I have always been short. Not five feet tall, I have always been (literally and figuratively) looked down upon, by my friends, inadvertently by my family and of course my boyfriends.

Every time I would become intimate in a relationship, he would always make me feel like I was being forced. He would press himself upon me, devouring my ample breasts and trying desperately to get into my pants. I always felt like I had to submit, I was always the one to be on the bottom, staring up at a grunting face that would drip sweat onto me, such were his exertions on me. I would become frightened and I would push away. I had only had sex with one man before, and the feel of his cock ruthlessly pounding into my tight, hesitant depths still haunted me. The blood, my cries and the absence of remorse or my own ecstasy... After a few incidents that could have ended like this, I would never let a man become close with me... that was until Wes.

I felt so good whenever I was near him. Whenever he said my name, Emma, I would melt. He made me feel bigger, larger than life itself. Whenever he would hug me, he would wrap his arms around my little waist and lift me high in the air. I would giggle and scream, telling him to put me down that instant, but I loved it.

We had met nearly two years earlier, we shared a general math class at our university, which of course be both despised. He was studying history while I studied classic literature and aspired to become an author. Our mutual hate of polynomial long division and shared theories of negative exponents as the devil's work brought us to a date over coffee.

And another.

And another.

Our joint love of the mountains and the quiet life brought us to today. He rented a cabin in the local mountains for the first half of winter break away from school. The drive was long, but I appreciated the quality time together. I loved the way "my man" looks when he concentrates, especially when he gets angry when he drives. The narrowing of his eyes and the grunt of frustration makes me smile every time.

Odd, I know, but he felt real to me. Other men I had seen always tried to act perfect, but not Wes, he was...Wes. He was a little bit chubby, but he was au natural to me. His short brown hair matched the color of his large eyes that I loved so much.

On the drive up, I thought about giving myself to him. I was coming to the conclusion that I actually loved him. He was always so gentle and patient with me and I wanted to reward him with myself, to give myself fully. I began to wonder if this entire getaway was just an attempt for him to get into my panties. My heart beat wildly, how many beds were in the cabin? Would we share the same sheets? It felt as if the one sided sexual tension in the truck could be cut with a knife. But when I looked at him, he was staring at the road before him passively. He caught my curious eyes staring at him and he looked at me with a broad smile and puckered his lips for a kiss, making a smacking sound. I just smiled back, and he feinted being stabbed in the heart, to that I laughed, easing my anxiety. How I loved his inner child!

"I wanted the real thing..." I said and kissed him gingerly on the lips, pulling back first, teasing him with the absence of a truly passionate kiss.

Some of the best moments I shared with him were the silent ones, when we would enjoy each other's company with a cuddle, a kiss or even a smile. We knew conversation was distracting and so much more could be said without actually saying anything at all.

Yes, perhaps, this was the weekend. I would give my all to him.


The cabin was large, much bigger than I expected and I wondered how much he had put into it.

"Do you like it?" He asked as he opened the door with a grin.

"I love it!" I screamed and a hugged him. I loved the feel of his fingers grazing over my ribs when he parted. The lower level wasn't partitioned at all so one could see the living room, kitchen and dining room in one glance as you entered the door. Upon the first story was a large balcony that spanned the house and led to the master bedroom and bathroom.

I explored the cabin while he brought in the bags (he only had one while I burdened him with three). The bedroom was huge! Wraparound windows framed the beautiful forest and mountains outside and swallowed the queen size bed and other furniture in the room.

"Tip?" Wes asked when all our bags were brought inside. He posed into patient bellboy stance. I pretended to look through my purse, rummaging through it until I quickly pulled out favored lip palm and ran it across my lips. "Can you break a kiss?" I asked and ran my hand across his unshaved cheek and kissed him deeply.

"Does the place suit my queen?

"It does, and I rather like the service, especially the bellhop."


I like a man that can cook, and of course, Wes cooked us a most delectable meal of lasagna. We always laughed at my own attempts in the kitchen and as he prepared the dinner I set the table. He brought out the meal for the both of us and saw him smile when he niftily turned down the lights to a romantic dimness. Setting the plates down, he whipped out a trio of long candles from his back pocket and I gasped, surprised by his thoughtfulness. I felt a wave, a surge even, of emotion rush through me as he sat down. So many things seemed to swish around my mind, bringing me to tears. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks, leaving shiny wet trails. Those were followed by as few more and I began to breathe erratically.

Wes rushed to my side and sat beside me, taking my hand into his own, asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing... it's just so perfect." I replied between joyful sobs, "You're perfect."

He said nothing, something that bothered me before, but I cherished with Wes. He knelt before and gently caressed my hand with his soft fingers and kissed it.

His lips felt so good against my hand, which had never been kissed before. I saw the passion in his eyes as his mouth traveled up my arm slowly, taking every inch of my soft skin into his lips.

