Sexting Curves (BBW Erotic Romance) Read online

  College senior Lillian "Lilliput" Richards really should move on from her side job of babysitting Stevie, the 10-year-old son of the exceedingly delicious Major Logan Jones. She's got a big girl's job to go with her big girl curves and has spent the summer racing between a downtown office building and the major's home.

  Leaving Stevie isn't an option. She is very fond of her junior sidekick and, more importantly, the boy is missing his mom after the woman went AWOL to discover herself eight months ago. Oh, and there's another reason for staying -- Lily has been working a huge crush on the major for years. One-sided, of course. Not only is the major newly divorced and treats Lily like she's part of the family, but the man is hot enough to melt glaciers. There's not a thing a man like Logan could want with his plump, young and seemingly sedate babysitter.

  At least that's what Lily thinks until a sexting skirmish with her best friend goes awry and brings the major rushing home. With all her dirty little fantasies about Logan and pictures of her lush body in the phone he's now holding, is Logan there to fuck or fire her?

  **********

  Copyright © 2012 by Christa Wick

  Cover art © Phartisan@dreamstime. All persons and entities are fictional. Not for sale to libraries. No lending outside distributor (e.g. Kindle/Nook) terms of service. Otherwise, re-distributing, lending, or reading this e-book without first purchasing a license to do so is illegal and subject to heavy fines.

  Sexting Curves

  Major Logan Jones opened the front door of his three-bedroom ranch before I landed my first knock. Surprised, I glanced at my watch. "I'm not late, am I?"

  The major is very particular about people being on time. After five plus years of babysitting his son Stevie, I still had a clean record. Working a summer job at a downtown office, however, meant that I had been cutting it close all summer long.

  "No, I heard you pull up." Taking a step back, he opened the door wider and motioned me inside.

  I passed him in the hall, my thick hips and the narrow space conspiring to force the brief rub of my body against his. A familiar heat flared along the surface of my skin. My nipples puckered, the sensation triggering an outbreak of goose bumps and wet need.

  Continuing down the hall, I rubbed at my arms, hoping my body would behave before the major noticed his effect on me. Not that he ever has -- I've been nursing a crush on him since I started babysitting Stevie over five years ago. He has remained blissfully ignorant even when my body's reaction to him kicked into high gear after Mrs. Jones ran off to parts unknown in search of her "true self."

  Ugh…Mrs. Jones.

  I'm pretty certain her true self is some kind of dumb ass space alien because Stevie is the cutest little bug I've ever babysat and the major is the sexiest thing on two legs. Logan is tall and lean, with muscles so big it would take both my hands to circle one of his biceps. Add to that intense fuck-me eyes, finely chiseled features accentuated by the military cut of his dark ash brown hair, and a mouth that looks like it could melt an iceberg and my pussy is instantly soaked when he's around. Hell, even when he's wearing his ACUs, he's hot as sin. Pour him into a tight t-shirt and a pair of jeans and I'm ready to pop.

  I also love how protective he is. Not just with Stevie, but with everyone he thinks of as his extended family -- including me. Since he isn't overbearing, it's a complete turn on knowing he has my back.

  Ready to leave, the major interrupted my reverie before I had a chance to drift into a middle-of-the-day, full-on wet dream and embarrass myself.

  "I'll be home by midnight." He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone and started tapping at the screen. Half a second later my phone buzzed in my purse. "Just sent you another number to call if you have trouble reaching me. Building I'll be at is a bit of a black hole for signal reception."

  "Okay." I watched him move through the front room to retrieve his gear. Another shiver ran across my skin when he bent over to grab his backpack. Seeing that tight ass, I wanted to step behind him, press my hips against it and run my hands up his sides before reaching around front and palming his dick.

  "No visitors."

  Snapping back to reality a second time, I nodded. It's the same discussion every time. He means "no boys." Like I could possibly be interested in someone else or stupid enough to invite them to the major's home.

  "Make sure Stevie is in bed by ten."

