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The Scooter Club

Category: Fetish
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Could I really be doing this?

I’m following some guy at a garage to the back room – seriously, the back room – where he is no doubt going to fuck my brains out. I’m watching his muscular ass ripple in his tight jeans, and I’m already unzipping my leather jacket. It was barely holding me in to begin with, and since I don’t seem to be wearing anything underneath it, I’m already bouncing free by the time that my surprise lover opens the stock room door. We slip in, I slam the door closed with my foot, and he reaches for me.

It’s like I’m living one of those letters in a men’s magazine, and if that’s not crazy enough, the whole thing started with a joke.


“Hey, so, why are fat chicks like scooters?”

“I dunno, dude.”

Oh, please…

I made my way through college with a job at the library, and although my official duties were usually wandering the study cubicles and collecting discarded books, most of my day was spent shushing immature patrons. I wasn’t the sort of person who really got noticed back then, and being invisible sometimes had its advantages. Contrary to popular myth and bad porn, I never saw any slutty but somehow still virginal schoolgirls hiking up their plaid miniskirts and bending over a desk for the first guy lucky enough to walk by. Maybe I went to the wrong college. But I did get to hear a lot of crazy shit when nobody bothered to know that I was there, bad jokes included. Sometimes I just listened, but I wasn’t in the mood that night. I was about to go around the corner and tell the clowns to zip it, but I stopped when I heard the punch line.

“They’re both fun to ride, but you don’t want to get caught on one.”

The joke teller was a frat type, muscled and nice to look at when they keep their mouths shut, and his side kick was a short little suck-up who was laughing way too hard.

“Ha, ha… yeah, ’cause they’re fun to ride…” Side Kick saw me, and his pudgy face turned bright red. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

Frat Boy looked like he was about to say something, but I just rolled my eyes and walked off. I should have been offended, although I’ve heard a lot worse than ‘fat chick,’ but that was the last thing on my mind. Actually, I was more than a little excited.

Fun to ride? Did guys really think that? And talk about it? I mean, not that I would want either of the fuck wads in the library, but were there real men out there who like big girls? Girls like me?

Don’t get me wrong; I’d had sex before. And it wasn’t like I never got hit on either, but it was always toward the end of the night by guys who are looking to fuck anything that they can. I had no real interest in a boyfriend, but I do like sex, so I always figured why not? Trouble is – and here’s a shocker – drunk, desperate bar flies aren’t much a lay. I always ended up taking care of business myself after they passed out or left, and I had recently started just skipping the middle man and going straight to the battery-operated fun. Call me whatever you want, but I take a lot of pride in how fast I can wear one out, which was exactly what I was planning to work on when I got back to my dorm room that night.

I’ve never really been all that into porn – I rely my own creative mental images while I’m rubbing and buzzing my way to bliss – but that night, I just couldn’t get the joke out of my head or the idea that I could be missing out on men who actually wanted a body like mine. So after I took a nice long shower and treated my smooth and still warm skin to some expensive lotion, I found myself sitting naked in front of my computer and wondering what was out there.

I had my favorite pink vibrator ready to go, and I definitely wanted to get off, but I was honestly thinking it was just as likely that I would be grossed out by a few sleazy Web sites dedicated to weird fetishes. I had never even heard of the phrase Big Beautiful Woman, but after clicking a few links, I was absolutely amazed by page after classy page showcasing stunning women proudly showing their soft curves for the world to see. They weren’t at all ashamed, and they weren’t being portrayed as objects of some deviant loser’s fucked up fantasy. Actually, the guys with them were smoking hot, and they were worshipping those lovely large ladies – some a lot larger than me, even – like they were goddesses. I mean, I knew that the guys were all models, but that didn’t take anything away from the eroticism of this new world that I had discovered, and watching those muscular hands and gorgeous hard dicks slide over soft plump skin had me hotter than I could remember being in a very long time.

But for all that, and although I didn’t really think of myself as bisexual, it was a video of one woman by herself that really did it. It was partly because she looked a little like me – yeah, I’ll save that one for a therapist. She had long blonde hair to my short brunette, but she had the same double-D chest, same full belly and wide hips, and same sumptuously round ass. Even her funky oval eyeglasses were a pretty close match. But it was really the toy that she was rubbing slowly over her oiled curves that caught my attention, because it looked exactly like mine.

