Drunk In Love: The Complete Series
(BBW Erotica)
By Sasha Livingston
Published By Sasha Livingston
Website at www.Sashalivingston.com
Email at [email protected]
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author Sasha Livingston.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Mile High Series
Drunk In Love: Part 1
Drunk In Love: Part 2
Drunk In Love: Part 3
Drunk In Love: Part 4
Mile High Series
Mile High Series
Mile High Affair: Part 1
Mile High Seduction: Part 2
Mile High Menage: Part 3
Mile High Climax: Part 4
Mile High Complete Series
Voluptuous Series
Voluptuous: Part 1
Voluptuous: Part 2
Voluptuous: Part 3
Voluptuous: Part 4
Voluptuous: Part 5
Voluptuous: The Complete Series
Billionaire Series
How to Meet a Billionaire: Part 1
How to Date a Billionaire: Part 2
How to Keep a Billionaire: Part 3
How to Marry a Billionaire: Part 4
Billionaire Complete Series
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Drunk In Love: Part 1
Having sex with another man wasn’t a regular oops or accident. It was a choice, and every stair I climbed was the equivalent to a nail in the coffin of my relationship, if that was what anyone could call it.
Up these stairs was a decision I wouldn’t be able to undo. Yet I kept going, slow steps of one foot after another. This session would not be like the others.
Usually when I felt like this, I would get a drink. A shot or two of tequila would make the pain go away. But after my discovery today, or possibly the lack thereof, I was in the mood for revenge, not alcohol. A drink wasn’t going to satisfy my thirst tonight. I craved something else, and I was going to be brave enough to get it.
I finally reached the door to the second floor opening into the hallway. Normally I would have taken the elevator, but today I needed to slow things down, so my trip to the Curve Down gym was made longer by two flights of stairs.
Curve Down was a place for big girls to work out without pressure or prosecution. Which was a lie; the trainers were hotter than two firecrackers in the Texas heat on the fourth of July. Who could concentrate while they walked around with those explosive muscles?
Looking at the sign, I thought about possibly turning around and abandoning my mission, but the throbbing between my thighs wouldn’t allow it.
Walking into the gym, I wasn’t surprised that it was empty. On a Saturday night, no one wanted to work out when they could be out at a club or bar. Tonight, after my argument with my boyfriend Trevor, I had made a decision: I was going to fuck someone else.
Maybe I decided on this a long time ago. A girl needs passion in a relationship, and Trevor was only passionate about whiskey and other women.
Normally I would have been here hours ago, sweating with the other ladies as our trainers coaxed us into fit bodies. A few hours before, I was too busy arguing with Trevor and throwing beer bottles at walls, chasing him from the room to room and begging him to tell me the truth—begging him to put his beer down, pleading with him to stay home, and ultimately crying when he left me in an empty apartment. He was a boyfriend that cared as much about me as a bird cared for a worm.
When I’d picked myself up from the floor and guzzled down a glass of wine, I got the courage to follow my plans.
An emergency phone call to Brent became my backup plan. I apologized for missing our training session using some excuse that I made up on the fly and asked him to meet me later for a session.
“Please, Brent. I really don’t want to miss a day of working out.” My fake devotion to something that I despised got him to agree.
It was unorthodox, but he agreed to meet me after hours for a training session. Little did he know that exercising wasn’t the only thing on my mind.
“Sam, is that you?” I heard Brent’s voice from further in.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, scanning the gym to see if we were alone.
Curve Down was a smaller gym only for women. Walking through the door, there was a juice bar and receptionist desk and a wall blocking the rest of the gym from onlookers. The gym was on the second floor with no windows. It was supposed to be a safe haven to big girls like me; a judgment-free environment.
That was a good thing, because tonight, I would be committing the crime of adultery, and I didn’t need any witnesses.
“Lock the door. Don’t want anyone to come in while we’re back here,” he said from the back. That was a good idea for my plan. I didn’t need anyone to walk into me fucking Brent on the weight lifting bench. I flipped the lock as he instructed.
My idea seemed like genius at this moment. Trevor had left to be with his other girlfriend—the woman that he insisted was a figment of my imagination, and yet his cell phone was riddled with messages from her; texts of her naked body and pleas for him to come over.
“Why are you looking through my phone, anyway?” he’d said through slurred lips. That was the beers talking. It was always like him to turn things around to deflect the point.
Sitting at home in our apartment staring at walls and crying, I came to a realization. If Trevor was fucking someone, then I could do it, too.
A glance in the mirror revealed puffy eyes from crying, and wounded self-esteem pushed me to leave the house. Tonight, instead of doing something, I was looking to do someone.
Shaking my head from those memories, I followed the direction of Brent’s grunting and the sound of equipment moving. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I was pleased with my appearance for once.
Unlike my usual workout attire, I made sure that I wore the tightest black yoga pants I owned, and my top matched perfectly. My double-D breasts bounced as I walked, as if they were ready to jump out the top of my tank top. I had a black jacket in hand just for show. I had no intention of covering up tonight.
