Bigger Is Better: Crazy in Love (2 page)

    
Now don’t get me wrong. Cheating is cheating. But only a big girl can understand the agonizing pain that occurs when the man that said he loves you so much goes and has an affair with a skinny girl. I let my guard down for him because I thought I could trust him.

    
He did the very thing I was most afraid of but worst.
He cheated on me with a skinny girl— and got her pregnant.

    
My greatest fear came true.

     I have come a long way in the confidence sector
. I am more secure than I used to be. But there are those insecurities that creep up on me— especially when it comes to dating and relationships.

    Unless you are a big girl or have been a big girl, you will never know the struggles we face on a daily basis.

     I gave so much of myself to my first love and he hurt me beyond recognition.

    
Because of what occurred between Brent and me, I haven’t been able to let another man in. My heart just can’t take another blow like that.

     We haven’t
spoken to each other since the night of our graduation— the night that changed my outlook on love.

    
There were no calls, no texts, no emails, Facebook messages, or direct messages on Twitter.

    
There was absolutely no communication between us— nothing zilch nada.

Chapter Two

Rock
-star Bad Boy Is
Still
No Good

    
“Brent-t-t-t, let’s get this show on the road!” Emily yells once more bringing me back from my agonizing memory.  

     Brent enters into the room. He flashes an enigmatic smile at me.
The same smile that used to make my heart flutter. Now, it just makes my heart ache tremendously.

    
I instantly feel uncomfortable. But being the consummate professional, I remove my recorder and notebook from my purse and prepare for the interview. I shoot off the questions my editor-in-chief told me to ask for the article titled, “Rock-star Love Song Plays On”.

    
This is Brent and Emily’s four year wedding anniversary. The town practically goes ape shit over the big shindig Emily throws to celebrate her and Brent’s seemingly perfect ultra-fabulous rock-star marriage.

     T
he half an hour interview seemed like an eternity but I am finally done. Emily races out of the parlor to her Porsche. I see her frantically pull out of the circular driveway to meet with her party planner, who is in an uproar over ten thousand red roses being shipped instead of the hot pink roses Emily requested.

     Now there is only Brent
and me in the room. I hurry to put my recorder and notebook in my purse. I stand and start to leave the parlor, when Brent gently takes me by the hand.

     “Is that all you needed? I would love to show you around the estate.” He says with his alluring gray eyes piercing through me.

    
He is just as handsome as he was in high school. As much as I wish he looked worse, I actually think the asshole looks better.

     H
e is a dirty blond Adonis. He doesn’t have on a shirt—
he probably did that on purpose.
His chiseled chest and bulging muscles are taut and defined. His bronzed skin is silky smooth. He has a mustache with a connecting beard that makes him look much more mature and gives him a rugged look. The 501 denim Levi’s is a sight to behold showcasing his tight ass— damn his nice firm tight ass. There isn’t one imperfection that the naked eye can see.

   
“Yes, that is all I needed. I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I am sure you have lots to do.” I reply with a wry smile.

    
“Actually I don’t really. Let me show you around.”

He tells me
leading me by the hand not really giving me

a
chance to say no to his home tour.

    
As we pass by a gigantic floor to ceiling mirror, I quickly check myself out to ensure that I look flawless. Thankfully, everything is still intact. My makeup is holding up, my tits are sitting up sky high and the dress is accenting my curves perfectly.

     Brent looks back and catches me looking in the mirror.

     “Would you like to view yourself more closely?” He jokes then we walk towards the ornate mirror.

     “
No, I am fine.” I smile nervously. For some reason, it is hard to contain myself around my first love. I utilize the moment to take the chance to check my appearance more intensely.

     “
Yes, you surely are. You are perfect.” Brent says in a sensual tone standing watching me keenly. He is so close that I can feel his hard cock pressed on my plump ass. His cologne is intoxicating as it invades my nostrils. His reflection reveals him eyeing my every curve.

    
For a moment, we lock eyes in the mirror. I try my best to look away but something in me won’t let me.

