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Message-ID: <54462asstr$1157778603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Joris Huysmans" <joriskhuysmans@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} STATUESQUE by Joris K. Huysmans (MF BBW light dom foot)
Lines: 196
Date: Sat, 09 Sep 2006 01:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This week's BBW story technically isn't one, but it's a tribute to the kind 
of woman they used to make back in the 50s, who'd be classified as fat by 
today's absurd standards.  As always, glad to hear from readers who enjoy 
these weekly BBW tales at joriskhuysmans thing hotmail thing com; and anyone 
who wants to nominate one of my stories for a Golden Clitorides and help 
promote BBW tales that way, how very thoughtful of you!


STATUESQUE

by Joris K. Huysmans


In the dim light golden bubbles caught brief reflections of the city lights 
outside as they danced up the glass.  I handed her one of the glasses and we 
sat down on the couch, sinking into the smooth, supple black leather.  
"Well," I said.

"Well," she said.

"It's been a wonderful evening," I said.

"It doesn't have to be over," she said.

I smiled, warmth and gratitude in my eyes.  "I hoped not," I said.  "This is 
what I've hoped for since I bought the restaurant."

She gave me a little sardonic look, as if to say, nobody buys a restaurant 
just for the chance to date the hostess.  Well, I did.  "You don't believe 
me.  I know.  But it's true.  Six weeks ago, I brought my clients from Japan 
there because I knew Sergio's reputation for hiring such tall, beautiful 
staff, and attracting celebrities to the VIP lounge.  I knew they'd be 
impressed by the scene.  But I never dreamed I'd be blown away-- the moment 
I saw the hostess."

She blushed a little, and seemed a little uncomfortable.  I knew why; she 
didn't think she was quite as beautiful as the other girls Sergio hired.  
But it was time to tell her the truth about the evening, the lovely evening 
we'd shared.  I had to hope it wouldn't end it right there.

"My clients were all over the others, I know.  They have conventional 
tastes, are easily wowed by blondes like so many foreigners.  But I saw only 
you.  Over six feet tall, and taller yet in high heels.  Flaming red hair.  
Dramatic brown eyes.  A broad, open smile.  And from there... well, there 
used to be a word for it, statuesque."

Now she was really blushing.  "Or just big boned," she said, a little 
caustically.

"Or just beautiful," I said.  I could have gone on, had it been polite, to 
describe all the other things that attracted me-- large, high breasts which 
jutted out heroically; rounded bubble butt, a little broad and soft by model 
standards, breathtaking to me in tight jeans as she strolled back and forth 
through the restaurant that night, the click of her heels on the hard floor; 
and finally those long, long legs, starting somewhere around my chest, thick 
at the top, coming to a point with her heels.  She wasn't fat, she wasn't 
skinny; she was statuesque, she was full-figured, she was heroic.

"I was taken by you the moment I entered the restaurant.  A woman of such 
strength and size."  I began to stroke her neck, and down the front of her 
blouse where those large bosoms strained against the buttons.  Her breathing 
grew faster.  "The next day I called Sergio.  I just wanted a little 
information--" here she seemed to grow concerned, at my checking up on her-- 
"--because if you were married or in a serious relationship, I would have 
backed off immediately."

I moved closer to her and her leg went on top of mine.  "But then I learned 
that Sergio was overextended and looking for a buyer.  Within a week, I had 
made plans to buy the restaurant.  So you see, I wasn't joking.  I bought it 
to meet you."  I stroked her face and her red lips parted, waiting for me to 
kiss her at last.

"The thing is, though, there's a problem with that."

Again, she looked at me with concern.  I knew that, as much as we had 
enjoyed each other's company tonight, the owner-employer relationship made 
it a delicate situation.  I had to say something to reassure her that 
abusing my position was the farthest thing from my mind.

"The problem is... I'm so unworthy of you."

She stared at me, mystified.  I went on.  "Who am I, to look at a strong and 
beautiful woman and wish to make love to you?  I saw your power at the 
hostess stand, as people tried to scam their way in with phony reservations, 
or get seated near celebrities.  You laughed at their pitiless attempts at 
hipness, their lame lines that meant nothing to you.  You crushed their 
hopes of being admitted to the VIP lounge and squashed them like the bugs 
they are.  Watching you in action, I knew that my hopes of winning you were 
as pathetic as their attempts to get inside, and deserved the same thing 
from you-- to be crushed."

Now her eyes were wide, but a bit of a malice was beginning to creep into 
her smile.  "So you bought the restaurant... and you thought that entitled 
you to go out with me?"

I sank to the floor in front of her, kneeling before one foot, in its 
gleaming black pump.  "Yes, for one mad instant I thought that," I said, the 
toe of the shoe just inches from my face.

