Dirty Molly & the English Greenhorn

Charlotte, watching across the table, giggled, "Momma, you're embarrassing the poor guy."

Never taking her sultry dark eyes off mine, her smiling face inches from me, her scent filling my nostrils, she almost whispered, "I ain't embarrassing you, am I Andrew honey?"

I still didn't understand the way my body was reacting to this woman, but I could resist it no longer. I thought back to the diner, and the trucker's big horny hand reaching up under Molly's skirt. Acting on pure instinct, under the table, out of Charlotte's sight, I slipped my hand onto Molly's warm, soft thigh and under the hem of her skirt. Not a muscle twitched in her face, but she shuffled her feet slightly closer to me to allow my hand to slip between the burning flesh of her fat thighs, my thumb resting gently against the gusset of her knickers. She let it stay there for a moment, then pulled away and said, "I'll go and cut you a piece of my nice hot, juicy, sticky pie." Charlotte clearly amused by how hot and bothered I'd become, laughingly apologised for her mother. A few moments later Molly re-appeared with a plate of steaming pie, smothered in cream. As she placed it in front of me, she said "I always think pie tastes better with cream in it, sugar." As she said it she reached out her hand under the table and stroked her fingers firmly across my fly, making my straining prick jump like a salmon on an angler's hook.

After dinner I went outside, on the pretext that I wanted to walk off some of my dinner. In truth, I wanted a bit of space to try to work out what the hell was going on with me and Molly. It wasn't much cooler than it had been during the day, but as I walked down a dark street paralleling Main Street I tried to understand the source of this sudden almost uncontrollable lust for a grotesque woman I'd known only a few hours, who had been a porn actress, a prostitute and God knew what else, and who had an illegitimate daughter older than me. Charlotte had told me Molly had arranged for Sam, the trucker, to take me on to Phoenix the next day, where I could catch a Greyhound to LA. I started to wonder whether I wanted to stay in town another day, in the hope that something would happen with Molly; but, I convinced myself, it wouldn't. She was what was known back home as a prick-tease, a woman who just got her kicks out of leading men on, and getting them worked up, with no intention of delivering on her promises. After all, what would a mature, worldly woman like her want with a skinny English kid with virtually no experience? If I did get her on her own and make a play for her she'd just laugh at me, or maybe worse, get Deputy Frank bloody Simmons to throw me in jail to teach me a lesson.

I returned to the rooming house and quietly crept up the stairs without looking in on the noisy parlour, where apparently San Antone had taken a hold on the game in the sixth inning, whatever the hell that meant. It was far too hot to sleep under cover so, feeling moody and frustrated, I flicked off the light, threw off my clothes, opened a window and slumped naked onto the bed. Downstairs I could hear the TV and the buzz of conversation, punctuated occasionally by Molly's harsh laugh. Eventually the TV quietened down to general chuckling at the self-satisfied meanderings of some talk show host, and, finally, silence. I heard several light sets of footsteps climb the stairs then, some time later, a heavier tread which I knew was Molly. Even as she approached I began to fantasise about her stripping off her clothes and, without realising I was doing it, I started to gently stroke my cock. I didn't notice her footsteps had stopped but, a moment later, I heard the door of my room open softly and saw her huger frame silhouetted by the light from the landing. Then I heard her whisper, "Andrew, sweetie, are you still awake?"

Caught by surprise I sat up on my elbows and grunted that I was. Molly entered the room and said, "I thought you might like a cup of hot malted milk, to help you relax." I saw her head incline, and guessed she must have seen my erection in the shaft of electric light. She added, in a small voice, "but I guess that's not what you want right now, is it sugar?"

I felt myself speak, but the voice which emerged seemed far too gruff to be my own. It said, "What I want is you Molly."

She chuckled, deep in her throat, and husked, "I know you do, baby."

With that she closed the door behind her, and in the small amount of light through the window I saw her begin to unbutton her blouse. I heard my voice again. "Switch the light on – please?"

She paused, then said, "Are you sure, honey?" I didn't reply and, after a moment, she crossed to the window, pulled the curtains, then flicked on the light. As she continued to unbutton the blouse, slowly, seductively, she whispered, "You like big women, huh Andy?"

I replied honestly. "I don't know, I've never known one before."