It was a simple model as far as vibrators go, about six inches long and hot pink, but it had an unusually strong motor that never failed to do the job. Feeling naughty and ready to release, I started doing everything that the blonde was doing, starting with sliding the luscious toy down the long line of my cleavage and feeling the powerful vibrations ripple through my chest. I pushed my plush breasts together to hold the toy in place while I pinched and tugged at my pink nipples. They’re very sensitive, and I play them as much as I can, so it actually took some effort to keep following along with the video as the blonde let go of her own tits and slowly slid the vibrator down her round belly.

We both stopped when the shaking tools touched our clits, and I watched with heated fascination as she spread herself and pushed the pink plastic into her tight opening. I gasped as I did the same, using one hand to pump the vibrator in and out and the other to rub ferociously at my swollen hood. It was a teaser video, and it wasn’t very long. But fortunately, I didn’t need very long. I timed it so that we finished at the same time, but while she chose that moment to shove her toy deep inside to get the best of every last inch, I couldn’t help but reach up with both hands and grab again at my hard nipples. That was always how I came the best, but without anything to keep it in place, the force of my climax shot the slippery toy out from between my thick thighs. Still shaking and trying to breath, I broke out laughing as the buzzing toy skittered across the concrete floor of my room.


The funniest thing about the whole experience is that I actually do ride a motor scooter.

I had a scholarship that covered a good chunk of my tuition and board, and so I was able to spend most of my pay from the library on myself. I didn’t really need a lot, other than batteries and fun things to put them in, and so on the rare occasion that I splurged on something new, I went all out. Scooters are a smart way to get around in a college town, and any old used one would have done fine for most people. But for me, it was a shiny new pink Vespa. Yeah, it’s hot.

But being invisible, my fine sense of fashion didn’t extend as far as my wardrobe. I wasn’t dumpy or anything, and I don’t think that I was intentionally trying to hide my body; I just didn’t see the point. The morning after my happy discovery on the Web, however, I decided that it was time to change that. I had some cash in my account, and it was Saturday, so I headed out on the Vespa to have some fun.

The first stop was the hair salon. There wasn’t much to work with, but I went with a short-banged sassy bob and splurged on some dark red highlights. I actually thought about going pink, which you’ve probably already guessed is a bit of a favorite, but I thought that might be a little too much. And anyway, pink is reserved for my toys and a few rarely seen articles of intimate attire. Apparel of a less intimate variety was my second stop, however, and it was off to the mall for that. Cliché, I know, but when a lady like me finally takes a day to be girly, where else would she want to go?

I stopped at my favorite bath shop to refill on body lotion and pick up some new shampoo made for dyed hair, and then I found myself in the dressing room of the one mall shop that I actually like. It’s a big girl boutique that mostly specializes in lingerie, and so it was already the proud owner of a good chunk of my credit card balance, but there were a few other items that I had been keeping my eye on. One was a sexy leather jacket that I always thought would make a great addition to my riding wardrobe.

I was wearing leather boots that matched the jacket and a pair of tight black stretch pants that did a great job of hugging my wide curves and round ass. The jacket was a thin leather and cut perfectly, but I had tried it on over my blouse, and the combination just wasn’t working. I took the jacket back off and hung it on a hook next to the three-way mirror, and then the blouse followed. Not done yet, I slipped out of my generous lace bra and took a moment to admire my reflection.

A lot of ladies my size are ashamed of their bodies, but I never really have been. Actually, I like the way that the bottoms of my form tits just rest on the gentle curve of my belly. They’re big enough to give me a nice, full hourglass, and my always hard nipples are surrounded by a light pink areolas the size of a half dollar. But my hips and ass are my favorite; a full forty inches around and surprisingly firm for their size. I’m sure it’s a little weird, but I never get tired of looking at them. And what better chance than a dressing room mirror.

Slowly, teasing myself, I peeled my stretch pants down. I imagined that it was a man’s rough hands that were doing the work, exposing my pale and ample flesh for his admiration. As I turned and posed to give myself a better view, I wondered what it would be like to have that flesh worshiped instead of just settled for; caressed instead of slapped with a laugh. The thought had me suddenly a lot hornier than I had intended to get myself, and automatically, my fingers found the waist of my pink panties and slid the thin elastic south. My pussy came into view, and I absently stroked the plump, bald, lips before gently spreading them apart to let the swollen tip of my clit peek through. I was just about to touch my finger to it when I suddenly started giggling at what someone might think of the sight of me topless in a dressing room with my undies around my knees. I thought for a minute about throwing caution to the wind and getting myself off anyway, but I wanted to save it.

