Big Girls Don't Cry

by Gretchen Lane

  ‘My first orgasm with the new toy, appropriately named, Billy.’ I smile and sigh happily.

  Pulling the tip of the wet tool from my cum dripping pussy, I slide it further below.

  Squeezing and releasing, I massage the length of Billy’s cock as he pulls it from my no longer virgin hole.

  I can almost hear the real Billy in my mind. “Oh, Gretchen. That felt so good,” he moans, lying on top of me. I feel his cock as it pushes against my ass. He whispers into my ear. “Is this hole, okay?”

  “Yes,” I pant, sliding through my own moistness. I push the head of the vibrator onto my butt, and I picture Billy behind my big body anally fucking me as I release.

  I don’t know what it is, but I love to imagine men sodomizing me. It really gets me off. I was told this is how women kept their virginity in the past. I’ve never even come close to doing it, but picturing Billy doing it to me right now has given me my first full body orgasm!

  His long dick slides repeatedly into my rear, as he fingers me from behind. I finish my orgasm, cumming wildly with my chubby body thrusting frantically on top of my bed with my new vibrator imbedded deep inside of my butt… I’ve never cum so hard in my life.

  A half an hour later my body is still trembling lightly as I lay on my bed thinking about Billy. He was such a nice guy. I bet he is the kind of guy who would hold you after he made love to you.

  Taking my extra pillows I stack them in place on the bed. “There. My Billy.” I fluff the last pillow and snuggle my back up against the goose down Billy, and slowly fall asleep.

  When I awake in the morning I give myself one more treatment with the new toy, before getting out of bed and starting my day.

  “I don’t think I’ll need this anymore,” I say, picking up Billy’s business card. I’m pretty sure after fucking myself to sleep last night I will never be able to face him again. I crumple the card and throw it in the kitchen garbage. Happy just to have met him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Most of the people were here the other day when I got hit with the soda. Thank god, no one made eye contact, or said anything about it as I walked up this morning. I have to admit I’m a little nervous standing inside of the bus shelter. I keep popping my head out and looking up and down the street, waiting to see if the car will come by again. Looking at my watch, I hope the bus is on time today.

  “How are you doing today, Sweetie?” I feel the tug at my sweater as she speaks. It’s Mrs. Johnson. She’s 72 and in a wheelchair. I don’t think she’s all there, but she’s a wonderful lady, and the only person who has talked to me in the six months I’ve been taking this bus.

  “I’m doing well,” I answer, hoping she isn’t referring to the soda incident.

  “It’s a shame young people have to act like that,” she states.

  I look around to see the faces of the people who know what she is talking about. I see a few smiles and hear a couple of stifled snickers and jeers.

  “It sure is,” I reply a little louder than normal, looking around.

  The bus arrives and we all wait as the courtesy ramp lowers, and Mrs. Johnson scurries aboard. Once seated, I stare out of the window as we pull away from the bus stop. My mind is on auto pilot as I sit looking into the parking lot of the gym that sits across the street from the bus shelter. ‘That’s them!’ my mind screams.

  My face presses hard against the window trying to focus on a car load of young men in the parking lot of the gym. I’m pretty sure it’s the ones that threw the soda at me. ‘They must workout at the gym.’ I think. They disappear from sight as we pull away, and I’m happy I threw Billy’s number away. ‘I hate that gym!’

  I try to forget by pulling the Cosmopolitan from my bag and reading among the dog-eared pages of my favorite magazine. I look up frequently, watching the new patrons as they board the bus in search of a place to settle in. Luckily for me, I hardly ever have to share my seat, and I like it that way. Oh yeah, at first they want to sit with me. That’s because all they can see from the front of the bus is my pretty face. It used to hurt my feelings. Now it’s almost funny. They enter the bus, look around, and see the pretty girl with the big boobs, walk towards her… and then it happens. They see my fat butt stretched across the seat, and they quickly walk by, leaving me alone.

  Oh well. That’s my life.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Why didn’t you go?” Michelle asks, when told I backed out of training.