  "Yes, Major." I wondered how I would make it to ten. Stevie is easy to watch, but looking at Logan had me all worked up. My nipples remained hard as steel ball bearings and my clit had been slowly swelling from the second he opened the door. I already ached to go into the bathroom, lift my skirt and run my fingers over my pussy until I came.

  "Logan, not Major, not Mr. Jones. Just Logan." He gave me one of those looks that would be stern if his pale blue gaze didn't glitter like frosted diamonds. "Or I'll go back to calling you Lilliput."

  I crinkled my nose at him and faintly nodded but didn't say anything. I couldn't bring myself to call him Logan. I was certain I would make a fool of myself if I did. His name would eventually issue all breathless and shaking, exactly like it does when I'm touching myself. And his threat was no good because I only half mind him calling me Lilliput. It makes me feel special, even if it means he still thinks of me as the seventeen year old he first hired instead of a woman he can legally fuck in all fifty states and the District of Columbia.

  After a few more seconds of my only nodding, he lifted a brow and offered me an exasperated snort. "Just promise me you'll work on it, Lily."

  Watching him shoulder his bag, I smiled. "Yes, Major."

  *****

  With the major gone, I went into Stevie's room to see what he wanted for dinner.

  His gaze went adorably evil as the right side of his face crept upward in a grin. "Shepherd's Pie!"

  "Get serious, little man, I don't even know what that is." Last time he had requested haggis. Then we Googled it and he immediately reconsidered and asked for meatloaf. This time, I negotiated him down to spaghetti with asparagus tips.

  After five years, we had a routine, one that had grown a little cosier after his mom took off. Before, he'd want to play Xbox or get on the computer in the front room. After she left, he wanted to sit on the couch and watch movies with me. This visit, he selected home videos I'd never seen before.

  He was missing his mom and it broke my heart more than a little, so I agreed. When nine rolled around, I sent him to his bedroom to give it a quick clean, change into his Transformer pajamas and brush his teeth.

  Alone in the front room, I went back through the DVD, stopping each time the major was alone on screen. When I got to the part where he'd just lost a water balloon fight with Stevie, I replayed it frame by frame. The major wore a t-shirt and running shorts. The fabric was soaked through and clung to his muscled body. With the camera still running, he stripped the tee away, revealing small, hard nipples that made my pussy drool and my tongue thick with the need to lick and taste them.

  On screen, he grabbed a towel then ran it over his biceps and chest. Realizing Mrs. Jones had continued filming him, he gave her a sinful grin and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. For someone with a mad, lustful crush on Logan, it was one helluva sight to see. By the fourth replay, the tension running along my clit had stacked so high that I popped into the laundry room with my cell phone in hand while Stevie brushed his teeth in the bathroom.

  Locking the door, my gaze skipped over the full-length mirror attached to its back. Before Mrs. Jones skipped out, mirrors had filled the house -- one or more per room. She was totally weird like that. I had caught her a dozen plus times looking in whatever mirror stood behind me as she gave me instructi
ons.

  Mrs. Jones, who had never invited me to use her first name, is a stick -- at least she was eight months ago. So at first I thought she was staring at, and unfavorably judging, my double-wide butt, which made me even more self-conscious around her. Later I realized she only looked at herself in the mirror. She did it all the time, even when Logan or Stevie talked to her, her smiles reserved for her reflection.

  The mirrors had slowly come down after she left. I never talked to the major about it, but I think he didn't want to shock Stevie with their sudden and complete disappearance. Except for the bathroom mirrors and the one attached to the dresser in Logan's bedroom, the laundry room mirror was the last survivor.

  Hopping onto the washing machine, I braced a foot against the door on each side of the mirror. Normally, I hate looking at mirrors, especially large ones. I hate it so much that I raised the mirror in my bathroom at home a foot higher so it only shows my face. But I had come to terms with the mirror in the laundry room, ignoring it except for those few times I needed to use the room for stress relief when I kept my gaze focused on one spot only -- the pink, wet one between my plump thighs.

