Supersized Desire

My finger hovers over the screen. Do I hit send or not?

I read the comment again.

'Hey, I know you're not into girls, but I couldn't help myself. Love your videos. Please keep them coming.'

It's daft, really. Nobody on this website wants to hear from me, least of all him. If he was into women, he wouldn't be uploading videos of himself to a gay porn website. Nothing in this profile even indicates that he might swing both ways.

I put the phone down and grab the half empty wine glass instead. A large sip later, I pick up my phone yet again.

I know he sees all the comments on his videos. He has responded to some of them. What's the worst that'll happen, I'll be ignored? So what? I'm being ignored right now by not even trying.

The short message I'd written is still there on the screen. I click the button before I get the chance to think about it any further. Then I throw the phone onto the other side of the sofa. Out of reach. Just like he is.

I must have lost my mind. I down the rest of the wine in one big gulp. It doesn't help. I'm still reeling with anxiety.

It's one thing for me - as a woman - to even watch gay porn. Quite another to expect some form of interaction with a person producing and uploading it.

Though, his videos are all solo. Never with a partner. So, technically...

No way. If he was straight, then why is he hanging out here? It makes literally no sense.

But that doesn't change the fact that he is delish. Just my type.

And my type is hard to find on any straight websites. Impossible, even. Most straight porn, even on the amateur websites seems to be aimed at men. It's all about the boobs. And when I want to get myself off, I don't want to be looking at close-ups of pussy.

What I really want to see is men. Large, soft, sensual, luxurious men. I want to admire the male form, but I don't go for just any physique. Super-sized is what I like.

Giants. With big bellies, fat thighs and love handles that go on forever. And ideally a handsome face to top it all off.

He ticks all the boxes.

I'm only giving him a compliment, right? Nothing wrong with that.

I lean over to grab the remote and switch on the TV. But in the back of my mind, I already know that what I really want to watch is over on that website I just visited.

What would really calm those nerves of mine is a little TLC, inspired by my favourite cam guy.

Even if I did just expose myself as a female lurker on a gay website. That's a bit icky, isn't it?

What if he takes it badly?

What if it creeps him out... Oh damn, can an uploader block you from watching?

I don't know the ins and outs of how this stuff works, but if that is indeed a possibility, then perhaps I owe it to myself to have a good, long look at his videos again.

Just in case it's the last time.

I breathe in deeply and click back to his profile overview. Seven videos in all. To the casual observer, they'd seem quite similar. But I'm an aficionado and I know better. I can point out the difference, including his progression as a... performer? Would that be the right word?

In the earlier ones it was obvious that he was a bit uncertain of himself. He didn't show his entire face until about the third or fourth video. And what a revelation that was.

Lately, he's been quite brazen about it. Fully nude. Gone are the t-shirts and shorts he wore in those early videos. It's obvious that he's lost some earlier reservations about his body. If the many lustful comments on his videos are anything to go by, he's giving in to popular demand to show more of himself.

I click on the most recent one. Even in the thumbnail he's completely exposed and looking right at the camera. Right at me? If I were a guy, maybe. I have to remind myself that he couldn't possibly be into me, even if it breaks my fantasy a little.

But I'm nothing if not realistic, even when looking at wank material.

Still, I'm going to enjoy this one. Again.

I rest the phone against my thigh to free up my hands and slip my right into my loosely fitted pajamas. To start with, I just tease myself a little. Those little folds, which as of this morning are once again cleanly shaven. Smooth and just a little slippery. I'll be completely drenched later.

My finger knows just where it's got to go for maximum pleasure.

My other hand finds my naked tit underneath my t-shirt. I weigh it in my palm, then tease my nipple up with my thumb and index finger. It doesn't take long for my senses to become heightened.

On screen, he starts by rubbing himself nice and slow. He has quite a big cock, but some of it is obscured by the luscious flesh surrounding it. No matter, there's plenty of length to satisfy me regardless. Plus I like that he really has to push down into his folds to get at the base of his cock. Such a turn on to see him work away at it.

I lick my lips with anticipation. This video is a good one. His best work yet.

How I wish I could ride him. Feel his body quiver and shudder beneath me. I'd ride him hard; putting all my energy into it. I'd pleasure him with my hands, my mouth, my pussy. He'd get it every possible way.

