Revenge of a Fat Bitch

by Stephanie Rollins

  Olivia arrives to pick up Michael. She wakes him from his slumber, and he wakes in a cheerful mood. Go figure. He is usually cranky when he wakes up, but not with Olivia.

  “Let’s pack a bag,” she tells him.

  “Wait! Pack a bag?”

  “Yep. I decided you needed him to stay at my house all night long like a big boy.” She winks at me.

  A night without Michael and with Daniel in my bed. Holy cow! It is going to be a good night. I help them pack and kiss Michael good-bye.

  “Give him hell,” Olivia calls out as she walks Michael to her minivan.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dinner is a hit. I am complimented on my food pairing and execution. As always, conversation flows well. Daniel and I are playing footsie under the table like grade-schoolers.

  The guests help me tidy up. They all seem to know that Daniel is staying late, and they all make excuses to leave early.

  When the last guest leaves, we close the door and deeply kiss. We have missed each other. Sometimes, you just need a body to collide with. Goodness knows, Jake gives me what I want and need, but to have Daniel, too, is just divine.

  I interrupt the kiss. “We need to talk.”

  “Uh oh,” he quips as he covers me in light kisses.

  “Let’s sit,” I suggest.

  “This cannot be good.”

  “Remember I told you about Jake?”

  “Yes. You two are dating, aren’t you?”

  “We are, but he walked in on us the other day…”

  “When?”

  “In the foyer.”

  “I am so sorry,” he apologizes.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. Anyway, it turned him on. He has experience in the swinging world, and he would like for me and you to continue what we have. He just wants to hear about it—in detail. He would also like to watch eventually. How do you feel about that?”

  I let out a deep breath. I guess I had been holding it in. I brace myself for his reaction.

  “I know that you have wanted to date him for a while. If that is his thing, then, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

  “You are amazing,” I purr. I snuggle close to him and start to work on the buttons on his shirt.

  “Strip for me,” he begs.

  I really do not want to strip. I am as ungraceful as they come. Add to the fact that I am still overweight. This is making me feel anxious, not sexy.

  However, that is what Daniel wants, so I stand before him. I look him in the eye as I slowly unbutton my shirt. I leave it on, and I unbutton my jeans. I shimmy out of them.

  “Want to see more?” I tease.

  He grins at me. “You know I do.”

  I cock my head to the side as if I am contemplating it. “Beg,” I demand.

  “Honey, I do not beg.” He chuckles.

  “Hmmm…won’t even tell me how much you want me?” I tease.

  “Every night before bed, I jack off thinking about you. Do you ever masturbate?” He runs a finger down my silk clad slit.

  “I do,” I answer.

  “I want to see.”

  He kisses my neck, nipping here and there. He grabs my ponytail and roughly exposes my neck. His biting is getting rougher. I love it. He stands face to face with me. He looks into my eyes.

  “I want you on your bed, clothes off, fingering your cunt like you would do if you were by yourself.”

  I lead him to my bedroom. I am panicking about his request. I have never put on a show before. What if I am not sexual enough? I am far from the porn star type. Can I pull this off?

  I turn down the covers on the bed. Daniel pulls out the metal chair I keep in the corner. He takes off his clothes, grabs his magnificent cock, and sits in the chair.

  “Nervous?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “Don’t be. I want to see how you are at home when it is just you.”

  I push my shirt back off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I place my fingers on the elastic of my panties. I hear Daniel’s breathing grow shallow. My confidence grows.

  “Show me those tits,” he begs.

  I unclasp my blush bra. I let it drop to the floor. My nipples stick straight out, needing attention. I roll the nipples between my thumbs and index fingers. They harden even further.

  “Pussy. I need to see your pussy.” His voice is hoarse. His hand is feverishly working up and down his cock.

  Turning around, I slide my matching panties down without bending my legs. My ass is in the air, and it is pointed in his direction. He hungrily claws at it. I step out of my panties, and I hoist myself onto the king size bed.

  I press my pussy lips together, and I rub them in a circular motion. I feel my clit harden. My other hand pulls at my nipples.

  I look over at Daniel. He is mesmerized and watching intently. He is slowly jacking his cock, pacing himself.

  I spread my lips apart and put two fingers inside my cunt. “Wet,” I announce. “I love the way I taste.” I lick my juices off my fingers. His breathing is rapid and shallow.

  I spread my juices to my clit. I slowly start rubbing my clit in circles. I feel the pressure build. I know I do not have long. Putting on this show is really turning me on.

  “My clit is throbbing. I am so close,” I breathlessly announce, tantalizing him.

  “Cum with me,” he orders.

  I throw my head back, close my eyes, and rub my clit feverously. The pressure breaks. The orgasm shatters me. I scream out with him. He lifts my right hand to his mouth, licks my juices off my fingers, and kisses me deeply.

  I have a deep need for him now. It is beyond sexual. I need him.

  “Stay,” I say more as a demand than a request. “Stay all night.”

  He hesitates. “That would make this more than just sex, wouldn’t it?” There is a pregnant pause between us. “You know I want more,” he presses.

  I avoid the subject and pat the bed. “Stay. I make a killer loaded omelet.”

