A Shared Interest


“Don’t you knock?”

Mike did not feel taken aback by these words, despite having just stepped over the threshold of his own home. He was already so stunned that they barely registered. Sitting before him – sprawled on his sofa – was a vision of the sort that, until now, he had witnessed only in his fantasies.

Mike was a small-minded man, unimaginative and inhibited. He was also very insecure. Even now, in his late twenties, he had not matured enough to own his desires. He had a deep, hidden lust which he lacked the courage to be open about: his ego was too fragile, his fear of being ridiculed too strong.

He laughed along with his idiot mates at the pub whenever they mocked Paul for the time he went home with that fat woman. In reality however, he was racked with envy.

Walking into his house that afternoon, Mike felt that he had never seen anyone more breathtakingly gorgeous than the woman casually sat in his living room watching TV. Wearing nothing but a black bra and panties, she lazed on the couch like she owned the place. She had flowing, chestnut hair with a dark red tinge; cool, brown, heavy-lidded eyes with long lashes; a slightly upturned nose, in which she wore a nose ring; and full lips, painted burgundy, drawn into a sardonic smirk.

Her wide frame almost filled the small, two-seater sofa. She had huge, plump breasts and a large belly. There was a rose tattooed on the upper side of her right bosom, drawing even more attention to her mesmerising cleavage. In her deep belly button, Mike discerned the glint of another piercing. Her thighs were round and thick, and the fact that she was seated could not conceal the bulge of her arsecheeks – hinting, unsubtly, at a vast and curvaceous rear end.

Mike tried desperately to formulate an appropriate response to the situation, such as “Who the hell are you?” or “What are you doing in my house?” But, both aroused and bewildered, all he could manage was, “H-… wh-… huh?”

She did not speak, regarding him instead with amused condescension. Mike swallowed nervously.

Eventually she drawled, “I’m your AirBnB guest, silly. Didn’t Lauren tell you?”

She never tells me anything, thought Mike. It certainly sounded like his wife – arrange for someone to stay without telling him, then go traipsing off on some yoga retreat.

Ah, Lauren – a standard issue ‘hot piece’ who Mike had essentially married for bragging rights. Mike was not too stupid to realise that she, for her part, had married him for his money – and he was pretty much fine with that. A yoga instructor and Instagram ‘influencer’, Lauren was slim, blonde and loved attention.

After three years of marriage, the only time Lauren showed her husband any affection was when she wanted him to pose for a picture. Communication between them was virtually non-existent. She might have mentioned something about renting out one of the spare rooms a couple of days ago, but…

“Hello – Earth to Mike?”

Mike started. He realised with embarrassment that he had just been standing there, mouth open, staring blankly at the mystery woman’s tits.

He now noticed that she spoke with an American accent (or was it Canadian? Mike couldn’t tell). He wondered what she was doing here in this small, unremarkable English town.

Mike swallowed and opened his mouth again, intending either to apologise or to ask her name. In the end he got stuck between the two, and again found himself tongue-tied.

Then she resolved his dilemma for him. “Whatever. Just take my bags to my room, will you?” Indicating the luggage with a casual wave of her hand, she turned her attention back to the TV.

Reluctantly tearing his gaze away from her, Mike saw the luggage dumped carelessly on the living room floor. One large suitcase and one sort of low-based hand cart thing, with two wheels and a long handle. Its load was around waist-height, oblong, and entirely covered by thick, black sheeting, held down tightly around the bottom with metal clips.

Mike was fairly certain that lugging heavy bags around was not part of an AirBnB host’s job description. For a moment he thought about protesting, until his eyes landed again on that rose tattoo and he found himself once more transfixed by her cleavage.

Presently, he jerked his head and breathed in sharply. Eyes fixed on the ground, he trudged over to where her bags lay and started to wheel them through.


As she knocked on the door of the flat, Lauren felt curious about the session ahead of her. On the phone Julia, the client, had sounded easy, confident and charming. Lauren had warmed to her instantly. Julia said she had just moved here from Toronto. Lauren hadn’t found out why.

Most people, whether they approved of it or not, thought of Lauren as a typical ‘Insta’ girl: straightforward, trendy – unswervingly mainstream in her tastes. This is what Lauren wanted people to think. This was the identity that she was comfortable with.

