Restroom Desires

Years ago, some of my old girlfriends and I decided to meet up and spend the day at the local shopping mall. It was our first spring break since going our separate ways for college and thought we would take some time to catch up while reminiscing our high school days. Looking back, we were quite the vanilla bunch: four white girls laughing, gossiping out loud, perhaps a little obnoxious. Though, we were all dressed quite plainly. We had matured and weren't exactly looking to attract anyone local. I was wearing jeans and a sweater. I even smelled of vanilla with the help of my favorite body creme lotion.

As we entered the mall from a side entrance, I noticed a very large black woman staring into the glass window of one of the shops. She was dressed in all black with very fitted pants and shirt that accentuated her profound shape. My eyes were locked on her, trying to figure out why someone so large would be wearing clothing that was so constraining. Did she work in one of the stores here? It seemed like it was a uniform of some kind. As we came up on her, I could hear her talking. She was wearing one of those wireless earpieces, so it was clear she was on the phone. As we got closer and started to pass her, she began to turn around, revealing what I thought were the biggest breasts I've ever seen. Not only that, I was astounded by how well they were supported. Her breasts projected straight out from her body in a way that I thought was only possible in cartoons. Breaking my gaze, I made eye contact with her for a split second and quickly turned away. She was a woman about in her mid 30s, pixie hair, and glasses. I felt a brief sense of embarrassment. She probably thought I was looking at her in disgust as I was surely less than half her body weight and dressed more conservatively. In any event, my girls and I kept walking and the encounter faded from my mind.

After a bit of shopping and chatting, we headed down to the food court for lunch. I decided to hit the restroom before eating. I told the girls to watch my things and I proceeded to walk to the ladies room. I pushed open the door and noticed the room was relatively clean and completely quiet. Probably empty by all accounts. As I headed over to one of the end stalls, I sensed someone walking in behind. I opened up the stall door and as I turned to close it, there she was. The same woman I saw when I first entered the mall. Her earpiece had been removed along with her eyeglasses. She looked right into my eyes and began walking right at me. Her breasts were incredibly imposing and forced me into the stall. My heart sank. "What is happening?" I thought to myself. She pressed me against the wall with her body and her massive breasts were on either side of my head, trapping me in. She reached up to the top edge of the door and pulled it closed. As she did, my body began to shiver and my feet were rooted to the floor.

She took her right hand and lifted my chin. "Open your mouth," she said in a distinctly sweet and dainty voice. At that very moment, something came over me that to this day I still don't understand, but it would impact my life for many years thereafter. I opened my mouth for her, almost as wide as I could. She then leaned over me and stuck her tongue deep into my mouth. I was struck immediately by the shear thickness of her tongue and how it was slightly rough like sharkskin. Her tongue swished in my mouth, forcing my own tongue out into the center. She then puckered her lips and began sucking hard on it. I stared aimlessly into the ceiling, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. Here I was, a college girl from the suburbs. Grew up in a conservative family, went to church, tried to do everything right. Now here I am, trapped in a bathroom stall with a 400-pound black woman who's sucking off my tastebuds. It was unimaginable.

As she sucked, she reached below her breasts and lifted my sweater up to my bra, exposing my bare skin. She then lifted up her shirt the same way and began rubbing her big belly up and down against my stomach. "You like that shit?" she said, taking a brief pause from sucking. Before I could even think on how to respond, she took her tongue and jabbed it deep into the back of my throat and began thrusting up and down. Each thrust partially blocked my airway, causing me to choke. Tears began puddling in my eyes as I tried to swallow the tip of her tongue for relief. Sounds of choking, gagging, and gurgling started to echo off the walls. She then pulled back, presumably out of fear of being noticed. "Yeah, you like that shit," she said with a slight smile.

As her breasts retreated, I looked down and saw an incredible array of stretch marks on her belly like streaks of lighting bolts across a caramel sky. I still couldn't move. She slid back down her shirt and hastily walked away. As I began to come to, I felt that my clit had turned to stone. An intense stinging sense of arousal rushed throughout my body, forcing me to gnash my teeth together. I grabbed some toilet paper and blotted the tears from my eyes. I didn't want my friends to know what had just happened. I somehow managed to get myself together after a few minutes and meet my crew back at the table for lunch. I never saw that woman again. My girls and I did some more shopping and there was no sight of her. The rest of the day was uneventful.

My sex life changed dramatically since that day. I learned of the term "BBW" and began having sex with big women almost exclusively. My favorite were women in their 40's and 50's, oftentimes newly divorced, and lusting for someone different to explore their sexuality with. I developed a knack for being a great lover to them. I would worship their bodies, enhance their self-confidence, and form strong and meaningful friendships. I even had one partner who has since remarried and started a new family. However, she still finds time to sneak me nude photos of her wearing the glass butt plug I gifted her. She was a very special person and I'm glad we still keep in touch. One thing I found interesting, nearly all of my partners enjoyed "BBC" and had black boyfriends. Especially the older ones. When cuddling after sex, they would take out their phones and show me pictures of their cocks or short videos of themselves blowing and rimming them. I always thought this was hot. Several of these women suggested I try a black man for the first time. However, I find it funny that none have offered me theirs. I'm comfortable with just women for now.

Unfortunately, despite all of this, I never again felt that same stinging sensation I got from the woman in the stall. In fact, I struggle to get an orgasm from someone unless they choke me in some way, which is a bit dangerous. I've been back to that mall a dozen times since and never once saw her. After gaining some weight, I even tried walking around the mall with a midriff shirt, fake belly button ring, and vanilla body creme in the hopes some woman would take me away to be manhandled.

Pleasing myself is difficult, albeit very satisfying. I masturbate only on rare occasions since it's a time-consuming process. I'll start by showering, drying off, and, of course, applying my favorite vanilla creme lotion. I'll place two sex toys on the sink and cover my eyes with a sleep mask. I would lean against the wall and imagine I'm back in that bathroom stall with the woman pressed against me with her giant breasts. I like to fantasize about her slowly pulling down her pants and revealing an impossibly large clit that juts out from under her belly. I take one of my toys, which is a vibrating bullet, and imagine her passing her erect clit in between my wet labia. Once I start to tremble, I'll then take my nine inch dildo and shove it deep into my mouth. It's shaped like a giant tongue and I'll start gagging on it until I climax. I vividly remember one session was so intense that I gushed both squirt and tears onto the floor. I smiled at the fact that I had to clean up such a mess from just myself.

I would give most anything to meet that woman again. I want to tell her how she affected my sexuality and about the other women I had slept with since. Most of all, I want to feel that stinging arousal again, only this time with the warmth of her breasts and belly on top of me as we lay in bed. I've accepted that I may never see her again, but I take comfort in that I'm left with memories and fantasies that will last a lifetime.