     “I just want you to know that I never stopped thinking about you.” Brent whispers
with deep eroticism in my ear pulling me closer into him.

    
He squeezes my waist tight with his brawny arms encapsulating me in his warm embrace. I pull away a little, but he brings me closer to him.

    
He holds me tighter.

    
It is almost as if he is letting me know he is in full control.

    
His masculine fingers trace the flesh of my exposed back. I feel his soft supple lips lining my back with tender kisses. My heartbeat starts to pulsate at a rapid speed.

    
A part of me is afraid of getting caught. The other part of me is kind of turned on by it.

    
I don’t know what has taken over me.

    
I wrap my left arm around his shoulder and rub my fingertips across the back of his neck by his hairline. He slowly tugs the front of my dress. My black satin and lace bra is now fully visible. He then releases my right breast from the confines of my bra. He never takes his eyes off of me in the mirror as he squeezes my right nipple and rubs his hands up and down my thigh.

     “Don’t take your eyes off of me.”
Brent states with sensual authority.

     He starts to kiss my neck.
His kisses are precise and ever so skillful.

    
There is no doubt that he has perfected this arousing talent. His full lips hit all the right spots.

    
The moisture of his tongue is electrifying. He places his left leg between mine, moving it from side to side spreading mine legs farther apart. He lifts my dress up more and I feel his fingers brush against the hairs on my yearning pussy. Then his left hand starts to tease my hard clitoris. I try my best not to come. I try to squeeze my legs back together but he pushes his fingers deeper inside my throbbing pussy. I swallow hard doing my best to compose myself. But instantly a creamy eruption fills my panties and I feel myself losing all self-control. I let out a sensuous moan.

     “
My
pussy still gets super wet I see.” Brent announces with a smirk flashing his pearly whites. Afterwards, he commences to nibbling on my neck as if he is Dracula.

    
A titillating chill goes up my spine.

    
I know this is wrong.

    
It is oh so wrong— but hell why does it feel so right.

     Brent is like a
Krispy Kreme donut fresh out of the oven. Hot, scrumptious and you know that they are no damn good for you, but you can’t stop yourself from enjoying the tantalizing indulgence.

    
Suddenly, the doorbell rings.

    
Brent releases me from his grasp. I come back to my

senses
. I bolt out of there as Brent signs for a package.

Brent calls out my name but I don’t look back. I just

keep going to my truck.

    
Whatever game he is playing, I don’t want to play.

    
Did he think that he would just whisper some sweet nothings in my ear and I would instantly pull my panties
completely off
and fuck him in the foyer? If he did, he was sadly mistaken.

     I am not that innocent, naïve teenage girl anymore.

     I am not a home wrecker either.

    
As much as I would love to pay Emily back, I know that there is nothing to gain from fucking her husband.

     “
The things we could’ve done if I would’ve stayed.” I ponder to myself. However, at the end of the day, I would be the only one to get hurt— again.

     I hop in the truck not giving a damn about if I am looking graceful or not.

     I speed out of Kline Manor estates.

    
Seeing my ex has done one unexpected thing— make me appreciate how strong I have become.

    
If that would’ve been four years ago— I probably

would
still be in Kline Manor screaming out Brent’s name as he fucked me sideways!

Chapter
Three

Heartache and Hard Liquor

    
“Home Sweet Home.” I state full of joy.

    
Today has been one long day. After the interview, I had to go straight to work at Ruby’s Diner, where I work as a waitress.

    
The whole drive home from work, all I could think about was Brent. 

    
I can’t believe he had the audacity to seduce me, when he knows that he is a married man. Shit he almost fully broke me. Thankfully, I got out of there when I did. I am not one of those dumb groupie bimbos. I know better than to think that meant anything to him—
that I mean anything to him.
It was so good relishing the touch of my first love though, but that will never happen again.

    
Isn’t it ironic, the romance columnist who is doing a four page write-up about rock-star marital bliss, is kissed and caressed desirously by the rock-star.

    
Before I went to do the interview, having an interaction like that with Brent was the last thing that I suspected to happen. If anything, I thought that I would be running out of there after slapping Brent or his wife into the neighboring county. I never imagined running out of his home to keep him from luring me into his bedroom.

