I stand without saying a word as he first uses the detachable shower head to wet my body and then the sponge to lather me with luxuriant suds.
He’s so engrossed in the task, I let my eyes feast on him.
He’s shorter and wider than I expect him to be, although I knew from the pictures on his website that I have been drooling over that he’s totally buff.
Being overweight, I always think that I need a tall, strong man to dwarf me and make me feel feminine in comparison, but Roger’s bulk makes me feel small.
Roger Frickerson. Frig her, son...I’d rolled my eyes when I saw it on his website. It’s a perfect name for a man who fucks for a living. And if you don’t know, ‘roger’ is an English slang term for a man having sex with a woman.
I don’t think that it’s his real name, do you?
There’s something cute and cuddly about Roger although he’s all hard, rippling muscle.
“Your skin is flawless,” he says as he polishes my shoulders.
“Thank you.”
I tense as he moves down to my breasts. My mother always tells me that I should have them reduced. Hers are small and pert. I get mine from my father’s side of the family. “They are like two bowling balls, Anna. I’m surprised that you haven’t yet knocked yourself out accidentally.”
“And your breasts are gorgeous.” He rubs the sponge a couple of times around each of them before rubbing it repeatedly on my nipples. Though it’s soft, my nipples peak—I can’t tell if it’s because I’m watching him do it or because of the soft friction. “I will enjoy sucking on them as I fuck you.”
He said that he will make me confident enough to decide whether or not I sleep with him, but he seems to be doing everything to make sure that I do.
He swats as he moves down to my lower half.
“Open your legs for me.”
I’d finally built up the nerve to have my first wax yesterday. Beauty salon employees are always so perfect I find it off putting. I always think that if some shrewd businesswoman ever opens a salon that employs, and caters for, larger women, she will have more business than she can handle.
I had my first real look at my vagina afterwards and it’s not a pretty sight, is it?
At first I part my legs just a little, trying to keep my clitoris hidden.
“Wider,” he commands and spreads them wide himself. “There will be no hiding when I’m fucking you, so start getting used to it.”
I close my eyes as he rubs the sponge back and forth between my legs.
“Although, I don’t know why you’d even want to hide this plump...juicy clit from me.”
“Ah,” I moan as he strokes it teasingly with his bare fingers for a few moments before moving on to my thighs and lower legs.
He then turns me around and does my back quickly and then again stoops to do my legs. He comes back to my behind and I feel his bare hands caressing my cheeks.
“You have a glorious ass.”
Then his soapy finger circles my anus.
I tense in shock.
“Relax,” he breathes in my ear. “I’m not ready for it yet.”
As he turns back on the water and rinses me off, his words play over and over in my mind.
I’m not ready for it yet. Is he thinking of anal? We hadn’t discussed that when we’d talked on the phone. Would I be able to handle it?
He turns the water off and grabs the folded white bath sheet that he must have placed on the shelf next to the shower cubicle in anticipation. He envelopes me in it completely as you would a child after bathing them.
“No!” I scream horrified as he suddenly lifts me bodily. “You’ll hurt your back.”
“Shush!” he scoffs as he strides with me in his arms to the bed. “I can lift you with one arm.”
Tears fill my eyes as he lays me down and I rapidly blink them away.
He couldn’t have done or said a more perfect thing.
I had agonized about paying him almost what I earn in a month for a single night.
I would pay him double for this moment, making my ultimate fantasy come true.
My mother had joked when I was fifteen and already outweighed her by twenty pounds, “If you continue like this, Anna, a man will need a forklift to hoist you.”
Her comment has stayed with me ever since. When I see couples holding hands, kissing or making out it doesn’t bother me as much as when I see a man lift a woman.
It’s something I’d longed for but thought would never happen to me.
“Hey now,” he says looking at me with concern in his eyes. “You didn’t think that I would make you fall, did you?”
“No.” I smile and dismiss my mother from my thoughts.
“Good.” He grabs a bottle of lotion from the bedside table and starts to apply it to my still moist skin. It’s the same shape as the shower gel and obviously the same brand. Again, I can’t read the name on the small, discreet label without my glasses on, but that only tells me that they must be very expensive. Only luxury items don’t feel the need to scream their names at you from a distance. “This isn’t perfumed either. It’s light and will be instantly absorbed. I just don’t want you to dry out.”
I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of his hands on me.
Sometimes there are things you miss that you don’t realize. Up to the age of eight my mother used to moisturize my skin and give me a light massage after my evening bath to help me sleep and have pleasant dreams she’d said. Then my father, who I resemble too much to ever be pretty, left my mother for his nineteen-year-old PA and she started to criticize everything about me from my big bones to my ‘whorish’ red hair.
Okay, I decide, as he turns me over and does my back, that’s the last time I will think about you tonight, Mother!
