Turned Out! (BBW Erotic Romance) by Lexy Harper Page B

have a condom?” she asked
    “Yes,” he replied and quickly pulled one from his pocket and capped me.
    Bending her over in front of him, he plunged me inside her with one stroke.
    Her pussy was wet but tight.
    “Aah!  Aa-ah!  Easy!” she moaned, but Bryce kept hold of her hips and kept banging away.
    It’s the one thing I hate about him.  If he pulls a skinny woman, he treats her like glass—lots of foreplay and kisses and tender lovemaking.  Whenever he pulls a big woman it’s like he wants to punish her for being fat—little or no foreplay, a kiss or two only if she insists, and rough sex.
    But she was tight.  I couldn’t hold out for long.  Soon I was shooting into the condom and imagining it was into her warm, dark depths.
    “Are you hungry?” she asked as Bryce zipped up his flies and prepared to leave.  “I’ve got some chicken breasts marinating for tomorrow.  I can throw them under the grill or pan-fry them.  They’ll be ready in less than half an hour.”
    There is nothing Bryce loved more than breast.  Women’s breasts, chicken breasts, he loved them almost equally.
    “Actually, I’m a bit peckish,” he admitted and bent to take off his shoes.  He would have probably kept them on, and retained the vital two inches of height, if her carpet wasn’t a lush, thick cream or her doormat didn’t specifically say, ‘Shoes Off, Please’.
    Her place was banging, almost like a man’s crib with tons of high-tech electronic equipment.  It was clear that she’d bought them for their performance and not their prettiness as most women do.  She had an eighty-five inch Samsung HD TV that Bryce knew had set back more than he earned in a year, the Bowers & Wilkins Zeppelin Loudspeaker System for iPod that he wanted badly and Xbox One.
    I knew right away that Bryce was going to come back to her pad again, if only to enjoy her toys.
    “I’ve got full satellite subscription, if there’s anything you want to watch,” she said, pointing to the TV.
    “Thanks.”  Bryce looked around with envy.  “You’ve got a nice place here.”
    Lorna shrugged.  “My parents left me the house when they moved back to Grenada.  I’ve spent quite a bit on it over the last eighteen months and finally it’s coming together.  I just need my snooker table now and I’m done.”
    Snooker table?  Bryce would give a lung to have one he could play on whenever he wanted.
    “What do you do for a living?”  He asked the question as though he thought she was a jewel thief or a hooker.
    “I’m a lawyer at Lovells,” she told him as she headed to the kitchen.  “Have a look around while I put on the chicken breasts.”
    Bryce stood in shock where she’d left him.  Working for the sixth biggest law firm in the UK?  She was living his dream.
    He had left University College of London clutching his Upper Second degree in Law optimistically, but had soon realized that he had only just started the journey to being a lawyer.  Things had gotten progressively tougher from then onwards.  Last year he had given up in defeat and taken an administrative job with Lambeth Council after he had failed to get a training contract with any of the hundreds of law firms he had applied to.
    He heard the hiss as Lorna placed the chicken breasts onto a hot griddle or pan, and instantly the smell of herbs drifted into the room.  Minutes later she came back into the room with a chilled bottle of champagne.
    “Don’t worry about getting drunk,” she told him.  “I have a spare bedroom.  Well, I have two, but I’m using one as a gym.”
    I admired Bryce for keeping his big mouth shut for once and not asking her how often she used it.  At a glance I would say never, but then he hadn’t been to a gym lately himself and was becoming decidedly podgy.  It would have been the classic pot calling the kettle black.  He took the champagne and popped it with an almighty bang.  It was the expensive stuff and he gave a sigh of