[MF] The Tallest Woman I’ve Ever Hooked Up With, Part 2

I mentioned in my [last story](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/64kk2n/mf_the_tallest_woman_ive_ever_hooked_up_with/) that Big Barda made a return trip to my life about a year ago, and that I’d follow up with a story about that magical time.

I wish I could say that when she came back into my life I was the same totally ripped stud she’d originally taken home, but the fact is I was never a ripped stud and over the past decade since graduate school I have more of a dad bod than anything else. I mean, sure, I still go to the gym. I still run. But I also have a full time job and a lot of responsibilities and a weakness for red meat and potatoes, so here I am. Why don’t you sue me, take me on Judge Judy, see what she has to say about it?

Probably nothing nice.

The gym is actually integral to this story. See, I don’t know if any of my past tales have clued all of you into this amazing fact about me, but I’m kind of an idiot. Case in point, I managed to break my arm lifting weights, something I’ve been doing most of my life and should be able to accomplish in my sleep. “How is this possible?” I hear you ask, conjuring up images of a machine falling on top of me as I bravely attempt to lift it off, muscles bulging under my shirt.

Not quite! See, I tripped over my own untied shoelaces and fell over, spastically kicking a weight shelf in the process and causing a couple 45 plates to land right on my forearm. “Oh god, that sounds awful,” I now hear you say, because I Hackerman’d all your battlestations and I can now hear when you make these exclamations. Kevin, everything I hear from your computer is gross. You are gross.

Well, you’re right. It was painful. Did I take the pain like a man? Fuck no. I’m lucky I didn’t start crying. If it wasn’t for the very attractive young woman who hovered over me while asking somebody to call the hospital I probably would have just peed my pants and completed the full cycle of embarrassment and physical trauma.

So, fast forward, and my right arm is in a cast and a sling. I’m right-handed, so this made life pretty shitty for quite a while. I was in a foul mood as a result, because every single thing I wanted to do for myself was an exercise in frustration. Go a week without the ability to use your dominant hand and you’ll have an idea of what I’m talking about. It’s really annoying.

It was during this time that Big Barda made a reappearance in my life. She’s had multiple jobs in sales and does exceedingly well for herself, and she happened to be in the neighborhood to assist with a job fair at the local university. We are still facebook friends so she knew I lived in the area, but rather than tell me she was coming, she simply looked up where I worked, and showed up.

Had I known she was going to be there, I probably would have made a greater effort to look presentable. As it was, she came on “Casual Friday” (wooooo…^woooo…^woo ) and I was just wearing some old jeans and an incredibly ugly work polo. My beard was unkempt, I looked tired, probably one shoelace was untied. I looked like a child that just rolled out of bed. Meanwhile Big Barda shows up at my office wearing a nice dress and heels and looking like a supermodel doing charity work for some sort of Schlubby Guy Care Facility.

She lowered her shades at me immediately (yes, she wore her sunglasses inside – I would have made fun of her for this had she not shown up in designer shit while I looked like I just exited Sears in my brand new Big Boy Pants), motioned at my sling and said, “This is going to be a problem considering the evening I had planned for us.”

My heart soared. Nearly a decade later and it sounded like she specifically had come to visit me to schedule a hook up. I had to immediately forget all the aggravations of my broken arm and put on my game face.

I told her the rest of my body was working just fine, and she was more than welcome to inspect me to make sure. She jokingly told me she didn’t know if she could spend time with me if I’d lost my sense of touch, so I informed her that, much like the blind, all my other senses had been heightened to compensate, and she should give my sense of taste a whirl. She laughed. A good sign. I didn’t let anything about my demeanor betray the fact that I was uncomfortable with how frumpy I looked or how worried I was that even if we got to spend some time alone that I’d just be worthless without the use of my arm. It was a misplaced confidence, but confidence nonetheless.

“Can you still drive?” she asked me. I informed her that I did it regularly. She nodded and asked, “Can you drive me to dinner later?” I emphatically told her it would be my pleasure, and she left me with the name of her hotel and her room number.

The rest of that day is a blur to me. I have no concept of how I got any work done, let alone drove myself home and got changed into nice clothes. You ever try to button a shirt when you can barely move your dominant hand around? I don’t recommend it. The only reason I think I was able to get it done that evening was pure adrenaline and force of will. I even put on a suit jacket. Was I in pain? Yes. Did my dick, or as I call him, “The Commish,” care? Hell no. The Commish commanded the rest of my body to fucking *deal with it.*

When I got to her hotel I laughed. She had dressed down into jeans and a tight t-shirt whereas I had dressed up. She smiled at me and told me she was happy I still “cleaned up so nice.” She then leaned down to kiss me and I let my left hand linger at the side of her neck, stroking my thumb gently over her jawline. As we separated, my thumb traveled up and traced across her lips. She shivered, and I mathematically calculated the odds of us fucking later to be nearly 100%.