He massages my shoulders more firmly than when I do it after a hard day’s work and I feel the tension leave my body. He does the rest of the back of me, before he palms my behind and kneads my cheeks firmly long after the lotion he applies is gone.
“Now,” he says as he rolls me off the damp towel and straightens up. “What is it going to be? You want me to just hold you in my arms for the night or you want me to fuck you?”
Why can’t you just do what I’ve paid you for? I think in embarrassment.
“Fuck or cuddle?” he asks again and I know that he’s not going to let me get away without giving an answer.
“Fuck me,” I respond and know that there must be at least a tinge of red in my cheeks. Saying it out loud makes it sound so sordid.
“Good girl.” He smiles and reveals a length of black silk in his hand as if by magic. “Now I want you to just lie back, eyes closed and let me pleasure you.”
“I don’t know if I want to be blindfolded,” I demur as he makes to tie it around my head.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he says, and ties it tightly but not uncomfortably. “It will help you release your inhibitions. I want you to feel, not think.”
“Okay,” I agree and lie back as he pushes me onto the bed.
He lifts my arms and wraps my hands around the wooden posts that form a section of his headboard.
“Leave them there,” he instructs and then I feel the mattress shift as he moves off it.
I try to imagine what he’s seeing: my heavy breasts falling a little to the sides instead of standing straight up from my chest; my small waist, one of the only things I like about my body, looking absurd between my unruly breasts and sprawling hips; my thick thighs and short legs.
“Your body looks as though it’s carved from ivory.”
It hasn’t seen the sun since the last holiday we’d had as a family in Barbados when I was almost eight. That and the fact that I’ve somehow inherited my mother’s natural lack of body hair—the only trait of hers I seem to have.
“Ah!” I squirm as he lifts my left foot and sucks my toes into his mouth.
I didn’t know before that my feet are ticklish.
I also didn’t know that I would feel the sensations of his tongue on my toes in between my legs as well.
He ignores me as he runs his tongue between my toes and over my instep, and then bites on my heel. He then slowly nibbles his way up my inner leg until he’s at my centre.
He effortlessly spreads my legs wide with his hands even though I instinctively resist.
I’m reminded how unbelievably strong he is and instead of feeling fear, I feel a thrill of anticipation. He’s going to pleasure me whether I like it or not.
“You’re already wet,” he says as I feel his fingers on my clitoris.
I bite my lower lip to hold back a moan as his tongue replaces them.
His fingers aren’t idle for long. Soon, two of them are thrusting in and out of me as he batters my clitoris with his tongue. Then the fingers are at my anus and breaching me there before I could object.
Turning, he repositions us, so that his head is literally trapped between my thighs and he’s sucking on my clitoris and has two fingers in each of my holes.
Oh holy fuck!
Being a big girl did have its advantages. The sales clerk hadn’t batted an eyelid or asked my age when I’d walked into a sex toy shop and bought my first vibrator at the age of fifteen. I’d taken that little battery-operated pink ball everywhere with me. Thankfully neither of my two close girlfriends recognized it when it fell out of my handbag while we were shopping one Saturday. They’d had no need for one anyway; they’d both had boyfriends and had both claimed that they were no longer virgins at the time.
For my sixteenth birthday I had bought the first of my many rabbit vibrators when I still hadn’t been asked on a date by any of the boys in my class. Well, one, Thomas ‘The Tank’ Tilbury, had told me that he would let me give him a blowjob after we’d sneaked into an empty classroom after school one day. He had freed his small penis and tried to push my head down onto it. I had punched him so hard in the ribs he’d fallen off the desk, winded. I hadn’t known anything about penises or penis sizes then, but I’d known that he had only chosen me because I was the heaviest girl in our class and thought that I would be grateful that he’d even noticed that I was alive. The other girls would have probably laughed at him and it.
I had decided then that my next vibrator would have an insertable length.
I had started off slowly, but soon I was employing it fully. I didn’t even know if or when it took my hymen. It probably hadn’t been there still after the weekly horse riding lessons I’d had for a year when I was eleven. My mother had also paid for ballet classes and piano lessons in the hope of turning me into the ‘perfect’ young lady despite my hair. She’d failed miserably.
All I know was that the bunny left me very satisfied and I’ve bought a new one every year since. The Rotating, The Bendy and The Expanding Ones were my favourites until two and a half months ago when I’d bought my Jessica Rabbit Triple Pleasure as an early birthday present.
I thought that finally I’d found the ultimate in pleasure. Its 6” insertable length wasn’t the longest of my rabbits, but it was the first that I had bought with an anal attachment.
I’ve used it regularly since that first night. A couple of times I’ve thought about it on my way from work and got so wet, I literally couldn’t wait to get indoors. I would kick off my shoes at the door and strip as I made my way to my bedroom. Seconds later it would be plunged inside me, pleasuring me and stimulating me in three separate places.
