My Little Butterball

My Little Butterball?

By Marie23cbra

Well, okay… I did put on a bit of weight. But… “My Little Butterball?”

I don’t deserve that. Jimmy, feel my revenge… Just watch me cum on your associate’s long schlong.

I’ve always been a petite, size, shape, and breasts. And I’ve always been the ‘good wife.’ In every way. Well, okay, sometimes I drink a little. But, back to the petite thing… Since riding the stage as homecoming queen, what, thirty-some years ago, I have always been a petite size woman. Even after the four little ones, now grown, and proudly, all college grads, moved out and on their own. That leaves just my hubby, Jimmy, and me at home, alone. And I mean ‘alone.’ Jimmy’s got his work, and he’s always there. Even when he’s home. His mind is on his work. Day after day, after day. Well, you get the message.

But getting back to that petite thing again. We’re now in our low 60’s. Jimmy is 6-foot, down from his peak of 6’1”, and weighing in at 278, down from 306. Me, well, I’m the tallest in my family, but that’s not saying much. At 5’5” and 158, okay, so I’m not so petite any more. But I’ve always been at 120 to 130. For years. It’s only been the last few months that my weight’s gone wrong. I’ve tried all the diets, none work. And it’s not my eating. Only turkey or chicken with plenty of greens. No beef or pork. But somehow my weight’s shot up. Jimmy says he likes the bigger chest, though. I hate it. I’ve never carried around so much weight. In my fat gut, and now my big breasts, too. But, butterball? Now that’s gone too far.

Jimmy’s no prize either. It seems that even though we are still relatively young, his sex drive is all but gone. I finally talked him into going to the doc, and getting some pills. Sometimes they work, but most times not. So, am I happy with only once, or rarely twice, a month? Hell NO! But I live with it. I’ve always been the good wife there. Always willing and ready. No cheating.

Butterball. Now, I’m getting mad.

More wine? Don’t mind if I do.

Today, we’re in Omaha. A convention, to be precise. Jim’s work. Again. But I get to tag along. The good wife. Dress nice, make small talk. Be there at his side. This year he’s doing the new product demos in private. So we have a nice big suite, upstairs, with adjoining rooms. Ours on the left, and the new VP of Sales on the right. Some new appointment, according to Jim. He calls him the young kid, though ‘kid’ would be a stretch there. He’s 6’5”, quite tall. Shaved head. I don’t know what that’s about. His wife fell sick late last week, so he’s here stag. Acts like a real ass, if you ask me. I guess that’s why he’s in sales. Outgoing above and beyond the need. Always selling, and sometime you have to wonder what it is exactly that he’s selling. Himself, or the new products?

Early evening drinks, a long dinner with several of their best customers, then back to the suite for more drinks. Oh yeah, and don’t forget to demo the new products. I was only gone a minute to relieve myself, but it was on my way back that I heard it. I swear it was Jim’s voice that I heard. I assume they were talking about me, since they were when I left. But on my way back, I heard it. ‘My Little Butterball.’ Lovingly, maybe. Even possibly endearingly, by the inflection in his voice. Not good enough for me. The heat left me flush across the back of my neck. I’m certain my hair was standing up straight like a rooster’s ruffled feathers. It was all I could do to stop. I was holding the door to our room slightly open on my return to the suite. I stopped, did a quick U-turn, and slithered back into our room. I dropped to our bed, water gathering in my eyes. I blinked rapidly as I centered my body on my side of the bed. I tried to breath, letting the steam boil from every pore of my overweight body.

I don’t know how long I was there. It was getting quieter out in the suite. Jim popped his head in to check on me, and I only held my head in a mock headache. He asked if I needed anything. Wine, my response. He did a double-take with his eyes. But after a couple of minutes, he brought me a glass of the sweet white, a Muscat. Perfect, I thought to myself. I’m a musky old cat. A fat cat. A fat cat at that. A fat cat at that, but no hat. My inner doctor Seuss snickered, but my thighs surprised me with a tickle. The small wine glass tipped, and I downed it in a flash. It immediately warmed me thoroughly. My mind slurred as my body relaxed. How much wine was too much, I wondered. One before dinner. Two, or was it three during dinner. One more in the suite before I excused myself. Now one full small glass of the waxey Muscat that warmed my inners as it spread thru my stomach. Not enough to spin my head, or the room for that matter. But my mind planned its revenge. Little butterball, indeed.

I rolled from the bed and stripped from my show clothes. Yeah, company logo on my blouse, just like everyone else. Off with the big lugging bra and fat-girl underwear. A quick shower then flannel pj’s with nothing else underneath. The soft cloth felt good rubbing across my nipples. I pulled out my Kindle and tried to comprehend the fictional legal thriller I was reading. Before I knew it, Jim returned. This time the suite was dark and quiet. He didn’t disturb my mock reading as he stripped and then climbed into bed. A peck of a kiss on my cheek, and he rolled away from me. Yeah, I thought, adding insult to injury.

“I’m going to read for a bit,” as I rolled from the bed.

Jimmy only grunted groggily. It’s only a little after midnight as I glanced at the clock. I shut the door from our bedroom then fluffed some pillows on the big couch. Before I tried to begin reading, I noticed the light from under the VP’s room across from ours. He was awake. I think I heard a shower running.

