Sometime around late winter/early spring, I decided I was going to actively recruit for my group Whispers. It was time to get some fresh blood into the group. We needed new ladies, and we needed new men who could actually perform and take care of the ladies of Nightshade House. A daunting task indeed.
One of the avenues I chose was a Southern New England BBW group located in Connecticut, but drawing a considerable crowd of both men and women from the metro Boston area. A woman of my acquaintance who runs her own group had always had luck recruiting men, at least, from the group. So I bucked up and got ready to be miss Chatty Pants.
Of all my strengths, perhaps my greatest is my ability to communicate effectively both verbally and in writing. Of all my failings, is the the fact that I am wholly intolerant of stupidity and ignorance, and often lack the social grace to just let sleeping dogs lie. So I joined the group, Ample BBW (www.amplebeauties.com/community), a group that I had actually already been a member of for 5 years, and jumped into the chat room. The women were hostile immediately, and the men....well, they wanted some cam and pic time. Mostly. There were on occasion a few men who got into chatting with the hens, and I found them to be engaging, pleasing to the eye from the photographs they posted, and on a couple of occasions, witty.
Once such man, Atlas, did sign up for the group and chat with me a few times. I confess that I wasn't very attentive during those early chats, merely cursory and succinct with my replies and conversation. I didn't hear from him often, and mostly expected him to be a lurker within the group...someone who joins and peeps other people's stuff, but never participates. On the occasion of our May party, I received a text from him letting me know he'd be attending, and driving up from Mass. I was really happy that he was coming up, and I found myself very curious about him, remembering that he'd been one of those witty people. At this stage of my game, interesting is way more attention grabbing than sexual. Our texts held teasing, and a promise of a sharp intellect.
Occasionally, you meet someone where you click instantly. The physical aspect is attractive, the chemistry, and the ability to communicate on the same level all exist simultaneously. It's a powerful aphrodisiac, that combination. Add a certain level of sexual frustration, and a man who shows the promise of ability to sate the need.....you can see how that becomes a bit explosive. Atlas walked through the door, his aura rather pulsing quietly around him, but his eyes..... His eyes were playful, and smiling. His voice held intelligence, humor, and curiosity. He was a bit taken aback by the whole set up of the house, as I gave him a tour. But he held a sense of humor, and he had warmth. I liked trying to shock him, but he would draw me into conversation, and the need to shock gave way to my curiosity about him and his thoughts. I liked making him laugh. He made ME laugh. Oh...and he smelled good. He smelled really, really good.
The reality is that Atlas is a hot guy. He also has the mental capacity to keep my interest, which is a feat unto itself in my world. I would value him, if I couldn't have him sexually, simply for his fantastic conversation. I didn't want to push him into feeling he had to put out that night. As the night wore on, and we huddled more and more into each other, whispering and snickering like two junior highschool kids under the bleachers, my attraction to him grew. Lilith had perked up her head to see who this new tasty treat was, and was quickly assessing him on a purely primal level. She wanted to lick him in long, slow strokes not only just to taste him, but to mark her territory. And amazingly, he wasn't asking me to share, wasn't trying to dip into every woman at the party. He was quietly and patiently waiting for it to be over so that he could take me, just the two of us, to bed.
I was wicked nervous. He was so sure of himself, running his hands over me in slow easy strokes, gentling me like a skittish hawk. He did all those things that made my breath catch in my throat. Not just orgasm creating things....no, he did huggy lovey snuggly things. I became not just the ravenous beast that I have been over the last year. Lilith was hesitant, altogether unsure of how to respond to such a potent touch. His breath on my neck, his kiss sipping at my mouth, his hands caressing and holding my breasts like treasures. It demanded MY response to him, not simply that of my mindless, insistent, demanding beast. With all those patient and gentle things he did to me, he mastered me more thoroughly in one night than most men have in years. He shattered me with orgasms, made me squirt for him repeatedly. He used my mouth for his pleasure, all the while keeping me foremost in my own mind. He held me like I mattered to him. Like he would tuck me along side him and keep me safe and cherished. He was in my head, in my body, and his delicious, beautiful scent wrapped me like a warm blanket.
But hey, wait. This is supposed to be a casual encounter, right? WTF??
I left in the wee hours of the morning struggling not to say anything ludicrous or inappropriate. My innards screamed that he was "home", and leaving him felt so very wrong. My head said "What the hell just happened here?". I walked to my car looking at the mist rising over the river. I drove home a wreck, crawled into bed at 5 am, and passed out vowing to myself to just let it be. Parties and people happen, and I should stop over-analyzing and just let a dog be a dog. True?
I couldn't stop thinking about him. He texted me, and one text became two, then three, then more than I could count in a day, a week, or two, or three weeks. Every day I became more and more accustomed to having him "In my pocket" for the day. Each of us greeting each other in the morning, checking in several times during the day, and saying goodnite before we slept. Every day. Every. Day. He crept, more and more, into my head with his observations, his cool logic, his humor, and his caring. Conversations occasionally veered towards "What are we doing here?" and quickly strayed again. I realized I was developing a problem where Atlas was concerned....because I no longer knew where the line was when it concerned him. More of a problem than not knowing where the damn line was, was a dawning realization that I didn't care to really know either.
I liked him. Now what?
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