(Automated translation from German.)
The days were getting shorter and shorter, the year was slowly but surely drawing to a close, and Martina often felt lonely. After she had been separated from her husband Hannes for some time and their 19-year-old son had moved out, she often spent the evenings and weekends alone. Of course, she occasionally met up with her best friend from the village. But by now she was longing for affection, love, closeness again. It felt like 10 years had passed since she had last received this from her then husband. Whereby, what does felt mean, she thought to herself. It HAD been more than ten years since she had last been with someone and intimate. Her ex had become less and less attracted to her over the last few years of their marriage. Reasons may have been many, just as in other long-term relationships and marriages. But she had to admit to herself that she had “come apart” quite a bit, figure-wise, after giving birth and over time. She had never been slim, but always expansively feminine with very voluptuous womanly curves. But during the marriage, routine had crept in, she had stayed home and taken care of the son while her ex had worked. Sports had never been her thing and culinary pleasures, on the other hand, she had always been inclined to. The 200 lbs mark was soon cracked, and Hannes had obviously had less and less desire for her. At the same time, he had let her feel more and more often that her femininity was just too much for him. While she had stayed at home and put on even more weight out of frustration, Hannes had flirted with a colleague at work, so that first the separation and finally the divorce had followed. He had moved in with his new girlfriend, and Martina stayed in their formerly shared house in the Bavarian province. Now she was 52 years old, had been alone for many years and the weight of 200 lbs at that time sounded like a promise from better times from today’s perspective, because the last time she went to the scales, the display was just short of 280 lbs. And that at a height of only 5 ft 0. Her formerly very feminine curves had turned into a rather shapeless body with a big butt, a fat belly and a full-grown macromastia of her breasts. Thighs, hips and breasts were littered with cellulite, dents and stretch marks. Sure, she still had a pretty girlish face, the former sparkle in her eyes could still be glimpsed. But when she looked at herself in the mirror, which she tried to avoid, she saw a very fat woman whose massive pendulous breasts rested on her belly and reached almost to her navel. When standing, her nipples pointed steeply downward, and when Martina leaned forward, her breasts hung almost to the floor. At best, she felt herself still halfway respectable with a bra. But she usually only wore the skin-colored granny model in size 46JJ when she went shopping, when her son came to visit, or when she met up with her girlfriend. Otherwise, she preferred to throw on just a loose cotton dress as the only piece of clothing after getting up. In her younger years she had done nudism at the lake, but that was long gone. But she still enjoyed the feeling of wearing as little fabric on her body as possible. So she spent her everyday life mostly alone in the house and in the garden, which she had still used for extensive sunbathing over the summer and in the last warm weeks. But the more time passed, the more she felt that she wanted to feel like a woman again. Maybe feel a tingle in her belly again, spend casual hours with a man who desired her and who took an extraordinary amount of time for her body and soul. After her ex had increasingly spurned her and her curves, and she hadn’t been touched by a man in many years, she would enjoy it all the more if someone would take on her natural and sprawling femininity. She wouldn’t mind meeting a younger man who wanted to have his way with her plump body and enormous breasts without shame. After the renunciation of the past years, she was ready to put all her feminine pounds on the line. Martina knew she wanted to make a change. She just didn’t know exactly how yet.
Tim was enjoying the end of his semester break. After he had finished the exams of the previous semester of his computer science studies, he had spent a few weeks with his parents in Taunus. Now it was less than two weeks until the start of the new semester, and he had returned to the Franconian city where he attended university. His two roommates, with whom he lived in the shared apartment, had not yet returned. They were probably still in their respective homes with friends and family. Tim was enjoying the time he had to himself after all the hustle and bustle of the past weeks and months, and before university life would start again shortly. He liked being by himself, he needed this time away from other people. On the other hand, he was still missing something. A girlfriend? Or just sex? In general, the subject of sex. That was a delicate matter. He was definitely not unattractive. Tall, a bit lanky, almost athletic looking (without really doing any sports), blond hair, boyish face. But with the women it had never worked out so really well so far. Of course, he had had girlfriends at school, they had fumbled and even made a few awkward attempts at sex. But due to his somewhat reserved nature, it had never been the case that women had flown to him. At least that’s how he felt. Maybe he was more of a “nerd” than he would have liked. Not on the outside, but in terms of his personality. He had always had an easier time with algorithms than with interpersonal things. His fantasies increasingly revolved around mature women who could take him by the hand and teach him something. In front of whom he didn’t have to be ashamed of his relative inexperience, who were patient with him and didn’t pressure him. His thoughts were not so much about the sexual act itself, that rather made him uncomfortable. Rather, he wanted a motherly woman, teacher type, who would let him explore her body. Tim thought less about a partnership than about occasional tender hours. Would he be able to meet such a woman? Certainly not in his everyday life at university, where there were hardly any women his age. Of course, there were courses of study such as biology or social pedagogy, in which women were far in the majority. But