Message-ID: <17081eli$9811090625@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: AUSTRALlA@aol.com Subject: "Dysfunctional" (Part 1) by Rod Stiffener (mf,voy,preg) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <654b3df2.36461551@aol.com> ("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: fun1.txt (mf,voy,preg) Authors name: rodsti@hotmail.com (Rod Stiffener) Story title : PUTTING THE "FUN" INTO "DYSFUNCTIONAL" PART ONE OF TWO == == == This work is copyrighted to the author. No changes may be made to this story, and the author information must remain intact. This work may be copied freely for non- profit purposes only. == == == ********************************************* PUTTING THE "FUN" INTO "DYSFUNCTIONAL" PART ONE ********************************************* Jake had only been in town for a couple of months. A bit of a loner, he had been drifting around picking up work where he could get it. But now that he was on trial at the machine shop, he had some steady income and could think about putting down a few roots again. Very different from working in trucking. And he could start accumulating the wherewithall to get another Harley, to replace the one lost to bike thieves the previous year. No more Sidewalk Commando status for him. Through the machine shop he had met a few kindred spirits. Customers who had brought in heads for porting work, cylinders for re-boring, and when he saw Harley parts come across the counter it was like the memory of his own lost cycle was haunting him. He would go the extra mile for those customers, and soon it was being suggested that he should come and hang out, roll some numbers, blast the cobwebs out of the stereo system. They went on runs, too. Not wearing colors, nothing like that. Too much aggravation, you have to be prepared to put your life on the line if you start wearing colors. But they got a buzz out of going places in groups, just for the sheer thrill of riding. Jake would excuse himself from going on any runs, though. He wasn't going to pack double behind anyone. Getting back on his own two wheels was a matter of pride to him. Sometimes, though, he would follow along later in his tintop, to bring a keg of beer and pick up any parts that might have vibrated loose on the way. He was a man of few words, and difficult to get to know. But his machining skills made him worth knowing, to people who rode the older iron and who thought the newer Harleys were fit only for effeminate stock-brokers. Soon he was part of a circle of down-to-earth people, the kind who wouldn't hesitate to call a spade a fucking spade. Educated mainly in the University of Hard Knocks, they looked forward to Saturday morning rides and Saturday night rages, taking pride in an ability to party all night and still be able to function at work the next day. Monica-gate did not bother them at all; to their mind, frequent blowjobs should be an integral part of any Presidency. Jake ended up on best terms with Steve, Frank, John, Paul, and their ladies who they changed like library books. Except that Paul and Sharon were now an item. In fact Sharon was about six months pregnant, and quite large with it. She was quite large anyway, being very broad across the hips with big buttocks and upper legs. Real thunderthighs, complete with cellulite. He wouldn't call her obese though, in the sense of fat all over. More like "pear-shaped", since her upper half was of normal proportions. If she were to be described as having an hourglass figure, then you needed to imagine a pretty bottom-heavy glass. She also had magnificent boobs that hung fairly low. Jake had made these observations during some riverside barbecues they'd held when the weather was fine. Her bathing costume struggled to keep everything in. Especially now that her belly was distended, and her breasts had become larger than normal. She had a lovely complexion; pale, white and generally pretty flawless skin. She had a nose a bit too big for her face, and full, pouty lips. The type of lips that someone once referred to as "cock-sucking lips". He often found himself attracted to women who were not the usual fashion stereotype, especially if they had nice a complexion and nice breasts. On the other hand, Barbie-dolls and Miss Universe types didn't do a lot for him. Too unreal, he thought. He liked "real" women. Or did he just lack ambition? Her partner Paul was a little shrimp of a guy who acted big, probably because he had a complex about being small. He maintained a tough-guy image, with black leather waist-coat and long beard trimmed to make him look like a chip off the ZZ Topp. An okay guy, but with a harder edge to him than others with less to prove. And Sharon needed a bit of watching, as she didn't mind attention from other men. Not just flashing her tits at truckers while on the highway either. That was just par for the course. In all her interactions with men, she always seemed conscious of the fact that they were MEN. Flirty remarks, sexual innuendo, saying things like "Thank you hairy crutch" if a door were opened for her. If no one were paying her any attention, then she would encourage some attention. It was as if she didn't feel valid as a woman unless there were always some bees buzzing around her honeypot. Being the new boy in town and conscious that he should mind his manners, Jake would normally have just noted in passing that Sharon was attractive and left it at that. But she had this air of sweetness and vulnerability that tugged at him somehow. And she always managed to convey the impression to all men that she was one women with a very positive attitude toward fucking. Just how positive could she get, Jake couldn't help wondering? And Paul was not around for some reason, on the day that Steve celebrated his birthday. The others all decided to have a night on the town. Sharon was especially looking forward to it because she had not been out on her own for a while, and Paul was strict on her about not drinking or smoking marijuana while pregnant. Which makes sense, and