In reality, however, bursa escort she was compensating for something. She had desires which she, from her blinkered perspective, felt were too shameful to admit. Desires which, were they known to the world at large, would completely undercut her carefully curated, bland, fashionable image.

Whenever Lauren spoke to a fat woman she would lecture her, slyly mock her, or even outright laugh at her – anything to make her feel bad. This hostility, though, was what is often referred to as a defence mechanism.

Lauren’s deepest desires were – though neither of them knew it – almost identical to those of her husband.

Lauren heard Julia’s voice yell, “Come in.” She opened the door.

Julia stood inside, with her back to the entrance. On the floor underneath her was a yoga mat. She stood with her feet apart, her back arched, leaning slightly forward with her hands on her wide hips, stretching. Her ample, gorgeous backside was stuck out on full display, concealed only by a pair of yoga pants that looked ready to tear at the seams. Her back lay mostly bare.

Lauren stood, slack-jawed and unmoving, utterly captivated by Julia’s fat arse. As Julia made little movements from side to side, Lauren’s eyes went with her. Lauren felt her knees start to tremble a little, felt her pussy get hot and damp. Usually in such a situation she would flee or lash out but, to her horror, she found she could do neither of those things. She was speechless and rooted to the spot.

After some time, Julia turned slowly. On her torso she wore nothing but a thin, skimpy top which barely covered her breasts, leaving her cleavage, with the rose tattoo, and her belly exposed.

Julia’s thick, chestnut hair was held back by a wide, fabric headband, her full lips set in that knowing smirk. She fixed Lauren with her cool, brown eyes and Lauren stared back into them. Lauren felt a little moisture begin to seep down her inner thigh.

Then, Julia spoke. “Well come on, don’t just stand there – you’re letting the heat out.” Lauren, embarrassed, quickly stepped inside and closed the door.

Only now did Lauren realise how hot it was in the room. It wasn’t too cold outside in mid-April, but Julia clearly had the heating on full blast. Lauren also consciously registered for the first time the sheen of sweat on Julia’s exposed skin. Her eyes followed a bead of sweat as it trickled slowly down into the depths of Julia’s cleavage. She felt a strong, physical urge, like a magnetic pull, telling her to move her hand up between her legs. She grabbed the back of her thigh and squeezed hard to keep herself in check.

Julia said, “I prefer hot yoga – don’t you?”

Hot yoga was not Lauren’s thing at all. She never recommended it to her clients. So naturally she blurted out, “Yeah of course, great! It’s great, I love it, I mean… um… I’m Lauren. Oh, but you know that, haha, sorry. Um… sorry.”

Lauren hadn’t felt this uncontrollably nervous and flustered in ten years, since she was sixteen. She could feel Julia’s smirking stare dismantling her, leaving her bare and helpless.

“I’m a beginner,” said Julia. “I’m gonna need a lot of help. You might end up not taking your hands off me for the whole session!”

Lauren said nothing. She breathed heavily, gripped the back of her leg even tighter and, while trying to conceal it, bit the inside of her lower lip.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” queried Julia in a playfully mocking tone. “You look a little faint. You wanna do this session with me – right?”

Lauren gulped and nodded.

Julia now smiled more warmly. “Mm, that’s good. Now – get over here and let’s begin.”

Typically when Lauren ran a session, she largely dictated what went on, providing a smooth, guided experience for her clients. Today, however, this could not have been further from the case. Julia completely ran the show, constantly telling Lauren what to do and how to help her. As Julia had promised, Lauren’s hands scarcely left her body.

Julia was surprisingly graceful for a woman of her size. She also knew a lot about yoga for someone who claimed to be a beginner. Not that either of these facts registered with Lauren. Feeling Julia’s hot, slick flesh beneath her palms, smelling the pungent odour of her sweat, it was all Lauren could do to keep from literally panting with arousal. The crotch of her dark grey yoga pants was sodden with it.

At one point Julia told Lauren that she felt her leg positioning in one of the standing poses was a bit off. She said that the easiest way for Lauren to help her with this would be if Lauren knelt down in front of her. Lauren did so at once.

Kneeling there in front of Julia, Lauren gazed up at her expectantly. Julia told her to place one hand on her right inner thigh, the other on the right side of her belly. Lauren did so. At this point she had all but forgotten she was supposed to be teaching yoga. Instead she just did as she was told.