     I am quite surprised that he even hit on me. From the magazines, television interviews and their reality show—
yes Brent and Emily had a reality show,
you would think that he worshipped the ground that she walked on. Emily even stated in an interview they had as a couple, that she knows her husband would never cheat on her because “she keeps him v
ery
satisfied”. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other throughout the whole interview.

    
I should’ve known the display of genuine affection they exhibited in front of the cameras was just an act.

    
Once a dog, always a dog and Brent is one of the biggest mutts on this side of the Mason Dixon line. 

     I am in desperate need of a cool shower. I remove my uniform and enter my bathroom. I step inside the shower. I turn the knob
around so that the showerhead is on the massage setting. The shower beads feel heavenly as the droplets of water trickles down my body.

    I start to think about Brent
again
.

    How he looked. How he smelled. How he felt.
He felt so good
near me caressing my body.

    Even though I am in the shower, I feel my wetness filling up between my
thick sun-kissed thighs.

    
A vivid mental image of Brent’s sickeningly good looking face and perfect muscular body consumes my thoughts.

    
Dripping wet, I step out of the shower and retrieve my handy dandy vibrator from the cabinet in the back of my bathroom’s vanity.

     A girl has got to relieve her sexual frustration some

way. And boy oh boy is the vibrator less headache and

trouble
. I get the pleasure without the stress that comes with a real fucking penis!

     I enter the shower once more. This time I turn the heat up on the shower. The bathroom
quickly is engulfed in steam. I become super horny at the thought of Brent inside of my precious flower. I place one of my legs up on the edge of the bathtub giving myself more access to my soaking wet hole.

    
I start envisioning Brent with his flawless body on top of me. He is staring me right in the eyes. His enormous cock teasing the yearning lips between my thighs as he strokes his pink bulbous up and down.

    
Then I imagine it is him parting me as I slide the vibrator in my drenching wet hole. I pull it up and down and in and out stroking my sweet walls as the cream of my orgasm starts to emerge more.

    
Pure bliss takes possession of me.

    
“Oh my God!”
I moan intensely trying to keep my balance and maintain this good feeling between my legs.

     I turn up the speed and push the vibrator deeper inside of me reaching my G-spot. The fantasy of
Brent’s cock penetrating me in a way I never experienced has me trembling in ecstasy. I move my hand faster and faster. I feel a self-induced orgasm rip through my body.

    
I scream out in pure pleasure as I reach my climax.

    
I catch my breath. I slide the vibrator out of me and

I wash myself off, ensuring that I clean my own come

off of me thoroughly.

     I get out of the shower and dry my body off. I wrap the towel around me. I enter my spacious bedroom in this huge two story home, where I live all alone that my grandmother left me when she died.

     I stand in front of the mirror and remove the towel. I survey my body and a million thoughts start to occupy my mind.

     “Would things have been different if I was smaller like Emily? Would I be the one l
iving the rock-star lifestyle, instead of working day and night to make ends meet? Would I be the wife and mother of Brent’s son if I wasn’t a big girl?” I question myself moving my hands over my round wide hips and humungous tits.

     I know this self-loathing session isn’t good for me mentally, emotionally, physically or
spiritually. But I can’t help but wonder if I weighed less, if I would’ve been the one he promised to have and to hold for life, instead of the girl he just wants to fuck one day or night.

     Just the thought of Emily and Brent’s anniversary celebration, that is approaching
is disconcerting.

    
Honestly, it is has been bothering me all day.  I hated that I had to do that interview.
If I didn’t, it could’ve cost me my job. Besides, the position at the Millard Gazette providing a steady paycheck, it allows me to work around my school schedule and also do the one thing I love most— write.

    
Ever since I was a child, I have wanted to be an

author
— a romance author to be exact. When I graduated high school, I had plans of moving to the Big Apple to attend college, but what I really wanted to do was live the life like Carrie Bradshaw, one of the characters of my favorite show, “Sex and The City.”

