[MF] The tallest woman I’ve ever hooked up with

I enjoy a good house party. I’ll generally take a house party over a trip to the club or a bar any day of the week. Show up with a small amount of alcohol, enjoy yourself in a relatively (if you know the people well) safe environment, and spend time with a good mix of people you already know and people you don’t. Any time there was a party happening in graduate school, I made time for it. I spent most of my days reading and working, so having a few evenings free was never problematic for me.

So when [Stephanie](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5t8w9z/mf_the_era_of_man_slut_stephanie/) told me she was having a get together to break in her new place (this was long after she and I had ended our shenanigans – she began seeing somebody seriously and they’d moved in together), I was all in. I knew it was going to be all the regular members of our cohort plus some friends of friends, and I was very much in the mood to meet new people.

I showed up to the party a bit early, as I often do, carrying a bottle of tequila and chips to go with some salsa I’d made earlier that day. I like to arrive a bit early to help set up. That way I can generally be forgiven if I duck out a little early, which can sometimes happen if I meet the right person. And if I don’t? I’ll stay and help clean up after. I think a big part of getting invited to parties is having good party etiquette. Another big part is not being an obnoxious drunk, which is why you never see *Kevin* at the parties anymore.

Goddamn Kevin.

This was a memorable party for a few reasons, one of which involves sex, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this. We’ll get to that in a second. The *other* reasons the party was so memorable are:

1) A gentleman legitimately left an upper decker in the house. I’d heard of the infamous upper decker many times in my life but this party was the first time I’d seen it in action. To date, I have no clue what atrocity was committed against the man that he felt the need to retaliate in such an epic fashion, but having that house go down to one toilet definitely put a sour face on the party from that point forward. I’ve never seen one in the wild since. Also I think that man might have needed medical attention. I think he might have destroyed that toilet no matter where he decided to make that deposit. He could have shit in a sink and somehow it still would have broken the toilet. I wanted to file away notes on his diet just to know what *not* to eat.

2) Stephanie, who I was very happy to continue being friends with, decided on that evening to get ridiculously, dare I say *heinously* inebriated, and chose to make a pass at me, despite the fact that we were celebrating her moving in with another man. It was a level of awkward I find difficult to communicate. In normal circumstances, having her corner me in a quiet spot and whisper that she misses sucking my cock would end with her on her knees….well, *you know.*

But me fucking the hostess would ruin both the party and the house lease in ways far beyond what upper-decker guy accomplished, so I wisely side stepped that whole dark-but-sexy scenario. I should note that this was the last of Stephanie’s parties I ever attended. My resolve has limits so I have a tendency to just completely avoid situations where it’ll be tested.

Suffice to say, this party was lit. In the sense that it felt metaphorically ablaze and everyone was dying.

However, there was a bright and shining silver lining. This was the evening I met Big Barda. I give her this nickname affectionately and I doubt she’d mind it. I showed her a picture of the character once and told her that I was reminded of her and she called me a “fucking nerd.” So I think I’m good to go on that pseudonym.

Big Barda was striking for a few reasons, one of which, again, is obvious, so we’ll get it out of the way. She was tall. Easily a little over six foot. Not only this, but she was wearing *heels*, which to this day boggles my mind with the sheer confidence she was strolling around in. They weren’t huge heels, maybe 2″ or so, but the fact that she decided to show up at a party in her finest party clothes rather than flats really spoke to me.

I’m not a super tall guy. Actually, I’m relatively short. I don’t think I’d survive the modern dating era because I strongly suspect I don’t translate well to Tinder or whatever else people use now. On paper, my height of roughly 5’6″ is sort of a quick deal breaker. And that’s fine. As my dear old southern mama would say, “Anybody willing to write you off for something superficial ain’t worth knowing.”

I can trust my mama on these things. Much like the time she told me I was president of the Handsome Man’s Club, I know all her advice is truthful and legitimate.

In the era of my man-slut days, internet dating was still new and distrusted, so I had more opportunity to meet women in person, which is generally a better playing field for me because I’m outgoing and friendly and almost inspiringly non-threatening.

I digress. Let’s talk about the other aspects of Big Barda that caught my eye. She had long dark hair that was just flat out gorgeous. Dark skin that contrasted nicely against my luminescent whiteness. And a huge ass, which for me is always a bonus. She also had just a hint of a Mexican accent that I especially heard when she laughed, though at that time I never really inquired after her heritage. The only reason I noted it at the time is I’d never met a hispanic woman as tall as her before.

