Wedding Day No. 09

So I did as she had done. I deliberately didn't swallow, letting my saliva accumulate, as I pressed her fat little feet together. I licked then, where her arches met, using my saliva to lubricate where I wanted her, and I was surprised to find that I did want her that way.

I scooted forward and slipped my aching erection between her arches, almost cumming when I did that.

"Am I forgiven?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, meeting her eyes while I set up a very slow rhythm.

"Are you mine, Jewboy?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, holding her eyes.

"Say it," she said.

"I am yours," I said.

She pulled her foot away and then used it to push me away far enough that she could stand.

On my knees, I was face to face with those enormous tits, and I bent forward, kissing one of the oversize nipples.

And she slapped me.

"You know better than that, Jewboy," she said, glaring, "I'll tell you when it's all right to get back on Mama's tit."

I nodded.

"Now help me out of this fucking girdle," she said.

Christ. Between the extra strength elastic and the reinforcing panels, I had a sudden image flash of the time I needed to repair a garden hose. I got the little splice things at Ace but I had to leave the hose in the 90-degree sun to soften it enough to work it over the plastic nipples. This felt almost that tight as I worked fingers between elastic and flesh and pushed and pulled and worked the damn thing off.

With each inch I gained, flesh flowed over the elastic, like dough rising and overflowing a bread pan.

"Good boy," she said, smiling down at me, "That feels better already."

I was physically tired before I got the thing past her ass, but it was pretty easy going after that.

Naked, she was clearly the roly-poly Mrs. Santa Claus. She was round in every dimension.

But the thing is, she didn't seem to be fat.

Oh, hell, I'm having trouble explaining.

Her belly was big. Hell, she looked pregnant. You expected her water to break and her to start complaining about the pains of labor contractions. But that big belly didn't sag. The was no roll the hung, making that belly apron that give so many fat women a degree of natural modesty. She just looked pregnant, and under that swallowed beach ball, a prominent mons veneris, that Mound of Venus of a woman's sex showed with a thatch of ridiculously long pubic hair emphasizing it.

"Your turn, Aaron," she said, her fingers digging into my hair as she pulled me where she wanted me.

"Go ahead and take off the jacket and shirt, Aaron," she said, smiling an odd little smile, "we wouldn't want to go all Monica Lewinsky on you and ruin that suit."

So I shrugged the jacket off, an awkward operation with me on my knees and her hands entwined in my hair, holding me immobile. I undid the tie, unbuttoned the shirt, and got them off too, all the while holding her eyes and enjoying that odd little smile.

Her womanscent was strong and as I got closer I could see just how excited she was. Her feet were planted a little over shoulder width apart, and a thick white string of her vaginal mucus membranes output, combined with the secretions from those Skene's and Bartholin's glands deeper inside hung several inches from the hair to which it was attached.

She didn't have to encourage me. I bent forward, extended my tongue, and caught that white rope of her nectar as I moved up until I could lick where she wanted to be licked. Her excitement tasted salty and oily and had a sweet undertaste suggesting a sweet tooth, or maybe a candybar addiction given her size.

I liked it.

"Now that's where a good Jewboy needs to be," she said as I began licking in earnest, probing with my tongue to find the hard button of her clitoris.

I took my time, using my hands to caress her ass and her back while I brought her along.

Trudi wasn't the only one in the room who could find that spot, that "edge" as they say, and hold her partner on it.

My hands were testing for the tells, for the tension, for the little trembles, that told me she was getting close, as well as giving both of the the pleasure inherent in that sort of touching.

When I felt her getting close, her hips starting to rock, a tiny tremble high in her back, I slowed what I was doing, reduced the pressure a little, and held her there, not quite finishing her.

She wasn't quite cumming, but she was flowing freely now, and I would just let her flow into my mouth for a few seconds before swallowing noisily, making sure she could hear what I was doing.

When I heard the first moan I knew I had her, so I slowed even more.

The sound she made can only be written like Charlie Brown's lament when Lucy pulls the football away again - AAAAuuuuuuGGGGGggggggHHHHHHhhhhhhh.