Reluctantly, I pulled my panties back up and felt them dampen when they reached my warm crotch. When my pants were also back in place, I slipped the jacket back over my naked chest. The feel of the leather sliding across my bare skin was decadent, and I zipped it up just enough to be legal in public. The leather was firm enough to push my cleavage together and hold my tits high on my chest, and I was thrilled with the result. Call this one sold.

I zipped up a little more – I had to be presentable in my favorite store, after all – and shoved my blouse and bra into my bag. I walked confidently out of the dressing room, and the clerk saw me right away and smiled.

“I guess you liked it,” she said.

“I guess so,” I said back.

“Well, it looks great! Wearing it home?”

“If that’s okay.”

“Sure, let me just get the tags.”


I don’t ordinarily notice people watching me when I walk around, but leaving the mall in my new outfit, there was no doubt that I drew a few stares. I just soaked up the validation and kept on walking. Well, maybe swaying, just a little. In the parking lot, I took a chance to glance at myself again as I rode past the mirrored windows of one of the department stores, which was how I saw that the head lamp on my scooter was out. Damnit! But hey, the news wasn’t all bad. At least I would get a chance to show off my new look.

As with most large universities, there were probably a half dozen scooter shops within walking distance of my campus. But they were always crowded with aggravating hipsters, and so I had bought the Vespa from a little shop on the other side of town that didn’t seem to do much business at all. But the lack of crowds was only one reason that I always went back to The Scooter Club for service. The other reason was a nice bit of eye candy in the form of the owner.

Mark was tall and muscular – not like weird, Photoshopped, body-builder muscular, but enough to see that he was in shape – but he also had a quiet, intellectual sort of thing going that somehow complimented the mechanic’s façade rather than competing with it. His hair was cropped short and always tousled, and he had the sort of eyes that let you know that there is something special going on behind them. But his best feature by far was his strong hands. Visions of those fingers boldly tracing every inch of my big body had gotten me off more times than I could count, and I wasn’t at all disappointed that my shopping day would include a run to his shop.

“Kaitlyn,” he said when I walked in, looking up from the counter where was doing whatever it is that shopkeepers do when there’s nobody around to buy anything. And yes, I know, I should have noticed that he always remembered my name. I guess I always just chalked it up to good customer service, not to mention that there weren’t that many customer names to remember. But could Mark maybe have a whole different kind of service in mind?

No. No, I wasn’t going to start doing that. Okay, so I found out that some guys are into a big backside, but I wasn’t going to walk around thinking that every guy who took a second glance was ready to toss me down and ride me like Harley. But still, Mark did seem to perk up quite a bit when… Oh, God, girl, get a fucking grip.

“Hey, Mark,” I said as I walked to the counter. Somehow, my naughty little jacket zipper had managed to creep back down while I was riding, and I was barely still in the leather. Darn the luck.

“How’s the Vespa?” Marked asked, doing his best to be a gentleman and not to stare at my luscious cleavage. It was actually cute how miserably he was failing.

“Headlight’s out,” I said as I leaned over the counter.

“Almost,” Mark said with a twinkle. He wasn’t even trying to divert his gaze now.

Touché, I thought. So he has a sense of humor too.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “The jacket. I thought it would look nice with the riding boots.” I backed away from the counter and did a little spin for him. I couldn’t believe that I was actually being so bold. What the hell had gotten in to me? More importantly, what sorts of big and hard things could I still get into me?

“Yeah,” Mark said. “Looks great.” I turned back around and met his gaze. There was no way that it was just my imagination now. He wanted me, which was pretty convenient, because the feeling was more than mutual.

“So, you got the light?” I asked, bringing us back. Mark glanced at a shelf on the far side of the store and then did a quick tapping on his computer’s keyboard. He typed fast, and I couldn’t help but wonder what other talents those fingers were harboring.

“Looks like I have one in the stock room,” he said. He met my eyes right as stock room came out, and visions of cheesy porn instantly flashed through my head. One look at his suddenly flushed face told me that he just had the same thought. We stared for a minute, and then we both broke out laughing.

“Hang on,” Mark said as we recovered our wits. “I’ll go grab it.”

