B B W Rule, OK?

Author's note: This is a work of fiction which includes themes including cuckolding, BDSM, smoking fetish and oral and anal sex. All characters are aged eighteen or older.

Having found to my dismay that my cigar case was empty (when the hell had I smoked the last one? And how could I have forgotten that it was the last one?) I put my lady churchwarden pipe in my handbag, together with my tobacco pouch, checked that my stocking tops were just visible below the hem of my short skirt, and made my way downstairs. I was going to meet my lover for our regular bout of mid-week fucking, but before I left the house, I felt duty bound to check on my husband, who was, as usual, sat in front of the television in his wheelchair, the inevitable tumbler of vodka in his hand.

My name is Olwen Simpson, and these days, I am what the adult magazines and the porn industry call a BBW - a Big Beautiful Woman. I mention this not out of a sense of immodesty, but to let my readers know exactly what they are dealing with here. I've not always been this size. Let me explain.

I was twenty when I met the man who was to become my husband. At that age I was nearly six foot tall, and 'well covered' as my late mother used to say. I was also a virgin, and incredibly naive as far as sex and relationships were concerned. Meeting David changed all that.

I had left school at sixteen with few educational qualifications, but I walked into a job at our local supermarket. At the time I met David, nearly four years later, he was a sergeant in the police force. He was a huge man, well over six foot tall and built, as they say, like a brick shit house. I liked him straightaway.

Both my parents warned me against having a boyfriend who was ten years and more older than me, and when they learned that he had already been married and divorced, they were horrified. But, to my lasting shame, I paid no attention to their wise advice. The law of the land stated that I didn't need permission to marry because I was above the age of consent, and so barely six weeks after having met David, we got married without telling anyone. It was a very quiet wedding. The only guests were two of David's colleagues, who acted as our witnesses, and one of them 'gave me away'.

I'll always regret ignoring my parents' advice, especially in the light of how our marriage developed. We barely spoke after they learned that I was married. They hadn't been invited to the wedding. David persuaded me that it was for the best, and infatuated with him as I was back then, I readily agreed. It was one of the first examples of David's controlling manner. Ironic, really, the way things turned out years later. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the early years of my marriage.

Our honeymoon was a weekend in a seedy hotel in Brighton. David was working on the Monday following our wedding, but in that short weekend, he succeeded in introducing me to the joy of sex.

Because of the speed with which we got married, my dates were all to hell, and I was on my period the day of the wedding. So the first time I ever had a cock in me was in my mouth, and the second time was about twenty minutes later, and it went up my arse. I loved both experiences, but I couldn't wait to be cunt fucked. That occurred in our own house (David already had a place of his own) the following weekend.

David hated it when I was bleeding. He wouldn't touch me, and he certainly wouldn't fuck me. Well, not cunt fuck me anyway. During my periods of menstruation, I had to take my husband up my arse or in my mouth. Not that either bothered me, and it was because of David's reluctance to fuck me when I was bleeding that I developed a liking for arse-to-mouth sex.

For about four years, all we seemed to do was fuck. I loved to pleasure my husband, and I learned lots of ways to do so. As well as fucking me in all my holes, David liked to cum on my tits and my face. And I adored the taste and texture of his cum. I was very happy. David got promoted to detective constable, and no longer had to wear a uniform. I was promoted to check-out supervisor not long afterwards.Things just couldn't be better, we both thought.

Neither of us wanted children. We didn't want the patter of tiny feet to interrupt our fabulous sex life. We fucked so often and so vigorously that one night, about six years after we'd got married, our bed disintegrated under us whilst David was fucking me up the arse doggy style. We slept on the mattress on the floor that night, but not before he'd cum up my arse, in my mouth (he loved seeing me do arse-to-mouth) and finally in my cunt.

Then, just before our eleventh wedding anniversary, whilst on an emergency call to attend an in-progress bank robbery, David was shot. Chaos ensued when the robbers realised that they were in a hopeless situation. In desperation they tried to shoot their way clear. Thankfully, no-one else was injured, and the thieves were all apprehended and after a short trial (they didn't have a leg to stand on, and all of them pleaded guilty) they were eventually given long prison sentences.