"Aaron, please," she said, her voice so breathy I could barely hear her.

I leaned back and said, "Are you mine, Jewgirl?"

She smiled down at me and said, "Yes."

"Say the words," I said.

"I am yours, Aaron," she said.

I buried my face between her legs, using my mouth and tongue to finish her.

When she came it was powerful, and I leaned back a little, bent my neck so I was looking straight up, and accepted her cumming on my chest and neck, accepting a male's version of a pearl necklace.

She was hissing, "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS," and starting to relax as I buried my face between her legs again. I took her through four orgasms like that, each one adding to the necklace on my neck and chest, before she finally started laughing hysterically, saying, "No more, God, Aaron, no more, please, Baby, no more."

So I released her and stood.

She saw what I had done and giggled.

"Oh, I know what you want," she said, and took my hand.

Damn, her ass was almost as big as those amazing tits, and I loved watching it as she led me down the hall to the bedroom. And watching it made me wonder what a Jewish girl's position on anal sex was.

When she crawled up on the bed, that big ass and the delightfully hairy slit of her pussy on display, I thought about checking it right then, but she rolled over onto her back.

Watching that was interesting in itself. Those immense tits sort of fell off to the sides to lay on the sheet.

She smiled at me as she used both hands to lift her right tit up and across her chest and then crossed it with the left one.

"Come on, Jewboy," she said, "I know how you are. All of you boys want Mama's tits, either sucking or fucking."

She stretched then, the hair in her armpits showing, and said, smiling, "I'm kind of jealous of that beautiful necklace you have on."

I crawled up onto the bed and then further so I could swing my leg over her and straddle her, just under her tits, that big belly serving as a sort of a backrest. I eased forward then, my hand on either side of her head, and slipped my erection, still so damn hard it ached, into the soft warm tunnel formed by her crossed tits.

And damn, it was good. It wasn't slick, like a pussy, but it was so soft it didn't need to be.

So I set up a rhythm, and kissed her. It was a good kiss. In fact, it was good enough that I started covering her face with soft, dry little kisses. I kissed her forehead and eyelids and cheeks and lips and chin and ears and started over. I was struggling to hold back after what she had done earlier, but I knew it was a struggle I was losing.

I lost the struggle and pulled her tits apart, grabbed my cock, and guided my ejaculation to make a clear white line in a shallow arc from her collarbone end to collarbone end. The second pump I guided to the hollow at the bottom of her throat, with a slight miss to cover her lips. The final dribbles wound up making a thin line to my instantly soft cock.

She was smiling, a bright, happy smile.

"Thank you, Phillip," she said, and I realized the fantasy was over.

"Thank you, Trudi," I said, kissing her, the scent and taste of my semen adding a little kick to the kiss.

"Now," she said, and lifted her right breast, offering that oversized nipple.

So I latched on, like a hungry baby, drawing a soft hum from her as I settled into the crook of her arm. She was stroking my hair, humming a little lullaby, as I nursed and drifted off to sleep.

I woke at 2:00 a.m. to the sensation of her hand on my cock.

As my eyes fluttered open, she kissed me.

"I'd like the old-fashioned way, too, before I leave," she said.

And then she gave me a first.

She rolled up onto her hands and knees and began moving slowly, dragging those amazing tits along my body. Jesus, they were heavy and soft and warm and it was getting to me. She would start at my chin and drag them all the way to my knees and then back up. At the end of the circuit, she'd kiss me and start over.

And it worked. For the first time in years, hell, for the first time in decades, I got hard for a second time in a night.

"You goy are all alike," she said, smiling broadly as she straddled me and impaled herself, "tits get to you."

"Jewboys don't respond to that?" I asked.

She smiled, her hips moving in a nice easy rhythm, and said, "Honestly, I don't know. I'd never try that with Aaron."

That made me laugh.

"Easy, Baby," she said, "Don't lose what I want."

She started kissing me then, covering my face and mouth. They were good kisses. I enjoyed this very much.