he had hardly any contact with them, and anyway he wanted something else. He had also caught himself searching the Internet in relevant classified ads for mature women who would let men share their experiences for “pocket money.” He often read about “amateur women”, “housewives”, “hobby whores”. But if he was honest with himself, he could not imagine exchanging money for tenderness. He wasn’t that desperate yet. But maybe he should take action himself. He had time right now and nothing better to do, no one was bothering him, so what could he do? Tim sat down at his laptop and headed for the classifieds site on the Internet that he had visited earlier. In addition to all sorts of categories for material things like “cars”, “technology”, “books”, etc., there were also ones for “getting to know each other”, “eroticism” and “fetish”. Well, he didn’t consider his desire a fetish, and the erotic ads were mainly filled with the pocket money fraction of women. So “getting to know” … “He seeks her?” Why not, he thought to himself. He didn’t have to pretend to be looking for love. Tim began to formulate a text in his mind. However, he kept getting bogged down and starting all over again. It wasn’t going to work out that way. He would make nails with heads and simply type an advertisement. He registered on the website, which didn’t require much more than an email address, a password, and a username. What kind of username would make sense? Did it even matter? “HeEagerToLearn” came to Tim’s mind. It didn’t sound very creative or convincing, but so what? If necessary, he would simply create a new profile later if he was no longer satisfied with a current username. After registering and confirming his e-mail address, Tim clicked on “Create free ad”, selected “Get to know each other” as the top category, and then “He’s looking for her”. Then it was time for the headline. It should be eye-catching, arouse curiosity, but also not deter. He decided on the title “Young man seeks experienced woman for tender hours”. Not bad for a first attempt, he thought. He took a good half hour to write the actual ad, tweaking one or two phrases. When he was reasonably satisfied, he selected “30 – 40 years” and “40 – 50 years” as the age range and chose his university city as the location for the area search. Tim hesitated for a few seconds, skimmed the page again, and then courageously clicked on “Submit. The confirmation promptly appeared: “Thank you for your ad. It is currently being reviewed and will be released as soon as possible. For more attention, they can highlight the ad for 5 credits.” Very well, thought Tim. Let’s wait and see what comes up. Or if at all. He didn’t have high hopes, but it was worth the try. And he would save the paid highlighting for when he got no response at all. The rest of the evening was spent watching YouTube and browsing various forums that were mostly about technical topics. When the clock already showed half past twelve in the night, Tim decided to go to sleep. And as he lay in bed in his almost deserted shared apartment, he imagined what kind of woman would hopefully respond to his personal ad. He imagined a woman in her late 40s named Carola, medium-length dark blond hair, slim figure, firm medium-sized breasts, solarium-tanned skin … He let his thoughts circle, he felt a slight excitement in his shorts and soon fell asleep with this idea, which was to continue in his dream.
It had been almost a week since Tim had placed the ad on the Internet. In fact, the next morning after registering, he found an e-mail confirmation that his ad had been approved. That was it for now in terms of positive things. Using the counter in his classifieds account, he was able to track how many times his ad had already been called up. It was a medium two-digit number. Two messages had also arrived in the account’s mailbox. The sender of the first message was a young woman who wanted to sell photos and worn underwear for a profit. He ignored that. In the second message a man about his age wrote to him and inquired whether he had already had success with his efforts. Tim replied in a friendly but terse manner that he had only recently started advertising and had not yet received any responses. After a minute of consideration, he decided to block the sender. He didn’t feel like asking questions or discussing his dating strategy. If one could speak of a strategy at all. Despite the fact that every incoming message was accompanied by an e-mail message, Tim left the website open in his browser and refreshed it occasionally so that he wouldn’t miss it if a woman actually wrote to him. It was late afternoon, autumnal gloom outside, and the weekend was just around the corner. His roommates probably wouldn’t arrive until next week Saturday or Sunday, just before classes resumed for the new semester. He clicked through his forums and reflexively landed on his ads inbox. He was about to refresh the page when he noticed a new unread message, highlighted in bold type. He didn’t click the reload button, instead he hovered his mouse cursor over the message. The sender was “MakroMartina1963” and the title was simply “Hello”. Nothing else. As featureless as it was, it made him curious about the contents. He clicked on it, the view changed to the message text, and Tim began to read.
I don’t know how this works and hope you get my message …. This is my first time doing something like this.
When I was looking for personals on the internet I came across yours several times. So I registered here and try to write to you now.
I am 52 years old, housewife, divorced and alone for some time. I would like some variety and closeness, gladly from a younger man. Maybe I am too old for you, but you can not say more than no. You seem to live not too far away. I do not like to drive, but I have a house for myself at the edge of the forest and I am visitable. I was attracted by the fact that tenderness is important to you and that you are not only looking for the quick number. I would like to feel desired again as a woman. I say right away that I am fat. But not ugly and very much a woman. I want someone who lets me feel this regularly and extensively.
That you are inexperienced, I do not mind. If you like to get involved with me, I am ready to introduce you to everything.
I would be happy to read from you.