Pulling my auburn hair into a ponytail and applying light makeup finished off my masterpiece of seduction. Usually I didn’t care what I dressed like coming to the gym, but seducing Brent would take some added props.
My bra was the best push up that money could buy, but my panties were absent. I wanted him to have no barriers to me tonight. If it was legal to walk in the gym naked, I would have done so.
Before leaving the house, I’d swallowed a full glass of wine to calm my nerves. One glass was fine, but it was my fifth glass of the day, and now as I walked through the gym, the liquid courage was propelling my plan. After all, Gatorade and water weren’t strong enough to get me through this workout.
Walking past the juice bar, I saw Brent sitting on a weight bench, his bare chest drenched in sweat. Of course he would be doing sets while he waited for me.
He was the exact opposite of Trevor. He was a force of brute strength, with muscles built from days molding his body in the gym. He’d spent so much time there that he became a trainer to mold fat girls like me into wo
rks of art.
“Hey, you. I’m glad you wanted to come in. Great way to stay devoted.” He smiled, revealing perfect teeth. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn they were veneers or something crafted from a dentist.
His eyes glimmered when he saw me, traveling up my black yoga pants and thunder thighs, making his way up my mini-muffin top that I tried to cover in a loose-fitting tank top. When Brent looked at me, I always felt naked.
“You look nice. I can see our sessions are paying off,” he said, giving me a wink as he grabbed hold of the pull up bar.
Grunting, sweat beading, and muscles bulging, Brent pulled himself up like it was routine requiring no effort. I was impressed, wondering if he was as good in bed as he was working out. I wished he was lying under me, grunting and flexing his muscles as he slid deeper into my pussy.
I turned my head, acting as if I was preoccupied with my shoes, but actually, my face was so hot that if I needed to collect myself before I turned into a tomato.
The sweat beaded off his body as he did his sets, pulling himself up as the bars squeaked. It was almost the imitation of a bed squeaking under bodies doing the horizontal mambo. Was Brent thinking what I was thinking? Or maybe I was reading too much into things.
I thought of his compliment and all of the elliptical machines and treadmills he put me on. The running always seemed to last for hours. He was probably just being nice; we had only been working out for a few sessions so far.
But that was the reason I chose him. His flirting had not been missed by me. All the compliments, lingering hands on my body, and the electricity when he touched me wasn’t a coincidence.
Trevor didn’t seem to notice me transforming. Or maybe he didn’t care. When he drank, I went from his beautiful girlfriend Samantha to Sam the fat ass.
I had always been fat. Growing up, my mom sent me to Weight Watchers meetings, where I cried in a circle about how donuts and cookies called my name. I tried every diet known to man and every workout DVD that was supposed to “change my life,” but ultimately, they all failed.
“Why can’t you be like your sister?” my mother would always prod me.
My sister was the picture of perfection; thin, beautiful, and popular. She was everything I wasn’t, and my mother hated me for it. I waved her off in my teenage years. Trying to get in touch with myself separated me and my mother.
My dad never acted like my weight was a problem; he treated me like I was a regular person. I prayed one day I would find a guy like him—someone that accepted me for who I was.
I learned to deal with the weight and then finally, my dreams were answered. I met Trevor, a man that said he didn’t care about my body, which was true.
Until he drank.
I transformed from the love of his life to the bitch that he couldn’t stand. That was the reason I started working out in the first place: I wanted to please Trevor by losing weight. Possibly my getting slimmer would encourage him to stop drinking and cheating on me. I was always wrong. But when you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
“Okay, I’m done. You want to get started?”
No.... but that’s what I partially came here for.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s get to it.” I smiled, clapping my hands. I was all too enthusiastic today, more so than my usual routine of dreading and feet dragging.
“Wow, you’re really on today.” He was close to me, his bare chest in my face, wiping the sweat from his body. I wanted to kiss him, lick his chest, or something else below his waist line.
I looked up at him and smiled, batting my eyes. At 5’7”, even on my toes I would only reach his shoulders, but I was determined to have my arms around his neck. Laying down, it didn’t matter how tall he was.
“I’m really proud of you.” He reached his hand up to give me a high five. I obliged, smiling and giving him the I want to fuck you look. But he didn’t speak subliminal eye sex language.
“Okay, let’s get started. I think we should stretch first.” He put his shirt on; a tight, royal blue fabric that said “Trainer” on the back in stark white letters.
His bulging muscles were a sign that he was a fitness expert sent from God. His shirt fit as if it were a size too small, but I that was probably the reason he got so many clients, including me.
He walked over to the trainer’s area and patted a black massage table.
“Let me stretch you out. I’ve got a new routine we should try today.”
Stretching was my favorite part of our workouts. Usually we didn’t do this until the end. I wasn’t prepared to touch him this soon. If only I had a glass of wine, I could do this.
