My mom was a sexy Mrs. Claus
My mom was a really big woman, over 300 pounds at her heaviest, and she would always dress up as “Mrs. Claus” for Christmas. Big red skirt with a white trim, top that really showed off her breasts (she usually wore a shirt underneath it, usually), her belly and butt straining against the fabric. Her in that outfit, laughing and shaking like a bowl fully of jelly, asking me to sit on her lap ... I have to admit, it’s a big part of why I like fat women now.
She usually had kids (family, friends, kids at church, etc) sit on her lap and tell her what she wanted for Christmas. It was a whole thing, very cutesy unless you were a perv like me. I liked feeling her hands on my hips, holding me close and secure. I liked feeling her tits and belly pressing up against me. I would imagine her sneaking a hand into my pants, rubbing against my underwear, her fingers wrapping around my cock. It was fodder for many a fantasy in December through middle school.
When I was 15, at a family gathering, we decided it would be funny if she sat on my lap instead and I asked her what she wanted for Christmas. She was a little tipsy and agreed, and even though I struggled to breathe under her full weight, it felt so damn good. Even though we were in my aunt and uncle’s house, I did hump up at her just a little bit. I think she was the only one who noticed, and she just laughed it off and pressed back down onto my lap.
She got off of me after only a couple minutes, which I was honestly glad for because I couldn’t breathe under her. But later that night, when we were home, I was watching TV on the couch and she asked if I wanted her to sit on me again.
Oh god, I did.
She wasn’t dressed as Mrs. Claus any more. She was just wearing her bathrobe, and before long she wasn’t even wearing that. I wordlessly slid out of my pants and boxers. She looked at me, naked from the waist down, already erect, and bit her lip and lowered herself down on me.
It wasn’t easy to make love on the couch when she could only sit on me for a couple minutes at a time before I started to black out. So we didn’t. We moved to my bedroom. It was clumsy and lasted too short the first time (which was also my first time), but the second and third times more than made up for it. It was also a lot easier for me to take her weight when she was just laying on top of me. We fell asleep together in my bed, and we woke each other up for sex twice that night.
It was another couple days before we felt comfortable and safe enough to talk about what we’d done. She said she wanted it to be a one-time thing, but we had sex on occasion anyway, including once right before I asked a girl to prom (“for luck,” she said).