Suffice to say, the moment I saw Big Barda I wanted her. Not in a “It’s ours! We takes it! My own…precioussss” kind of way, but more in that yearning, “A little piece of me is going to die if I don’t kiss you tonight” kind of way.

As I’m sure many folks can relate to, I floundered a bit with nervousness trying to figure out how best to approach this woman. She was intimidating. I watched and waited a bit, and saw several people comment on her height which clearly made her self conscious, so I made a note to avoid that. I noticed she played with her necklace a lot so I figured that was my in.

“Hi! I really like your necklace!” I said, smilingly.

“Hmmm? Oh, thanks, it’s just some little cheap junk I got at the mall,” she replied dismissively.

Shit.

“Sounds like me and your necklace have a lot in common,” I replied, and she laughed.

“Did you come from the mall?”

“I was on clearance at Target.”

“Were you made in China?”

“100% American Grade A Beef Stock.” She raised her eyebrow and I backtracked. “Grade B. But I promise I’m just as good as the name brand.”

The ice was broken at that, and we had a very fun conversation. I knew the woman who had brought her to the party, and knew that she and I were friendly enough that she wouldn’t try to cock-block me (side note: I don’t begrudge friends who cock block – yes it’s frustrating, but nobody knows you aren’t a date rapist except you, so maybe cut them some slack). As I said, I am inspiringly non-threatening.

I found out she played volleyball, which made a lot of sense with her build. She was actually an undergrad at my college there on a volleyball scholarship, which was something I didn’t know existed until I met her. And I’m not discounting volleyball with that statement – I don’t follow very many sports so I’m continually amazed that there are scholarships offered for virtually every game under the sun in an attempt to build up those programs with quality players.

Big Barda was giving out vibes that she wanted me to take her home, so I offered to drive her if it was okay with her friend. It was, so I drove her to her apartment complex, which it turned out was not very far from my own. We made out in my car for a bit. My hands wandered up her thighs but stopped when she put her hand on them. I told her I wasn’t going to do anything that made her uncomfortable and we could just keep kissing if she wanted. She did. My hands rode a little higher until they were under her skirt, just barely tracing the outline of her pussy through her panties. She closed her eyes and moaned, but at the same time pulled my hand back and said, “Shit. I don’t want you to think I’m a slut.”

I truthfully told her that I didn’t think she was a slut, but that if she didn’t want to go any further, I could just walk her to her door and we could call it a night. She thought about this for a second and agreed. I wasn’t too heartbroken by this as we had already exchanged numbers and I knew I could call her again later. I know a lot of guys who would curse that whole situation and become angry, and I can tell you form firsthand experience that it’s not worth your aggravation. If a woman wants to have sex with you, she will, whether it’s right off the bat or a couple weeks later. And if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. Figure out how to be friends or walk away.

In the case of Big Barda, I had every reason to believe she would eventually fuck me, and I’m pretty patient, so I walked her to her door, whereupon we had one of the funniest conversations I’ve ever had with a woman.

“You’re really short,” she blurted out after I kissed her goodnight.

“Shit, who told you?” I responded.

She laughed and said, “It’s just that I’ve never like been with a short guy or whatever. Maybe a little bit shorter.”

“I can wear stilts when we’re together if that makes you feel better. Or just carry around a folding chair to stand on when we kiss.” I paused for a second and then spoke more seriously. “Is this a problem? I’m not seeing it but if something is bothering you, I’d love it if you could let me know early on.”

“I’m worried it’ll be weird….like…you…” she faltered for a second as she saw me trying to figure out what she was going to say, because I was definitely lost. “I dunno if you can, uh…like, reach?”

I pondered for a second and then just started laughing as soon as I figured it out. She thought I was too short to fuck her. To be honest, the image she conjured was really kiling me, as I couldn’t stop picturing me trying to do little bunny hops just to get it in.

“Look,” I said in between laughs. “I don’t think I can fuck you standing up unless I’m standing on a coffee table but for everything else we’ll be totally fine. Do you have a coffee table?”

She nodded, and I could tell she felt silly and a little embarrassed, so I toned down my laughing and wrapped my arms around her, which put my face more or less right in her chest. “Then all our problems are solved,” I responded, and let my hands drift down to her ass to give it a firm squeeze. “I could show you right now if you want.”

She shook her head but seemed in a better mood. She leaned down and gave me another kiss, told me good night, and went inside.