  With my skirt riding around my hips, I watched my reflection as I pulled the gusset of my panties to one side to reveal my waxed pussy. A thin, translucent syrup had leaked from the thick press of my labia to coat the seam. Spreading their swollen folds, I revealed the darker pink of my sex.

  Oh, Major, look what you've done. My pussy is soaked and swollen thinking about you.

  Sighing over what would never be, I opened the browser on my phone and navigated to wardick -- my favorite tumblr page. I thumbed through the posts with one hand while the other stroked my clit. I glanced at the mirror every few seconds to see how much more cream dripped from me and the lustful blush making the skin on my mound glow a pale rose. Half a dozen posts in, I found the perfect picture. It was a lap shot, the camera looking down as the subject sat with his pants pushed low. The image was hi-res, showing me a strong, tanned hand gripping a deliciously huge cock, its tip slick from a recent explosion of cum.

  I licked my lips, wondering what the major's skin and cum taste like.

  Looking back and forth between the mirror and the picture, my breathing picked up. My fingers skipped a little faster along my pussy as I imagined my other hand holding the major's dick instead of my phone.

  On the last glance back at the phone, a text message interrupted the image on the screen.

  What r u doing?

  I growled. It was Emy, another big girl and my absolute best friend except for when she texts me half a second before I'm ready to come and kills any chance of a climax.

  I texted her back.

  On wardick wishing it was Major's cock and he was fucking me with it.

  Emy really loves to goad me. Her next message was no exception.

  Pussy or ass?

  Spreading my hairless labia, I snapped a picture of my drenched pussy and typed a reply.

  He has an open invitation to fuck me ANY place, ANY time.

  Hitting send, my contacts list came up just as Stevie knocked on the door.

  "You going to read to me?"

  "Just a second, little man." Hearing Stevie start to bounce along the hall I confirmed the send command. I quickly pulled my skirt down and opened the door to chase after him, his gleeful cackles echoing down the hall as he eluded me.

  ************

  I had Stevie in bed by ten. Half an hour later, I was relatively confident he wasn't going to get back up for one last sip of water or to take a pee because of the last "last sip" I already let him have.

  Settling back against the couch, I pulled my skirt up and dragged a throw blanket over my legs to hide what I was doing. Keeping one eye on the hallway, I grabbed my phone and turned it on. Emy hadn't responded to my last message, which was odd. Usually, she tries to one up me until we are sending each other pictures of something inside one hole or another -- Emy with her pink dildo or me with my blue one.

  Our parents would be mortified, I'm sure, but it's better than the alternatives. We both lost our virginity to a (different) jerk who was only looking for a fast fuck and thought we should be grateful that anyone wanted to have sex with us. There are lots of guys around like that -- but we have opted for a different kind of sexual intimacy while we nurse our secret crushes.

  With no new message from Emy, I returned to wardick and the picture that had so captivated me in the laundry room. It was truly a beautiful cock. The shaft was heavily veined. The head was a shade darker than the body and had a well-defined bottom flare. Imagining it tugging at my pussy on the backstroke, I slid my free hand inside my panties and bit down on a moan.

  Just finding a truly satisfying rhythm, I heard keys in the front door one hour too soon. Taking a hard swallow, I dropped the phone, jumped up and pushed my skirt back down half a second before the major rounded the corner and entered the front room.

  "Major Logan, you're back early." I tried to smile and bring my breathing under control, but I'm sure I looked guilty as hell. I could feel my cheeks blazing with shame.

  His gaze scanned the room, his expression stern. "Where is it, Lillian?"

  "Where's what?" My question slowed at the end as I realized he had just called me by my full first name. Only my mom does that anymore and only when she is seriously pissed.

  I looked at his face again.

  His lips were pressed tightly together and his jaw seemed to be sliding from side to side even as he growled an answer. "Your phone. Where is it?"