It would be a fuck of a lifetime. The stuff wet dreams are made of.

If only he was into girls.

His movements speed up, and his eyes go to half mast. A glance down reveals I'm about halfway through the video. Time to prepare for the grand finale.

My pussy starts to get slicker and slicker as I dip my finger in and out a few times. Then, I add another finger and start to rub myself just a bit harder; really pushing down against that g spot.

"Oh God!" I moan.

He adjusts himself against his pillows, causing his fat belly to jiggle for a bit. It's gorgeous to look at. He has no idea of the impact his videos have on me. How many a boring day at the office was interrupted by a flash of a memory back to one of them? How I've run into the bathroom, clutching my phone, only to come out with a satisfied glow on my cheeks.

It's a lot more comfortable here, in the safety of my own home. Where I don't need to worry about how much noise I'm making.

"Oh you sexy beast," I groan, as he makes eye contact with the camera again for his final push.

I wish I'd grabbed my vibrator for this one.

Maybe later. I'm too close to bother with it now.

I time myself perfectly, adding a second hand to rub my clit while both my fingers continue to massage the inside of my dripping wet pussy. The phone continues to precariously balance against my thigh. I can't keep my eyes off it.

Until he starts to groan and shudder, squirting cum all over his hand and thigh.

My eyes shut as I push myself over the edge.

All I've seen is enough to send my imagination into a frenzy. I wish I could feel all that cum gush into me. Because I'd fuck him bare. There would be no barrier between his skin and mine.

No obstacles or restrictions.

If he was into girls.

I'd take his whole body as mine. And give him my own in return. To do with as he pleases. To mark as his own, with his cum.

"Oh, God, yes!" I cry out.

My body goes rigid, then shudders as the sweet pain of my orgasm washes over me.

In the distance, I hear how the phone clatters to the ground.

It doesn't matter anymore.

I'm finished.

It takes me a few minutes to calm my breath. I slip both hands out from the waistband of my pajamas, and wipe them dry against my thigh.

True enough, all the nerves from before, they've dissipated. I'm content, even if a part of me mourns the fact that I'll never get to do all those things I've just imagined.

I'll never have him in person, all to myself. Because he's not into girls.

Just as I reach over to grab the TV remote again, the notification sound of my phone interrupts.

I think nothing much of it, and retrieve it off the floor. Probably just a spam email.

But when I unlock it, I see it's nothing of the sort. It's a private message from @londonchub - man of my dreams. My heart is racing in my chest as I wait for it to load.

-You're female and you like my videos? Bullshit. Prove it!

That's... That's good, right? I'm neither blocked nor ignored, instead he's engaging with me. It's unexpected and even a little shocking. How do I respond to this?

I run my fingers through my tousled hair, do a quick check on my t-shirt to make sure it isn't stained or anything, and snap a cute selfie of myself lounging on the sofa.

-There. Happy now? x

Is the 'x' at the end too much? The wine I downed earlier must be taking effect, because I feel brazen enough to hit send on my message without much further thought. Then, I give it about half a minute before obsessively refreshing my inbox.

-I knew it. Fake picture.

I frown. What was he expecting, a picture of my driving license and birth certificate along with the selfie? His dismissive tone makes me combative as well. I decide to take the offensive to him.

-What do you care? You're gay anyway.

Send. For a few minutes, there's no further reply. Did I piss him off now?

I breathe a sigh of relief when finally, the next message loads.

-Touche. What if I'm not?

I almost choke on my own breath as I read this. What if he's not? Well then, that changes everything. Part of me wonders if he's now fucking with me? Only one way to find out.

-WhatsApp me.

Just as I hit send after inputting my number, I notice my hands are trembling just a little bit. Bloody hell, I need another drink. I get myself up off the sofa and rush to the fridge to pour myself some more white wine.

Will he play my game? What am I getting myself into?

Back on the sofa, nursing a slightly too big refill of wine, I keep on staring at the dark screen of my phone. Nothing. I unlock the screen to ensure I've still got network, and indeed I do.

My anxiety is through the roof.

What-if scenarios are a lot easier when they're just in your head. When all you're doing is watching someone anonymously. But a video call? That's entirely different. Nerve-wracking.