I didn’t even wait a full day before I contacted her to see if she wanted to get some lunch sometime. She did, but was busy for the next several days. That was fine by me. I set the date, waited, and then took her out to a decent seafood place in the area. I noted she was wearing taller heels when I picked her up. I suspect she was testing me but I didn’t say anything about it.

The lunch went well. We had more pleasant conversation. We went to a public park afterwards and walked around as she carried her heels. I’d saved a couple of pieces of bread from the lunch and we used them to feed some ducks. She loved it. She told me ducks were her favorite. A lucky coincidence.

She raced me back to my car. I let her win. Just kidding. She’s an athlete, she beat me fair and square and made me look like a slow-ass baby, which she mocked me for.

“You know, there’s some areas of life where being slow is more of a benefit,” I said to her as we got into my car.

“Oh, you like to take it slow?” she asked, and her hand squeezed my thigh. I told her I’d be happy to show her. She turned and looked straight ahead, thinking. She bit her lip as her hair fell in her face, making me hard as a rock. “Okay,” she finally said, “I’ll show you how to be slow.”

For all the slow talk, I drove like a speed demon to her apartment, probably because her hand was massaging my cock through my jeans the whole time.

She stepped out of my car and sashayed up the stairs to her apartment. Trust me, there’s not a better word for it. I watched her climb those stairs for a minute before I followed her – the view was just too good.

As soon as we got into her apartment she pinned me to the wall of her little studio apartment and leaned over and kissed me. I hadn’t been expecting aggression so I went from midnight to super-midnight pretty much immediately. I looked her straight in the eye when she broke contact and said, “I thought you wanted it slow.” I let my finger trace up her thigh and under her skirt, pausing just short of her panties.

She wrapped her arms around me and made sure I was pulled in close. I won’t lie, there was another moment of intimidation there. In her heels she was solidly much taller than I was. But there was no malice in her actions and her fact melted a bit as my hands pulled her skirt up over her big ass to begin cupping and squeezing the cheeks. I kissed each of her tits, which were more or less at face level, and grinned up at her. “Maybe you like things a little faster?” I asked, a finger now rubbing slowly against her pussy through her panties, causing her to moan and hold on to me tighter. She breathed heavily and began to back up, pulling me with her, until she finally sat down on her couch, her legs spread wide so I could see her bright pink panties.

Her fingers swirled around the front of her panties for a second before she reached up and grabbed my shirt, pulling me down in front of her. “Maybe I heard that you have a secret talent,” she said, pulling her panties to the side and giving my shoulder a squeeze as she gently drew me further down. I wasn’t upset at that turn of events as I quickly wrapped an arm around each of her thighs, propping them up on my shoulders as I descended on her pussy like it was my last meal.

She made my week in that next moment, suddenly exclaiming, “Oh…*shit!*” as my tongue did its best to push as deep inside her as humanly possible. My nose was pressed into the tiny tuft of pubic hair she kept between her legs, my tongue jackhammering inside of her, trying to lick every inch of her inner walls.

I believe I may have mentioned this before, but I sort of love eating pussy. And by “sort of love,” I mean “am consumed by an unholy and unyielding thirst for.”

So, you know. She enjoyed herself.

I made sure she came on my face twice. Once communicates that you’re willing to go the mileage. Twice communicates that you enjoyed the scenery and would take this drive as many times as she likes. Plus, “pro tip” (which is laughable, I’m not the least bit professional), if you press on past the first orgasm, the second is almost always easier to achieve.

Big Barda was completely out of breath by the time I was done and she was beyond pleased, immediately making sure to tell me how hot it was to see her juices all over my face. She pulled me back to my feet and sat forward on her couch, her hand wrapping around my cock and jerking me expertly. It’s not often that I am very entranced by a handjob, but she was genuinely doing an amazing job at it, rubbing her thumb over my head to smear precum over everything, twisting her wrist on the upstroke, and just generally wearing the gaze of somebody who is very interested in the proceedings. She would occasionally lean far forward and give the head of my cock a tiny kiss, then smile up at me. It was fucking maddening.

“Still think I’m too short to reach?” I asked, running my hand through that beautiful hair.

Without responding, she began rubbing my cockhead against her lips, smearing my precum all over them as she continued steadily jerking me off. She found a sweet spot with her hand motions and I placed one hand on her shoulder and warned her that I was going to cum.

A second after I told her this, she moved her hand down to the base of my cock and squeezed as hard as she could and said, “Not yet.”

So. Frustrating.