Tim read the message a second and a third time. It didn’t look like the usual spam or scam. It seemed to be a real person who had actually read his ad and made an effort with the message. He felt a tinge of enthusiasm, but also belly tingles and doubts. Was what he was about to do right? Would he be able to get involved in something like this, or should he not rather look for a girlfriend like others his age? And anyway … he didn’t really have a special preference for chubby or even fat women. Age would still be okay, as long as this Martina was well-groomed and had a pretty face. He looked to see if a photo had been sent with the message. Missing. Whereby, also he had attached no photo of itself to its announcement. He wanted to remain unrecognized to avoid unpleasant surprises with his fellow students. So Tim could only guess what the attributes “fat”, “not ugly” and “very much a woman” were all about. It could mean anything and nothing. He would only know if he answered Martina. What excited him most was that she had taken note of his inexperience and had specifically written that she would be willing to lead him on. He wanted to answer her directly and maybe, hopefully, she would write him back just as quickly. A little shakily, he clicked on “Reply.”
I was very happy to receive your message. I don’t think you are too old. I would like an experienced woman who has no problem with my young age.
I would be happy to get to know you better.
Just as hastily he clicked on “Send”. He paused for a few seconds until he remembered that he had wanted to send a photo. After all, he would also like to get an impression of Martina. Annoyed with himself, he clicked on “Reply” again and wrote:
“So that you know who you have written to in the first place, here is another picture of me. I look a little silly, it was taken on a field trip in the spring. I hope I’m your type.
“Send” again. Tim sank into his desk chair. I wonder if this Martina would answer him right away? Or not at all? Maybe he should have waited with the photo after all, until she asked him about it? He looked at the clock, it was 5:30 pm, and he felt thirsty and a little hungry. So he went to the kitchen, took a half-full bottle of Coke-Zero from the fridge and some munchies from the shelf. Back in his room, he reloaded the website to see if Martina had written back. Nothing yet. He was probably too impatient. Still, he found himself checking every few minutes that evening to see if there was a new message in his inbox. A little disappointment spread. Tim hoped he hadn’t done anything wrong in his hasty response. Maybe he should have taken more time for a detailed reply. He resolved to send a longer message the next day. With this resolution, he went to sleep later, not without pondering what this Martina would be like.
As Martina slowly woke up, she looked at the clock first, as she does every morning. Not that it mattered in her daily routine whether she got up at 7, 8 or 9 o’clock. But to have a routine, she got up at 8 o’clock during the week, and sometimes stayed an hour longer on the weekends. It was 7:58 am, and it was Saturday. Nevertheless, her inner clock worked reliably. She felt a slight pressure on her bladder. So she forced her bulky body out of bed, leaving a dent in the mattress. Still a little wobbly on her feet, she groped toward the bathroom. She always slept naked and refrained from putting anything on for the short walk to the bathroom. She would go back to bed anyway to doze for another half hour. Martina’s belly, thighs and breasts moved in rhythm with her steps. In the past, this would have made her uncomfortable, even if she had been unobserved. By now, however, she didn’t care; before whom should she be ashamed or have to justify herself? Since all the connective tissue at the base of her breasts had been completely destroyed anyway by the frequent omission of her bra and was noticeable in the form of massive stretch marks, she had no illusion that anything could have been saved here. Due to her fat belly, the clearly elongated breasts were usually on top, but when walking they additionally slid outwards, which looked extremely unflattering. In such situations, she felt like the famous “Venus of Willendorf,” only much flabbier and more lifelike than the 30,000-year-old stone figure. And her bust could easily rival that of Venus, too. Martina had to grin at the thought, even if the comparison was basically rather uncharming, had anyone else uttered it. But sometimes you had to look the truth in the eye. Or look down from above at the hanging breasts. Martina continued to grin to herself and went into the bathroom.
