This was the only time she cooed. I kissed her belly. It was broad and soft but not fat. I kissed her hip and the crease where her leg met her abdomen. She bent her knee a little forming a crease I followed down to the soft folds between her thighs. She sighed and stroked my hair as I did it. She had told me once she liked it because it made her feel like a kitten being cleaned by mama cat. I have a bit of a thing for performing oral sex and wished she was more interested in it. It was typically my ultimate goal when we wrestled and I think she liked it when it came as the result of me holding her down. She didn’t like it as foreplay and would just lie there bored until I stopped. She liked it afterwards though. I was thorough and licked at her, cleaning her, until she was moaning gently. I brought her to orgasm. It was perfect. I lay between her long legs afterwards and she wrapped them around me. I held her, hugging her, my hands each gripping a large ass cheek. I clung to her.

Had she said simply that she wanted to breakup with me I would have argued against it. I probably would have convinced her to think about it, meet me for dinner the next day and might even have successfully prolonged our relationship another couple of years but that wasn’t what she said. What she said instead was “I weight 241.4 pounds. At least I did this morning.” I knew I wouldn’t be back in this apartment again.

“Everyone always thinks I had some shitty father, or that my mother married some guy who abused me. I’ve seen a shrink, the shrink says I am suppressing it. I’m not though. I’ve kept a diary, every day since I was thirteen years old. I would know. I’m not crazy, I’m just sort of… broken.”

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