she would probably have been all for it if he would only support her by abstaining himself. But why should she be a martyr while he was still having a good time? At times the rights of her unborn child would take second place to her one-up- manship with Paul. Jake's beat-up Chevy V-8 was having triple bypass surgery that week, so Sharon gave him a lift in her VW Beetle, painted a delicate shade of "nipple pink". The others all piled into Steve's car, so as to keep the amount of drink-drive convictions to a minimum. They started at a bar, drinking bourbon except Sharon who stayed on orange juice. She couldn't help joining in, though, when they went out to the alley to roll up a couple of numbers. She was as keen as anyone to dangle off the end of a spliff or three while planning the next move. After an hour or two spent "warming up" at the bar, they went on to a night club. Sharon turned a few heads when she got onto the dance floor with Jake, wearing a dark red velvet dress and carrying a stomach that announced her arrival about three yards before she got there. But she loved dancing and wanted to enjoy herself, so he thought, why not? The others stayed at the bar, while Steve found someone he fancied and started navigating her around the dancefloor. So Jake mostly danced with Sharon but not always. Another guy parked himself on the barstool next to hers and started chatting away with her. He was a travelling business type from out of town and didn't know anyone, so was willing to strike up a conversation with anybody. It was clear they were getting on like a house on fire, animated conversation followed by the odd slow dance out on the floor. It was just in Sharon's line, to have two guys fluttering around her like moths. The business type and Jake alternated the dancing duties, and next thing they all knew, she had a glass of bourbon in her hand. This guy was buying her drinks for her, and at those expensive nightclub prices, she was too flattered to refuse. Paul's strictures about abstinence were going out the window tonight, as she was already a bit stoned from the joints smoked earlier. The guy seemed to fancy her a bit, despite her obvious condition, and they were dancing kind of close. At least, as close as her huge belly would allow. His groin was bumping right up against it as they danced. Her belly had been bumping up against Jake's groin as well, especially on the slower numbers when couples get to go into a clinch. If he had looked down, he would have seen a milky-white cleavage thrust up by a bra that was now a size too small, framed by the red velvet v-neck of her dress. Friend's wife or not, that kind of thing is instant hard- on material, and in her condition any hard-on would be unavoidably pressed against her navel. So Jake kept his gaze fixed over her shoulder and silently said "Down, boy!" to his stirring dick. When this other chap danced with her, he took no such precautions. Jake could see him glancing down at her boobs from time to time, and she knew it but was enjoying the attention. Jake saw no harm in it. He supposed that she liked to feel attractive, and not just be treated like the Goodyear blimp. After they'd been there about two hours Steve decided he was going to leave with his new-found friend, so that they could get to know each other better. This broke up the party somewhat, as he was the reason for coming out in the first place. The others went and caught a cab, to go home and give the stereo some exercise while they mellowed out. But Sharon told Jake that she wanted to stay and dance a bit longer. So the two of them went back out onto the floor. The friendly stranger had also gone, so it was now a party of two. They were both on a high by now, from the bourbon and the dope. Her hand went around his back to pull him closer, so his crutch was constantly rubbing against her taut, distended belly. It felt good to be gliding over the dancefloor to those smoochy numbers the DJ's always put on in the later part of the evening. Jake had one of her hands held in his, and every so often she would give it a squeeze. His other hand was resting on her hip. Any time that it moved slightly, it would slide the velvet of her dress up and down over her bare skin. Looking down, he could see her eyes were closed, and she was just going with the flow of wherever he steered her. Her ample cleavage was truly a vision of loveliness, and his half-erect cock would twitch every so often at the sight. Pressed hard against her, there was no way that she couldn't have felt it stirring into life. They hadn't yet really crossed the line of improper behaviour. Sure, his semi-hardon was jammed up against her, but what could he do? It was unavoidable, really. He was sure she would understand his predicament. Don't know if Paul would be so understanding, though ... . The line began to be crossed at the moment when she started to swing her hips in time to the music, so that her belly was brushing back and forth against his cock. This got it to almost full hardness. If he moved away, she pulled him back again. It appeared that she was deliberately trying to give him a hard-on. She had also leaned forward so that her head was almost resting on his shoulder, and the change in body angle meant that his hand had now slid around onto one of her massive buttocks. The rotation of her hips meant that his palm was slipping the velvet material back and forth across her backside, in little motions on a bodypart which experience taught him was definitely an erogenous zone. They were now about as closely intertwined as it is possible to be with a heavily pregnant woman in a public place. It looked like she intended to break some vows that no man is supposed to put asunder. But it felt so good to be holding her that he did not want to pull away. The fact that she was pregnant was neither a turn-on nor a turn-off, in fact it was pretty irrelevant at that stage. She just wanted to be held, and he was happy to hold her. Jake was a fellow who always cultivated a gruff exterior, as