After she had relieved herself, she made another detour through the kitchen. She would take a coffee to bed with her, so she inserted a capsule into the machine, placed a cup underneath, and pressed start twice, so that after warming up, the brewing process started directly. While the machine first worked silently and then hummed away, Martina remembered last night. In the last few days, she had often tried to find a way to meet men on the Internet. She knew the contact columns in the local papers, of course, but that was not the kind of man she wanted to meet, nor should he be from the immediate area. She had been in the mood for something out of the ordinary. She wasn’t technology illiterate and was comfortable with her PC and smartphone, but so far she used these things for very practical purposes like writing letters, looking at the weather report, or searching for gardening tips. As far as initiating contact was concerned, however, she was pretty clumsy. So she had entered “sie sucht ihn oberpfalz” in the search engine’s input line. The first hits led directly to various pages with classifieds and personals, a kind of digital variant of the little leaflets she had spurned. She had clicked a little through the ads, many of which were written by middle-aged or advanced men who were looking for a change from their everyday married life or the expression of offbeat preferences. A few ads had interested her, but at first she had hesitated to register on the various sites without knowing what awaited her there. After a few days and multiple readings of the ads in question, she took heart and tried it on the site that seemed the most serious to her. There a rather young man from not too far away had advertised, whose text she had found quite sympathetic. So she had written him a message. She had no idea how the whole thing would go, but she wanted to give it a chance. All beginnings were hard and uncertain. While she was musing about yesterday, the coffee had already run through. Martina ejected the capsule, took the hot cup and involuntarily went to her study instead of back to bed. She sat down naked on the comfortable executive chair and booted up the PC. A little impatiently she waited while the operating system installed some updates. She had no idea what all the more or less regular updates were good for, which always appeared at inopportune times when she was about to do something on the PC. She only knew that it was necessary for security reasons, at least that’s how her son had explained it. So she took a sip of coffee from her cup and looked through the window at the spruce trees surrounding the house. After a few minutes, the screen then showed the familiar view with all the icons. She clicked on the web browser icon and typed in the name of the ad exchange. She was still logged in, she could tell by her username, which was still displayed. She had chosen “MacroMartina1963.” She flirted with the fusion of her medical findings and her first name, which she had spontaneously found funny, even if probably no one could imagine anything about it. So be it. She looked at the envelope icon next to her username: two new messages. She took another sip of coffee and opened the inbox. “HeEagerToLearn” had replied to her, her first attempt at online dating. Excited, she looked to see what he had written to her. It wasn’t much, but it sounded sympathetic. At least it wasn’t a rejection. But she hadn’t sent a picture of herself yet either, because she didn’t have a current one, nor did she want to scare off potential candidates right at the start. So she had done without it for the time being. She scrolled a little further and saw the photo that Tim had sent along. “Not bad … Quite a cutie,” she thought to herself. “Actually way too pretty, why doesn’t he have a girlfriend and instead looks for older women on the Internet? I wonder if there’s a catch?” But she felt like finding out. So Martina started typing her answer. She thanked Tim for the kind words and the photo, complimented him on his looks, and apologized that she hadn’t sent a photo yet. However, she would try to take one today and send it to him. She ended the message by saying that she would be curious to know more about him as well.
“Not bad for a first try. Maybe just beginner’s luck?!” she mused. Half in thought, she emptied the cup and placed it in the kitchen sink. She was going to try the photo thing. She hoped to take a halfway decent one with her smartphone and somehow transfer it to the PC. She wanted to make an attractive impression and feel good about it. So Martina decided to devote that Saturday morning to her appearance and well-being, to touch up her gray roots, and then to take a bath.
According to the speaker on the bathroom radio, it was already noon. Martina had, quite uncharacteristically for her, spent the whole morning in the bathroom. She had dyed the gray roots of her long, somewhat wavy hair blonde again, epilated her legs, and then laid down in the bathtub. She had been lying there for an hour and a half, so she must have developed webbed feet by now. But she liked the pleasant, light, almost weightless feeling in the water, even if there wasn’t too much room for water in the tub next to herself. But the main thing was that all parts of her body were at least wetted. She had added a bath additive with lavender to the water and pampered herself from top to bottom with a body milk. While caring for her breasts, she couldn’t help but imagine that a man would again take intensive care of them. I wonder what it would be like if a man would even feel pleasure while pampering her body marked by the gain and macromastia? Given her long time as a single woman and her struggles with her appearance, nothing could be further from her mind, she had to admit. But she wished for it fervently. The idea of it would have made her pretty wet between the legs, if she hadn’t already been in the bathtub anyway. Martina caught herself playing with her fingers on and in her admittedly no longer particularly tight pleasure cleft. It wasn’t that often that she allowed herself a little pleasure. She deserved it, actually, she thought. She was determined to get involved with someone who would give her that feeling. As she felt her own intimate hair inside her as she fingered herself, she became quite unromantically aware of how long it had been since she had shaved herself intimately. In part, this could be interpreted to mean that she had let herself go. But in reality, her corpulence made it very awkward to shave thoroughly in this area. Because of her disproportionate breasts and belly, she had no chance to see how to guide the razor. She wanted to tackle that problem now. So she got out of the tub, rubbed herself dry, and thought about how it would work best. She looked around her bathroom, caught sight of the mirrored cabinet, and had an idea. She grabbed the Lady Shaver and shaving gel and sat on the edge of the tub so she could see herself in the mirror. Lifting her belly a little with one hand, she could see her pubic area in the mirror. Then, with the razor in her other hand, she would try to get everything nice and smooth. As she sat there with her legs spread to spread the shaving gel, she saw in her reflection the rosy opening between her labia and wondered if many women had their vaginas permanently open a bit. It hadn’t been really tight even as a young woman, so normal intercourse had never really given her much, because she’d hardly felt anything in the process. After the birth of her son, this didn’t necessarily get better, apart from the fact that she had had increasingly less sex with her ex-husband anyway. Even before, Martina derived most of her pleasure from stimulation of her breasts and nipples, not from vaginal penetration. She now focused completely on shaving