Give Her A Hand

"I've been thinking about positions," Sam said as he helped Bea from the doorway to the bed. "I think it might be more comfortable for you if you were on your knees and I entered you from behind."

Sam had been thinking about the logistics of how he would fuck Bea ever since he had seen her. It wasn't a matter of if, or even when; they were both here for the same reason. At least if he was behind her, Sam would have some options...some control. He didn't like to think of what would happen if she tried to get on top of him.

Her face—she really did have a pretty face, despite the second chin, taut and pink—broke into a grin that showed the dimples in her cheeks.

"So you want to take me doggy-style, huh? Make me your bitch?"

Bea's voice was light, cheerful. When they reached the bed, Sam knelt down to help her out of her shoes as she pulled up the floral print pink dress. The bed itself was the sturdiest piece of furniture that Sam owned, some ancient piece of farm furniture he'd found in a junk shop, too heavy for most people to consider moving—but it was just what the doctor ordered as they struggled to get her four-hundred-plus-pounds up onto the new queen-sized pilllowtop mattress.

His Fuckr date was huffing and puffing, red-faced and sweaty by the time she had crawled across the bed to grab the headboards...but as Sam slipped out of his robe, he could see his target: a tangle of dark hair, down between those thighs, just visible beneath the overhang of her cellulite-laden buttocks.

"Do you need me to suck you off?" Bea said. "I said I'd do it. I don't mind."

"It's okay," Sam said. "I'm hard enough already."

He was, too—as much to his own surprise as hers. All of his life, Sam had looked at normal women...even liked girls a little on the skinny side...and looking at Bea's ass was almost like looking at the back end of an animal. It made him feel strange to get hard so quickly, when she was everything that should have evoked disgust in him. The swollen stomach that hung down to the mattress, the thunderous thighs with the rolls of fat, that great honking ass that was twice as wide as he was. It made no sense...

"Do you need lube?" He thought as he rubbed his stiff prick, a last-minute thought before getting down to business.

Bea giggled. "Why don't you check, hon?"

Feeling like a veterinarian, Sam ran his hand between her legs. The pubic hair was thick and matted...it must be impossible for her to shave unassisted...but also damp. There were wet dribbles down her thighs, like the moisture in a cave wall...and Sam followed it up to that furry cleft...to the slit between her legs.

Two fingers slipped in, almost without effort. "Found it!" Bea said with a laugh and wiggled a little, setting up an ass quake that was nothing short of disconcerting.

"Okay," Sam said as he bellied up to the cunny. "Here we go."

He pressed forward. The tip of his prick felt something grip him. Sam had to work blind, with his fingers, to slide it in. Pushed forward into that soft, warm wall of flesh until he could fo no further...until that hot tunnel enveloped his cock. For a moment, despite everything, Sam closed his eyes and gave a contented sigh. This was what it was all about. This was what he wanted. This was...

"Is it in yet?" Bea said. "Don't keep me waiting, baby! I want to feel you in me. Don't worry, you won't hurt me..."

Sam's cheeks burned as the realization of what she meant sank in...but he had one great advantage. Bea couldn't see him. Sick to his stomach, Sam slid his fingers in alongside his cock...

"Hmm. That's it baby...not just a finger...give me all of it!"

He drove his fingers deeper. Two. Three. Unable to keep up the position, he let his cock slip out of that sloppy slit and pressed the tips of his fingers together. Sam's whole hand slid into the cunny as easily as a farmer checking a cow's fiber. The walls squeezed around Sam's hand...a warm, animal smell came up to him as he pushed his fist deeper into her channel.

"Yeah baby...yeah, just like that..." Bea encouraged him. "God, I needed this so bad..."

Sam's forearm worked in and out of the gigantic cunny. His hand was balled into a fist as it scraped against the walls that sucked and squeezed him. Neglected and forlorn, his own stiff prick bounced around helplessly, the throbbing ache of his need ****...but what could he do? Tell her that he couldn't measure up, that her cunt was the Grand Central Station of Pussy, that it was like throwing a hot dog into the Grand Canyon? Or fist-fuck her until the titanic slut came harder than she'd ever cum in her whole whorish life?

For Sam, there was only one option.

Bea's moans were cute. She shook as his arm tirelessly plunged in any out of her pussy. Never too rough, never too hard—but never did she complain, either. Sam could hear her breathing grow faster and faster. The gulps for air, the little moans. The almost animalistic squeal whenever he rubbed over her g-spot, the way her whole body shook like it was filled with jello as she began to get close

Sam lost track of time. He knew his fingertips were pruned and his arm and shoulder were aching. His cock, like a dog that had finally given up on being fed and stopped whining to drop its head into its bowl, had wilted and hung limp...and still he kept churning that cunny on and on, teeth grinding, hating himself for not being enough to satisfy her and hating himself more for the deception, and then...

"Oh...oh...Oh yes right there...faster...harder...right there...right there...AH. AHH! AAAAGGH!"

"Aaagh!" Sam screamed as the pussy clamped down on his hand, tighter than ever before. Her whole fat body seemed to contract, and crushed inside Sam could almost hear the snap as something broke inside his hand. As her scream of pleasure faded, Sam managed to silence his own cry of pain...and when, at last, she relented and relaxed, he pulled forth the wounded limb, pains shooting up his arm.

"Oh, Sam," Bea said, still quivering. "You were wonderful! Do you think...after a little bit of time for you to rest...we could try again?"

Sam swallowed. Self-hatred was a bitter drink. A part of him wanted to tell her what had happened...but his wounded pride got in the way.

"Sure baby...this position seems to work for you. Maybe we'll try this again."

After all, Sam thought dejectedly, I have another hand.