The Fat Parlor - Part 5

For a moment, I was almost sad that he’d asked me to stop eating him out. But then I remembered that I was hard as a nail and aching to put something other than my tongue in Guy’s hole. Weed can make you lose track of time.

I couldn’t just kneel on the bed and insert myself; Guy was not only wide, but tall, so his hole didn’t quite line up with my crotch. Instead, I had to sort of squat down from a standing position and angle myself so everything lined up. Had I been sober, this probably wouldn’t have been an issue, but weed also can have a negative effect on your sense of balance too. I fell over the first time on Guy’s broad backside. He was more than strong enough to carry both our weight, but he was slick with sweat and his body just generally had a lot of give to it. I very nearly slid right off him and fell to the floor, but I managed to catch myself by reaching around and grabbing his chest. 

Guy laughed, and growled. I discovered I was actually ferociously clutching his tit, which he mistook as aggressive foreplay. This was sort of overselling my abilities as a top, but I just rolled with it and growled back. Then I lined up for a second attempt.

This time I managed to find myself with the tip of my dick right at his entrance. The only problem was that it was basically all I could do to maintain my position in my current state of inebriation, and the only way to actually proceed with the deed was to lean forward and put more weight on Guy’s back. 

So I did. And it went basically as well as my first attempt, only this time I slid forward rather than to the side. It also meant that I slammed my entire length inside Guy all at once without even a single grunt to warn him.

Now, I’m not a small man. I’d say I’m slightly above average in the dick department, but I know that even an average dick going into an unprepared hole can cause some calamity. 

Guy gave out a shout, and then another growl, and then he pushed back into my groin. It had certainly hurt, given the tone of his initial shout, but the way he bumped himself into my hips made it seem like he was asking for more.

It occurred to me that I was completely accidentally playing up the role of a dom top, and Guy seemed to be absolutely loving it. 

I found two grooves in his upper back where the fat of his tits wrapped around to his backside and planted my hands there. Then I had enough support to actually straighten myself and bring maybe half my shaft back into open air. Then I slammed myself back home with as much force as I did the first time, only on purpose this time.

And this time Guy only growled back without any shouting. I took that to mean that he was used to being plundered even more aggressively than I was being. 

I went for broke. I pumped once, twice, and then started hammering away for all I was worth. Every time my hips met Guy’s ass it sounded like I was punching a slab of beef. Sweat pooled on Guy’s back, a mixture of his own and beads of moisture dripping off my brow. The room quickly filled with the scent of fucking and Guy’s distinctive BO--a spicy combination of perspiration and whatever deodorant he wore. And weed, of course. Smoke still hung in the air from when we first lit up.

I discovered something pretty amazing that day--weed gives me a lot more stamina than I otherwise had. Part of it was the fact that I was so single-mindedly focused on the task at hand that I was completely ignoring the ever-increasing burning sensation of all the major muscles in my legs (something I’d pay for later), but the other part of it was just this bizarre desire to keep fucking. Like, usually if I top, it’s with the goal of dumping my load. Here, it was just to make this fat man shake as much as I could for as long as I could.

And boy, did he ever shake. At times it was hard to keep my grip on his back and I found myself grabbing tightly to Guy’s impressive love handles. I thought I might have been holding on tight enough for it to hurt, but he never seemed to care. Or at least, he never gave any indication that he was experiencing anything but delight. 

At some point, the sheer physical exertion finally caught up with me. I realized that I was practically panting and that I honestly wanted some fresh air more than I wanted to cum. My legs and lungs felt like they were on fire, and I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to keep this pace up and still walk out of here at the end of the night.

Then I heard Guy let out another shout, one that clearly meant only one thing--he just came.

There’s always that moment of pride when you’re fucking a guy and he cums hands free. I always went into sex with the intention of making sure the other guy was satisfied by the end of it. Seemed like I’d done that. 

And then my legs gave out from under me and I collapsed on top of Guy’s back in an exhausted heap.

This time Guy also collapsed to the mattress, which caused some fairly ominous creeks from the bed frame. Guy hadn’t descended very far--his burgeoning belly was practically resting on the bed even while he was on all fours--and I was prevented from sliding upward by my still very hard erection that was still buried quite deeply inside him. 

Guy turned his head to peak over his shoulder. “That was amazing,” he said, breathless, but not as out of breath as me. I couldn’t even find enough oxygen to spare on a response.