And the daft thing is, I've never been particularly shy. I'm a loudmouth. I curse a lot. I get along great with most of the guys I've come across in real life.

But this is different. He is different. As a result, I am too. And I'm not sure I like me right now.

Finally, my phone does wake up with a new sound. But it's not a video call, it's a WhatsApp message.

-Fine. I believe you.

I quickly add the number and open his profile picture. Perfection. This time with clothes on, obviously.

What the hell do I do now? Do I call him, then? But if he wanted to talk, he could have just done it himself...

And worse still, he will have seen the read receipt on his message, so he knows that I got it.

I decide against it. This long distance bullshit is going to give me a nervous breakdown. Perhaps this will all work out better if we did it the traditional way. So I quickly type my response. Another question, but a pertinent one.

-Where in London are you, exactly?

It's a big city. But even if he is all the way over to the east, it's not insurmountable by any means.

I try to keep a check on my expectations, but my mind is already working through numerous possible outcomes. He does seem interested, right? Why else would he care if I sent a fake picture or lied or whatever? And I know I am. What's the downside? Finally, I can see he's typing a response.

-Twickenham. You?

I can't believe my luck. That's only a short train ride away. Time to make use of this liquid courage while I've still got it.

-Feltham. What do you say we continue this conversation in person?

Send. He starts typing immediately.

-What, now?

It's only five o'clock on a Sunday. Why not now?

-Name a time and place. I'll be there.

This has got to be a record. From random message to booty call in what, ten minutes?

-How about the Barmy Arms, Embankment. You tell me?

I bite my lip. I'd better have a shower, fix my hair, find something presentable to wear... Plus there's the train ride to account for, as well as the walk to the pub.

-Give me an hour or so?

Now my heart is really racing. Am I actually doing this? Meeting a guy I don't know at all except from perving on his jerk off videos on a porn site? I must be losing my mind. But it's just too tempting not to. I'll hate myself forever if I don't take this chance.

I know the pub he's suggested, just by the river. On a Sunday evening in mid June, it'll be buzzing with people.

That's pretty safe, right? What could possibly go wrong?

-I'll see you there.

I let out an excited squeal and jump off the sofa, phone still in hand.

-It's a date.

***

Never in my life have I gotten ready for a date this quickly. Luckily the weather is agreeable, so I could wear a pretty summer dress for the occasion.

I check myself in the mirror one last time and adjust the girls.

I'd fuck me.

If I were into women.

Just how tonight is going to go, I have no idea. But I'm starting to feel excited rather than nervous now. No matter how many times I try to tell myself not to get my hopes up, it's too late for that now.

I grab my purse and rush out the door. The click-clack of my heels echoes through the hallway as I head to the lift.

So, I'm actually doing this, huh? I'm meeting a gorgeous man I've lusted after for months. Worst case scenario, nothing happens. But, best case? This could be the beginning of something beautiful.

I remember the thoughts I had fingering myself to his video earlier. About how I'd fuck his brains out and give him a night to remember. Perhaps I'll get the chance to do just that. I wonder if the experience will live up to my dirty fantasies? Only one way to find out.

Within about ten minutes, I'm at the train station. Perfect timing. The next one is only moments away.

It pulls up to the platform and I find a window seat. It's surprisingly quiet, for a summer weekend.

I whip out my phone to check my messages. Nothing from him. I guess he's getting ready or on the way himself. Still, it's best to update him on my progress.

-On the train now.

Send. I don't wait around to see if he reacts. Instead, I pull up a different chat window.

-Hey sweetie. Heading into Twickenham for a blind date. Barmy Arms (by the river). Proceed with blind date protocol. One hour.

Rachel doesn't keep me waiting.

-Blind date? With who? :-O

I suppress a smile. No way am I telling her the whole story. Not now, while I'm moments away from my destination. Maybe not ever.

Me: Some guy I met online. Don't worry, it's a safe place. Just follow the protocol. :-*

Rachel: Ok, babes. I'll call you in an hour to check in. But don't think you're getting off the hook so easily. You'll have to tell me everything next time we get together. And you bring the wine.

Me: Will do. Promise.

Rachel: Don't do anything I wouldn't do, you slag.