I wanted him; I needed his taste on my lips. My hand softly came against his cheek and I guided his face to my lips. We eagerly met and pressed against each other. I turned awkwardly in the chair as our juices exchanged lips. We both laughed with our lips locked together in a fiery exchange until we broke a minute later.

"Come," I said, making up my mind. I took him by the hand, holding the tips of his fingers with mine in their own tender embrace. Here I was, a 4 foot 8, 120 pound girl dragging a 6 foot, 180 pound man behind me, begging for him to take me. It seemed like something from a kinky version of A Midsummer's Night Dream.

"Wait." He was hesitant, maybe not ready? "Are you sure you want this?" I knew he sense my worries and pried into my eyes, and drunk with passion, I nodded. Kissing me, he scooped me into his strong arms, and I responded by nuzzling my head into his neck, feeling his radiant warmth. He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and gently laid me down on the bed.

I smiled seductively at him and invited him to lie upon me. My first thought was that he was going to crush me with his sheer weight, and I immediately regretted my invitation, but he didn't. He took his time, smoothly pressing against me. It actually felt good, to feel the overwhelming contact. I felt as though I couldn't get away, or he wouldn't let me get away. I could feel him bear down against my bloused chest and his jeans grind against my own. My arms shivered slightly from the brisk night air yet he made me so warm, so needed. When our lips parted and our tongues returned to a PG-rated place, he began to kiss me all over my body. I liked it especially when he kissed my ears, his hot breath teasing the rosy skin.

My hands found their own mind and began to rub up and down his back, stopping at the body of his shirt to pull up the fabric, revealing the hot flesh beneath.

"If you want me to stop, we have to do it now or else I don't think I will be able to." He was so sweet, so thoughtful. At times quiet and unsure, but he was a sensitive bear.

"Don't you dare," I groaned and whispered into his ear, pulling his shirt off. His hands rubbed up and down my sides, only his thumbs kneading my breasts. I took his hands into my own and coarsely placed them on my clothed boobs. A gasp escaped my mouth as his hands caressed the soft mounds. But it was not good enough, I wanted to feel him pinch my nipples, massage my actually skin. I pushed myself up from underneath him and he immediately leaned up to allow me more space. He looked at me with a confused face as he quickly tore his hands away. I kissed him quickly and pushed myself up further to take off my white blouse, and as it revealed my chest and was caught on my arms, Wes pulled it off and tossed it aside. As I regained awareness, Wes pressed himself against me in a long embrace, and I noticed his fumbling with the back of bra. I waited patiently for him to undo the clasp, and I drew designs on his back with my fingers.

My patience wearing thin for him to be inside me, I reached behind myself and undid it for him, exposing the milky skin to him. I could feel his eyes scanning every inch of me, taking in my beauty I had denied him for so long.

With vigor, he assaulted my breasts, clumsy groping, but quickly corrected himself with passionate kisses. He sucked on my nipples, caressed my areolas with wet strokes. I could feel each contact with such lucidity, each fingertip fondle, every tongue flick. My nipples became rock hard, like little erections begging to be sucked on. He began to ease down a little bit, his own desire to have my soft, forbidden skin finally quenched. He looked into my eyes once again, captivating me with his deep brown wells.

He returned to my face, giving me one last soft kiss before slowly moving down to my thighs, leaving a trail of sensation down my stomach with little caresses from his fingers. Wes pulled down my jeans slowly, undoing the button then kissing the skin that lay directing beneath, just above my white panties. I knew he sensed my nervousness, my anxiety about the whole affair. While I was not a virgin, I had my experiences, to which I had only vaguely alluded to with the beautiful man before me. He knew about the coarseness other men had treated me, and I knew he would correct my worries about sex, reverse all my terrible memories.

Having unzipping my jeans, he pulled them down slowly, teasing himself with my own slow unveiling. I loved his little kisses down the side of my legs, on my inner thighs, and I told him so with my gasps and moans. Stopping at my knees, still a little unsteady from my unease, he whispered, "You're so beautiful to me. I love your skin."

Wes finished by pulling my pants off at the ankle with his teeth, afterwards placing a kiss on each foot, making me giggle but increasing my want, need, for him tenfold. I sat up, kneeling on my knees, prepared to meet him once again so I could be put into the position of his choice. He surprised my, however, when he remained lying on his stomach and began... to crawl? Wes took my hand and kissed it as he submitted himself before me, looking up, pleading into my eyes. This was the first time I had ever felt like this, he was beneath me, under me. Dare I say he was begging for me? His eyes were a like a puppy's beneath a Thanksgiving table. Once again, I began to cry. Every emotion: joy, release, ecstasy and love came forth in my watered eyes. I smiled as I freely wept and caressed up and down his arms.

"It's ok... It's ok, Emma." He laughed, trying vainly to vanquish my tears.