  “I saw the car that threw the soda at me. They parked at the gym, and I think they work out there.” I couldn’t tell her I don’t think I can face Billy, after spending two hours screwing myself with a vibrator while thinking about him. Speaking of, Pseudo Billy—he lies next to me on my bed as I speak.

  “Are you serious?” She yells. “Did you get a license plate number?”

  “No. I was on the bus.”

  “Eeeeew! That makes me mad. Well, truthfully, I think you should still go. I’d even pay to go with you.”

  “I know you would. That’s why I love you. But, I’m going to wait a bit. He didn’t put a time limit on it… I’ve been fat this long, so there’s no hurry to rush into a gym now, just because some dicks threw a coke at me.”

  “Those fucking assholes. I can barely talk about it without wanting to go shoot someone.”

  “Thanks. But, you don’t have to go shooting anyone!”

  We both laugh, and I look at my Billy lying next to me. I throw out a fake yawn, telling Michelle how tired I am at 7:30 in the evening, and after saying good bye we hang up.

  The insides of my thighs are already tingling as I reach over and trade my cell phone for the small jar of Vaseline that sits on my nightstand. With a small dab on the ball of my middle finger I begin slowly covering my swollen bud with the golden salve. If there is one thing a twenty four year old virgin has learned how to do—it’s masturbate. I have been touching myself since I was a young girl— the gift of a pulsating shower head.

  I think about the few men I have been with over the years, as I finger my bud roughly. No intercourse, but a lot of fingering and sucking, that’s what I remember. Especially during my early teen years. I was trying to make friends, and I found letting the older boys in the neighborhood fondle my large breasts, made them really friendly towards me. Breasts sucking and fondling led to fingering, and that, eventually led to me relieving them by sucking their dicks. I actually became very good at it, and as I grew into a woman the few men I have given blow jobs to would usually cum almost immediately. Some even told me I was the best they’ve had. But, nobody ever wanted to make love to me.

  I’m midway through my first orgasm when my phone rings. I wouldn’t have stopped had I not recognized the ring tone… It was Billy. Yes, after he gave me his card I had programed it into my phone. What can I say? I had high hopes of actually going this time.

  “OH MY GOD!” I yell jumping off of the bed. “How did he get my number? Why is he calling me?” I pace nervously, looking at the phone. ‘What should I do? What, should I do? - one more ring, and it will go into voice mail.’… I pick up the phone and answer.

  “Hello, this is Gretchen,” I speak calmly, before noticing my Vaseline covered hand has smeared onto my phone. Wiping it from my ear I continue, “How may I help you?”

  “Gretchen! Hey this is, Billy, at Club Fitness. How’s it going?”

  “Oh, Billy. Hi. It’s going well. What can I do for you?” I ask, trying to sound surprised. I finish wiping my hand on a pillow case, and reposition the phone to my ear. ‘God, even his voice is handsome.’

  “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

  “No, no. Just watching T.V.”

  “Great. I was calling to see if you were interested in setting up your first session.”

  “Now! I mean…” ‘Oh God, what am I doing? Say no, say no! Say you’re busy. Say anything!’ “Okay. When?” I ask, instead.

  “What works better for you. Mornings or evenings?”

  “Definitely evenings.
I’m not much of a morning workout person.” … ‘I’m more of a never workout kind of person.’

  “I have tomorrow evening at 7 PM. Will that work?”

  “Oh wow. I’m not sure,”

  “Great! I’ll see you at 7 PM. Have a good night Gretchen. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” Before I can protest, he’s gone.

  “SHIT! Oh God! What did I do?” I quickly panic, circling aimlessly in my room, as I picture tomorrow’s death by asphyxia.

  ~ ~ ~

  “You’ll be fine. Take a deep breath,” Michelle soothes.

  “What if I really do have a heart attack, or pass out from lack of oxygen? I mean, it happens! I’ve seen it on several TV shows. I’m scared Michelle,” I pout, with my heart racing.