I let out a shrill laugh, much to the shock of the elderly man sitting across from me. I mouth an apology for my outburst and put the phone away.

There isn't much Rachel wouldn't do on a first date, except maybe pay the bill. And in this case, the same applies to me. I'll figure out my own limits once I get there and face him.

***

The clacking of my heels gives me company once more on my walk from the station. The cobbled streets make it hard to balance in these shoes, but I soldier on. Beauty hurts, but it's worth it.

Finally, the outdoor seating of the Barmy Arms comes into view. It won't be dark for hours to come, so a lot of people have opted to enjoy their pints outside. I wonder if we'll get a table easily, or if we'll have to stand around the bar.

I scan the crowd, but there's no sign of him out here. Then I retrieve my phone and type out another quick update.

-I'm here. Where are you?

It occurs to me that I don't even know his name. I pull up his profile and stare at his picture again. God, I adore his chubby face.

I'm still staring, when a response comes in.

Inside. Window table on the left.

Good call. It'll be weird trying to have a conversation out here among all these other people.

I weave through the crowd of tables and wait staff with fully laden trays to reach the front door. Once inside, I head left as instructed. Sure enough, there he is at the first table to the left.

My nerves surge again as I approach him.

"Uhh, hi," I say. Bloody hell, I sound like a loser.

He gets up and holds out his hand. He's so tall. I didn't expect him to be this tall. I love it.

"Nice to meet you."

I reluctantly follow his example. What a weird and formal start to a date. I would have expected a little hug, perhaps a kiss on the cheek, but a handshake? Still, my heart skips a beat when we touch, however briefly.

The attraction is very much still there. At least from my side it is.

He steals a couple of glances at me but doesn't make eye contact, even when gesturing at the chair across from him. Oh shit, could it be he's as nervous as I am? Perhaps more so.

I smile briefly and sit down.

Remembering my earlier realisation, I dive right in with the most important question, but I don't get the chance to complete it.

"So..."

"Can I get you anything?" he asks. "Sorry. You go ahead."

"I was just going to ask your name. Would be nice to know."

He seems to be blushing a little. It's adorable.

"Adam. You?"

"Emily."

We exchange a brief look. I can't get much of a read on him. The entire situation is rather awkward. But then, blind dates are by definition awkward.

"You made it, huh." It's not so much a question, as a statement.

I nod. "As did you. It's rather busy. How lucky you managed to get us a table."

"Oh, that was easy. I was already here when you messaged." His matter of fact tone doesn't lessen my surprise.

I frown and steal another glance at him. "Already here?"

"Yeah... This is my regular spot. I live nearby."

"Nice." I scan our surroundings. Nothing suggests that he had company before I turned up. But the empty pint glass on the table does confirm that he might have been here a while already.

So, is that what he does? Go to the pub to drink by himself?

"So... Can I get you anything?" he asks again.

I turn to check the bar behind me, before having another realisation.

"I should probably stick to wine. White."

I watch as he gets up and retrieves his wallet from his jeans. It's distracting, because I know exactly what all is obscured by those clothes. Our interactions may still be weird and uncomfortable, but that hasn't lessened my desire, only intensified it.

He fills out his shirt very nicely indeed. As he edges past my chair to get to the bar, I make it a point not to move out of the way.

It's as good an excuse as any to achieve some physical closeness.

The place smells like any other pub. Various types of alcohol mixed in with the assorted crowd visiting here today, but when he struggles through the gap between the arm rest of my chair and the coat rack by the door, a waft of his scent reaches my nostrils.

They say attraction is controlled by hormones, and scent is the best indicator of whether you like a person or not. My attraction is confirmed yet again.

Sweet and a bit musky. I don't know if it's his cologne, deodorant or just him au naturel. Either way, I approve.

Hopefully he feels the same way.

I turn sideways in my chair and watch him as he gets me that glass of wine I asked for, along with a refill for himself.

So, if the two glasses on the table is anything to go by, we're about evenly matched. Three drinks into the night.

Something tells me we won't stop just yet.

While his back is turned, I feel bold enough to really take my time checking him out. It occurs to me that while I know exactly what he looks like naked from the front, I've not seen him from any other angle. I wonder what that juicy ass looks like naked?