His Curvy Obsession Novels & Stories

I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them, "I don’t think I have any objections, but why are you so obsessed with sex?" His smirk faltered for a brief moment, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more intense, before he corrected me, his voice barely above a whisper. "No, I’m not obsessed with sex," he said, his fingers tracing the edge of my jawline in the softest touch. "I’m obsessed with you."

Sophie’s hyper-sensitive body trembled with another violent orgasm, her pussy gushing around the cock currently destroying her as she screamed in broken bliss. The curse was only getting started. And she was already addicted.

She had curves I couldn’t deny, and she knew it. She smirked, finishing my sentence for me. “Curvy,” she said. “I’m curvy. All the food I eat goes to my curves. And men don’t want bone anymore, Lily. They want meat. They need something to hold onto in the bedroom. They need flesh. They need an ass to spank…” “Stop!” I screamed, the fury boiling over. The maids flinched back, their shoulders curling inward as if my rage might lash out at them next.

Her legs were sheathed in gossamer silk topped off with black stilettos, a perfect outfit for a curvy girl. Our hostess though, was more than a little frosty. Usually the chicks at these events are model-types, tall, dressed to the nines, so painfully thin that you can almost see through them. Teresa was the opposite – curvy, ripe, with a body so bodacious that every guy here was salivating, wondering what it’d be like between those thighs. “Can I help you?” asked Mandy Hurst in a clipped tone. She was our hostess for the night.