  “I know, but you’ll be fine. I promise. Just pace yourself and take it easy. I’m sure he’ll know your limitations and you’ll be fine.”

  “You think?”

  “Absolutely! Plus, just think about how hot he is. You can endure a little pain to be trained by a hot stud. Right?”

  As my eyes land on my vibrator lying on my bed, I have to say I’m inclined to agree with her. “Right… At least I’ll die a happy woman.”

  “That’s the spirit… A happy virgin, anyway,” she yells, laughing loudly into the phone.

  “Oohhh, you bitch,” I scold, before joining in. We make plans for lunch the next day and say good bye for the night.

  My blood is still pumping fast as I stand naked in my bedroom. Seeing my reflection in the dresser mirror I suck in my stomach and push out my boobs, picturing a thinner me.

  ‘She’d be a beautiful girl, if she would lose some weight.’ With a loud exhale I let out my breath jumping onto my bed with a bounce. Finding Billy, I hold him in the air speaking seductively, “You love me no matter what I look like, don’t you Billy?” he answers with a low vibrating hum.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Hi Billy, it’s, Gretchen.”

  “Hey what’s up! Where are you? It’s after 7. You’re late.” His voice is happy, and I know he is smiling as he speaks.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m outside.”

  “Well, come on in!”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Billy asks, concerned.

  I pause with my embarrassment being the reluctance. “I’m scared,” I whisper softly.

  “Scared,” he chuckles. “Why?”

  “I’ve never been in a gym at night before.”

  “What was that? I can’t hear you. The music’s really loud in here tonight.”

  I know why the music is loud— this is when all of the beautiful people come to work out, and pick up on each other, and the management likes to create a meat market, club like atmosphere...‘What am I doing here?’

  “I’m not going to be able to make it tonight,” I speak quickly, closing my phone. I lean back against the wall and hate myself for not going in. Tears fill my eyes as I move quickly to get out of the area.

  “Gretchen! Gretchen!”

  I turn to see Billy jaunting down the side of the building. He approaches quickly, smiling all the way.

  “Hey, Billy,” I say, busted. “Billy, I don’t know if I can,”

  “Shhhhh. You don’t have to explain.” Stopping a few feet away, Billy turns and looks over the area surrounding gym. The club is built into a strip mall that offers several different shops and restaurants. “Come on, take a walk with me,” he offers, as he turns towards the mall.

  The sun is setting and the surrounding lights are beginning to twinkle on. I feel more comfortable at night, and soon I’ll be able to hide in the dark— so, I reluctantly agree.

  “Come on!” he yells, looking back, and moving quickly away.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, catching up.

  “We’re going to get something to eat. I’m starving,” he says, looking back and smiling, while rubbing his flat stomach. He’s dressed in a dark blue nylon sweat suit with white running shoes. Even covered, his muscles are very noticeable. He looks more like a man who just walked off a photo shoot for Nike or Adidas, than a personal trainer. I don’t ask any more questions, as I follow close behind.

  ~ ~ ~

  “I’m famished,” he says, and a Thai waiter sets down several bowls of what Billy promises will be my new favorite ethnic cuisine. Thick steam rises from the brightly painted vessels; and my mouth waters as he dishes out a helping of thin noodles into my bowl. He follows it with a nice portion of steamed veggies and a modest piece of white fish. “Mmm. Yummy yummy,” he assures.

  There’s a quiet moment as I watch Billy slurping up a hanging string of rice noodles from his chopsticks. His proficiencies show, when the bowl is half empty after two scoops of the small wooden sticks.

  I still haven’t touch my food- I’m a little in shock that I’m sitting in a restaurant having what I would call the closest thing to date that I’ve experienced in several years.

  “Eat up,” Billy says, looking up from his bowl. “It’s really good; you’ll love it.” His words were muffled by the food he had stuffed in his mouth. Another bite and his bowl sits empty. Without hesitation it’s refilled and he’s back to work twisting the sticks.

  “You must be starving,” I say looking him directly in the eye.

  “Oh man. You have no idea. I went straight from practice, right into training a client. I was dying from lack of nutrition.”