I stroked his hair and he cupped each of his hands under the mounds of my butt, using his top fingers to massage my cheeks and his bottom my thighs. He placed his head before my dripping sex, his nose tantalizing close to my long deprived clit. My hands ran through his soft hair, kneading his scalp and pushing his head forward into my engorged lips.

My lips released an involuntary gasp as his tongue touched my opening. He was hesitant at first, only taking little strokes, but as my moaning increased its tempo, Wes slathered my vagina in his own saliva, lubricated my clit as well.

"Please." I said, pulling up on his chin until his mouth touched my button. "Lick it slow... then fast." He complied, and for several minutes I received the first oral of my life. I loved it, better than any eight inch shaft that had pummeled me. Those two inches was the best pleasure I had ever received and I could not think of anything better until he slipped a finger inside me. He groaned as he did so, feeling my velvety flesh for the first time. While lathering me in his own juices, his finger alternated between ramming me and just sitting in my warm pocket, sending me into orgasm waves every time he did so.

"I'mmmmm cooooomming." I shouted, and it felt so good to say and mean it for the first time in my life. My fingers found their own life and cupped the back of his head, smashing his face into my lips. My orgasm reached near violent levels as I trembled and screamed as I would in pain. I hunched over in my pleasure, shoving his poor face further into my lips. When I finally sat upright once again, his face was covered in my cum, the sweet liquid was near water like on his face. It looked as if he had taken a shower and I pouted for him in apology.

"I'm sorry..." I said and giggled. He shook his head and laughed, slowly creeping up my stomach to my lips, grasping at my sides. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down with me onto my back. I kissed his head while he softly fondled my sensitive lips, still teasing them slightly.

"Come here..." I whispered in extreme softness, beckoning him to my face. Obeying, Wes kissed me passionately on the lips, tearing through my lips with his tongue. With a moan of despair at our schism, he quickly took off his pants and underwear before plunging his tongue back into my mouth.

My hand crept down his chest, along his hot belly and softly touched the bulb of his penis. He gasped with my gentle touch, my fingertips swirling around the sensitive head.

"I need you so bad." He moaned into my mouth, kissing me hard. Placing his hand over mine, he used my fingers to hold his shaft while he pressed against my already engorged lips. I whimpered as he pushed inside me, though not out of pain but out of release. My lips moaned into his mouth, his full six inches pressing further into me. I could feel the ridge below his bulb gliding against the grooves my vagina. His hands pressed on either of my cheeks and his thumbs gently pushed away the tears that had formed on my eyes.

I felt so bad, being so emotional in front of him, crying several times that evening. But he told me later that my feelings were romantic and even a turn on for him, moving him so deeply. His mouth never left my lips, evening pausing for breathe he hovered over my mouth. Wes started slowly, only rocking his hips for motion, but began to quicken his pace as my cries intensified. It was like he knew my wants, my needs, as soon as I realized them myself.

He surprised me by thrusting quickly into my flesh, and stopping only when he ran out of length. Suddenly, he pushed a hand between my hip and the bed, he quickly flipped my over so that I was on top. The maneuver stunned me, as with the passion in which he had done it. I have never ridden a penis before, and I felt unworthy to be sitting still on his cock. Wes came to my rescue, his fingers gasping each of my butt cheeks and rocking them up and down on his own cock. I could see the ecstasy building in his face as he stared up at my breasts dangling before him, the nipples like a mobile above a baby's crib.

Slowly, I began to see the range of control I had over him. It was a powerful position to be in. It felt as if I could be the master, controlling depth, speed, everything. As I saw the orgasm building his face, I could slow down to delay it. I felt as if I could do anything and everything to him and he could only obey. But, he was my Wes and there was only one thing I could think to do for him now.

"Ohhh Wes, I want you to cum in me now, put your seed inside me."

He moaned at my words and began to rock his hips quickly, though it was more of a rocking then thrusting in and out.

"Oh God... Emma!" He shouted, taking my butt in his hands, spreading the cheeks and forcing them up and down, every which way. I opened my eyes and looked down, seeing his eyes staring right back up at me as he slowed down with a grunt. His hands traveled up my back and pulled me down horizontal on his chest, so my nipples pressed against him and our lips mashed together, all the while thrusting slowly.

With a twitch, he began to spurt into me. I could feel his hot seed in my depths, coating the walls and making them slick. My legs, flush against him, could feel his own shudder with pleasure. I loved the feel of his sperm dribbling out between my tight lips and his rock hard erection.

I did this, I made him do this. I thought, savoring the warm fluid I would hope one day would bring me our child.

I felt him make one last deep thrust in the middle of his orgasm.

He rocked us slowly then, his hands lightly caressing up and down my sides, stopping at my head to pull me in for a soft kiss.

"Emma... I love you..."

"I love you too." We laid there together for a while, me on top of him, sharing kisses as we felt his cock soften inside me. Later, we went back downstairs, reheated and ate his dinner with little smiles and then cuddled in front of the fire long into the night.

Six months later we were married and soon after had a baby boy we named Rynne.

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