But David saw none of this. He spent eight months in hospital, and then nearly a year in a rehabilitation unit, where they tried and failed to give him the use of his legs back. The bullet that hit him injured his spine, which meant that he would have to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

When he eventually came home, David was a changed man. I had to do everything for him. I didn't mind, because I loved him. I missed the fantastic sex, of course, but at least I had my husband back.

Except I didn't. David was morose, uncommunicative and downright hard work. He still had to endure long sessions of painful physiotherapy as part of his rehabilitation. The surgeon who operated on him refused to sign him off so that he could try and go back to work. When the news came through that he was no longer considered fit enough to resume his job as a detective constable, David retreated even further into his shell. The police service were great with him. They offered him a desk job, but he never even considered it. He took his pension and sat at home, moping. He never went out, he began to drink heavily and what little self respect he still retained gradually faded until it disappeared altogether.

At the time that I am writing this, it has been just over eight years since his accident. I have just celebrated my forty first birthday (with an absolutely mind-blowing celebratory afternoon of disgustingly filthy sex with my boyfriend) and my relationship with my husband has totally disintegrated. We live together under the same roof, but we rarely speak, and to all intents and purposes, we live totally separate lives. Mine involves work and seeing Paul for gorgeous sex; David's revolves around drinking, watching porn on the TV and occasionally shouting vile things at me, whenever I say or do something that he doesn't like.

I parked the car at the back of Paul's house, out of the gaze of nosey neighbours, and walked around the corner to the front door. As he knows he is required to do, he was waiting for me in the hallway when I put my key in the lock and walked in.

Paul likes to be dominated. A good firm hand spanking gets his cock beautifully hard and then I allow him to fuck me. That what was on the cards for this evening.

He took my hand and kissed it.

"I've missed you," he said tenderly.

I grinned. He'd last seen me about three hours ago, on the shop floor of the supermarket where we both worked. Despite his youth, Paul was a store manager, thanks to the university graduate scheme that the company ran. He'd joined the business straight from university, and had been sent to manage our store. He was a popular member of staff. All my colleagues liked him. I was the only one who got to fuck him.

"Living room," I commanded. "Trousers down and prepare for a spanking. I'm gagging for cock."

We walked hand in hand into his living room. He began to undress and I started to unbutton my blouse. We watched each other. His trousers came down, followed by his underpants. He stood there in his shirt and a pair of socks.

"Socks off, please Paul," I said. "This isn't one of those terrible porn films where the man always seems to keep his socks on."

I took off my blouse and unclipped my bra. My huge tits (47DD), released from their confinement, flopped into view. Paul sighed contentedly. He'd be playing with them very soon, he knew.

He scrambled out of his shirt and knelt naked at my feet.

"May I?" he asked in a shy voice.

I nodded and he unzipped my skirt and pulled it down. I stepped out of it, moving closer to him in the process. He looked at me and licked his lips.

"You shaved," he whispered hoarsely. "You look beautifully pink and smooth."

I smiled at him. I never wore underwear to an assignation with Paul. We'd been lovers for just under a year, and in that time Paul had educated me into performing most of his favourite fetishes. I'd never shaved my cunt for David. But Paul had asked so nicely that I'd agreed straightaway.

I sat down on the leather sofa in the living room. It felt cool against my naked arse. He remained on his knees, awaiting instructions to lay himself across my lap. I smiled to myself and decided to make him wait a while.

"Pass me my handbag, please," I said softly. He did as he was told. I opened it and took out my lady churchwarden pipe. His eyes lit up. This was another of Paul's fetishes. He loved to see women smoking, but only cigars or a pipe. He didn't like the smell or the sight of cigarettes.

I slipped the stem of the empty pipe between my lips.

"I'll smoke for you later if you please me," I teased him. He grinned with pleasure.

I put my pipe away and patted my thighs.

"Spanking time!" I said softly.

Paul scrambled to his feet and lay across my ample thighs. I adjusted his position, so that his cock nestled snugly between them. He was still limp, although the sensation of my nylon covered thighs began to work its' magic. I could feel his cock twitching and thickening.