Dinner was comparatively uneventful. We flirted the whole time, certainly, but we were both older, and neither was keen on playing footsie under the table or engaging in risky public outercourse when we knew we had a very comfortable hotel room waiting for us after the meal. The conversation was interesting, she was beautiful as always, and at one point she told me that people were staring at us and it was making her horny.

I didn’t quite believe this at the time, because how often do people openly stare at two totally normal individuals having dinner, as though it’s some sort of spectacle? But then she pointed out a couple tables with senior citizens, and I realized she was right. There were some slightly disapproving looks coming from there. The only thing I could think of was that it was related to the way we were dressed. With me in a suit and her in her very tight t shirt, and the reasonably nice restaurant we visited, I suppose it must have looked like I was playing the role of sugar daddy to a much younger woman.

I mentioned my theory to Big Barda and she grinned at me and said she thought it was because of how much taller she is than me. I posited that it could be a combination of both, and she once again iterated that whatever the reason, knowing they were being nosy and disapproving was making her very, very wet. She was squirming in her seat, crossing and then re-crossing her legs.

I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I told her I would go ahead and get the check, at which point she put her hand on mine and said, “I’m about to blow those old folks’ minds.”

She accomplished this by paying for the entire meal herself. Being from the south, there is always a part of me that wants to balk at this, but to be totally honest, if your partner wants to pay, or split the bill, or whatever, just go with it. If your pride can’t handle something as small as a restaurant bill, it’s introspection time.

She explained to me later that the meal was actually paid for by her company, which gave her a not-so-modest sum to use for wooing potential customers. She’d already used a fair amount of it during her visit and had apparently done quite well so she doubted they were going to audit her use of the funds very heavily.

I didn’t see if the local octogenarian crowd was as floored by her casual flaunting of company credit cards as she assumed they’d be, because she pulled me in by my tie and kissed me before telling me we needed to get to the car. At that point I was more concerned with making sure my erection wasn’t incredibly obvious as I stood and walked to the restaurant exit.

Driving back to the hotel was painful. Big Barda decided to unbutton her jeans and slip a hand inside her panties to start working on herself before we even got to the building, and at the moment I put the car in park she pulled her hand out and shoved her fingers into my mouth to give me a taste of what she’d been whipping up in the kitchen. As I type that I realize it is one of the weirdest and maybe even grossest analogies I could have chosen to describe this scenario, so just trust me when I say that in the moment I don’t think it was possible for anything else to turn me on more. I’m amazed my dick didn’t comically shred through my pants.

Walking to the elevator, riding on the elevator, and even walking down the hall to her room, you’d never know how anxious we were to fuck. We were as composed as any couple you might see making their way around town. If we had been discussing furniture arrangements, it wouldn’t have been the least out of place.

But the moment the door to her room clicked shut, I had her pushed up against the wall, my mouth already kissing her neck as my left hand fumbled to get my dress shirt untucked and over my head.

Big Barda was more than willing to help me out, unbuttoning just enough buttons to yank that shirt off of me. As I attempted unsuccessfully to get the sleeve uncaught from my cast, she sunk down to her knees and worked my belt and pants off. She was rubbing me through my boxer briefs and smiling up at me when she said, “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this dick all day.”

I laughed and told her I hoped the reality was better just as she pulled the waistband of my underwear down and caught the head of my cock in her mouth as it bounced up. My breath came out in a short hiss as I felt her tongue swirling around my tip, and I suddenly became acutely aware of how ridiculous I looked with my shirt still hanging off my cast. I focused in and got it unstuck, letting the shirt hit the floor, and then proceeded to tangle the fingers of my left hand into her hair as I felt her head slowly bob back and forth on me.

Historically I recalled that Barda liked to be a tease, so having her go straight for the blowjob was a bit of a curve ball that I hadn’t anticipated. Nevertheless, it emboldened me to take a bit of a risk and break out some of my more demeaning dirty talk early. Barda had always been a bit half in, half out on name calling, depending on where the planets aligned or what she’d had to eat that day – I never could quite tell if she was going to get massively pissed off if I injected dominating dirty talk into the bedroom, or if she’d start masturbating furiously, preparing her body to cum like the jaws of life around her own hand. It was always a crapshoot.

“You’re being such a little slut tonight,” I said, looking down at her to gauge her reaction.