I placed my hands, one on each breast, squeezing them together, measuring them. Too big, for me. My overweight body disgusted me. I glanced back at our closed bedroom door before picking up the Kindle to see how Gresham was going to get out of his current pickle.

A couple of chapters later I was startled by the VP’s door as it suddenly opened. The tall, bald silhouette was clear. No shirt. Boxer shorts. Hmmmmm, I unconsciously purred, not much fat. He stopped, startled at seeing me there on the couch.

“Just getting a nightcap,” he said. Then, after a brief pause, “would you like one?” Almost obligatory.

I only hesitated a moment before saying “yes.”

“How does the port sound,” as he walked towards the small bar.

“Yes,” again from me, somewhat hushed, with almost an ‘h’ at the end.

I dropped my feet from the couch as he came over holding two tall glasses filled with the rich sweet red nectar. He sat on the couch as he handed me one glass. With a mock toast, we clinked the two glasses together before taking a healthy sip. He leaned back on the couch, and I surprised myself by lifting my feet from the ground and stretching them across the couch. My calves pressed across the top of his thighs. A moment of silence. We each took another healthy sip. It immediately warmed my stomach as I swallowed. I was thinking ‘how about them drumsticks’ but didn’t speak as my legs pressed into his thighs. VP raised his glass and downed it in one long gulp. His hands came to rest on my legs. I raised my glass and drained it. I reached for his glass, and he passed me the empty flute. I set them on the end table. His eyes looked towards mine, perhaps seeking some sort of approval to go further. I just looked back with a glazed look on my face.

The word butterball just rolled around in my head, again and again. I didn’t realize that I was making a move on the new VP or Sales, right there in our suite, my husband asleep in the next room. I’m not sure I thought ‘revenge’ as much as I was just disappointed with myself. I was willing to see how far I could get with VP, but really didn’t think about actively trying to fuck with him. What happened next just happened.

His right hand slid across and up my leg towards my thigh. My hand met his as it reached the top of my thigh. I guess I wasn’t really reaching out to stop his hand, nor encouraging it to go further. Our hands moved together across the top of my thigh, dipping deep into the folds between my thighs. I could feel the moisture growing from within my closed labia lips as our hands glazed over the fabric at my crotch. My mind was fuzzy, but I knew enough that it felt good to be wanted in this way. And the feel of his hand sweeping over the cloth against my delicate vulva electrified my skin. I guess I was surprised. Surprised that he welcomed my intent. Surprised that I made the attempt. Surprised that Jimmy was far from my thoughts right now.

I pressed his hand tighter against my body. My mind was numb. From the wine. From the growing desire within me. From revenge? I lost all inhibition as his hand slipped higher and across my big gut. It slipped up under my top, brushing up and across the bottom of my weighty boobs. My nipples tingled as his hand slid the soft cottony fabric across them. Then both his hands began exploring my breasts. My hands were gripping at his wrists, just following his movements across what I had considered to be undesirable fat. My hands moved upward from his wrists, across his arms and to his broad shoulders. His body moved closer to mine as his hands moved sensually across my chest.

My head drooped back and my lips pursed. Unknowingly, my breathing deepened as one hand slid down under my pants. The heat within me grew hotter as his hand grazed over my neatly trimmed pubic hair. He was surprised that I was not wearing and underwear. But he only stopped momentarily before letting his hand drop lower. He used two fingers to explore the upper folds of my labia, dipping between the top folds and then pressing against my sheathed clit. I could feel every inch of his finger’s movements slipping lower and then upward, finding by soft clit just under the bottom of its sheath. Circling its tip, my clit quivered against his imploring fingertips, hardening more and more as his slickened fingertips moved tighter and tighter against it.

There was no stopping now as my hands slid down to his waist, pulling his body up tighter against mine. His fingers slip up under my outer labia and then between my outer and inner folds. My Kegels clench and release as his fingers circle my vaginal opening. His fingers are slick with my own wetness. I find myself panting as he works at surrounding my vaginal opening again and again before finally letting two fingers slide between the folds. I shrieked in a tight gasp as his fingers parted my labia and begin to open and stretch my vaginal walls. He only stops for a second before letting his fingers probe deeper into my waiting opening. I cannot explain nor describe the thrilling excitation of pleasures that I feel during that initial stretching of the outer opening of a vagina. My vaginal walls tremble from the expectation, but the actual penetration and initial separation between the opposing walls stimulates an excitation pulse that is uniquely pleasuring. My body wraps tightly around his fingers as they dig deeper and deeper within me, stretching and pulling at my quivering fleshy-covered muscles. His fingers are rough enough to pull and drag along my outer vaginal sponge. God, it feels so goddamn good. Even more so as an act of revenge. And he doesn’t even know it yet. I take a quick glance towards our bedroom door. It remains closed.