  “I would stay even without breakfast. This just complicates things,” he points out as he cuddles me. “Now that you have Jake…”

  “Let’s worry about the details tomorrow. I just know I need you tonight.”

  He wakes me sometime in the middle of the night with his slow, methodical thrusting. His languid lovemaking satiates me both physically and emotionally. I look up at him, and I see depth. Do I see that depth in Jake?

  “I don’t share,” he whispers into my ear while stretching me with his cock.

  I don’t say anything. I don’t have to.

  “I want you. I want you physically and more. What I feel is more than lust. Do you feel it?” His thrusts are becoming harder, rougher. “Tell me. I want to know. Do you feel this with him?”

  “No, not this,” I whisper.

  “You were made for me. I was made for you. Tell me that this cock isn’t made for your pussy. Tell me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You are the lock. I am the key. Tell me you are mine!” he demands.

  “I am yours,” I answer. He erupts inside me. I pretend to fall back asleep. Sleep never comes. I feel guilty.

  Chapter Twenty

  October 28, 160 pounds and size 14

  I have spent the last week at Olivia’s house. Bless her husband’s heart for allowing me and Michael to crash in their guest room. I needed a week off for my sanity.

  Alicia promises to call me if things at work get shitty. She never does, so I check in a few times. She calls me a turd each time and tells me to get a life. Funny how that phrase makes me think.

  I have a great kid. He is such a sweetheart. I have a great sister, and my parents rock. My business is booming. I have a contract with Opal. Opal. I should be on cloud nine. I have my life together, or do I?

  I promise Jake that I’d remain faithful to my diet and work out. I have. That is what has convinced me that I have kicked my unhealthy lifestyle for sure. I have Jake to thank for that. He calls every day to check on me.
He takes to texting me every night before I go to bed. He ends each conversation with Love you Cuddlebug. That corny phrase melts my heart every. Freaking. Time.

  Dick has agreed to my terms. For that, I am thankful. As long as he puts forth the effort to be a positive influence in Michael’s life, I am willing to accommodate him as much as possible. After he signed the paperwork, he hugged me. Crying profusely, he apologized for being “such a fuck-up.”

  I guess the finality of it all hit me suddenly. I am now a divorcee. I failed at my marriage. Yes, I could easily blame Dick for his childish behavior. However, I was not the best wife I could have been. I tried, but in the end, I became bitter. I resented him for causing me to lose myself. Of course, I really cannot blame him for that either. Women cannot lose themselves unwillingly.

  I apologized to him. I apologized to my parents. As a parent, I cannot imagine the hurt they must have endured over the years at my expense. They saw my marriage fail. It was a process. They saw the whole thing with heavy hearts. They saw me unhinge physically and emotionally. They saw the safety net of my marriage collapse from under Michael.

  I have apologized to Olivia at every opportunity this week. Poor Olivia has put up with my week of being a pathetic bum. She has been my sounding board for this whole duration. She has put up with a week of me—stinky, messy hair, crying episodes, and mania. She has such loyalty. God knows I love her.

  “Why do you think that they are the only two men out there? You are on the rebound. You are supposed to whore around, find yourself, make up for lost time…”

  “Whore around…that is kind of what I think Jake wants me to do. Daniel wants a traditional relationship.”

  “But you don’t love Jake, now do you?” challenges Olivia.

  I don’t say anything for a while. Olivia meets my silence.

  “Remember when Dad had his battle with colon cancer?” Olivia asks.

  “Hard to forget that,” I reply.

  “Mom gave up everything for him. Her life centered around him. Feeding him, bathing him, reading to him…all with love—tireless love. That is what love is. It is selfless. It is so strong that even when things are as bad as they can get, you still want to take care of that person.”

  “I always wanted a relationship like they have.”

  “You can have it. As Oprah has said, ‘Happiness is there for the taking—and Making.’ She also said to ‘Surround yourself only with people who are going to take you higher.’ So, who takes you higher?”

  “You have put things in perspective for me. I know what I have to do.”

  “You going to keep me posted?”

  “Of course. Meanwhile, tell me what you and your friends thought about the FAB capris.”

  “They hug every curve in a practical and modest way.”

  “That is what I wanted to hear.”

  “Got everything ready?”

  “Yes. Mom and Dad just pulled up. I’ll get Michael.”

  I hug Mom and Dad a little tighter than I usually do. They gave me and Olivia a sturdy foundation. That is what I want for Michael. I am so thankful that they have demonstrated love. In all its forms, they epitomize love.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  November 1, 159 pounds and size 14

  I guess I let things fester. I have internalized Jake’s proposal of a swinging relationship. I have internalized it to the point that I am pissed. Isn’t he supposed to be fiercely protective of me? Why would he want to share me? Do I not mean more to him than that?

  I guess he is able to read my body language. I find that amazing, since most men are oblivious to the unsaid words of pissed-off women. However, that does not change my mood.

  We check into the plush hotel, and I quietly walk down the hallway with him to our rooms. He stops and places his hand on mine. “We are going to talk this out,” he informs me.

  I refuse his gaze and shake my head.

  “Don’t tell me that you are not upset. It is written all over you.”