    
Scintillating sex, the big city
and writing
—
that was and still is my ultimate dream.

    
I constantly dream of ditching this small southern town. Millard is a far cry from bright lights big city. You would think being smack dead in the middle of the highly notable Atlanta, Georgia and Savannah, Georgia it would have some action. Nevertheless, I think we missed the memo on having a popping nightlife. Millard is the city you ride through to get to the city that has tons of fun activities to do, numerous dining options and an exciting nightlife.

   
I walk over to my dresser to retrieve a negligée. Pretty night attire always makes me feel sexy— too bad I don’t have anyone to wear it for.

     I glance
at the clock on my bedroom wall that reads, 11:54pm.

     I head to the kitchen. I know just how to get out of this sulky mood.

     Tonight, I intend on spending some quality time with a man that has never let me down. My trusty old pal Jack Daniel’s. I swear I don’t know what I would do without him and his smooth whiskey in times like this.

    I
get a glass out of my pine kitchen cabinets and place it on my granite countertop. I add a little Coca Cola to the whiskey and drop some ice cubes into the glass. I shake the glass up mixing the whiskey and cola to dilute the strong taste of the alcoholic beverage. The drink is so cold that you can see the condensation surrounding the glass. The cold drink offers a relief not just from the summer heat. It also offers relief from the pain I am trying so desperately hard to drown with the spiked concoction.  

     I swear as soon as I finish get
ting my bachelor’s degree I am out of here. The only people that I have are my two best friends Taryn and Casha. I know that they will always come and visit me once I move to New York City so there is really nothing or no one keeping me here once I am done with my college studies.

     I have lived in Millard all my life. I am ready to experience different cultures, meet new people and
just live life to the fullest.

    
One thing I despise about living in a small town is
everyone knows just about everybody’s personal business which I hate!
   

    
Really before you step one foot out of your front door in the morning, your next door neighbor is able to tell you what happened with someone you know before the person actually has the chance to call and tell you.

     I find that kind of ironic since I work for the local newspaper
. However, I always seem to be the last one to know what is happening in this little town in regards to current events and juicy gossip.

    
Luckily, I have my writing, college and countless

jobs
to keep me occupied because I would probably be

like
those nosy old housewives who can’t tend to their own business if it killed them.

    
The funny thing is while they are so busy meddling in the personal affairs of others, most of their own lives is in utter disarray. I know a few of them who husbands are seen down at Paradise, the local strip club, five out of the seven days of the week. While there isn’t anything wrong with a married man going to the strip club, I think having a stripper girlfriend while married is far from right.

     Then, there are the unrelenting questions of, “When are you going to get married and have some kids? When are you going to get a steady job with some benefits? When are you going to finish those books that you have been writing?” In a weird way, I have become so accustom to the constant badgering and interrogations that my brain automatically starts to tune the person out while answeri
ng them with my stock responses. Without fail I retort, “When I find a man worthy of my love whom I can procreate with and have beautiful offspring’s. When I find one that is willing to accommodate my school hours and pay me more than the state’s minimum wage. Last but not least, when you stop asking me all these damn questions.” I think to myself. However, being the supreme southern belle I reply, when my muse guides me to completion and I type those final two words The End”.

     This city really isn’t all that bad but it just too small

for a girl like me with big dreams. I know that when those same people ask me the same questions over and over again they mean well. 

    
The repetition is just a painful reminder of the things I work so hard to attain that I don’t yet have, which is a successful career as a writer and what I desire most, true love.

     I take one last gulp of the contents within my glass.
I usually don’t drink during the week. It is only Tuesday. I have to get up at 5am in the morning to drive to Atlanta to be in my morning class on time. On top of that I have to work tomorrow evening at the diner and I still have some questions to respond to for my weekly column, “Love Notes” where I answer sex and relationship questions.

   
I look over at the Jack Daniel’s bottle contemplating if I should get one more sip or not.

    
“Oh hell, after what I have experienced today.
I am finishing the whole bottle!”
I declare just before grabbing the bottle and guzzling the strong liquor down my throat.