Taking deep breaths, I got up on the table. As I laid down on my back, Brent lifted my leg, pulling it up and holding it straight in the air.
I wondered if he would use this move when we finally had sex.
“You feel so tight,” he murmured, a little frown crossing his face.
Shit... if he kept saying things like that, I was going to cum in my pants.
He bent down, pushing my leg back so that my knee was in my chest. His lips were so close I could kiss them.
You should kiss them, the naughty part of me screamed out. Now or never.
It prodded me to do the unthinkable—to actually do what I came here for. My pussy was pounding as if my heart had dropped between my legs. It was time.
Leaning up from the table, I went for it, pressing my lips against Brent. Scared and excited, I did it, closing my eyes, not wanting to see his reaction.
I felt his lips press back, and then... nothing. He pulled away, still with my leg in his hand but far enough away that our lips could no longer touch.
“What the hell, Samantha? What was that?”
I couldn’t read his face to see whether he was disgusted or not.
“Sorry. I read you wrong... I’m just...” The words wouldn’t form together. I wasn’t sure how to explain, and I wanted to cry and evaporate away.
As I tried to find the words, his lips met mine again, pressing hard this time with him dropping my leg and bending down on the massage table with me.
The musk of his post-workout body filled my nostrils, intoxicating me with his scent. His hands were everywhere. I wanted to pull his clothes off, but I wasn’t sure what to touch first. His arms were hard as rocks, but tender like a cushion. I wanted to hold him, but was this real, or maybe I was in a dream.
I opened my eyes to make sure this was happening. Sure enough, with his eyes closed, Brent was on top of me.
I slammed my eyes shut, moans escaping me as his tongue played with mine. My body felt like a furnace as his hands slid up under my shirt.
This was happening. It was really happening.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he let the revelation slip from between his lips.
Shit, are you serious?! I wanted to scream at him. All this time, all the cues that I saw were true. For once in my life, I was right about something, and this time it was a piece of male perfection that was steaming hot.
“Brent... I want you too.” I grabbed for him, pulling him close. I’d become bold now that I knew that he also wanted me.
Brent lifted my tank top away from my body as we panted against each other’s skin. I was pulling at his shirt when we both heard something beating against the locked glass door.
The sounds came in soft taps at first, followed by what sounded like fists at the door. Hard, frantic knocks on the door that interrupted us. Knocks that we couldn’t ignore.
*****
“Shit,” Brent said. “It’s probably my boss.”
That was the last thing I wanted to hear. I scrambled to find my shirt, grabbing it and running towards a machine as Brent wiped off his face and headed for the door.
Pulling my shirt over my head, I started to hit random buttons as I began pumping my legs as fast as they could go, adrenaline causing me to move fast at a feverish pace that I had never done before. I felt like our parents were at the door, and we were teenage
rs that were caught fooling around.
I listened, waiting for someone to come in. Hopefully they would leave quickly, but my ears perked when I heard a woman’s voice.
“Brent, babe, when are you getting off?” some female voice whined.
“Uh, I’m going to be a little while,” I hoped it would be longer than a little. But wait... was this his girlfriend or something?
“But babe, you said that we were going to be together tonight!”
Shit. She was his girlfriend. Now I felt like throwing up.
“I know, babe, but I’m just finishing up. I’ll call you when I’m done.” He must have been trying to get rid of her, but I couldn’t be another man’s second choice.
Dammit! I’d messed up. I never even thought about the possibility that Brent could have a girlfriend. Of course he had someone—he was gorgeous; way too gorgeous for me.
My legs felt like paperweights, now decreasing in speed with every thought of the flaws in my stupid plan.
“Why don’t you hurry up and train these fat bitches so we can go?” she tried to whisper, but I heard loud and clear as if she’d yelled it through a bull horn.
I needed to leave. I jumped off the machine, my legs feeling like Jell-O, my pussy wetter than the ocean, and my self-esteem even more deflated than when I’d arrived.
This wasn’t the best guy to execute my Trevor-provoked revenge on. I would only be hurting myself if I stayed here and fucked Brent. I would probably be better served going to a bar and drinking until I couldn’t see, then hoping someone called me a cab. The reason that Trevor loved liquor so much was becoming more evident to me every day. At least bottles didn’t talk—or have girlfriends.
As I came out from behind the wall, I saw the offender that was talking about us “fat bitches.” She was a twig, to say the least.
“Oh, Sam. I’ll be back in a moment. You can start on the treadmill now,” Brent’s eyes were wide as if he were begging me not to say anything.
The twig looked me up and down like I was a homeless person begging for food. I tried not to look at her too long.
“No, I have an emergency. I need to leave,” I lied, but it was better than telling him that I felt like a complete idiot. Brent and his twig made me feel smaller than an ant, and that was damn near impossible.
Drunk In Love: The Complete Series: BBW BDSM Erotica Page 1