again, passing her left arm under her heavy breasts to lift the fold of her belly a bit. With the razor in her right hand, she then made her way to her lap with a bit of contortion and a detour around her chest and belly. She tried as best she could to shave the pubic triangle first. With some skill, she then managed to additionally use her left hand to keep the labia taut, while the belly continued to rest on her forearm, keeping the view of the shaving area clear. After about a quarter of an hour, Martina was very pleased with the result. Although she couldn’t rule out the possibility that individual hairs had remained, everything felt wonderfully smooth around her moist opening when she felt it with her fingers. She could not hide the fact that this kind of body care and the occupation with itself had also given her pleasure. Even if she hadn’t lost any kilos (maybe half a kilo due to the effort), she now had a different body feeling and looked a few years younger when she looked in the mirror. The fresh color of her hair and the still somewhat sun-kissed complexion of her skin did the rest to make her feel almost attractive and sexy again for a long time. For the photo she was going to take later, she put a day cream on her face and cleavage. However, the amount of cream she needed for this was considerable. But it was worth it to her. Now she felt ready to present herself from her best side. In her case, that was not the left or right, but definitely from the front. She wondered if her unmistakable proportions should be further accentuated with a supportive bra, which would result in an overwhelming sight. Or whether the wide bra straps, which would dig deep into her shoulders, and the enormous breast masses would not be rather intimidating. She decided to go for the natural option, because that was closer to her anyway and suited her everyday look. For all her preening, she didn’t want to pretend to be something that wasn’t her. And anyway, sooner or later a man would have to deal with her all-natural femininity, which included her sagging breasts resting on her stomach and falling to the side. As the only accessory she put on a black velvet necklace with a small pendant, which she liked very much but had not worn for a long time. Satisfied with herself and her decision, she took her cell phone and, except for the necklace, went naked to the study because the light was best there. She launched the camera app, after some trial and error found the switch between the main and front cameras and, sitting on the executive chair, tried her hand at various poses and facial expressions. As she had already guessed, she liked the front shots best. She let her long wavy hair fall over her shoulders, tried a subtle, open-minded smile, and took several photos that sometimes showed more, sometimes less breast. The fact that she had nothing on could not be seen in the result, but by the absence of any fabric on her skin she achieved a very natural and at the same time attractive effect. One saw nothing and could still guess everything; provided one had the knowledge and enough imagination that most of the 10 kg weight per breast was below the cleavage. But just because of the front camera’s frog angle perspective, which makes close objects look even bigger, and Martina’s voluminous torso, the entire lower third of the photos still consisted only of breast. Martina liked the end result quite a bit; from her point of view, it was more promise than promise, and that’s how she wanted to present herself. As she wiped the photos back and forth again on her smartphone, she caught herself thinking she was really pretty in one or two of the photos. Despite her 52 years and her weight, she had a girlish face that was much slimmer than the rest of her body would have suggested. The shiny blonde hair further flattered her face and shoulders, and the black collar provided a mysterious contrast. This was how she liked herself; she would send the best photo to Tim. After all, she wanted to offer a young man in his twenties something for the eye in addition to her maturity. It was in her own best interest.
It took her a bit of nerve afterwards to upload the photo from her phone to the PC. She wondered if it wouldn’t have been easier to send the photo directly to him via cell phone, but for now it had worked out that way. So she sent Tim a message from her PC without comment with the most beautiful photo attached. She shut down the PC and went to the kitchen to make herself something for lunch, after breakfast had already been cancelled in all the busyness. It would do her good to lose a little weight, but physical well-being was more important to Martina at that moment, not to mention mental well-being.
Nervousness spread through him. Fortunately, there was little traffic on this Sunday evening, otherwise he might run the risk of having an accident. After Tim had feared two days ago that his contact with Martina would have ended sooner than it had begun, he had been all the more surprised yesterday that she had really written him back. She had even sent a photo that she had taken especially for him and that he really liked. Despite the huge age difference of almost 30 years, he found her quite attractive. Granted, she was probably more woman than he had dared to imagine. At least, he could guess that from her photo, which revealed her pretty face as well as a huge chest. She had not wanted to send him another picture in which he could have seen her figure in all its glory. But in the messages they had exchanged all yesterday afternoon and evening, Martina had been very honest and direct. That she was unhappy with herself and her body and clearly more than “just” chubby, but really fat. That had scared him off a bit at first. But her open and warm way of writing had really fascinated him. Despite her supposedly flawed body, she radiated a calmness and self-assurance that impressed him. It had not been difficult for him to open up to her, to reveal his desires and doubts to her. Somehow they had quickly found a connection with each other and had even talked on the phone, which usually made him rather uncomfortable with strangers. But her warm and gentle voice seemed so inviting to him that their conversation soon became very relaxed and light-hearted. Admittedly, they hadn’t talked about intimate things on the phone, rather about their lives so far, where Martina had clearly had more to tell than he had. After they had ended the phone call, she had sent another message. Whether he could imagine visiting her sometime soon, so they could get to know each other better and to find out if they had chemistry. He had hesitated a little, after all, it was all happening a little fast. On the other hand … hadn’t he always wanted exactly that lately? A woman who took the initiative and knew what she wanted? She had told him about her not exactly small house, her garden, the sauna in the sous-terrain, and that she didn’t like to go into town by car because it was too confusing and hectic for her. In short, she had invited him to her place and suggested this Sunday evening, and he had accepted. When he had woken up this morning, he had almost regretted his decision, so great was his uncertainty and nervousness. He had already made up an excuse in his head, why it would not fit so well today after all. But when he wanted to tell her, he found another message from her on his cell phone. She was looking forward to spending a relaxing evening with him, and that she was a bit nervous now, too, and that he probably felt the same way. But he shouldn’t worry, she would cook them something delicious, they would have a quiet chat and if he felt uncomfortable at any point, he could always make his way home without a guilty conscience. He found that very understanding and had taken away his doubts a little.