  “What kind of Practice?”

  “Mixed martial arts. I’m 7-0 as a pro.”

  “That’s cool,” I reply enthusiastically, having no idea what he is talking about, but wishing so badly I did. ‘An artist. It figures. That’s why he’s so nice.’

  “I’m a fighter,” he says, with a wide smile, sensing my cluelessness.

  “Oh wow!” Okay, so that’s not what I thought it was, but how cool!

  “Yeah, I’ve been fighting for two years.”

  “I thought you’re a personal trainer?”

  “I am. But, that’s just how I pay the bills until I make it into the UFC.”

  “The what?” Normally, I would probably be too shy to even ask about stuff I don’t know anything about, but Billy has a way of making me feel okay about not knowing. It’s weird, I don’t even know him, but he makes me feel so comfortable. He’s so relaxed and confident, it kind of rubs off on you.

  “The UFC. Ultimate Fighting Championship. It’s the biggest organization in the World for mixed martial arts. When you make it there, you’ve made it.” His eyes light up and sparkle, and my stomach fills with butterflies from his excitement as he speaks. ‘Oh, Lord. Please let him make it.’ I pray silently, staring at his beautiful face.

  “You’re too handsome to be a fighter,” I blurt out.

  “This mug!” he jokes, laughing. ‘Surely, he has to know how gorgeous he is.’

  Billy explains that it’s been a dream since he was a kid to fight in the UFC. He’s been working and training at Club Fitness for over a year, and recently promoted to the head fitness trainer position.

  “It’s my second passion, behind fighting. I love helping people reach their fitness goals. It is super rewarding to watch the metamorphous of a person. And, not only the weight loss part-but the emotional, and spiritual part of it as well.”

  “This coming from the man who likes to punch people in the face,” I say, smiling while picking at my food.

  “There’s gotta be a balance, Miss Gretchen Lane.” He smiles, and I think how angry whoever paid for that beautiful smile would be if something happened to it.

  “Okay, Mister Billy…Badass!”

  Billy coughs out a small noodle, before his hand covers his mouth. “Hold on,” he laughs. “Let me get my napkin.” After a dignified wiping, he sets the napkin on the table and extends his hand. “Billy Mack.”

  “Hi, Billy. Gretchen.” Again, I feel the strength and tenderness of his touch, and it sends chills throughout my body. I shiver slightly with thoughts of him touching me, and I l
ook down concealing my desire.

  “Are you cold? Eat some of that. It’ll warm you up; I promise. It’s good for your metabolism also. It’s a thermogenic— it heats up your body from the inside, helping it to metabolism fat, and burn more calories.”

  “I can eat food to burn fat? Is there anything sweet that does that?”

  “Ha-ha,” he says, being serious. “Sugar is the Devil, Miss Gretchen Lane. You’re going to learn that with me as your trainer.”

  “Yeah, I think we need to talk about this trainer thing.” My chest expands with the deep inhaled breath, and I hold it momentarily before letting it out, nervous to speak. “Billy, I don’t know if I can train with you. I don’t think I’m ready,” I continue. I know the guys who threw the soda at me must go to that gym, and that alone, has me terrified to go inside.

  “Hey, hey. It’s all good,” Billy states, patting my hand as it begins to shake lightly. “You don’t have to be afraid to come inside the gym.”

  “I’m not afraid!”

  “I’m thirty years old, Gretchen. I trained my first client at eighteen years old. I know when someone is afraid to come into my gym. I also know when someone has a panic attack and passes out in my gym. So if I’m going to be your trainer, you have to be honest with me. You have to tell me everything. If it’s too much—I need to know. If it hurts— I need to know. If you lose your menstrual cycle—I need to know.”

  This time it’s my mouth that food shoots out of, as I yell, “Excuse me!”

  “It happens! The body can respond in several different ways when exposed to increased levels of physical exertion. One being the loss of your menstrual cycle. That being said, we need to have an open line of communication, so I know how your body is responding. Savvy?”