I rubbed my hand gently over both his arse cheeks, and he gave a little shiver. I'd never spanked David, but after Paul had asked me to spank him, and reassured me that he really enjoyed the sensation, this had become a regular ritual in our sex play. I even found pleasure in hurting my lover, because he enjoyed having pain inflicted on him, and his performances after a good spanking were always spectacular.

I raised my hand and brought it sharply down onto his pale, white left arse cheek.

Smack! The impact made a very pleasing sound. I repeated it, only this time, I hit his right cheek.

Smack! The same sound. Paul wriggled a little, and settled down to enjoy his spanking.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Six swift smacks, three on each arse cheek followed. I was quite a good at spanking by now, even if I say so myself. Spanking Paul no longer hurt my hand, and my accuracy had improved. I surveyed my 'handiwork' (Sorry!)

Two bright pink handprints, each one in the centre of each of Paul's arse cheeks bore witness to my ability to lay each hand spank on top of the previous one. I rubbed his arse cheeks again, enjoying the heat that my spanking had caused.

I squeezed my thighs together, and Paul's cock reacted. It was getting harder. If I wanted it in me, ( and I did!) I'd have to give him at least another dozen on each cheek. Well, there was no time like the present. I raised my hand and resumed Paul's punishment.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Six more hard swats quickly followed. Paul's breathing was deeper and faster now. He was enjoying this, and his cock bore testament to the fact. I could feel it throbbing between my thighs.

I paused to get my breath back, and to enjoy the sight before me. My handprints were now an angry red and the surrounding flesh was turning nicely pink too. The picture I was painting on Paul's arse canvas was looking very artistic indeed.

Time for another set of six, I decided, as I rubbed his hot arse cheeks, remembering to use my fingernails on the imprints of my handprints. As I scraped them along the area where I'd concentrated my spanking, they caused while lines to appear in the red handprints, but they didn't last long. Everything was soon lovely and red and hot again.

I raised my hand again.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Paul let out a "Mmmm" of appreciation. He was enjoying this.

I decided to give him a treat. Pulling his arse cheeks apart, I slipped my finger in between them and probed his arsehole. He shivered in anticipation.

Now as I've already stated, I love being fucked in the arse. It's almost as nice as being cunt fucked. I pressed my index finger against his little pink-brown hole. I paused, but Paul wanted me to do it.

"Push it in, " he said, his voice trembling with lust. "Please finger fuck me!"

Despite our agreement that I was in charge, we always played consensually. We loved giving each other pleasure, so I pushed a bit harder and felt my finger penetrate him right up to the second knuckle. It didn't half feel tight in there!

His cock was rock hard now. He started to hump my thighs, and I slowly finger fucked him.

"Don't you dare cum," I warned him. "I need that beautiful cock in my cunt."

Paul moaned again. (Another of his fetishes is hearing me 'talk dirty'. He'd always called it 'pussy' until we started fucking. 'Cunt' is one of my favourite words.)

I pulled my finger out of his arse and sniffed it. It smelled heavenly, rich and earthy. I reckoned on giving him another set of six really hard hand spanks before he put his cock in me. I rubbed his firm, hot arse cheeks and he tensed, anticipating what was to come.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

My blows rained down relentlessly and as each landed his leg twitched. They were beginning to hurt now.

"Harder, please," he gasped, and so I obliged. He wasn't the only one enjoying this!

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Thank you, Mummy," Paul said gratefully. 'Mummy' was his safe word, and he used it to tell me that he was ready to fuck me. I opened my thighs to allow him to get up. He scrambled to his feet, a thick strand of pre-cum leaking from his cock. I grabbed at him and pulled him towards me. I love the taste of pre-cum.

Gobbling his cock into my mouth, I sucked him for a few seconds before releasing him and lying down on the sofa. Paul climbed on board, thumbing my aching nipples and thrusting his tongue into my mouth as he did so.

I held his cock and guided him into me. He slid in easily, thanks to the lubrication that spanking him had generated in me. I was very wet indeed, but he still stretched and filled me, as he always did.

He bottomed out deep inside me, and I felt his heavy balls resting against my arse cheeks. I clamped down on him and he sighed contentedly.

"I love fucking you," he whispered into my mouth. I licked his tongue and grinned. Alternately clamping and releasing, I started to milk his cock whilst he dipped his head and began to nibble one of my nipples.