She smiled and nodded with certainty. "Yeah, you do. I could tell you had the hots for me the moment I saw you; I can always tell." She slipped the blouse from her shoulders, and I gazed at her beautiful, pendulous, milky breasts, with their large nut brown nipples. They hung almost to her waist, as her black hair hung around her naked shoulders. I was captivated by her colouring: deeply tanned on her face, upper chest and arms, but on her torso, where the sun never reached, almost deathly pale. Her eyes locked on my face, her Mona Lisa smile fixed, she unzipped her skirt and let it fall, revealing her slabs of thighs, rippling with fat like an Alpine avalanche. Finally, the huge grey-white panties were dropped. I couldn't see most of her pubic bone for the roll of stomach flesh which hung over it; but I could see from the hair extending halfway down her thighs that she had a black forest there.

Molly chuckled again at my eyes feasting on her body. I badly wanted to sink my fingers into that luxurious flesh, and chew on her thumb-sized nipples, but she knelt between my legs; I felt the entire bed sag as she put her full weight onto it. She gazed at my cock, then murmured, "Wow Andy, you gonna make a lotta ladies happy with that beauty." She reached out a pudgy finger and stroked it up the underside of my shaft. My hips bucked and I almost came at that moment, but a second later she closed her lips over my tip and cupped a hand around my balls. I fell back on the bed and groaned in pleasure. Gemma had never liked taking me in her mouth, and it had always been hurried, even uncomfortable for me. Molly, though, was born to suck cock, and as her soft lips stroked along my length, her tongue tracing every contour, I thought I would explode with arousal. At the same time she stroked my balls with her fingertips, more delicately than I would have believed her capable of, and with her other hand tickled my belly, which I found surprisingly erotic. Two or three times she took me to the very brink of cumming, sensed it and eased off, before finally sucking me deep into her throat and pumping hard on me until I gushed gasping into her mouth.

She rose up the bed and kissed me deeply, her big tongue thrusting into my mouth as I pulled her to me. She chuckled and it took me a moment to realise that she had held some of my spunk in her mouth, and had wiped it around the inside of my own. I didn't care, and sucked greedily on her tongue, kneading my fingers deep into the flesh of her tits. As she broke the kiss, she whispered in my ear, "You just been snowballed, honey."

I wanted to give her the same pleasure she'd just given me, and which Gemma had never allowed me to give her; at the same time I still yearned to suck those fabulous nipples. I licked my way down her throat, then, on impulse, pressed my nose into her hairy armpit and inhaled deeply. She squealed with laughter in surprise, but the musky aroma that filled my lungs set me on fire. I sucked a breast as far into my mouth as the huge mound would go, swirling my tongue around her nip. She cradled her hands behind my head and whispered, "Oh baby, oh my sweet baby". I sucked on her boobs for several minutes, and licked the sweet, salty sweat from beneath them. With stick-thin Gemma I couldn't have imagined that any woman could be so voluptuously erotic. As I suckled Molly's dugs I slipped my hand down her, past the big fold of her belly, and found her hairy pussy. She gave a long gasp as I slipped my fingers towards it, then bucked her hips. To my surprise, my entire hand slipped into her, and I started fist-fucking her, my fingers stroking at her insides. She hugged me tighter, and whimpered, "Oh baby, it's been a long time since anyone but me did that."

Eager to taste her, I licked my way down her body, and ran my tongue beneath the belly fold, drinking in the reservoir of sweat that had pooled there. I wouldn't have believed I could have found the experience so arousing. I actually had to push her belly out of the way, then I licked across her coarse, matted pubic hair, and pressed my tongue against the large white button that I knew was her clitoris. She squeaked and pressed her hands to the back of my head. Encouraged, I pressed my face into her great slit, intoxicated by her aroma, licking and prodding at her as I continued to finger-fuck her below my face and press her clit between finger and thumb above it. Her whimpering became steadily louder, and more fierce, until she bayed like the hound I'd heard earlier that day, her heels hammering against the bed and her powerful thighs squeezing my head like a vice as she drenched my hands and face with her juices. Even as I tried to recover my breath she dragged me up the bed and threw herself on top of me, winding me again as she rammed her lips onto mine and, this time, drank her own nectar from my tongue. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she broke off long enough to tell me, "Oh Andy, darlin', you are so fuckin' good at that", before ravishing my mouth afresh.