She pressed her foot against my chin and pushed me backwards onto the shaggy 
white rug.  She stood up and planted one mighty leg on either side of my 
chest, and put her hands on her hips, towering over me like the imperious 
statue of some ancient goddess, mighty legs disappearing into the inky 
blackness of her skirt, vast breasts jutting out like twin promontories, red 
hair cascading over her shoulders like blood running down a temple of human 
sacrifice.

Then she kicked off one shoe, pressed her bare foot against my cheek, and 
smashed my face against the rug.  I could only watch with one eye as she 
unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the white bra which held back the avalanche 
of her breasts, and then unsnapped it, allowing them to tumble forward from 
their captivity, pink and free.

"You really thought a worm like you was worthy of my body?" she said.

"Yes, yes, I was wrong," I muttered out the side of my mouth, and into her 
foot.

"Very wrong," she said, removing her foot from my face.  "Take off your 
clothes, you miserable wretch."

"Yes, yes, certainly," I said, hurriedly scooting out of my clothes from my 
position on the floor.  My cock was about ready to burst out of its skin, it 
was so hard.

"Is that all there is?" she asked, looking at it.  "Not much of a tribute to 
me.  I have seen so many better-- and harder.  Still," she said, slipping 
her skirt down and showing me, for the first time, the round bubble butt in 
white panties that those two thick and mighty thighs led to.  The panties 
slipped off and above me now stood a patch of flaming red, a fire calling me 
to be consumed.

She turned around and then knelt down over my chest, those mighty thighs 
clasped around either side.  She grabbed my cock roughly and tugged at it, 
then sat down until her ass was right on top of my face.  I dreamed of 
grabbing her thighs, but dared not touch her until she said I could.  
Instead she pulled apart her cheeks and thrust her asshole against my mouth, 
her scratchy fur tickling my chin.  "Service me," she said.

I eagerly stuck my tongue into the wrinkly hole, twisting it around and 
trying to force it in as far as it would go.  A few moments of this and then 
she squeezed my head tightly between her thighs, giving me a brief glimpse 
of the nectar forming in that thicket of red fur.  Releasing me as I started 
to see stars, she stood up again.  "Enough pleasure for you," she said.  
"How should I punish you next?"

"Whatever you do, don't take anything out of that chest next to the couch," 
I said.

"Ahh, I see," she said, walking over to it and bending over, offering me a 
magnificent view of those long, muscular legs and the round, curvy ass atop 
them.  She came up with a purple silicone dildo, ridged in imitation of anal 
beads.  She squirted some lube on the end of it and commanded me, "Turn 
over."

"Yes, yes," I said eagerly, flipping onto my stomach, pressing my cock 
between my stomach and the rug.  With a thud (at least it seemed like it to 
me) she sat down on my legs, that gorgeous round ass pressing down on them 
like two pillows full of lead, and a moment later I felt the dildo enter me, 
each nub opening my ass a little wider as it went deeper and deeper.  Then 
out, blub-blub, puckering and closing my ass with each rounded edge.  As it 
went in a second time she stretched her long legs out toward my head, and 
pressed her bare feet against my face again, squeezing my head between the 
cold, soft flesh on the bottom of each foot.  I licked at the toes as she 
rode my ass, rhythmically.

Now she got up and then I felt the full weight of her plop on top of me, 
dildo still in my ass.  As she fucked me I felt her full, soft breasts 
rising up and down against my back, her muscular thighs pushing against my 
ass as she moved the dildo in and out.  To be trapped under her, my ass 
entirely under her control, the sensation overwhelmed me.  Suddenly she 
stopped again, and roughly flipped me over.  My bent cock sprang back up.  
"It's not looking very good, but I'll see what we have available," she said, 
as she had said to so many customers at the restaurant, and in an instant 
she had lowered herself onto my cock, her fiery red bush consuming it in an 
instant, her round, jutting tits thrusting into my face.  As she rode me the 
dildo started to work its way out again until she reached underneath and 
brusquely shoved it back up to the hilt, a move she repeated several more 
times until, finally, I came within her and she leaned back on my cock, 
sticking her toe in my mouth, and rubbed her clit to her own orgasm.

*  *  *

We were married six weeks later; I run the restaurant, she still works the 
hostess desk, choosing brusquely and cruelly who will be allowed to dine 
here, and who will not.  We maintain Sergio's policy of only hiring gorgeous 
women, and often they seek to get ahead with the boss by giving me a quick 
blowjob in my office or even coming home with us for a threeway.  I know 
that to do so is to misbehave, however, and so whatever happens, I 
immediately confess it to my beautiful wife, knowing that whatever 
punishment awaits me from her statuesque body is more than a miserable worm 
like me could ever deserve.

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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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