Not Erotic.

They were a match made in heaven. She was obese. He was desperate. Like dry wood and fire. Their bodies meshed together in beautiful sickening agony. She moaned, he cried. "Oh, that's the spot, I think this actually is the spot." She propped herself on her arms, attempting to shift her massive bulk, "Yeah, that's right, right about there... oh, just a few inches... yes! yes! Yes! Yes!" She moaned, simulating orgasm. "Oh fucking hell, you're the first man I've known who could hit me so deep like that, you got it right in the g-spot, you really are a master." This was a lie. No one had ever been able to hit her g spot, not even the African American man with the nine-inch penis. The man she was currently underneath didn't have nine inches; he barely had six and a half. But, as he always told himself, "it's not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean." His name was Robert. He was thirty-four and a sales representative for a major electronics company. He had worked for the company for over nine years, earning him a senior position with a six-figure salary. He had a lovely trophy wife and three children. He could afford the most expensive whores in the world; nothing was too rich or elegant for him. But yet here he was, pumping his body frantically and desperately into this obese train wreck of a woman. Tears poured down his face, sweat down his chest. "Ah come on boy, hurry up and pull out of me, it gets sore with too much action you know. Just give it to me on my chest, I'll eat it right up." Her voice was tired and anxious sounding, as if she was worried he wouldn't ever finish, and she would be trapped under him for the rest of eternity. Her name was Rosalyn. She was fifty-two years old. Over her lifetime she had accrued four separate husbands, all of them deadbeats who worked just long enough to pay off the whores and drug dealers before sinking back again into the cesspool of humanity that called itself America. Rosalyn didn't have any children, but had had six abortions. Each one had left her vagina in an even poorer state. Her breasts had once been supple and rosy, now they were sagging, grayed things with little life left in them. Her body was covered in stretch marks as a result of the drastic liposuction she had done early in life. She weighed two hundred and seventy one pounds. However, despite her large size she knew how to make herself appealing, she knew how to distribute it well.
Robert weighed a hundred and thirty six pounds, he was five nine and balding. His body was nearly hairless due to laser hair removal he had received three years prior.
Rosalyn preferred hairy men, but at this point, she wasn't too picky.
Robert tightened his buttocks, tensing all the muscles in his legs and groin. His body started to shake violently and his face reddened significantly. He wanted to scream, to tear the fucking air apart with his vocal cords, but all he could manage was a hoarse whisper. "I'm gonna come! Oh god! I'm gonna come!" Rosalyn turned violently. "get the fuck outta me big boy, i told you when we started i don't want no man juices in me!" she attempted to shrink herself into the bed, thus forcing him to pull out. Her strategy failed. He was very frenzied now. His whole body was shaking and sweat poured out of every pore of his body like the rains of a monsoon. He grasped her breasts savagely, his fingers gripping into the wrinkled skin and turning it pink. "Owch! That hurts you fuckass!" She was angry now, tossing and turning she started beating him with clenched fists, anything that would get him off her. He could not be stopped. He was a man on a mission, and nothing or no one was going to disrupt him. Her breasts had turned purple now, his
Knuckles white from exertion. With one final pump and a roar of animal savagery he ejaculated inside of her, screaming and cursing and grasping her breasts with more fury then before. His orgasm lasted for a full minute and a half, it had been the first time he had achieved orgasm in over seven months. When he finished he let go of her now bruised breasts, rolled over and began to sob. Rosalyn, finally able to sit up, turned the full force of her fury upon, him pummeling him with her fist while screaming curses at him. "You goddamned motherfucking ass fuck shithole! Where the fuck do you come off thinking you can do that to me, you mudderfucker. Im'a gonna fuck you up big time. You think just cuz I'm fat and old you can do whatever the fuck you want to me? Huh? well i know all about your little wifey, buster." Robert sat up, alert. Rosalyn smiled, she was enjoying herself. It had been years since she had came from intercourse, but this part always helped to get her off. "Yeah, that's right motherfucker, i took the time to find out who you were, i know all about your big time job with Virgin, haha, funny that, a guy like you working for a company called virgin." Her laughter caused the fat on her neck to jiggle down into her breasts, sending the fleshy skin rippling downward to her oversized vagina. "You are gonna give me what i want or else I’m gonna fuck you up real good, you understand me pretty boy?" Robert had stopped sobbing, he was sitting up now, wide eyed and with a odd smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "So tell me, Rosalyn. Just what are you going to do to me?" the smile had now spread all the way across his mouth now, transforming his attractive face into something unpleasant. Rosalyn saw the glint in his eye, the twist in his lips. She scrambled up and tried to run off the bed. Robert was a full hundred and thirty pounds faster then she was. He reached her before she had a chance to get off the bed. "Now its my turn to make the demands." He brought his small and sweaty hands down between the fourth and fifth roll of her neck, he pushed with all his strength and experience. It only took a few minutes before her arms and legs stopped flailing and fell to the floor like small manatees. The makeup on her face had been smeared, showing the red and blotchy skin underneath. Her hollow and empty eyes stared out into the room. Robert slid off of her, signing. Reaching up onto the bedside table, he pulled off his pack of parliaments and his lucky lighter. Putting one to his mouth, he lit it and took a long drag. He sighed once more.
Another successful night.