  I've only seen the major angry a few times -- the few weeks right before and after Mrs. Logan deserted him and Stevie. Looking at Logan just a few feet away, his muscles bunching and steam practically rising off his hard body, I knew I was in trouble.

  I just didn't know why.

  Before I could even think to say anything else, he spotted my phone and scooped it up from the couch. "I told you no visitors. You know that's an absolute rule. You want to fool around with a boy, do it someplace else."

  He pressed the power button as I lunged for the device. Gently straight arming me, he held me at a distance as he opened my messages.

  "Those are private!"

  "I just want to know who has an open invitation to my home while you're supposed to be watching Stevie."

  I felt like I'd taken a baseball bat to my face when it dawned on me what must have happened. He was talking about the message on the image I thought I had sent to Emy. She didn't reply because she never received it. The major had!

  I sucked a deep breath in, panic cementing in my chest to hold the air inside me. I wasn't even going to attempt an explanation that no boy had an invitation to his house. With my phone in his hands, he'd realize the truth all too soon. Stepping into my sandals, I scanned the room for my bag. It was on the small side table coming off the hall. I made a bee line for it, my cheeks surely blazing bright red.

  Reaching for the bag, I noticed my keys weren't hooked to the outside like usual. I looked at the table top, scanned the row of small hooks above the surface.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  My heart knocked hard inside my chest. My lungs kicked out the breath I'd been holding, dragged another one in then seized once more. I spun around, my gaze casting wildly about in search of my keys. I didn't see them, but I noticed the major had stopped looking at my phone and was staring intently at me.

  That darkly-fringed fuck-me gaze he has was on at full power, his head cocked like some powerful beast that has just scented its prey. I backed up until my butt bumped against the wall.

  A million thoughts ran through my head. The enormously pissed look was gone, but I couldn't read what had replaced it.

  Amusement?

  Pity for the fat babysitter who has a crush on a demigod?

  He advanced on me with slow, deliberate steps. Held like bait, my keys were in his hand. In the other hand, he still had my phone. The display faced me. He had flipped through the messages, finding another
explicit shot of my pussy. It was the one I had taken in my bedroom, my legs spread wide, my blue battery-operated boyfriend on the quilt next to me. I had snapped the picture post-orgasm just as a mix of cream and lube left my pulsing cunt.

  "Didn't your parents warn you about taking pictures like this?" His voice had lost its usual good-natured efficiency. The words slid roughly from his mouth. He blinked and then his gaze raked my body.

  My overstuffed body that he couldn't possibly want.

  He drew his bottom lip in, wetting it. "What if Emy decided to post them online?"

  I folded my arms across my chest, trying to hide how hard my nipples had become. "She wouldn't and it doesn't show my face, anyway."

  I couldn't believe I was arguing with him about this. I needed my keys and my phone so I could go the hell home and die of embarrassment in the privacy of my bedroom -- right after a marathon session with my dildo because the idea of him seeing the pictures and knowing that I wanted his cock in me made my pussy extra wet.

  "It shows your mole, Lily, the one that's visible when you wear that pink bikini."

  My pink bikini -- the one my sister said a girl my size should be embarrassed to even look at and that Logan had seen once and only for about forty seconds as I fumbled for my swim robe.

  "Major..."

  "Yes, Lily?"

  He stood less than a foot from me, close enough I could smell the subtle spices of his aftershave. My pussy reached a new level of saturation, everything between my thighs hot and soaked and flexing. My knees beginning to weaken, I tried to take a breath in.

  Quickly pocketing my keys and phone, the major grabbed me by the shoulders. "You need to sit down, Lilliput. You look like you're going to pass out."

  I wasn't sure how close I was to passing out, but it sure as hell felt like I was a hair's width from coming. My clit throbbed, each pulse inflating the flesh just a little more until I thought I would burst.

  I let him lead me to the couch. My ass touched the leather cushions, the pressure of my weight forcing my lower lips together. I groaned, my hips thrusting up for a second before I brought myself under something resembling control.