focused on his body, not hers. So what if she’s often left high and dry orgasm-wise? Better than enduring critical eyes comparing her body to slimmer, prettier, fitter women. She waits until her partner’s asleep and then her hands slip south to bring herself off. Natalie’s mastered the art of the silent orgasm, enjoying her release as the man of the moment snores beside her.
None of that crap applies to Mark. From the start, he refuses to allow her to turn off the lights, insisting on undressing her, apparently savouring all the parts of her body she loathes.
‘Always loved women with curves.’ His words caress her every bit as much as his hands and more often than not when they make love, she sees herself as he does. Every time they’re in bed, Mark tells her she’s sexy, desirable, beautiful. He strokes her as if it’s a privilege; he closes his eyes as his tongue slides over her skin, her flesh a ripe peach for him to savour.
Their sex life isn’t without issues, however. Natalie’s hang-ups run too deep for her to accept unquestioningly Mark’s appreciation of her body. For her, something more sinister than loathing of her flaws has drained her sexual confidence.
A familiar voice sounds in her head.
‘Frigging fat bitch.’
Words Natalie would give pretty much anything she owns to scrub from her brain, but nothing will ever erase a scar burned so deeply into her psyche. Before she first sleeps with Mark, she consoles herself by remembering her shame’s a private thing, known only to her. She prays her secret humiliation won’t intrude into their sex life, but with hindsight, she realises she’s been naïve in that respect.
She casts her mind back to when she’s in bed with Mark for the first time. They’ve just made love, and since then the afterglow has pretty much reduced them to a comfortable stupor. Natalie’s curled against Mark’s chest, boneless with relaxation, savouring her surprise at how good her new boyfriend is at sex. At last, a man who arouses her brain before her body, a stark contrast to all who have gone, and come, previously in her bed. No worries about stretch marks or wobbly bits; Natalie’s now viewing herself through Mark’s eyes. For once, she’s a beautiful, sexy woman, with a ripe, fleshy, luxuriant body.
Her illusion lasts until Mark attempts to initiate sex for a second time. Lust steals over his face as he gazes down at her. She’s not thinking about the voice in her head, biding its time before snaking out to ruin what they’re creating between them. All she’s conscious of is how her desire rises to match his, how she needs them to fuck again, now, quickly, urgently. His hands slide over her. Before she realises what he’s doing, he turns her onto her stomach. Then his cock presses against her arse cheeks, seeking her cunt from behind. Her sexual hunger deflates like a prick in an ice bucket.
To be replaced by the voice in her head.
‘Frigging fat bitch.’
Along with the memory of other hands, another body. The pain of those words cuts deep, despite the fact it’s been so many years since they first carved their way into her.
Mark’s unaware of all this, of course. She’s never told anyone, not ever.
Natalie twists round, pushing him away with all the force she’s able to muster. Shock registers in Mark’s expression on seeing the rejection in her face, the way her mouth is set as tight as a clam.
‘What’s wrong, Nat?’ She clocks the mixture of hurt and surprise in his tone but she’s too intent on shoving the memory down deep, where it can’t soil the moment anymore. She shakes her head, unable to speak.
‘I didn’t mean…’ Mark’s clearly unsure how he’s managed to fuck things up. ‘Doggy-style’s not to everyone’s taste, I suppose. Or did you think I wanted…’ He gropes for the right words, ones to placate rather than provoke. ‘Well, you know.’ His face flushes a faint pink. ‘Anal sex. Wasn’t going for that, I
None of that crap applies to Mark. From the start, he refuses to allow her to turn off the lights, insisting on undressing her, apparently savouring all the parts of her body she loathes.
‘Always loved women with curves.’ His words caress her every bit as much as his hands and more often than not when they make love, she sees herself as he does. Every time they’re in bed, Mark tells her she’s sexy, desirable, beautiful. He strokes her as if it’s a privilege; he closes his eyes as his tongue slides over her skin, her flesh a ripe peach for him to savour.
Their sex life isn’t without issues, however. Natalie’s hang-ups run too deep for her to accept unquestioningly Mark’s appreciation of her body. For her, something more sinister than loathing of her flaws has drained her sexual confidence.
A familiar voice sounds in her head.
‘Frigging fat bitch.’
Words Natalie would give pretty much anything she owns to scrub from her brain, but nothing will ever erase a scar burned so deeply into her psyche. Before she first sleeps with Mark, she consoles herself by remembering her shame’s a private thing, known only to her. She prays her secret humiliation won’t intrude into their sex life, but with hindsight, she realises she’s been naïve in that respect.
She casts her mind back to when she’s in bed with Mark for the first time. They’ve just made love, and since then the afterglow has pretty much reduced them to a comfortable stupor. Natalie’s curled against Mark’s chest, boneless with relaxation, savouring her surprise at how good her new boyfriend is at sex. At last, a man who arouses her brain before her body, a stark contrast to all who have gone, and come, previously in her bed. No worries about stretch marks or wobbly bits; Natalie’s now viewing herself through Mark’s eyes. For once, she’s a beautiful, sexy woman, with a ripe, fleshy, luxuriant body.
Her illusion lasts until Mark attempts to initiate sex for a second time. Lust steals over his face as he gazes down at her. She’s not thinking about the voice in her head, biding its time before snaking out to ruin what they’re creating between them. All she’s conscious of is how her desire rises to match his, how she needs them to fuck again, now, quickly, urgently. His hands slide over her. Before she realises what he’s doing, he turns her onto her stomach. Then his cock presses against her arse cheeks, seeking her cunt from behind. Her sexual hunger deflates like a prick in an ice bucket.
To be replaced by the voice in her head.
‘Frigging fat bitch.’
Along with the memory of other hands, another body. The pain of those words cuts deep, despite the fact it’s been so many years since they first carved their way into her.
Mark’s unaware of all this, of course. She’s never told anyone, not ever.
Natalie twists round, pushing him away with all the force she’s able to muster. Shock registers in Mark’s expression on seeing the rejection in her face, the way her mouth is set as tight as a clam.
‘What’s wrong, Nat?’ She clocks the mixture of hurt and surprise in his tone but she’s too intent on shoving the memory down deep, where it can’t soil the moment anymore. She shakes her head, unable to speak.
‘I didn’t mean…’ Mark’s clearly unsure how he’s managed to fuck things up. ‘Doggy-style’s not to everyone’s taste, I suppose. Or did you think I wanted…’ He gropes for the right words, ones to placate rather than provoke. ‘Well, you know.’ His face flushes a faint pink. ‘Anal sex. Wasn’t going for that, I
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