Lauren’s face was now a mere few inches from bursa escort bayan Julia’s exposed belly. Looking up, all she could see were Julia’s huge, round breasts hanging over her, covered by that thin layer of cloth. In an instant, Lauren could see Julia tearing it off and bending down, could see herself reaching out her tongue and eagerly taking Julia’s large, dark nipple in her mouth, licking and sucking it with wild abandon. She could almost taste it, almost feel it on her tongue…

Before she could stop herself, Lauren let out a soft, whimpering moan. She winced, embarrassment wringing her like a wet rag. Fuck, she thought, what the hell is wrong with me?

“So,” Julia said slowly and deliberately, “how do I look?”

Lauren, still fixated on Julia’s gorgeous rack, replied, “…huh?”

“My positioning, silly. How does it look?”

To which Lauren absently let slip, “You’re perfect. I mean you, I mean, um… uh…”

Julia laughed. “Aw, you’re so sweet. But I don’t know if I can hold this pose much longer. In fact I…” – and then, affectedly, “oops!”

Anyone with a clear awareness of the situation would have seen that Julia deliberately stepped rather than stumbled forward. They also would have seen that she purposefully cupped the back of Lauren’s head, rather than flailing out with her arm to steady herself.

Lauren of course had no such perspective. Before she knew what was happening, her face was buried in Julia’s fat belly. In the first moment she instinctively tried to wrench her head back, but Julia’s grip was too strong. Then Lauren’s arousal took over and she relaxed into it. Her mouth was open a little, and she gloried in the overpowering taste and smell of Julia’s body; she wallowed in the feeling of Julia’s sweat-drenched belly suffocating her. A loud and heavily muffled moan escaped her lips.

Julia feigned slowly staggering forward a little. She pulled Lauren’s head in even harder, still in the flimsy pretense of steadying herself. She dragged out this charade for a good few seconds. At length, she removed her hand from the back of Lauren’s head. For a couple more seconds, neither woman moved. Then, slowly, Julia took a couple of steps back and looked down at Lauren.

Lauren sat back heavily on her heels, her hands resting on her thighs. She stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused, jaw hanging open, panting heavily. Her face was soaked with Julia’s sweat, her nose and mouth utterly dominated by the fat woman’s scent.

Julia laughed again. Still almost giggling as she spoke, she said, “Wow, sweetie – you really got a faceful, huh?”

After a moment, Lauren’s dulled gaze rose slowly and unsteadily. Lauren let Julia’s lazy, imperious stare wash over her, gladly drowning in it.

Julia waited for a long time. Then, slowly and evenly, she began to speak. “I can tell how much you enjoyed today’s session. You enjoyed it so much that it should clearly be free – right? In fact, you’re even gonna come back tomorrow, same time, for another free session. Aren’t you? You don’t need to say anything – just nod.”

Lauren did as she was told.

“Aw, that’s so nice! I knew what a sweet girl you are. So eager to please…”

As she said this Julia stepped forward and bent down so that her face was inches from Lauren’s. With her left hand, she reached out and placed her fingertips on the side of Lauren’s face. She gently stroked Lauren’s cheek with her thumb. Still smothering Lauren with her stare, Julia chanted softly, “Isn’t that right?”

Gently biting her lower lip, Lauren nodded. Julia’s smirk widened. She slowly straightened up. Then she turned. Julia’s enormous backside was now directly in front of Lauren’s face. Placing her hands on her hips, she shifted them gently from side to side. Then, slowly, she began to walk away, her fat buttocks rising and falling heavily with the rhythm of her steps.

She stopped and cocked her head to the side. Casually she said, “Oh, we’re done. You can let yourself out.”

Then she strutted out through a door at the side of the room. Presently, the sound could be heard of a shower running.

Lauren remained kneeling on the floor for a long time. Then, shaking, she rose and hurried quietly for the exit.


Mike stood in his kitchen, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Julia was bent double in front of the fridge-freezer, rooting through the lower half. Today she wore nothing but a partially see-through slip with a thong under it. Even when she was standing straight, the slip covered just half of her massive rump. Bent over like this, the full, gorgeous expanse of her fat arse lay exposed. Mike stared so hard that he felt a little dizzy. He felt the blood pounding in his ears.

Finding something she wanted, Julia closed the freezer, straightened and turned towards Mike. Mike, embarrassed, quickly looked down and began fiddling aimlessly with the edge of the counter. Julia started towards him, then shouldered past him with a dismissive escort bursa grunt. Mike saw that she was holding a large tub of fancy, expensive ice cream – one that he had bought last week but hadn’t yet opened – and a spoon. As she continued towards the living room, Mike was once again enthralled by her spectacular rear end. Without thinking, he began to wander slowly after her.

