Big Girls Do It Better Read online

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  Fuck me sideways! The man is hung like a porn star! It was too good to be true, surely. He would let me get a glimpse, maybe let me suck him off--which I would gladly do right there and then--but that would be it. No way he'd take me back to his place and fuck me proper.

  Determined not to let such a golden opportunity go to waste, I touched him with my forefinger, just one reverent brush of the pad of my finger along the pre-come-glistening tip. He gasped, sucked in his belly and throbbed his hips into my hand.

  Oh, oh, oh my god.

  Touching his cock was like eating chips; I couldn't stop after just one. I had to have more, had to get both hands around him, and yes, he was a two-hand man. Maybe even two and half, because for a big girl I have small hands. I wrapped my fingers around his girth and shoved his boxers farther down with the heel of my hand so I could fit my other palm around him.

  He sucked in his breath and arched his back. "God, Anna. You're driving me crazy."

  "I like hearing you say my name." I didn't mean to say that, but it slipped out, and Chase didn't seem to mind.

  "Anna," he gasped.

  I smeared his pre-come on his cock with a hand-over-hand motion, and he writhed into my grip. He was nearly there, about to explode on my hands, and I wasn't about to stop. He put his hands on my ribcage, just beneath my breasts.

  "Yes," I whispered, "touch my tits."

  I felt the veins of his shaft pulsing under my touch. I dug one of my hands into his pants and cupped his heavy, tight testicles as I continued to work his length with the other hand. He was bucking up and down with his entire body, bending his knees and thrusting up with his entire torso, driving his cock through my slippery grip. His eyes were hooded and his breathing was coming in desperate gasps.

  I was determined to make sure he damn well never forgot this experience, even if it was all we'd ever have together. I didn't care about getting off myself, momentarily; I knew I could go home and break out Mr. Pinky McVibrator and use this memory to come at least once, if not twice. I was multi-orgasmic, if only with myself. No guy had ever made me come more than once, and most never did at all.

  "Anna, wait," Chase gasped, trying to back away. "This wasn't...I wanted to--with you--"

  I didn't let him get away. He curled in over his stomach and clenched his muscles; I knew it was time. I dropped to my knees, wrapped my lips around his head and sucked for all I was worth. He couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything but thrust his cock into my mouth and shoot his load into me. He shot, and he shot, and he shot, and I took it all, tasting the smoky, salty thickness against my tongue and my throat and for once not minding at all, for once actually understanding those girls who claim to love giving head.

  I'll do it, every once in a while, just to make the guy feel good and to remind him who had the power, but I'd never enjoyed it before. I didn't dislike it, I just wasn't a "hooray, I'm sucking cock" kind of girl.

  But Chase...oh, he came beautifully. He stretched his mouth wide and arched his back, fluttering his lovely, pulsing cock into me, holding back, restraining himself from cramming himself down the back of my throat.

  When I'd milked him of every last drop, I tucked him back into his DKNY boxers, zipped up his pants and buttoned him up.

  "You have a beautiful cock," I told him, rising to my feet, "and you taste good too."

  I kissed him once, a fast, hard crush of the lips.

  "Thanks for a good time, Chase," I said.

  And with that, I turned and made my exit.

  "Wait," Chase growled, grabbing my arm. "You can't just leave. That wasn't what I--"

  I kept moving, despite his grip on my arm. "I have to finish my set."

  He grabbed my other arm, then, and pulled me forcefully back around to face him.

  "I wasn't done with you yet."

  I yanked my arm free, starting to angry that he'd ruined my exit, and was in the process of ruining my memory of him. "Let go, Chase. You got what you wanted, didn't you? I've got to go back to work."

  Chase's eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. "I didn't ask you to do that."

  I gritted my teeth. "Yeah, I know. You didn't ask for it, not in so many words, but guys like you know how to get what you want without asking for it. Especially from girls like me."

  "Guys like me." Chase frowned and squeezed my arm hard enough to make me wince.

  "Yeah. Guys like you. Talented, gorgeous, guys who can get anyone they want."

  "How do you know what I want? And what do you mean by girls like you?"

  I absolutely refused to answer that question. Storming out of the alley towards the front door, I rounded the corner just as my partner Jeff came looking for me. I haven't mentioned my partner yet, have I? Jeff...a stable, steady guy, a good business partner, better-than-average looking, and a great singer. We DJed together, splitting the profits and making quite a bundle. We'd never been more than friends and partners, even though I knew he had a crush on me. I wasn't willing to go there with him, not with all his baby-mama-drama. He and his baby mama, Amanda, were the on-again, off-again type of couple, and I didn't want any of that mess.

  "Everyone's waiting, Anna," Jeff said. He knew me well enough to see I was upset. "Is everything okay?"

  I was glad he hadn't come around the corner twenty seconds earlier; he wouldn't have done or said anything, but it would have hurt him to see me doing that to Chase, and I didn't want to lose a good partner.

  "I'm fine, Jeff. Don't worry about it." I turned him by the shoulders and pushed him back through the front door of The Dive.

  "Anna, wait." I felt Chase's hand on my arm. I spun around with my fist flying.

  Of course, he caught it like he had the first time. Thank god, Jeff was already inside, so he didn't see anything.

  "Chase, seriously. We both know the score here."

  "There's no score. Don't be like this. What you did felt great, better than great, but that wasn't what I was going for. I don't know why you're getting so upset, all of a sudden. I like you, I want--"

  "Anna, let's go!" Jeff stuck his head out the door, saw me stumble as Chase told me he liked me.

  "Hey, listen, buddy, I don't know what your game is, but Anna's not interested." Jeff thrust his chest out and strutted towards Chase, thinking he was defending me. Jeff was sweet, meant well, and was obviously fearless, since Chase was several inches taller and several pounds of muscle heavier.

  I pushed Jeff back inside. "It's fine, Jeff. He's not bothering me. He was just leaving."

  Chase's face darkened. "No I wasn't." He strode past me, ignoring Jeff completely. "You owe me a song, at least."

  Jeff raised an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged, stifling a sigh.

  We sang "Broken" by Seether and Amy Lee. I couldn't hold on to my conflicted feelings, not with Chase's dulcet growl braiding perfectly with my voice. The bar was silent as we sang, even the bartenders going still to watch. Tension rippled in palpable waves between Chase and I, propelling our performance into overdrive.

  Sometimes while performing time itself seems to stop when you hit your notes just right. The music glides between the pores of your skin to bubble through your veins in place of blood, and you can't help but clutch the mic with both trembling hands and let the song flow out of you like blood from a wound. In those moments, when the music has replaced everything and even awareness of your own body has faded, you can't even breathe, can't do anything but let the song own you, let the performance rocket through you. There's no people, no problems in your life, no buzz of alcohol in your blood or pain in your heart. Sharing that moment with another person...it's more intimate than sex. You and the other person lock eyes, bend at the waist to belt the notes into the mic and invisible sun-hot flames burn between you, linking you. You could be the only two souls alive in the world.

  When the song ended, I was exhausted, feeling as wrung out as if Chase and I had just gone three rounds in bed. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and neither of us kne