“I am also very happy to meet you. See you tonight! Tim,” he had answered her after half an hour’s thought. After that, his thoughts had turned to what he would wear best. He knew that Martina preferred a comfortable and casual style of dress, so he wouldn’t have to dress up much. But he also didn’t want to show up at her place looking like the latest IT nerd. So he had dug out of his closet a black non-iron shirt and a decent pair of jeans, and he was going to wear his good brown sneakers with them. With the absence of his roommates, he hadn’t had to hurry in the bathroom and had used the time before he left for an extensive shower and a close shave. He had tamed his blond mop of hair with a little gel and put on a necklace with a leather thong and a Celtic symbol. Together with the opened top button of his shirt and his shaved chest, this already made something, he thought. He had noticed, however, that he had probably received little sun over the summer, so pale was his skin in contrast to the dark shirt. Well, what should it. So now he sat in his car and was on his way to Martina’s place of residence, which was only 40 km away. Unfortunately, there was no built-in navigation system in the small French car that his mother had given him for his studies, while she had bought the current model, which was already two generations more modern. So he had entered Martina’s address into the map app on his smartphone, jammed it into the holder on the dashboard and now tried to concentrate on the road and, if possible, neither take a wrong turn nor cause an accident. In half an hour, he would make what was perhaps the most extraordinary encounter of his admittedly not yet particularly long and eventful life to date. At least he wished that he would not regret his spontaneous decision.
He left the districts of the city behind him and turned onto the country road heading east, which would now bring him closer to the encounter with this woman.
In his mind, he kept playing through the moment when he would be standing at her front door and hopefully find the courage to push the doorbell button. And if it did, who would be standing across from him then ….
Dinner preparations were complete. She had decided on a mushroom casserole and pana cotta for dessert, and to be on the safe side, she had bought everything she needed yesterday. By all appearances, however, her “date,” I guess that’s what they called it, would actually take place. At least she hadn’t received a cancellation yet. After all! Actually, she wondered about herself, how she had stumbled head over heels into this adventure. Just a few days ago, she wouldn’t have even thought about the word “date” in light of all the years she had now been alone. And now, in a rather new-fangled way, she had met an unknown man who, despite the age difference and her less-than-presentable figure, was not averse to getting to know her, even meeting her after such a short time. Actually, she herself could not believe that this was really happening. That at this moment she was just a good hour away from a “blind date”. She put the red wine in the fridge, so that it still had some time to get to a good temperature.
Martina took another look at the set dining table and one in her kitchen and was satisfied with her planning. This gave her plenty of time to get ready mentally and also externally for the evening ahead. Not that she had intended to dress up, that was not her philosophy. But she attached great importance to making a well-groomed impression and of course she also had the claim to present herself from her most feminine side. After all, the first date should not also be the last, but the beginning of a longer liaison. The idea of it made her heart do a little hop. She would now go to the bathroom and freshen up, and she had also already thought about what she would wear on this special evening. Precisely because it was such a delicate decision, she was very confident that her choice of clothes would not fail to have the intended effect.
Tim had neither gotten lost nor had an accident. The address Martina had given him was on the edge of town in a dead-end street with a turning ramp. He had finally parked his car there and walked to the house number given. With somewhat shaky knees, he now stood at the garden gate and looked for the doorbell, but found none. He wondered if he should call Martina and let her know he was there. He saw that the gate was only ajar and opened it with gentle pressure. The somewhat rusty hinge made a squeaking sound as he entered the property. The house was located at the edge of the forest, as she had described it, and was surrounded by tall spruce trees. A hunter’s fence and a tall hedge separated the property from the road. Behind it was part of the somewhat overgrown garden, which continued on both sides of the house and probably for the very most part behind it toward the edge of the forest. Tim walked along the short path laid with natural stones to the front door, which actually also had a doorbell button on it, enclosed by a round metal plate. Beneath it was a sign with only a last name on it. Since Martina had only given her first name so far, he looked up the house number again just to be sure and was relieved to find that he was obviously at the right address. He took another look at the clock, it was a few minutes after the agreed time. Tim took a deep breath and timidly pressed the doorbell. Hopefully not too tentatively, because he couldn’t hear any ringing, although it was exceptionally quiet. Only a few birds had probably not yet noticed that the sun had already almost completely set. After what felt like an eternity, he was about to ring the doorbell a second time when the door opener made a whirring sound. Tim’s heart was pounding up to his throat. He braced himself against the heavy-looking front door and stepped inside. He found himself at the bottom of a staircase, apparently it was the sous-terrain. The hallway was dimly lit. Before he could orient himself further, a soft voice sounded from the floor above.
