I am Robbie, but you can call me Roberta. Do that and I’ll probably hate you a little from the get-go, regardless of how charming and good-natured you really are, or the fact that you love kids and bunnies and puppies and donate to charity.
Quite counter-intuitively, Robbie is really my given name, but still I got people in my life who liked to call me Roberta, as if to establish that they are, in some way, high-brow and cultured. One of these people was my mother, who is dead now. The other is my former boss, Thomas Lipstick, who is a cunt of a man, if I may say so myself. And I may, because it’s me doing all the writing, so there’s that. Okay, his name isn’t really Lipstick, it’s Lipschitz, but more about that later. […]
Today, the Lipstick finally crossed the line. There were times in the past when he was out of line, but today he tried to force himself on me. Of course, in the process he got a bloody nose and a kick to the balls, which seemed to dampen his enthusiasm somewhat. In any case, I got him on tape trying to rape me and tomorrow I’ll see what I can do to make sure he never tries this again with anyone.
But this is today. The moment I get home reality starts to sink in as the adrenalin begins to wear off. I feel tired, worn out, dirty. I need to confide in someone, and who better to do it with than my daughter, who, during these last years, has become the best friend I could ask for. But, as she isn’t home yet from work (since dropping out of school she has taken an internship at a small law firm in the City and she is doing pretty well), the emergency cabinet will have to do.
So I go into the kitchen and open one of the top drawers, where we keep our stash of grass and an assortment of chocolate, pastries and bonbons. Keeping them together like this I think adds to both experiences, because I always get the urge for something sweet after I smoke. I take out the stash, the paper and the filters and get cooking. After a few minutes I have a freshly rolled joint. I give it a critical once-over – it’s not my best work ever, but it will do. I take my spot at the window, wherefrom I can see in the distance the lights on planes coming and going from London City Airport. Light it up. Inhale. Keep it in. Enjoy it. Exhale.
I’m starting to get the buzz. My thoughts begin to do the hula and jump from one topic to the next. In the distance I see a plane depart, Christmas lights flickering. Suddenly I feel a rush – I remember the feeling I got when I pinned Lipstick to the wall, my hand squeezing his penis like it were a squishy toy. I loved the feeling of absolute power I got. If I wanted I could have made him kiss my feet. Not kiss. Lick. Did it make me horny? Guess it did. Hm… Up until earlier today I have been under the impression that I am rather the submissive type. Live and learn. Took me a while, too.
And a propos de horny. I think it’s about time I make myself a new friend. Someone I can explore this newfound side of me with, maybe? Yes, definitely. As a matter of fact, when is the last time I had sex? I mean with another human being. Hm… let’s see. It’s now the middle of August. July? Nope. June? Ummm, no. May? April? Yes! It was April, in May. Doing April in May. How we laughed about that, smoking a spliff, naked, holding each other, in my bed.
How was it with April?
It was, well, different, of course. She was my first girl and my first fuck after Chuck. I mean Charles, my ex. I never called him Chuck, but it does rhyme with fuck. It rhymes, I’ll give him that, but during these last years I got too much Chuck from him and too little fuck. Because he didn’t give a fuck about me, in the end.
Where was I? Oh, yes, April. April the American paradox. April the tall, blonde tomboy, wearing her hair short in a sort of a pixie cut, so that she looked more French than the Eiffel tower and Crepes Suzette. April, 30-something, working abroad, travelling the world.
We met fortuitously, when, by Lipstick’s special request, I attended a training session she held in the City. Usually I found training sessions a bit of a bore, but this time it was different. She had a very engaging and natural way of speaking, a great, self-deprecating sense of humour and her presence was purely magnetic. Soon I was asking questions like the most diligent student in class, probably prompting many eye-rolls from the other participants who hadn’t done anything to deserve this.
During the first break, she joined me for a cigarette and we talked for a while. She had a peculiar way of talking, most of the time using a sort of Transatlantic accent, but from time to time slipping into an exaggerated, theatrical drawl, reminding me more than a little of Dolly Parton.
By the time she had extinguished the cigarette she had gotten me to agree to have a drink together after work, and in no equivocal terms. Oh, she was anything but equivocal!