  “I have a lot on my mind.”

  He holds the door to his room open. “I value our relationship. It is not going to work if we cannot talk.”

  I cannot argue with that. I follow him to his room. He takes off his shoes and lays on the bed. He pats the bed and gestures for me to join him. I take my shoes off and join him.

  “Talk to me,” he says as he holds me.

  “I want you to want me. Really want me.”

  He pauses. “I am crazy about you. I need to know what I can do to make you understand that.”

  I am silent. I don’t want to tell him. I want him to know without me saying the words.

  “Talk to me.”

  “It bothers me that you want to share me with other men,” I admit. “I feel like you don’t want depth to our relationship. I want a real relationship. I want one that lasts.”

  He holds me tighter. “I thought that it turned you on. About the relationship…of course that is what I want. I want you. I want Michael. I want the whole enchilada.”

  “It does turn me on,” I confess. “I don’t want this to be just some fling. I want us to have a real relationship. Me, you, and Michael…I want another baby. I want us to be a family eventually. I guess I just thought that if you are willing to share me that we cannot be as serious as I want.”

  “I want all that. I want it with you. Why do you think that we cannot have a swinging lifestyle and a family?”

  “Do you want me?”

  “I do. Surely, you know that. We don’t have to swing.”

  “A part of me wants you to be jealous if I am with another man.”

  “If you were ever emotionally involved with another man, it would kill me. However, I don’t think humans are made to be monogamous. I am not ever condoning cheating. I just think that if we both acknowledge the desire to have sex with others, we can fulfill our sexual needs together. Whether we play around together or not. Nobody else will ever have my heart. If you are not one-hundred percent on board with swinging, we will not swing.”

  “So, swinging is just sex?”

  “Yes. Most couples go to house parties or clubs. They fuck other people—together or separately—then, they go home and have amazing sex.”

  “Wouldn’t it bother you to see me with another man?”

  He thinks for a moment. “Seeing you with another man is hot. I have to admit it. It is like seeing you do what you do with me. Only, you are doing it with someone else. To see a man slide his cock into your pussy, that makes my cock hard. I know how warm, wet, and tight your cunt is. I’d love to see another man sink into you.”

  “I understand more—I think.”

  “Then, to take you home, fuck you madly, and feel how stretched your cunt is after a night of fucking other men…” He groans. “That drives me crazy thinking of it.”

  “You are making me wet,” I tell him.

  “Think of me with another woman,” he teases. “Picture her sliding down on my cock, spreading her juices on me. Can you picture her moaning as I stretch her cunt?”

  He slides my skirt and panties off and starts to play with my clit. “More,” I demand.

  “Picture us laying side by side on a king-sized bed. You are on your back being fucked by a guy with a huge cock. I am next to you fucking a girl doggy style. You are screaming in pleasure with the woman I am fucking. The room is filled with sounds of moaning and fucking. The whole room smells like sex. We watch each other, turning each other on.”

  “Fuck me,” I beg. “Fuck me hard.”

  He stands and undresses. I pull off my clothes. He grabs my hands and holds them above my head, pushing me into the mattress. I love the feel of his hard body against my soft, curvy body. I deeply breathe him in. He smells of virile masculinity, and it causes my senses to ignite.

  He roughly forces his cock between my folds. My slick pussy welcomes him. “Tell me more,” I breathlessly implore.

  “I want to see you scream out my name as I lay next to you, watching you
ride another man’s cock.”

  That sends me over the edge. I cry out as electricity runs through my veins. My senses shatter. My pussy tightens. Pressure throughout my body is released as pressure is released with the opening of a jar. It is sudden and intoxicating.

  Where my orgasm ends, Jake’s begins. My moan floats into his. I feel his body tautens only to become limp with satiation.

  “I am crazy about you,” he whispers as we drift off to sleep.

  I kiss him on the cheek. “I am crazy about you, too,” I whisper.

  I dream of him with another woman—my opposite. She is tall, thin, blonde, with perfectly applied makeup. Jake enters her, and she cries out in ecstasy. I sit next to them, running my hands over her body. She writhes in lust. I take one of her drawn nipples between my lips. I suck, never knowing until this moment the pleasure another woman’s body can bring me.

  I wake and gain my bearings. Then, I go back to sleep to finish my dream.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  November 2, 158 pounds and size 14

  We meet with Opal and her design team early the next morning. Opal and I decide to have the design team make the prototypes to fit our bodies, rather than models.

  “We have to prevent camel toe,” I lament. “There is nothing that makes you feel less attractive than camel toe.”

  “Lord have mercy. Let’s eradicate the camel toe.” Opal turns to the head designer. “These are all too…something. How can we get our lady parts to not be the star of the show when wearing workout clothes?”

  He sets down his clipboard and folds his hands over his lap, ready to give us a lecture on camel toe. He clears his throat and begins, “Camel toe occurs when the fabric is too thin and flexible in the crotch. Thin, flimsy material is too willing to conform to body shapes, including lady parts.”

  I comment, “People wear workout clothes when they care active. We cannot have a material in that area that conforms to a woman’s woo woo. What do you think we should do to fix this?”