VP’s fingers are probing and pulling at my inner vaginal walls now. I can’t even remember his name. Not to intentionally repeat myself, but, God, it feels so goddamn good. My hands slide down his boxers, and his cock pops up and out. As it wavers in front of me my eyes remain fully focused on it. Just slightly wider than Jimmy’s, it must be a full two to three inches longer. Jimmy’s is fully straight, but VP’s has a subtle upward curve. My G-Spot trembles despite the probing fingers. I lean forward as my hands enclose around his cock. He leans forward and our lips meet in the middle. Mouths are open as they meet, and ready tongues begin to intertwine and explore. Hell, my mouth hadn’t shut since I first took my feet off the floor. The rush of air can be heard from my nose as my deep breaths try to keep up with all the excitation and the quick beating of my lust-filled heart.

I squeeze and pull, then slightly release and push. Repeat, fully along his long schlong. Feel his quivering pulsations within my grip, as well as my own internal response to his fingering. Repeat, then repeat again. We are both working our best as our breathing hastens and strengthens. My brain swims, hell, it floods, with swirling sensations of pleasure. And yet every second we continue it heightens even more. I find myself fighting to hold back my impending orgasm. He must be too, since his cock is rock solid. I can’t take it any longer. NOW. I must have him NOW. Within me.

He is surprised, so am I. I push him away. He falls with his back on the couch. I am already up and on my feet as they step out of my pants. In the same instant my hands pull loose his boxers from his legs. They fly high in the air, landing not too far from us both. My body is floating above his. He is horizontal, I am vertical. One hand steadies me, gripping the back of the couch. My other hand is holding him upwards and straight towards my lowering labia. My knees tremble as our fleshy groins meet and touch. The tip of his cock slides along my outer labia, my own juices mixing with his pre-cum droplets. The head of his cock begins to split and separate my labia perfectly aligned for entering my vaginal tunnel. My body quivers and shakes as it lower upon his cock. Inch by inch I take it within me deeper and deeper. With a final jolt, my knees buckle and my body fully engulfs his hard throbbing member.

Within me the pleasures of the parting vaginal walls combine with the all-new excitations of the depth of his penetration. My cervical opening is tickled by the tip of his cock like it has never been felt before. With a grunt his cock begins ejaculating. Each thrust of his cock pulls it upwards and it deflects against my trembling G-Spot. The expanding of my vaginal walls, the tickling of my lower cervix by the tip of his cock, and the pulsing pressures upwards and against my sensitive G-Spot. I didn’t hear it, but I imagine that I just yelped with unknown intensity as my orgasm flames strong and hard, spreading within me like the burning surface of the tip of a matchstick. I immediately recognize these feeling as a totally new and awesome combination of excitation. My toes curl, my legs kick out, my thighs pull tightly against his sides, my hands claw at his shoulders as my back arches from my stomach clenching tight. His cock is embedded as deeply as possible, and within me I pulse and seize with orgasmic bliss. Each flutter of my surging body feels eternal as time dances seemingly to stop again and again as my very core pushes and pulls at his pumping cock. I can feel the heat of his semen as his cock releases it in measured squirts again and again. His eyes are closed as his body huffs and puffs. My eyes are flared wide open in disbelief. My pleasures are intense and enflamed, unlike anything I have yet experienced in life. I seize again and again against his cock in my primal lust as my orgasm keeps roiling within me. An occasional pulse of his cock floods a spurt of his semen inside the opening of my cervix. My God, I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can only ride and enjoy the sensations that we’ve created. I cannot remember my last breath, but the growing sensation of suffocation only heightens my renewed excitation. I cannot feel my extremities. Hell, I cannot feel my entire body. I can only feel his pulsating hard body within me, stretching me, pulling at me, pushing at me and flooding me from within.

I wonder how long it can last. I don’t want it to ever stop. And then suddenly I take a long deep breath. The flutters within me continue, but now are subdued. Disappointment floods in as my orgasm begins to wane. I can still revel in its pleasures, but time is returning to normal, and the feelings I am now enjoying are only the passing remnants of our burning peak. His eyes open and meet mine. We smile and I struggle to lower my lips to meet his. I can feel him again now. Within me. Not quite as large, nor as hard. But still there. It is surprising how well I can feel him up there. Every movement as it deflates, as in slow motion, yet so noticeable. It is a migration from a good hard FUCK to the primal labors of sex.

As our lips separate, my eyes focus on him as if in recognition of someone totally new. With a shock, I quickly glance away, back behind me. To our bedroom door. It hits me like the dawn. It is cracked ajar, a shadow in the gap. Jimmy? With his cock in his hand? Watching me get totally fucked? Oh. My. God.

I turn. Face the VP again. We smile. His eyes tighten slightly with concern.

“Thank you,” I tell him. Whether for the sex, or for the totally new experience, I’m not sure. For the revenge, I suppose. Jimmy’s remark, earlier that same evening.

“Thank YOU,” he retorts. “I just can’t believe it. It was absolutely the best. My best. Ever.”

We smile to each other. “Mine too,” I reply.

“I thought you were mad at me. I mean… what I had said earlier.” A pause. Our eyes meet. “I thought you had heard me.” Another pause, our eyes focused together. “That stupid joking comment about my little butterball.”

I gasp. My eyes are drilling into the VP’s eyes.

I can’t help it, I just blurted out. “That was you?”

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