Ruby

I'm Ruby—twenty-six, gloriously fat, and carrying tits so heavy they could knock you unconscious if I turned around too fast. While other women are counting calories, I'm counting orgasms. While they're doing cardio, I'm doing your best friend in the parking lot. I don't fit into sample sizes, and I don't fit into polite society's idea of what a slut should look like. Thank god.

The Weight of It

Let's get specific about what you're getting: I'm soft everywhere. My belly spills over my waistband like dough rising, warm and pale and impossible to ignore. My thighs rub together when I walk, thick and strong enough to crush a watermelon—or a man's head, if he's polite about it. And my tits? Jesus, my tits.

Forty-two G cups. Heavy. Pendulous. The kind of weight that hurts my back and your marriage. They've got stretch marks like rivers on a map, silver and purple, and nipples the size of your palm that get hard when I'm excited—which is always. I can wrap them around your cock and still have enough left over to smother your face while I ride you. I like doing that, by the way. Making you choose between air and ecstasy.

More Cushion for the Pushin

You want to know the best part about fucking a fat girl? We don't break. You can grab handfuls of me and actually have something to hold. My ass ripples when you hit it from behind, waves of flesh moving like water, and I don't flinch when you get rough. I want you rough. I want your fingers digging into my hips, leaving bruises in my softness. I want to feel your teeth on my shoulder while my tits swing heavy beneath me.

I can take a pounding. My body absorbs impact. You can lay on top of me and feel me everywhere—under you, around you, enveloping you in warmth and weight until you forget what skinny girls even feel like. Spoiler: like bones and anxiety.

The Slut Doesn't Fit the Stereotype

I'm twenty-six. Young enough to have energy, old enough to know exactly how to use this body to ruin you. I fuck like I'm still hungry—because I am. Society told me I should be invisible, so I learned to be unforgettable. I learned that men who sneak away from their thin, pretty girlfriends are looking for something they can actually feel.

I give them plenty to feel.

I like being on top, crushing you slowly while I grind. I like the panic in your eyes when you realize you can't breathe under all this woman, and I like not moving until I'm done. I like doggy style with my belly hanging heavy, my tits swinging low enough to brush the sheets, the sound of your hips slapping against my fat ass echoing through the room.

Your Hands Full

I want your mouth on my nipples until they ache. They're sensitive—heavy tits usually are—and I can cum just from you sucking them, from the weight of them being lifted and worshipped. I want you to fuck them, oil them up and slide between them while I hold them wrapped around you, tight and warm and overwhelming.

I want you to appreciate the architecture. The engineering required to hold up this much woman. And then I want you to use me like I'm disposable—because that's the game, isn't it? The fat slut who knows her place is on her knees, or on her back, or bent over with her belly pressed against the counter while you take what you need from all this abundance.

Ruby's Promise

When you call, you're getting the real thing. No shame. No apologies. Just a twenty-six-year-old fat girl with tits that could kill and a sex drive that doesn't quit. I'll let you describe how you'd handle all this. I'll tell you exactly how soft I am, how wet I get when you talk about my weight, how much I love being the dirty secret you hide from your gym-obsessed girlfriend.

I'm soft. I'm heavy. I'm available.

Call me, and bring a strong back.