He nervously ran his hand through his hair and climbed the stairs. When he reached the next but one landing and was slightly out of breath from excitement, he discovered a door with a ribbed glass pane that was impossible to see through. Only a glow of light from the apartment behind it could be seen, and a shadow that suddenly moved. The door was already open a crack and was now pulled open further. Tensely Tim waited in view of what now awaited him. In the dim light of the hallway, he saw the face of a woman smiling at him: Martina. She was certainly a head shorter than he, but that was not difficult. She wore her blond hair loose like in the photo he knew of her. He also recognized the tight-fitting black velvet collar. She was not made up, at least not so much that it would have been directly noticeable. She seemed very natural and in a way warm, as far as one could judge at first glance. Except for a few small wrinkles around her eyes and dimples in her cheeks, her face looked much younger than one would have guessed given her age. After the first few tense seconds, his gaze lowered and moved to her body. Martina was standing barefoot on the runner of her hallway, wearing a black wrap dress that reached her knees. Immediately he noticed her flared hips around which the dress hugged. It was held together by a band of the same material, which was looped around her waist and probably knotted at the back. Whereby, waist didn’t really hit it. Despite the very concealing cut and drape of the dress, she had a considerable belly, which could not be hidden at all. However, this was less noticeable than one might have expected, because in comparison, Martina’s breasts put everything in the shade. They piled up so massively and presently in front of her that Tim felt dizzy. The dress wrapped around her breasts from one side at a time and met again in the middle, where it was held together by the ribbon. This formed a cleavage that reached from her neck almost to her belly button. Obviously she was not wearing a bra, otherwise the elongated and strongly hanging shape of her breasts could not be explained. Nevertheless, due to the wrapping of the dress, her breasts were held together in such a way that they touched in the middle and formed a breathtaking cleavage in an almost never-ending gap. The term “V-neck” had to be redefined for this. Tim stared at her bosom, stunned and without a movement.
I’m glad you’re here. Don’t you like to come in?”
While he still lacked the words for a retort and took a step into her apartment, she also moved a step towards him and hugged him in greeting. Being considerably shorter than him, she stood slightly on her tiptoes while he had to lean down to her. Between them, however, were still her breasts, which she now had to press against him in order to be able to put her not particularly long arm around him. At the same moment that he felt her massive womanhood against his upper body, he got a direct erection. Fortunately, her breasts protruded enough that she would not be able to notice the bulge in his pants on her belly.
After five, maybe ten seconds, she let go of him, gently pushed him into her apartment and closed the door behind him.
“Hello, Martina …” he replied.
It was not enough for more at that moment.
At dinner, they had talked about how they got to know each other and their experiences since they had both started searching on the Internet. Martina’s share of the conversation had been larger than his, and that had actually suited him quite well. Her mushroom skillet had tasted really good to him, and although he had feared he would hardly be able to get a bite down, he had then had a good bite. After dessert, of which he had only managed his portion with difficulty, Martina had poured them both some more red wine and suggested something more comfortable than the dining table.
Now they were both sitting on the sofa facing each other in the light of the candles, which had already burned down considerably. She talked about how she spent her daily life in her house and garden, and that she was inhibited about her appearance to strangers because of what she had experienced in her marriage. She also spoke quite openly about the fact that despite her figure and macromastia, she preferred to move around at home as unconstricted as possible, which is why she would have opted for the loose wrap dress that evening. He tried not to be too distracted by the sight of her cleavage, on which he kept involuntarily directing his eyes, and this was not lost on her either. Finally she interrupted her remarks and looked at him.
“It need not be unpleasant for you to look at my breasts. I am glad that you seem to like them. At least, I hope the attraction is greater than the awe of them. In the end, they are just female breasts. My breasts. Albeit much larger than anything you’ve probably ever laid eyes on.”
“I have to admit, I didn’t expect this,” he countered. “Not with so much …” He faltered for a moment. “Femininity. But it does hold a real fascination for me. I can hardly imagine what they must feel like. They’re so incredibly big.”
Martina couldn’t help but grin. When he was right, he was right. And her dress clearly hadn’t missed its mark.
“They really are very big and very heavy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make them really pretty either. Not like you might expect or know from advertising. Also, due to pregnancy, breastfeeding and the many situations without a bra, the connective tissue is now very destroyed and I have furrows in the skin up here. You may have heard of stretch marks.”
He nodded a little uncertainly. She grabbed the neckline of her dress with her left hand and pulled it open a little more. With her other hand, she pointed to her no longer flawless breast line and traced the deep stretch marks with her fingers.