Over the past two days, Mike had worked up enough courage to make several hopeful attempts at striking up a rapport with his house guest. Each time he had been mocked, dismissed or outright ignored. His self-worth was taking a hell of a beating, but he couldn’t stop. He was reaching the point of desperation.

Julia sat on the couch with her feet up, watching TV while she steadily devoured large spoonfuls of ice cream. Mike lingered nervously behind her, trying to think of something to say.

Finally, Mike sidled up level with her and tried brightly, “Er… it’s, er… it’s good that stuff, isn’t it?”

Julia turned her head slowly to regard him. She looked as if she’d forgotten he was there and was both bored and annoyed by the reminder. At length, she drawled, “It’s fine.”

Mike looked as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him. “Oh no, yeah, it’s… I mean it’s not… yeah, you’re right, it’s okay. Like, yeah…”

Julia turned back towards the TV, ignoring Mike. Mike couldn’t stop staring at her, and he felt more awkward by the second. He thought he’d better cut his losses and scarper – but he couldn’t. His legs felt like blocks of cement.

At some point, Mike couldn’t bear the silence any longer. He heard his voice, which seemed to have gone up an octave while he was standing there, stammer unevenly, “H-how do you, uh, how do like the, um… the town?”

Julia closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. She turned again towards him, this time with a look of disgust tinged with anger. She said, “You’re a little creep, aren’t you?”

Mike’s jaw fell. His eyes were wild with confusion and horror. He spouted breathlessly, “Wha- wha- wha… huh?” He felt Julia’s gaze bore implacably through him, reducing him to nothing.

“You’re a creep,” Julia repeated. “All you do is hang around doing nothing, staring at my ass. Then you creep up and make some lame, worthless comment and expect – what? Like, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Mike was in freefall, the room spinning around him. With a slight whimper in his voice, he choked out the first excuse that came to him: “I was… just trying to be a good host.”

For a moment, Julia looked bemused. Then she threw back her head and gave a raucous peal of cruel, mocking laughter. When she looked back at Mike, the anger was gone from her face. Her disgust was now mixed with amused pity.

“Oh my god – you’re such a loser. That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. I mean, I get that you can’t help staring at me. You’re weak. You’re desperate. Of course you can’t help it. But a good host? Sweetie… you haven’t even offered to do anything for me!”

Mike was mortified. He felt like the biggest idiot alive. But there was hope! He still had a chance to make amends.

“Oh! S- sorry,” he choked. “I’m really sorry. I’d love to do something for you! I mean, uh… can I… please?”

Julia smiled at Mike, something she hadn’t done since their first meeting. Mike felt like he could breathe again.

“That’s better,” intoned Julia softly. “Now, let’s see, what can you do for me? Well – I suppose I could use a foot rub.” Turning her attention back to the TV, she resumed gorging herself on Mike’s ice cream.

Mike stood there for a moment, beset with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the request – which had sounded more like a command – was presumptuous, over-familiar and demeaning. On the other hand, he really wanted to touch her feet. He felt guilty for his creepy behaviour. And… he really wanted to touch her feet.

Silently, Mike knelt down, took one of Julia’s lovely feet in his hands and set to work. He gazed up at her with a lust that was fast becoming adoration. For her part, Julia totally ignored him. Mike felt unutterably glad that Julia was letting him do this for her. He sensed vaguely that he was being manipulated – yet he couldn’t help but feel grateful.


Lauren hesitated, biting her lip. Then, her knuckles white with tension, she knocked on Julia’s door.

Even standing out here in the corridor, she was already flooded with arousal. Since leaving here yesterday, she had not stopped thinking about Julia for a single moment. She had tried desperately to drive these thoughts from her mind, to distract herself with other things. It was no use.

Between then and now, Lauren had masturbated five times – twice in the afternoon yesterday, twice more during the night and then again this morning. She had hardly slept ten minutes. She was dead tired and still horny as hell.

When Lauren had masturbated over Julia for the first time, she hadn’t even realised at first that she was touching herself. She had tried to draw her hand away, but her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. Each time she had succumbed, it became clearer and clearer that she was powerless to stop herself.

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