“Girl, you are what back home we’d call a Southern beauty!”, she said in her thick, Dolly Parton drawl. “And I love Southern beauties. I eat them up for breakfast!”
She looked at me, smiling a little wry smile. I couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so I stood there, smiling back, feeling scared and excited and flattered and aroused and confused, all at the same time. Later that day, we met for drinks and she told me her story. She is an American expat, from LA and she lives and works in Amsterdam. She is bi, and in an open relationship with both a man and a woman.
How could she handle all that, I asked? I found it hard to keep one relationship afloat at a time.
“It’s easy, sweetie. Keep them happy when and where it matters. Whenever I’m with either of them I am 100% there, y’know? And when I’m not, they are free to do whatever and whoever. And, as a matter of fact, so am I. And today you are my whoever.” She looked at me straight in the eye (well, not that straight anyway) and right then and there she took my hand in her hand and kissed it. Gently at first, then going down on my middle finger, which she proceeded to take into her mouth and lick profusely.
I must have flushed like the reddest tomato in the history of tomatoes, but oh. my. God! Instant goosebumps and, at the same time, a sort of electric shock that travelled in a blink of an eye from my head to my fuzzy peach.
“You’re crazy!” I said, giggling and trying to get my hand and my finger back.
“We’ll, yeah! But it ain’t my fault, y’know. That’s what my momma taught me. If you really like something, take it, provided you don’t do anyone any harm by taking it. And I like you!”
She got up and gave me a wry smile. “I’m going to powder my nose. Will you trust me with your hand, just once more? I promise I won’t make you blush again.”
She took my hand and slipped something in it. It was the key to her hotel room. “This is it. No procrastinating now. If you decide to leave, please put the key inside the napkin. But if you stay, I shall not be held accountable for what is about to happen.”
I stayed. My heart was thumping in my chest and I was sweating. What was happening to me? What had I gotten myself into?
April returned after a while and seeing me looking so wretched couldn’t stifle a laugh. “You are as brave as I imagined. Don’t worry, hon. I’m not going to eat you. Oops. I lie.” She leaned towards me and whispered in my ear “I can’t wait to suck on your sweet mommy tits and put my tongue inside your pussy!”.
Back to the future. I drew the last smoke from my spliff and squashed the cigarette butt in the ashtray. I needed to lie down and enjoy the trip. I went to my room and got undressed, looking at myself in the mirror. Whatever April had seen in me, she was actually right. I am a babe! I love how my breasts look, so round and soft, and my areolas, as big as lemon slices, but much, much sweeter. My belly, which always gave me such an inferiority complex, doesn’t bother me anymore. In fact, I think it looks great, the way my breasts seem to rest on top of it. I remember April grabbing me from my belly and burying her face deep inside my pussy.
And, talk of the devil. Do I dare to go down? Of course I do. I am a big girl and I’m not afraid to play big girl games. I lie down on my bed and begin to fondle my fuzzy peach. What happened next, Robbie? Try to remember!
We took a cab and all the way to the hotel April and I held hands. I was so nervous and my palms were sweating hard. She put her hand on my knee – that day, I remember, I was wearing my office attire, meaning black skirt, knee length, a sleeveless white shirt and a dark blue jacket. Then, slowly, inch by inch, her hand crept under my skirt, and with every inch my breath grew shallower, and my heart skipped beats like a stone skipping over water.
Suddenly her hand was there, fondling my fuzzy peach. It was crazy! The taxi driver was doing his best to look in the mirror without appearing to look. I came, shuddering, right there, in my seat, and it was an explosion of feeling and delight I hadn’t been prepared for. I don’t know who was shaking harder, me or the car, passing through an area where road work was underway.
All the while, April was looking at me intently, with just a hint of a smile in the corner of her lips. She moved her hand back, slowly, and put her fingers in front of her lips, taking in the sweet aroma of sin. After what seemed like three eternities and a half we arrived at the hotel. Her room was on the last floor. We took the elevator and that was where we first kissed. A little tame at first, probing, tentative. Then she put her hand inside my bra and squeezed my nipple. That sent me over the edge and soon we were kissing like there was no tomorrow. Her lips were soft and moist, her tongue was like a sweet jungle fruit. She smelled heavenly and for a moment I thought why, why would I ever go back to men?