“You’ve probably never seen anything like this up close. But you don’t have to be shy. Do you want to know what it feels like?”
Tim nodded another time. “Yes, of course … I’d love to, actually.”
She moved a little closer to him on the sofa. As if in invitation, she pulled her neckline open a little more, exposing the upper part of her left breast. Expectantly she looked at him. Hesitantly, he put his hand on her warm breast. He really didn’t have small hands, but in her cleavage they seemed tiny. He felt her soft but uneven skin.
“You don’t have to be so restrained.”
She took his hand and squeezed tightly. “Go ahead and really grab it! They don’t break so easily.” she said with a laugh.
He didn’t need to be told twice and grabbed her neckline. With his hand he felt the base of her breast, felt her deep stretch marks with his fingers and reached into the soft breast tissue. What he felt was simply wonderful. He wanted to feel her even more intensely and explore her body. With his hand he continued into her cleavage, which she willingly presented to him. He reached her breast crease and slid his hand in so that the weight of her massive chest rested on it. He felt the warmth of her body and a little dampness. Tim looked at Martina, who had her eyes closed and was clearly enjoying his touch.
“Is it okay like this?” he asked?
“Mmh …”. She nodded. Without opening her eyes, she urged him, “Just go ahead. Do whatever you feel like.”
There was no way he was going to let this chance slip away. With his hand in the crease of her breast, he now drove down lower on her ribcage toward her thick belly. The breast hardly seemed to want to end and became increasingly voluminous and he felt the many kilograms of Martina’s glandular and fatty tissue. Finally, he realized that air was coming to his hand again. He was now deep in her cleavage with his forearm and his hand almost at the level of her belly button. Tim now placed the palm of his hand down on the curve of her breast, felt the somewhat wrinkled tissue of the areola and slid a little higher. A soft moan escaped Martina and he faltered. He had touched her nipple. With his fingers he gently stroked it and circled it. Then he reached with his whole hand for her breast, which was still partly covered by the dress, but he could only grasp a small part. He took his other hand to help and with it also grasped the neckline and from below the hanging breast. Martina put her head on the back of her neck and rolled her eyes.
“This is wonderful. I want to feel your hands intensely on my breasts!” With both hands she pulled her dress over her breasts so that they now plopped out the sides and were exposed in all their glory. Tim could hardly believe his eyes as his date now sat in front of him. He had always imagined a mature, but rather slender or at least averagely built woman. Martina was anything but that, but nevertheless her voluptuous and plump body exerted a special fascination on him. He liked how lustful and natural she presented herself to him. It was obvious that she had long had to do without being so desired by a man. She was so much woman that he didn’t know where to touch first. He took one hand from her left breast and now placed it at the bottom of her right, as if he were playing brassiere. He squeezed her breasts, which stood apart on either side of her belly without the support of the dress, and lifted them a little, feeling the weight on his hands. He tried hard to keep all that breast mass from slipping away from him, but could hardly prevent it, and so it kept sagging down, hanging heavily on her ribcage. He wanted to try something else, so he wandered around Martina on the sofa so that he was now kneeling behind her. She turned her head in his direction to see what he was up to. He snuggled against her back and slid his arms under hers so that he could now embrace her breasts from behind. His head rested on her shoulder as he did so, so that he could see down her torso. Martina was visibly comfortable with this close and intimate position and leaned back and against him slightly. He felt her blonde hair on his neck and cheek. In this position he could play wonderfully with her breasts, grabbing them again and again as well as he could, pressing and rubbing them together. His fingers caressed her large, wrinkled areola and twirled her nipples. Martina breathed noticeably and gave herself completely. She wouldn’t mind if he spent the whole evening like this with her breasts.
“I like the way you touch them. That you’re so unselfconscious about my macromastia and it doesn’t scare you off. I don’t want to be ashamed of it. It belongs to me and I want a man who desires me for it.”
“I don’t have any experience with it at all. I haven’t imagined such a thing,” he confessed to her. “But I am curious about your body. Your curves are so sprawling and voluptuous … I don’t even know where to reach first.”
“There’s plenty, and you’re welcome to take as much time as you like to explore it all.” She whispered with a wink, not entirely disinterested.
“I’d love to. I’d have to drive home later, though … So I shouldn’t drink any more wine.”
She straightened up a bit and looked at him. “Yes, of course. You can always leave if it’s too late for you. But it’s so nice right now.” She paused for a moment. “I can offer you a guest room. Only if you want. You wouldn’t have to worry about driving and you could have coffee in the morning before you go back. You don’t have to decide right away, we can make it quite flexible.”
Tim was a little unsure. He had not expected this. Should he really spend the night with an unknown woman in a strange house? On the other hand, she was really nice and very sympathetic. He felt comfortable on this date and would gladly spend some more time with her. He would keep the option open and see what happened. He picked up his glass and took a big sip of red wine. A pleasant, warm feeling spread in his stomach and a few moments later also in his head.
To be continued …