“Better lock the door first,” I said. I almost jumped at how fast that came out. Mark looked like he was going to start laughing again, but he then he must have thought that I looked serious. Come to think of it, I guess I was. I sure as hell didn’t try to stop him when he practically jumped to the front door and threw the bolt. He flipped the open sign around and headed for the stock room. Oh hell yeah!

I followed, already reaching for the zipper on my jacket. As soon as we were in the room, Mark reached for me and pulled me into a deep and passionate kiss. My toes actually curled as our tongues danced, and after a long while, he broke the kiss and starting trailing his mouth down my neck to my chest. He deftly peeled my jacket off my shoulders and let it fall, and then his mouth found one of my aching nipples as his hand crushed against my other breast and sensually massaged it. He rolled his tongue around the hard flesh in his mouth and then sucked it further in and took a light nipple. I threw my head back in ecstasy and grabbed his hair, pulling him closer to the treasure that he was so expertly tending.

His hands were wandering all over me now, and he moaned a little as they traced the curves of my belly and then around to my ass. He broke away from one tit and pulled the other one to him, pinching and pulling with his lips and teeth and making me wetter than I ever would have thought possible. I wanted to reach down my pants, even more than that I wanted to reach down his and stroke the hard cock that I could feel pressing against my thigh, but I also wanted him to make the move. I wanted him to possess me and make my body his unending playground.

Mark must have wanted the same, because he pulled away from my tits again and moved down, planting soft and wet kisses over my belly as he grabbed and caressed it. He was on his knees now, bowing before me, and I sucked in my breath as his mouth reached the waist of my tight pants. I wanted to scream for him to rip them off and lick my wet cunt until I came on his face. Fuck! How could he be making me think so raw and dirty?

Instead of obliging me, however, he suddenly grabbed my hips and forced me around until he was facing my ass and I was facing the wall. I felt his hands on my waist band, finally, and he slowly and torturously slid the elastic fabric down over my curves as if each new centimeter of exposed skin was an entirely new discovery to be savored before the next.

He stopped peeling when my pants were halfway down my milky thighs, and then my favorite fantasy was suddenly fulfilled as his sexy hands found their way back to my ass. He brushed his fingertips over the soft flesh, making me shudder, and then he gradually increased the pressure until he was practically kneading me. His mouth quickly joined his hands, and he started kissing and licking the entire ample offering before him. Every now and then, he would pull a little skin into his mouth and softly bite, and God knew what sort of marks he was leaving back there, but I loved it. I felt adored, and I wanted as much as he could give.

But he apparently wanted something that I hadn’t even thought of. He pulled my thong panties down as slowly as he had done with my pants, and then he went back to work with his hands and mouth. I suddenly became aware that his massaging motion was pulling my cheeks farther apart and that his kisses were moving closer and closer to… Really?

I was about to ask what he was doing, but then I realized that we was doing what I hoped he was doing, and I didn’t want him to stop. Sure enough, he gave my cheeks a last parting, and I felt his meaty tongue slide across my tight and quivering asshole. I screamed in surprise and delight and surprised myself by putting my hands over his and spreading myself even wider.

“Is that okay?” Mark asked between muffled breaths.

Okay? What a time to be a gentleman! You’re licking my ass!

“Yes!” I screamed. Holy fucking hell, yes! No man had ever had his mouth on that part of me before, and I was about to put it at the top of my list of shit that I should have tried way sooner when Mark went even better by darting his tongue past the tight muscle and straight into my depths.

“Oh my GOD!” I screamed. “Fuck, that feels good!”

Mark slid his hands out from under mine, leaving me to hold my cheeks spread, and slid his fingers between my thighs and gently urged my legs apart. I knew what he was doing, and I was happy to oblige as I felt him make his way up thighs. They were slick with my juice, and he easily slid one finger past my swollen lips while his other hand found my eager clit. He pressed and rubbed it while his tongue slid in and out of me, and a deep orgasm started to build up steam. Mark sensed it, and he pulled his hands and mouth away from my aching parts just as I was about to climax.

“Damn!” I said as I spun around. “I knew you would be a fucking tease!”

“Complaining?” Mark asked with a boyish smile.

“No way,” I said. This time I was the one who pulled him into the kiss, grabbing his hair again with one hand while the other found the impressive bulge in his jeans. I started rubbing, feeling the sensation of the erection growing stronger under my touch while Mark let low moans rumble into my mouth, and then I brought down my other hand and fumbled with his belt. He broke the kiss again and stepped back to give me a show of unbuckling the belt himself, but instead of moving to the fly of his jeans once the rough leather of the belt fell free, he pulled off his t-shirt to reveal a nicely toned chest and abdomen. I reached out and touched him, letting my fingers linger over the firm muscle on their way down to his jeans.