Her breathing seemed to increase as her mouth moved a bit further on me. “Mmm-hmm,” she agreed around a mouthful of my cock.

That was all the invitation I needed. My hand grabbed a fistful of her hair close to the base of her scalp and very lightly pulled, causing her to groan against my cock as I said, “I missed your sweet little slutty mouth.” I kept my hand tight in her hair as I slowly thrust myself between her lips a few times. “Do your coworkers know what you do with this mouth on these little work trips?”

She moaned loudly at that, breathing hard through her nose as she attempted to take me deeper, gagging and coming back for air. I saw the wild look on her face as she began working her pants off her legs from down on the floor and realized quickly that I’d accidentally stumbled upon some sort of fantasy of hers as she began working her hand into her panties to start fingering herself.

“How do you think I make so many sales?” she asked me teasingly, licking me from base to tip before stuffing me eagerly back into her mouth.

I decided to go with it. “Oh, I don’t think,” I said, my hips once against thrusting into her mouth slowly. “I know you make every single sale just using that perfect little slut mouth. How many clients do you take back to your hotel room? Or do you just go straight to them? Maybe crawl under their desks and let them work while you fill your mouth up with a hot stranger’s fat cock?”

I saw Barda’s face contort and realized she was cumming on her fingers, but that didn’t seem to slow her down at all as she continued bobbing on my cock and working her fingers in and out of her pussy. The smell of sex was strong in the air at that point.

I smiled at her, because I knew I’d found her sweet spot and I genuinely like making my partners’ cum. “Can you even go one day without feeding off some client’s cock?”

“Mmm-mmmm!” Barda answered in the negative, and almost as if to prove the point she once again attempted to take me in her throat, gagging on me in the process.

“Of course you can’t,” I responded. “Because you’re a little slut, aren’t you?”

“Mmm-hmmm”

“And you love sucking cock.”

“Mmm-hmmm”

“Now tell me what a needy little cock-hungry whore you are.”

She pulled me out of her mouth in that moment and started jerking me off furiously. That fire in her eyes had somehow doubled and I couldn’t tell in that instant if she was going to masturbate me into her mouth or literally rip my dick off and throw it in the garbage. Fortunately it was better than both.

“Yeah, I love cock,” she said in her best “porn star” voice. “I love sucking big, fat cock. Feeling it stretch my throat out. But you know what? If you don’t fuck me with this big fucking dick right now I am going to slap you in the face because I am *not* a whore.”

I’d found the line and stepped past it but I was fortunate in that Barda was more horny than she was angry. I took her hand off my cock and hurried over to the bed. I knew from past experience that our height difference made it way too difficult and aggravating to fuck doggy style, and with my arm in a cast I went with the one option that made the most sense – I laid down and motioned for her to come get on top of me.

This suited her just fine, as she slipped her panties off but kept her t shirt on. She turned away from me and I held my cock up as straight as I could. If you’ve ever had reverse cowgirl before, I can tell you that it requires your dick to be able to stretch away from your stomach pretty well *and* it comes with a higher risk of slipping out mid-bounce, so be careful. I find it works best if you always try to keep a hand on your own dick for at least a *semblance* of control. I’m sure this is just a placebo, but at least I always feel a bit safer in my ability to pull my dick out of the way in case she might accidentally come crashing down on top of it.

Barda’s pussy was burning hot. It felt like fucking a furnace when she sank down on me but I didn’t even care because her ass was still enormous and fantastic. Seeing it point back at me as she began grinding back and forth on my dick was a treat in and of itself.

The bad chord I’d struck with my previous verbal banter wasn’t done though, because she turned slightly to look back at me as she worked on me and said, “You think this is how a whore fucks? This ain’t how a whore fucks you, baby. This is how a *bad.* *fucking.* *bitch.* rides that cock,” and she punctuated each of her words with a solid bounce of her meaty ass against my hips.

I committed a cardinal sin in that moment by flinching when I saw her hips rise up and fall (I freely admit I’m way too paranoid about having my dick broken during sex – it’s a character flaw). She saw it and exploited it by then repeatedly bouncing herself on my cock haphazardly, rising and slamming down again and again as I gritted my teeth and tried to make sure that I never fell out.

I was so focused in on watching her ass bounce on me that I didn’t hear what she said next, but I certainly heard her when she slammed her ass down as hard as she possibly could to get my attention with a “Hey!”

“What?” I asked confidenty, by which I mean I nervously stammered out something incomprehensible. I was sweating. Nervous as I was by her activity, she was still getting me worked up. Even a fear boner can cum, and she was dragging me closer and closer to the precipice.