After that we both lay in each other's arms renewing our energy for awhile, our mingling sweat melding our bodies together. Molly kept dropping loving, delicate little kisses on my face, her hair tickling me. I no longer thought she was grotesque: to me she was the most beautiful woman on earth, and my most passionate desire was to make her happy. She leaned up on one elbow, gazing down at me and toying with my rapidly rising cock. She whispered, "Ya know, honey, you really are so very pretty. I'm not surprised Arnie made a move on ya in the diner today, he's always been a randy fucker." She broke off to kiss me again, then continued, "but he ain't never had what you gonna get from me sweetheart."

With that she rolled onto her back on the narrow bed and eased me on top of her. I lay there for a minute or so, kissing her, my body curved against the great swell of her body, the tip of my prick nestling against her cavernous opening. Just as I began to gather myself, she whispered in my ear, "Is this your first time, sugar?"

In my 18-year old bravura I was shocked that she might think so and squeaked, "No, of course not."

She settled back and gave that arousing chuckle of hers again, then murmured, "Okay darlin', I jes' wondered. It's been a while for me, but it's just like ridin' a bike; once you get back on it all comes back to you. Let's go for a ride, baby." With that I eased my cock into her, to the hilt, as she gave a great satisfied sigh like a steam engine. I fucked her slowly at first but, at her encouragement, quickly increased my pace and strength until I was hammering at her, my balls slapping against her, our sweat acting as a lubricant on our bellies. Having already come twice that day I was able to keep going for a good while, but the sight of that huge pale mountain of flesh below me, quaking and gasping with pleasure as a result of my actions, was almost too much for me and I had to close my eyes and concentrate entirely on the sensation of my prick sinking into that sopping, burning fleshpot.

With each of my strokes Molly whispered "Fuck, fuck", increasing in volume and force until she was almost screaming it. There was no question that everyone else in the house must have heard it, but neither of us cared. Suddenly she lifted her immense thighs and, somehow, got them over me so that her knees were resting on my shoulders. I could feel the weight of her heavy legs on me but I just increased my power, pounding at her until the entire bed began to shake dangerously. She wailed and I felt a tightening around my cock and sensed that she had cum. I hadn't finished and continued to fuck her for several more minutes while she rocked, sobbed and swore. Finally I felt my release approaching and began to push at her with all my strength. I think she came again at the same moment as me; she hugged me to her in a rib-crushing clinch and screamed into my neck as she sunk her teeth into it. I felt nothing, as my entire being at that moment was in my prick, as it fired out mutual ecstasy, sending bolts of electricity through my entire body and causing a river of fire to explode before my tightly closed eyelids. We half rose from the bed like Moby Dick carrying Ahab to his doom before sinking down with a great shared sigh, both completely exhausted. The bedclothes beneath us were drenched from Molly's copious juices. I felt a swell of pride run through me as she kissed me and whispered gently, "You did that to me, honey."

For the next few hours we fucked, sucked, drowsed in each other's arms and awoke to fuck some more. The last time, Molly took me from above, her thighs lifting her up and down on me like pistons as I gripped her hips and watched her Himalayan breasts bounce wildly around. Finally, as the dawn broke, she kissed me once more, stroked my flagging cock, and departed. I rolled over and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

When I descended the stairs for breakfast some hours later the look of utter disgust Charlotte hurled in my direction left me in no doubt that she had indeed heard her mother's enjoyment on my bed. Molly gave me a massive pile of scrambled eggs and hash browns and fussed around me until it was time for me to leave with Sam. At the front door Molly pulled me to her and kissed me, her tongue deep in my mouth as I squeezed her lovely breasts. I thought for a second of staying – if I had I think I might have been there still, but she broke off and, with a loving smile, patted my bum and whispered, "Go on now baby; and don't go forgetting your little Molly, ya hear?"

And I never have. I'm now a muscular 13 stone but, in the 15 years that have passed, I have never been attracted to any woman unless she was at least five stones heavier than me, and preferably several years older too. It's a cliché that fat women are easier to get into bed because they're more grateful. I've never believed that, although I will admit immodestly that I've never had much trouble attracting lovers. One thing I have found is that some of the biggest women I've known have been the most amazing sexual athletes, and the most affectionate partners.

I often thought about going back to Cranton, but I never have – yet. Maybe I will one day; but whenever I want to call up a pleasant daydream, or a fantasy to satisfy my more base needs, it's my first true love, Molly, that I see when I close my eyes, and her sweet lips, breasts and body that I can feel caressing me.