They are extremely sensitive, especially when I'm being fucked. They stood out like coat pegs, and I shuddered as he dragged his teeth gently down my long, thick nipple. I unclenched and he began to saw in and out of me.

His cock shaft rubbed up against my clit, sending waves of electric thrills through my cunt. I was getting wetter and wetter and the sound of him thrusting into me was such a turn on. I wriggled a bit and wrapped my legs around him, trapping him.

He was young and strong enough to cope with my legs around him. We'd fucked enough times to have worked out what suited us best. I'd pull him into me with my legs, he'd pull back slowly until only his mushroom head was left in me, and we'd repeat the process. It was fantastic.

David and I had fucked regularly before his accident, as I have already stated. But Paul had a longer, thicker, younger cock, and his technique was better than I remembered David's being. We'd been fucking for about five minutes, and I'd already cum once, and I could feel a second orgasm building up.

Paul sensed it too. He slowed down, making each in-and-out stroke a long, pleasurable tease. I was in heaven! As he reached the point in his pull-out stroke where he was almost all out of me, I followed him, thrusting my hips up.

He took the opportunity to slip his one free hand underneath me and slid it between my arse cheeks. I grinned. It was my turn to be finger fucked now!

As I've already said, I love being fucked up the arse. I've had a cock up there hundreds, if not thousands of times. As a result, my arsehole isn't as tight as it once was. Paul slid three fingers into me easily, helped by the cunt juice that was flowing out of me and down my arse crack. I was making my own lubrication!

We were both on the edge now. Paul's cock felt red hot inside me. I was doing my best to keep him cool by dousing his shaft with cunt juice, but the sensation of having most of his fist up my arse wasn't helping me to be restrained. We fucked one another frantically. Our mouths were open, greedily sucking in air, as well as mingling tongues and swapping copious amounts of saliva. We were both very close now.

I could see it in Paul's eyes. We couldn't talk because we were still lip locked, but I knew the signs. I uncrossed my ankles and gave Paul an unencumbered run-in. He was banging in and out of me with metronomic rhythm.

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" he grunted as he completed each in-stroke.

I was gaping too, sucking his tongue and savouring the sensations his cock was producing in my cunt. I broke off our kiss to gasp,

"Oh yes! Mmmm! Right there! Www! Do that again! Yes! That! Oh fuck! Fuck! Aargh! oh fuuuuuuccccckkkkk!"

I exploded, waves of passion washed over me and about eight nano seconds later I felt Paul cum too. A white hot rope of cum erupted out of him and splattered into me. Without breaking his rhythm, Paul continued his fucking, and I felt another half a dozen or so pulses as he drained his balls and transferred all his lovely cum into my cunt.

Eventually we both stopped. Gasping for air, he kissed me and grinned shyly.

"You are an amazing fuck," he said licking my still quivering lips. "I hope you don't have to rush off? Give me ten minutes and I'll be good to go again. Do you want seconds?"

"Yes please," I replied, reaching for my handbag. "Maybe this will help get you nice and hard again."

I filled my pipe bowl with my favourite aromatic tobacco and slipped the stem between my lips. I sparked up my lighter and lit up. Paul watched me smoke, his cock twitching. I took in a big mouthful of smoke and exhaled through my nostrils. I knew he loved seeing that.

Clenching my pipe, I reached for his cock with one hand. I used my other hand to remove my pipe and then I dipped my head and took his shrivelled cock into my smoky mouth. He groaned in delight.

I could taste myself on his cock, cunt cream and cum is one of my favourite flavours. I managed to get my pipe stem in between my lips too, and I sucked and smoked.

"Oh fuck," gasped Paul. "what a sensation. You smoke so beautifully, and no-one sucks cock better than you!"

His cock was thickening and growing in my mouth. I took my pipe from between my lips and concentrated on sucking him fully hard again. It didn't take long. Oh, how I love the virility of youth!

Reaching for my tits, Paul gripped me by both nipples. He squeezed them gently, and I groaned. My nipples are sensitive at any time. Immediately after being fucked, they are super sensitive. I began to pant, and he pulled his cock out of my mouth. It glistened with my saliva. We smiled at each other.

"I want you," I told him. "Balls deep up my arse or in my cunt. You choose."