She waited like that for a moment, until I was fully calmed, and then, with her grip still steady on me, began slapping my cock against her tongue before she started back in with that firm and amazing handjob. This time she decided to start a conversation with me.

“So do you like tall girls?” she asked, and I nearly laughed at the absurdity of her casual dialogue opener while she stroked my cock right next to her face.

“Sure,” I said, my brain not altogether with me enough to say anything very intelligent.

“Am I the tallest girl you’ve ever been with?” She stroked me faster.

“By a large margin,” I replied through gritted teeth. She had my cock so close to her mouth, it was taking a lot of willpower not to push myself between her lips.

“I’ve never been with a boy as short as you,” she said casually, rubbing her thumb across the head of my cock again. She smiled up at me and said, “You’re bigger than I thought you’d be.”

“That’s great,” I said weakly, feeling my cum building back up.

“Are you going to cum?” she asked.

I debated not saying anything for a second, but I could already sense her slowing down and realized it wasn’t going to matter. She wanted to edge me. I both love and hate edging for obvious reasons. I shook off my internal argument and answered (in a voice I now regard as very pitiful sounding): “…yes.”

Like before, Big Barda just squeezed off the pipes, and I balled my hand into a fist and slowly beat against my own hip to work out my frustration.

“You’re funny,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m hilarious,” I responded.

“I told you we’d go slow.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You think I’m a bitch?”

“A little bit, right now.”

“That’s okay, I am a bitch,” she said, and gave my cock a slow lick from base to tip.

“Oh, fuck you,” I said, looking up at the ceiling.

She brought her hand to a stop until I finally looked back down at her, when she started back up slowly, smiling at me.

“You are the fucking worst,” I groaned out.

“You love it.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not the worst.”

“I had you figured out from the drop,” she said, all sly at that point. “You like your girls to be bitches, don’t you? You like a bad bitch.”

I don’t, really. But in the heat of the moment I’d probably tell a beautiful woman that I love to cum on a plate of scrambled eggs, which even as I type it makes me feel a little queasy. I was on the precipice of cumming, so of course I admitted to a lifelong predeliction towards only the baddest of bitches. Non-bitches don’t bother applying. Please turn badness up to eleven.

She sensed that I was going to cum again but this time I could tell she wasn’t going to stop, thank Jesus the Christ. Instead, she turned on her dirty talk, spewing out a litany of wonderful phrases like, “You want to cum all over this big bitch’s face? You want to cum in my mouth? I bet you’d like to cum all over my big ass, wouldn’t you? Boy, you better give me that cum, you short little motherfucker.”

In my long and storied fucking career, I’ve never had a woman call me a “short little motherfucker” before. It bizarrely worked in the moment, as I grabbed her shoulders for support as I started cumming all over her face – thick ropes just splattering into her face and hair. I normally try to avoid the hair but I was beyond giving a shit at that point and she was the one with her hand on my cock so I can’t exactly be blamed for bad aim. In one of the more comical orgasms I’ve had, I spent the entire duration of this one going “Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you,” which she later told me she loved. I came to find out Big Barda is the sort of person who likes pushing buttons so it was the perfect reaction for her.

Barda cleaned up, and then asked if I wanted to shower with her. I was game, especially since the shower turned into her putting her leg up on the side of the tub while I got down and ate her out again. “Boy, I’m putting you on speed dial,” she breathed when I was finished.

This story is already insanely long, so I’ll refrain from detailing out subsequent hook-ups after this. I did actually get to fuck her eventually, and you know what? It actually was awkward because of our size difference, so I was full of bravado shit on that one. Still, we had a pretty rich oral sex history and that was plenty for the two of us. We fucked for maybe a month or two before she transferred to another school.

She’s had a pretty good life. She enjoys being single and has never settled at any point, to my knowledge. I assumed she’d push on to try and do volleyball professionally but instead she went into pharmaceutical sales and seems to thrive there. Just in case anybody wanted to hear the happy ending.

Unlike most of the other women in my stories, I actually saw Big Barda again semi-recently, about a year ago, so I will have a follow-up story to tell in the future, because as soon as she found out her work was taking her into my neck of the woods, she made firm plans to hook up with me, which was immensely flattering given the time it had been since I last saw her. Look for that tale in future, and expect it to not be as ridiculously long as this one.

**tl;dr I met a woman over six inches taller than me at a party and she turned out to be the kind of person who is way into edging, giving me one of the best and most frustrating orgasms of my life**

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/64kk2n/mf_the_tallest_woman_ive_ever_hooked_up_with