It turned out, she was pretty hair-triggered herself and soon she threw her head back, whistling a soft, keening sound, and I felt the extra wet warmth of her sudden release.

While she gasped her orgasm I twisted her oversized nipples, making her cry out on top of the gasp of release.

She started again, the rhythm, the kisses, and the climax.

I twisted her nipples and this time she cried out a loud, "PHILLIP!"

She took a third and fourth orgasm before she just collapsed onto me.

Surprising me, I was still hard inside of her.

And she knew it.

"Stay there, Phillip," she said, relaxing, making me carry her weight.

So I did. My hands covered every square inch of her back from her shoulders to her ass, slowly, very lightly, my fingertips exploring every little crevice and fold I found. She stayed perfectly still, just the occasional little catch in her breathing indicating she even felt what I was doing.

The next half hour, I know because there was one of those ubiquitous LED clocks, you know, with the red LED numerals, on the bedside table, was the most intimate half hour I ever experienced with a woman. Our merging, the blending of our bodies was more perfect than I had ever imagined was possible. She wasn't having multiple orgasms. She was having something much deeper. There were none of the hard contractions associated with the climax of an orgasm. She was just, well, flowing. I felt her soaking my cock and balls, felt that thick love honey running down the crack of my ass, and felt the strange combination of perfect relaxation and perfect tension, yeah, I know, that sounds crazy, but I don't know else to describe it, of this woman's absolute surrender to her body's needs.

I knew she was crying, well, I knew tears were flowing because I could feel them. When I nuzzled her neck and cheek I tasted them.

When I whispered, "Let go," she exploded for the last time. She pushed herself up on straight arms, those boobs hanging, brushing my chest. Her mouth was open, her face a rictus that could have been agony. Tears had left mascara lines down her cheeks, her nose was running freely, her mouth was drooling, and she was the perfect incarnation of female sexuality.

And she came, soaking me again, her release so hot and thick, her womanscent so thick you could almost see the pheromones in the air, that she triggered my own finish.

I groaned and thrust against her mons, my ejaculation almost painful as my body tried to pump what wasn't there to work with.

She felt it and covered my mouth with hers, drool and mucus making a perfect seal as she inhaled quickly, sucking my groan into her own body, pulling the air from my lungs.

My fingers hooked into claws involuntarily, and I dug them into the softness of her back.

My body started to panic as she sucked the last of the air from my lungs.

And then she breathed out, refilling my lungs and my body came again, even as I softened and slipped out of her.

She stayed like that, her mouth covering mine, sharing that single breath until I started getting a little lightheaded as the oxygen was depleted.

Finally, she was spent too, broke that kiss, and rolled off of me.

I realized I had been crying a little too. My own cheeks were wet, my nose running, and I was drooling a little as I gasped for breath, my body screaming at me about the oxygen debt I owed.

"I think," I started but had to breathe for a while before I could speak.

"I think," I said when I was able to speak without gasping, "I'll convert if this is what Jewish sex is like."

She giggled.

"I think," she said, smiling at me, "I'll convert if this is what Christian sex is like."

We giggled together then, just enjoying the afterglow of, well, PERFECT sex.

"Thank you, Phillip," she said, after we got ourselves under control.

"Thank you, Trudi," I said, kissing her.

"You probably saved my marriage," she said.

"How did I do that?" I asked, genuinely curious now that I was so spent even her titanic tits didn't particularly draw my attention.

"Because I don't have to live in my fantasy anymore," she said, "I know what it could be and I think I can probably convince Aaron to join me."

"I see," I said, and I thought I did, on some level anyway.

"He's so, well, so Vanilla," she said, "but now that I know it can be as good as I'd fantasized, I think I can persuade him to at least try Chocolate and maybe even some Cherry Delight."

"Maybe some Pasteurized Pleasure?" I suggested, nuzzling her breast and finding her nipple.

"Mmm," she hummed, "I wonder what it would take to induce lactation. He did like my milk when I was breastfeeding."

She might have said more but I was asleep by then, suckling.