“I said to tell me I’m a bad bitch,” she said sweetly, grinding on me again slowly.

“I’m a bad bitch,” I said, too stupid to realize when it wasn’t appropriate to make a joke.

She lifted her hips up and slammed them back onto me. “Who’s a bad bitch?” she asked. She turned, again with that smile, and grabbed my good arm and moved my hand up to grip her ass so I could feel it ripple and undulate with her movements.

I was too far gone at that point.

“Fuck, you are,” I said, almost completely out of breath.

“I am what?” she asked, grinding some more.

“You’re a bad bitch,” I said, the words admittedly sounding completely ridiculous out of my mid-thirties, living in the suburbs, white guy mouth.

Barda still wasn’t completely done, though. “And you love bad bitches, don’t you, Von Scriptenstein?”

“Yes, I completely do.”

“Yeah, that’s fucking right, you do.” And with that, Barda began moving on me in earnest, making every manner of porn-sounding noise she could conjure out of her pouty little mouth as she bounced, grinded, and just generally used her inner muscles to squeeze my dick into submission, moaning out, “Gimme that cum, baby, gimme every fucking drop, it’s all for me.”

She’d destroyed me. I let go, and came like a fucking Katy Perry firework. Never in my life prior to that moment had I cum so hard that I genuinely felt I had nothing left to give afterward.

She curled up next to me and kissed my cheek and asked if I was tired. I was. Jesus, I was. I knew how awful it would be for me to fall asleep on her after that but she managed to wear me out on a level that made my eyelids feel like lead weights. She snuggled into me and told me to go to sleep, and within seconds of that I was out like a light. This isn’t totally unusual – I fall asleep very easily – but conking out specifically because somebody told me to was definitely different.

Later on I learned from Barda that it was a weird point of pride for her that she could fuck a man so hard that he couldn’t even stay awake afterwards. She was particularly taken with the lyrics from Nicki Minaj’s “Anaconda” wherein she claims that her pussy puts men to sleep so they call her NyQuil. “That’s me!” she exclaimed to me when she shared this lyric. “You can call me NyQuil now.”

I’ll keep calling her Big Barda, though.

The next morning, I had a boat load of guilt for falling asleep on her, so I took my time eating her out to make up for it. Eating out a very tall woman is a bit luxurious to me because her legs were so long that she could practically cross them at the ankles almost all the way down my back as I licked her. And as always, I love eating out a woman with thick thighs because there’s so much to hold onto while I work. I made sure she gripped the hotel sheets several times before I finished.

She sighed when I was done. “Goddamn,” she said. And that was it. It communicated enough.

We took a shower together, but that was more utilitarian than sexy because I needed to rush home to take care of some appointments I had that day and she needed to get on the road to catch her flight. Plus, a cast in the shower pretty much prohibits anything sexy because you have to keep it out of the water. Hard to be sexy when you’ve got one arm perpetually in the air like you’re at the best concert of all time. I remember rigging the hotel’s plastic bag for ice on it but it was a weak seal at best. So I mainly stayed at the back of the tub.

Barda stepped out of the shower ahead of me and began getting ready (I take long showers, it’s a vice), and I finally stepped out to her nearly completely dressed. I gave her a quick kiss and moved past her to begin gathering my clothes, but before I could put them on she once again smilingly got on her knees and started sucking me off.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a playful tone. Not that I didn’t appreciate it, but we’d both established that we were on a tight schedule.

She looked innocently up at me and said, “I don’t want to go a whole day without sucking a fat cock,” she said, “I’m too big a slut for that, remember?” She then proceeded to go right back to work

I groaned. “We probably don’t have time for this,” I said in the least convincing voice of all time.

“Then you better cum quick,” she replied, and began bobbing and bouncing her head on me in a steady rhythm, using her mouth, tongue and hands together in tandem to build me up.

I glanced at my watch and said, “Fuck it.” I then did everything in my power to will myself to cum as fast as possible. It worked. I managed to cum in about five minutes. I wasn’t even ashamed. That was exactly what we both needed.

She came back up and kissed my cheek. “Something to remember me by,” she said, and went back to getting ready. I did the same, and we exchanged our final goodbyes in the lobby of her hotel before returning to our normal lives. Absolutely one of my more exciting trysts.

As for Barda, I’m still friends with her even now, and she’s doing just fine for herself. She’s still single and happy that way, and I imagine if she ever makes her way back to my neck of the woods she may give me another call, but I don’t foresee that happening anytime soon.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/68548v/mf_the_tallest_woman_ive_ever_hooked_up_with_part