Baby Got Fat!

I started things back up with The One Who Sets Me on Fire a couple of months ago. He’s been trying to see me since our last tryst in January but I always made excuses not to see him. And then my vagina got lonely.

Fire is one of the best lovers I’ve ever had. I swear he got his Ph.d at the Pussy Whisperer Institute. He has the stamina of a teenager and he’s awakened something inside of me that I didn’t know existed. I’m even writing poetry again. I’m way too shy to share it here though. I’m sensitive about my shit! I never knew that I would enjoy lovemaking. I’m so used to getting pounded like a dirty whore during detached yet highly orgasmic sex.
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He has shown me the beauty of taking my time and the power of touch. When he partakes in my body, it feels like an “experiencia religosa” (in my Enrique Iglesias voice). It’s like taking the scenic route. I’m no longer spiraling through ecstasy but falling into the grooves of it. A man has never look so deeply into my eyes during lovemaking. There are times I want to look away but something about our oneness redirects me.

Of course this sounds oh so lovely but there is one little issue. I think he may have a fat fetish. I have dealt with enough fetishes to know when I see one. When we make love, things occur. Initially, he would tell me how sexy I am and then it progressed to:

“I like a thick juicy woman!”
“All of this thickness turns me on!”
“I love your big ass titties. Slap and smother me with them.”
“Whose thick body this is?”
“Can’t you tell by the way I make love to that juicy body that you’re so fucking sexy?!”

I could go on and on but you get the picture. The mere talk of my fat seems to rev his engine more. It’s as if he becomes another person literally. That green eyed hippie turns into a soul brotha #9 when he’s inside of me. The loving is so good I tune him out most of the time. He definitely likes more cushion for the pushing. That’s fine. But our last time together, he did something weird. When I was riding him, he grabbed my belly, flapped it up and down profusely and talked dirty to me!!!

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There are two things that you just don’t do with fat girls. First, you don’t mess with our food. Secondly, you don’t gather up our belly, love handles, etc like you’re about to throw it over your shoulder! Seriously?! It was bad enough that I hated being on top because I sweat like a  Shaquille O’Neal pig. I felt like the fattest chick alive. I wanted to twitch my nose and bewitch my ass out of that situation!  Heck, I even briefly considered reactivating my gym membership! After several seconds, the loud flapping stopped. I was so relieved!

I must bring out the weird in people. Next time I wouldn’t be surprised if he fed me or rubbed lotion all over my skin before he stuck his hose in again.

Google Made Me Do It

As some of you may have read, I have a crush on my professor aka The One Who is a Silver Fox. He’s no longer my professor and I don’t have to take his courses anymore. I’m still enrolled at the university though. The fact that I don’t have to take his classes anymore has unbridled my passion despite this failed attempt. It felt like the levee finally broke!

When I took his classes, I knew not to cross the line. It helped to police my desire. Well, as of late, I have been breaking all the rules! I have been more than cordial. I have been flirting up a storm! It started when he greeted me in the hallway a couple of weeks ago. I replied, “Hi sexy,” and sashayed down the hallway like I was Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter hunty. He giggled nervously. The response was quite odd for an older gentleman but then again, he’s on odd person. I thought it was kinda cute.

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Yeah. I’m sexy. Look back at it, bitch!

This alone was not enough to quench my thirst. Yes. I can admit I was acting thirsty y’all. I got away with even more subtle (and not so subtle) flirting and had to push the boundaries a little more. And how did I do that? Of course I did the most stalker-ish and creepiest thing possible—I Googled his ass! I found out his personal email and cell phone number. I contacted him via text and added him to yahoo messenger. I know it’s weird but please pick your jaw off the floor for a few moments. I’ve done weirder shit in my lifetime. The messages were playful and few and far between. I was not being a slut bucket about it which was difficult because slutbucketism is one of my specialties.

As you may have guessed, he did not respond to any of my messages. The intelligent part of my brain was not surprised. The bipolar-y/thoughts of grandeur side of my brain wanted a different outcome. A hot steamy kiss in the elevator like Anastasia and Christian a la “50 Shades”? A kiss in the pouring rain like “The Notebook”? A rendition of Fitz passionately overwhelming a lip quivering Olivia Pope?

Make both of my lips quiver Mr. President!

Make both of my lips quiver Mr. President!

Thinking back, I feel quite silly for my behavior. He probably thinks I’m some kind of psycho if he’s aware that it is me. Technically, I never identified myself but I my Yahoo id probably gave it away. Honestly, The Devil Google made me do it. Should I apologize though? What if his laugh was not meant to be cute? What if he was actually terrified?