did most of the males of his social background. It made him a better poker player, but didn't mean that he was a totally unfeeling swine. Her air of innocence and vulnerability was getting to him, and from what he knew of their relationship he tended to side with her over Paul. A stupid, dangerous thing to do, but he felt drawn to her and was starting to get protective of her. Not to mention aroused. Down boy, dammit! Finally he said. "It's time we went." Well, if he hadn't said that, the sweep-up people would have found them still there in the morning! She said "Okay," and hand-in-hand they headed for the exit. There was no conversation between them as she drove the VW Beetle homewards, except once when suddenly, out of nowhere, she said, "I've always liked big guys." He knew at once that this was an invitation to go and view her etchings. It was a clear reference to the fact that he stood at 6'1" and 220 lb, while Paul was a runty 5'5" and 130 lb. But apart from that one simple statement about preferred male physique, she said nothing else and neither did he. It was just assumed by both of them that they were headed back to her place. They pulled up in the drive and headed toward the darkened house. She waddled in front of him up the steps, pulling her housekey out of her bag. Inside, she turned on a single light for the hall and went straight down to the bedroom. Her bedroom ... and Paul's too. Jake could see a wedding photo in a frame, and a photo of the two of them seated on Paul's Harley. She stopped and turned, lit up only by the light from the hallway, and stood waiting. He walked slowly in, head spinning with thoughts of guilt, tenderness ... and horniness. If there is one thing he can't seem to resist, it is being wanted. It seems so ungentlemanly to refuse a lady. Despite the danger of big time consequences if Paul ever found out, he knew that the moment they kissed he would be lost. And so it proved. Those "cock-sucking" lips were warm and full, and swiftly enveloped his protruding tongue. Her belly was once more rubbing on his crutch, while he put one hand on her bum again and brought the other up onto her breasts. They were big and heavy, and even with the support of a bra they hung very low. The nipples were huge, and could be easily felt through the layers of material. He glided his thumb back and forth over one, and after a few moments felt it stiffen even more. Her mouth was open to his, soft lips crushed against him and tongues swirling around each other. One of her hands came up and she brushed a fingernail over his nipple through the shirt material. God, he loved it when his nipples were being played with! There must be nerves running from each one straight down to his cock. His hand on her backside tugged at the velvet material until the hem had come up and he could reach into the waistband of her panties. Her wobbly arse cheeks were colossal, and soft like grabbing a handful of featherdown pillow. He stroked the bare skin around her butt-crack, in the sensitive area by her anus. Time to see her naked. He always enjoyed undressing a women, and liked to take his time to reveal everything bit by bit. First he stood behind her and unzipped her at the back, then slid that dress up over her head. This brought into view sensible cotton panties that were dwarfed by the size of her arse into looking more like a g-string. There was seemingly acres of milky white cellulite-dimpled flesh around her bum and thighs. Then he revealed her sturdy bra with its row of hooks, straps cutting into her sides under the weight they bore. He left her there in her underwear while he dropped his pants and shirt, and freed his cock from his briefs. He stood against her bum, with her buttocks pushed into his thighs and cock against the small of her back. Reaching around, he played with a breast through the bra, running his hand over the thick material and feeling the heavy sponginess within. The other hand made widening circles over the tight skin of her swollen stomach, round and tight as a drum. He tried to reach around to her crotch but the stomach was too big and he could only reach the pussy hair at the top of her mound under the waistband of her panties. Jake's hips were thrusting his cock in little fucking movements against the billowy flesh of her buttocks. She was leaning back into him with her eyes closed, savouring the sensation of the little touches he was giving her here and there. Jake unhooked the bra and slid it forward until it fell away from her breasts. He took their weight in his cupped hands and looked down at them over her shoulder. The hormonal changes of pregnancy had made the nipples enormous, almost twice the normal size. The areolae had darkened into a deep reddish brown instead of the more usual pink. Blue veins could be seen criss-crossing the pale white surface of the breasts themselves. Absolutely delicious. He just had to get his lips onto those! But next, the panties. He knelt behind her and eased them down, having to tug them out from where they had ridden up into her arse crack. He leaned forward and bit gently into the quaking arse flesh. There was just so much of it! He rubbed the palms of his hands excitedly over the huge buttocks, trying to cover as much of it as he could. Still kneeling, Jake turned her around. In the shadow of her over-hanging belly was soft brown pussy hair, but it was hard to see much. He said "Lie on the bed" and she slowly made herself comfortable, packing a pillow behind her and putting her legs up into a wide- apart "childbirth" position. This exposed her completely to his view. The same hormonal changes had darkened her inner thigh area, and made the pussy lips very thick and rubbery-looking. He had never seen a pussy quite like it. The lips seemed to pout outwards and hold her vagina open. So open, in fact, that it was possible to look partway up it. Everything looked bigger than what he considered to be "normal". Continued in part 2... -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----