It was my turn to get on my knees now, and when I got Mark’s jeans unbuttoned, an incredibly hard dick sprang out at my face. It was absolutely fucking gorgeous; seven inches long, thick and veiny, with a lovely round head that I greedily sucked into my mouth. He tasted strong and manly, just what I needed, and I proudly took all of him in while he stroked my hair and neck and urged me on. I wrapped one hand around the thick shaft and stroked it as my head bobbed up and down, and with the other, I gently massaged his swaying balls. I knew that he was getting close when he started involuntarily thrusting his hips forward to meet my sliding mouth, and now it was my turn for a little mischief.

“Hey,” Mark said after I pulled away abruptly, giving his dick a hard squeeze. “Now who’s being a tease?”

“Yeah, that would be me,” I said as I stood part way up and somehow managed to get my boots and pants off without falling on my ass. When I was on my feet, I finally looked around the room. It was bigger than the front room and piled floor to ceiling with what looked like well-organized stacks of boxes and shelves of parts. There was a small desk near the door and a couch just next to it. That would do.

In spite of his talents, Mark didn’t really seem like the type to keep condoms in his desk drawer. Fortunately, a modern girl comes prepared. It had been a few months since I had been in the handy little side pocket of my bag, but they were still there. I pulled one of the silver foil squares out and waved it at Mark as I strutted to the couch.

“You going to just stand there,” I asked. “Or are you going to come over here and fuck me?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man get his clothes off so fast, and before I knew it, I was laying with one leg thrown up over the back of the couch while Mark’s beautiful cock rammed in and out of me. After all the teasing and licking, a hard fucking was just the thing. And Mark was an absolute master at it. He knew just how to angle his strokes and vary his rhythm, hitting all the right spots and bringing me to the edge and back until he was ready. I tried to hold off so that we could climax together, but I couldn’t. I screamed with a hard orgasm, and as my pussy clamped down even tighter on his cock, that pushed him over the edge as well.

I love watching a guy while he cums. In my unfortunate experience, however, the ecstasy face is usually just followed by snoring or some lame excuse to leave. But not with Mark. He had barely pulled out of my dripping and satiated hole when his dick was replaced by that wonderfully nimble tongue. He slowly licked up all of the musky juice from my thighs and then set to work on my still sensitive clit, gently easing me back to pleasure by sucking the swollen button of hot flesh into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue while first one and then two fingers explored my wet depths. He curled his fingers up and hit that special spot perfectly; pressing and rubbing hard until my second orgasm washed over me like a warm wave.

Mark stood up, looking very pleased with himself, and not just for getting me off again. He was already sporting more wood, and I let my mouth hang open while I gawked at it.

“Wow,” I finally said. “That was fast.”

“Was it?” he grinned. “I hope you brought another condom.”


It was a good thing that Mark had my headlight in stock, because it was already dusk by the time that we were too exhausted to keep going. He put the light in while we exchanged numbers and made plans for another get together. For the first time that I could remember, I was not only looking forward to seeing a spontaneous romp partner again, I was actually thinking that there was a pretty good chance that he would call.

I passed by the main avenue of the campus on my way back to the dorms, and while I was stopped at a red light, I happened to glace over and see none other than the two jokers from the library the day before. I was up against the curb, and they were only a few feet away waiting for a bus. Side Kick saw me first, and he jabbed Frat Boy in the arm.

“No way,” Frat Boy said with a stupid grin. He looked like he was about to say something even dumber, but I cut him off.

“What?” I asked playfully. “They really are fun to ride.”

And you’ll never ride this one!

I laughed to myself while the poor jerks could only stare and dream. The light changed, and I rode on to better things. To way, way better things.


I mentioned earlier that I wasn’t really looking for a boyfriend back then, so you’re probably wondering if Mark and I ever got together for than just that one nooner. We did, and we still are. After I graduated, we got married, and we’re joint owners of The Scooter Club now. We sometimes meet people there who are like us – big girls who like to ride and be ridden and men who love to oblige them – and we’ve formed a sort of club of our own. We have a lot of fun and crazy adventures.

Maybe sometime I’ll tell you about a few…

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