A while back I had myself a husband, and he was an all account bastard. A mean son of a bitch that was constantly putting me down about my weight. For a long time I was ashamed about my plump body. But then I decided to stop being a victim and celebrate my curvaceous body. I planned my revenge too. I waited until the bastard left for work and went out to a fat friendly club where I picked out a few tasty morsels to take home with me for some fun. In our marriage bed, I undressed those men and stripped down to my pelt and hopped in with them. We had an assortment of sweet things to nibble on and we took turns smearing frosting all over our bodies and licking it off in the most sexy way possible.
It felt so good to have those hungry, demanding mouths on my skin, slurping up sugary goodness off of my titties and pussy. We rolled around in the sheets, both my hungry holes gobbling up their hard, throbbing cocks. We focused on a rhythm that made the bed shake, me screaming in pleasure, when the door opened. In walks Captain Shit, King of Turd Mountain. Let’s say he was NOT happy to see his demure wife slutting it up with two young studs drilling into her. I got my divorce the next month and have been a fatabulous woman ever since.








He was older than me, but that was fine. Older men are sexy. In a very Christian Gray manner, he wined and dined me at one of the finest restaurants in town. I felt like a princess. He paid for a salon day and a new dress. I thought this was really not that bad of a lifestyle. That was before we got back to his place. The moment I walked into his home, his demeanor changed. He pushed me against the foyer wall, ripped my $300 dress from my body and slapped my face. “You belong to me bitch,” he purred in my ear as he shoved a few fingers up my cunt. He dragged me into the bedroom which looked more like a dungeon. He put a spider gag in my mouth, restrained my feet and hands. I was strung up by some contraption and suspended over his bed so he could whip me.











