She allowed herself in, so I sat on the couch, pulled my beer in tight and put on the Discovery Channel. Not 10 seconds later her hand shoots down my pants. I tried the whole “slow down, I’m not ready for fooling around” thing, to which she whispered, “It’s okay, I wasn’t ready either. But you showed me that it’s not about waiting until you’re ready; it’s about seizing the moment,” forcefully grabbing Little Richard on the word “seizing.” Aghast at how this evening was ending, I had a shocked look on my face, clearly misread by my “companion” who thought I was enjoying myself. She started pulling off my pants and gave Little Richard a lick.
Afraid of the word “seizing” coming up again, I convulsed and started protesting. “I…” She shushed me and said, “I thought you might like that,” and proceeded to go about her business. At this point everything in my body was going absolutely haywire, trying to tell me to run for the hills. In reality, there is no such thing as drunken clarity, but with our clouded judgment, we feel extremely philosophical and proceed to ponder. The angel on my shoulder was unconscious with alcohol poisoning and the devil was telling me that everything would be okay. Second, this is Robbie’s sister and this is a total power move on your VP. I only had to think of the sweet appearance of kitchen appliances and I was ready to go 16 rounds with Floyd Mayweather punching me in the face. I figured I might as well have a little bit of fun with it, so I pulled every weird position I could remember from that “LAYLA RIVERA TIGHT BODY” video.
Less drunk than I was last night, I was mortified at my memory of the event. I shooed her out, coming up with some excuse about a staff meeting and ran into the shower, hoping to scald off every remnant of that evening. Finishing my shower, I finished the beer remaining in my fridge, trying to console my ego. I heard knocking on the door again and my hair stood on end like that of a frightened animal. I eventually brought myself to answer the door, and this time it was my residents in the room next to mine. I mean you did have someone over, right?” I looked at them with the crazy eye. There was nobody over last night,” and shut the door. Things we can all learn from an event like this: 1. We learn from our mistakes, namely there are some sex positions that big girls don’t excel at. Also, one day you will learn to cope with your mistakes. I look back on this with honor, considering myself a Captain Ahab, having succumbed to the Great White Whale. There will come a moment in your life where people will be chanting your name, encouraging you to do something you would never do in your right mind. In the words of one Jimmy Tatro, “You only live once.” Also, Patricia, if you happen to be reading this… How to Have Sex With a Fat Girl. Touch – and I cannot stress this enough – the FUPA. The first few times I fucked as a fat girl, I exclusively wore my boyfriend’s Superman hoodie to hide my body. I was 16, a size 14 and it was 2009 – long before body positivity hit the mainstream or my Tumblr feed. Now, as a 26-year-old woman wearing a size 20, the shagging game has changed year on year as my body has gotten bigger and the dating pool has gotten smaller. With plus size partners we can press our bellies together, grab each others bodies and enjoy the thickness of our flesh in privacy (or with other partners, if they’re game for group sex). But fucking a fat girl when you don’t know her, what she likes, or what she dislikes, is apparently a minefield for most people with slimmer frames. Before fucking someone new, I feel the need to address I’m fat before we meet. My Bumble bio reads "honey with a tummy", my photo selection is multiple full body shots and still I always end up asking: “How long have you fancied fat girls?” The answers vary from “never” to “it’s a preference” to “I never noticed”. I’m the size of the elephant in the room and you want to pretend that I don’t weigh double whatever you do? In reality, sometimes I’ll shag a fat fetishist to feel like a gorgeous goddess and the rest of the time I’m just making sure they’re not a fatphobe before I let them poke a finger in. It’s a universal truth known by fat girls that the FUPA is the most intimidating part of our body. I know this because my FUPA been touched so little that I’m surprised she hasn’t shrivelled up and fallen off. I think this is what some guys were hoping would happen too. Avoiding belly touching makes it all the more obvious that the belly is there.
If you eat a cupcake and leave the frosting on the plate, it doesn’t stop the icing from existing (or tasting like a treat). The hottest shags are the ones that grab my belly like its a third tit, kiss the flesh on the way down to the kitty and aren’t pretending my body is less than it is. You’ll be surprised how hot holding on to soft flesh feels when you get over yourself, get a grip and get into the actual body of the fat girl you’re shagging. You’re deciding between “I’ve always wanted to fuck a fat girl” or “I prefer your curves to thin girls”.
If you’ve ever wondered the quickest way to kill a vibe, this is it. There’s pages upon pages of Pornhub videos of men fantasising about it, and it doesn’t make a girl feel special to be told the reason you’re getting shagged is your body size. If you’re fucking a person specifically to fulfil a fetish, the least you owe that person is to tell them about the fetish. You’ll be surprised how many fat women will be down for being a BBW, but forcing a kink on a woman who just wants to be shagged is fucked up. Might I introduce you to Feabie, where my best fat friend told me I could find a fat boyfriend and all I got was harassed for pics of me eating twelve Pot Noodles.