The doors opened and we parted, trying to get a little oxygen in. Her room was around a corner, the walls were dark grey and had small spots of warm light, shining down on abstract pictures that somehow managed to make the ambiance even more austere. She held the door to her room for me, which I found strangely erotic, put on a corner light and threw her purse on a yellow armchair. Then she started undressing, slowly, looking me in the eyes. She wore long, black slacks that complimented her long, straight legs, and a pale blue shirt. She wore black lace panties and no bra. Her breasts were small but perfectly defined, and her nipples were small and erect. To my surprise, her fuzzy peach was more than fuzzy. It was a hairy fuzzy peach, but beautifully trimmed.
She turned and I saw her figure against the light coming from the corner. She looked perfect, statuesque. Her back was perfectly arched, the line from her shoulder blades to her hips flowed uninterrupted by any kink or imperfection. Her pert ass was also without flaw, as perfectly proportioned as the rest of her body.
I thought about my saggy breasts, stretch marks, belly rolls and big bottom, chock-full of cellulite and all my insecurities came back. What was I doing here?
But April was having none of that. Still keeping her back at me, slowly she drew the curtains back, revealing a breathtaking bird’s eye view of the Thames and its landmarks, made even more breathtaking by her nude, exposed body. She then turned and walked leisurely towards me. I could see her muscles contracting and relaxing under her flawless skin. She took my hand and kissed me, pressing her body hard against mine.
“Let’s see what we have here!” she said, taking off my jacket and unbuttoning my shirt.
“Mommy, what big tits you have!” she interjected, playfully, and then she couldn’t say anything more, having taken my nipple in her mouth. Then she inched her way down, kissing and undressing, and, together with my clothes, soon all my inhibitions were gone. We went hand in hand inside the walk-in shower and kissed some more under the constant stream of warm rain, exploring each other’s bodies as we soaped away the day’s wear and tear. Her body was as taut as mine was soft, thesis and antithesis in female form.
She suddenly grabbed my hair and steadily but firmly pushed me to my knees and suddenly I found myself buried face deep inside her wonderfully hairy mound. I found my way instinctively, and immediately found two things: one, that I love licking pussy, and two – the consequence of one – I am quite skilled in this department, which I gathered from the fact that soon April was having the most shuddering orgasm, pushing my head hard against her lovely cunt.
She then smiled at me and said “Good girl!”. We dried ourselves. My head was spinning, but i also needed relief, badly. April was aware of that and I guess she was also keen for a taste of me. She took me by the hand and led me out, on the terrace. It was risky business, as we were completely exposed, not only to the elements, but to prying eyes from the other office buildings that made up the complex. The air was warm, and up here the noise of the city trafic was eerily muted.
April led me to one of the two chaise longues that were placed to the side of the terrace, under a tall pergola. I lay in it and April got on top of me and we kissed for a while, while she was fondling my fuzzy peach, taunting it, playing with clit, till I was ready to explode. Then she went down herself, burying her face in my mound, pulling me towards her, grabbing my hips and belly rolls. Then, suddenly, i felt her finger inside me, which sent an electric shock from my peach to the brain and back. I couldn’t stifle my moans any longer and this only seemed to spur April on, and soon all her efforts were rewarded when I climaxed with an explosion of juice that filled April’s face. A little taken back, she quickly recovered, smiling, swallowing a mouthful of my squirt, looking straight into my eyes while doing it. That sent me over the edge for a second time, and I came once again, almost seeing stars in the process.
She lay beside me and we kissed. The moon had made its way through the clouds and was turning every shadow silverish. We stayed that way until it got too cold, then went inside, where I had one of the best, most relaxing and restful sleeps of my life.
This is an excerpt from my book, “The Diary of Robbie – The Erotic Journey of a BBW Goddess”. If you liked my writing, there’s more where that came from. Just check my profile în Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/AshleyMcKenzie Looking forward to reading your comments. Cheers!
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vi7q1k/the_diary_of_robbie_my_first_time_with_april
That gets of to a great start.