I’d thought that nothing could give me more pleasure.
But Roger’s turning that theory on its head and proving once again to be worth every penny I paid him.
It’s not that men haven’t asked me out.
It’s just that, like Thomas Tilbury, they had all acted as though they were doing me a favour.
I’d told them that I didn’t need sympathy fucks.
My job and my bunnies keep me plenty satisfied.
But the big Three-O was special enough a birthday to warrant a treat I’d decided. I’d first thought of a singles’ cruise but changed my mind—knowing my luck I would end up being the only woman on it who didn’t get paired up and have to spend my time hiding in my cabin. So, I’d decided to use the money to have a real man fuck me instead of an inanimate object. Although, to be fair my bunnies are rather animated, so that’s perhaps not the right description of them.
Wendy Wilson, a work colleague, described Roger’s ‘For One Night Only’ as an experience every woman should have. She’s 53 and recently divorced. She got a real kick out of paying Roger from the settlement she’d received from her husband. She said that it was fitting that he paid for her to have a ‘good fuck’ after he’d subjected her to thousands of mediocre ones during their marriage.
Too embarrassed to ask her for more specific details I’d spent weeks searching the internet until I found him. There were hundreds of men promising the same thing; it was his sheer size that made him stand out. She’d said that while most of the other men look as they work out at the gym, he looks as though he’s the gym.
I’d baulked at his asking fee and finally decided after three weeks’ consideration that I deserved a birthday treat.
When I’d called him and told him that I wanted to book him on or before the 15th of September, he’d said that I was extremely lucky. He’d had a cancellation for today, the 5th or I would have had to wait for over four months as he works Saturdays only and was booked solidly until early 2016.
I hadn’t believe that luck had anything to do with it—I couldn’t see that many women queuing up to pay him £5000 for one night—but already I’m beginning to believe that it’s possible.
I knit and read in my spare time. I don’t have any real close female friends, so my night with Roger will remain my secret, but if satisfied women like Wendy spread the word, I can see why he would be so busy.
My bunnies can only do so much and the downside is that I have to hold them.
With the blindfold on, blocking out everything but the pleasure he’s giving me and my hands free to do nothing but hold on the headboard for dear life, I have to stop myself from coming too quickly.
“Ah! Ah!”
Wendy had said, ‘He eats pussy like he’s hungry.’
God, it’s so true! Not like he’s greedy, just gobbling it up, but like it’s tasty and he’s enjoying every morsel. And it’s the unexpected changes of pace and pressure that are making my toes point harder than in ballet class and my nipples feel like mini rocks on my chest although he hasn’t touched them since the shower.
I want him never to stop...want to grab my clothes and run before he turns me into an addict, totally hooked on him...want to....
“Aaaah! Yesss!” I bite my lower lip again as I come but the sounds escape.
He gentles the motion of his tongue and fingers, but keeps going until I stop rubbing my pussy all over his face.
I lie there for a long time, floating in bliss before realizing that he’s in danger of being suffocated.
“Sorry!” I open my legs and release him.
He chuckles as he gets off the bed.
“No need to apologize. I was enjoying your scent and the warmth.” He leans down to kiss me and I taste myself on his lips. “And the gorgeous taste of your juices.”
I know that he probably says it to every woman who pays him, but something inside me still melts.
“And now that you’re dripping wet, it’s time for the fun to really start.”
I don’t know when he shed his damp boxers, but he’s completely naked when he joins me on the bed. His erect penis bumps against my thigh and bizarrely though it’s the first real one to touch any part of my body, I recognize it for what it is.
I’m tempted to reach down and see how big it is, but he puts his hands over mine and wraps them more firmly around the bed posts as he gets on top of me and kisses me.
His penis feels long, hard and heavy against my stomach and I wonder just how large it is. I can’t lie, I’d wanted big even though the most inches any of my bunnies has ever given me is 7”. I’d wanted at least another inch or two and possibly as thick as my expanding bunny but he feels huge!
“How many inches are you?” I ask as soon as he frees my lips to nibble on my neck.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says and rubs its hard length against me. “What matters is the pleasure it will give you.”
He kisses me again as his hands move to my breasts and tug on my nipples. Then he trails his tongue downwards to take my left nipple into his mouth as I feel his hand between us, placing the tip of his erection against my entrance.
I’m wet and he slides in a couple of inches, but I can feel the way his girth forces me open.
He suckles my breast and it distracts me from the stretching pain, but soon it’s too much and I’m moaning and tossing my head for side to side on the pillow.
His lips come back to cover mine as he presses on, rotating his hips and getting deeper and deeper.
Every time I think he’s all inside me, he gives me a bit more.
“No more,” I beg when it feels like he’s already too far up in me for safety.
“Relax,” he tells me. “I know what I’m doing.”
I try, but it’s hard to do when I’m worried that he will do me permanent injury.
***