The Fluffer Girl
Introduction:
continuation of
“Get out of my bed,” she demanded.
“What? This is our bed.”
“Was, husband-boy. From now on you’ll come in here at my invitation only.”
I was stunned. Surely she must be joking. Still a bit groggy, I suddenly recalled what had transpired earlier that evening.
“Where is he?” I alarmedly asked.
“Bill’s gone home. I need to be alone. You can sleep downstairs on the couch. Get moving!”
“Now wait a second–I have some rights here too, don’t I?”
Laura gave me a condescending look. “Listen here, husband-boy–things have changed, and you can now deal with change number one.”
“I won’t leave my own bed,” I said defiantly.
“Yes you will,” responded Laura, in a voice just too icily calm for my comfort. She then picked up her cell phone.
“Oh God! What now?” I started to choke and my eyes began to water. Fully awake, it wasn’t hard to guess the answer.
“Don’t make me call him,” said Laura.
My heart sank. Seeing Bill handle Laura as though she were a baby doll, I dreaded the thought of him acting as the enforcer. I began to cry. Laura spoke.
“Dell, you’ve been a good husband, but as we grow older we also grow in other ways. You’ve seen Bill. You may be 15 years older than him, but compared to him physically you’re just a boy. I’ve come to realize I enjoy being pleasured by a man.”
I had no defense. There was no denying it. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I felt it confirmed from every angle in which we encountered each other. From his 5″ advantage in height, to his size 13 feet (mine are a 9). From his athlete’s physique to his 10″ dick (and thick, too). I continued to cry. Laura put her arms around my head.
“Dell,” she began, “I like you, but I’ve changed and I’m not about to go back. Bill won’t be moving in and I have no intention of kicking you out. I’d like you to stay…but the rules must be different now.”
Okay, the marriage wasn’t great–but I thought we had a modicum of happiness in our existence. Apparently I had been deceiving myself. With her income she already held most of the cards, and with a stud at her beck-and-call things were complete. It wasn’t “most” of the cards she held–it was all! Or so I thought.
“An additional item, dear boy. For the past six months Bill’s been taking me to the gym. He thinks I’m a natural for this stuff. When I first tried, I could only bench press 80 lbs. This afternoon I did two repetitions with 125.”
My jaw dropped. It had been years since I lifted a weight. I could recall once, in college, bench pressing 160 lbs., but in the shape I was presently in I had little confidence I could approach that. My heart sank…again. Don’t tell me she’s now stronger than me! She continued.
“Bill’s done lots of work with weights for football, and when I expressed some interest he leapt at my suggestion to help get me started. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.
“I don’t want to humiliate you, Dell, but I’ve been training my entire body and I’m a good deal stronger than I was six months ago. At this point I may already be stronger than you, but if I’m not, it won’t be long. I squatted 200 lbs. today for five repetitions, and Bill’s thinks I can do competitive weightlifting.”
I thought I couldn’t get any lower, but I was wrong. I was demoralized, but not so much that I didn’t try to grab her in a playful headlock.
“What do you think you’re doing, husband-boy?”
For the first time all evening I started laughing. “So you think you’re tough?” I asked. “Let’s see you do something with this.”
We were playing, but it was serious play. She grabbed me around the waist, spun me around and loosened my grip. I stopped laughing and was suddenly breathing hard. If I chose to continue I would have a real tussle on my hands. Laura then pulled my fingers apart and got out of the headlock.
She looked at me as if scolding a child. Our encounter was basically a draw, but caused a tremor to the assumptions I had always carried with me about being the stronger of the two.
“Another six months and you won’t stand a chance. I’ll add ten pounds of muscle and maybe 25 pounds to my bench press.” She then flexed her biceps, something I had never been able to picture her doing. A larger than expected round ball formed in her arm. “Did you want to ask anything about the rules?” she said with sarcasm.
I went downstairs and slept on the couch.
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part two
Six months later, and though living in the same house, I was living in a whole new world. Where to begin?
Bill would come over 2-3 times a week. Occasionally they would allow me to come upstairs to watch. Yes…allow. I wasn’t gay, but they each knew how turned on I got by the sight of this superior specimen of manhood taking my wife. I became the fluffer girl. If Laura had to relieve herself, Bill would wander over to my position on the floor and I would get on my knees and do whatever was required to keep him erect. When Laura came back to the room she’d pat me on the back of the head, signalling that it was time for me to return to my “seat.” I would watch as Bill satisfied her in ways that were impossible for me.
Laura was becoming religious with the weights and now weighed 160 lbs. of solid muscle. Not showy muscle, just solid. I was 180 lbs. of softness. We’d play wrestle but by now she would always win. Her thighs in particular had a pronounced muscular curve to them, and one day she made us compare measurements. Mine were 23″ in circumference and her’s a half-inch larger, but so much more muscular it left little doubt as to who was now wearing the pants. Even her arms were almost as big as mine. Moreover, as her bodyweight and muscle mass increased, her bodyfat went down, to a point where she was now wearing an A-cup, from previously being a B. Glumly, I realized the only thing that wouldn’t change was our feet. Mine would still be bigger, though not by much. Oh, and maybe soon my breasts would be bigger.
Laura had assumed full control over the house and our relationship. She’d sit on the couch and I was expected to take off her shoes, bring over the footstool, and elevate her feet onto it. Fully cognizant of the change that had occurred, I also realized something else: I was beginning to enjoy it! Laura was queen and I her court. I’d always admired many things about her, and this quick attainment of physical superiority caused me to recognize what an awesome woman she was!
Every couple of weeks she’d allow me to come into her bed (yes, what was once “our” bed). Sex was now different, as I was expected to satisfy her in ways I had never been comfortable with. Intercourse was a rarity. As for my needs, most of the time she’d laughingly wrap her now strong hand around my less-than-average sized penis, tease me mercilessly and watch me come. I couldn’t help myself–it had become the most natural thing in the world.
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part three
“Oh fluffer girl!”
This was now Laura’s way of calling me over. I wasn’t entirely happy with the nickname, but had to admit it fit.
“Have you fixed breakfast yet?
Laura and I led fairly conventional lives, at least insofar as how it appeared to the outside world. Neither of us were interested in making a statement to the rest of the world, and so our relationship was confined to the walls of our house. When going to an office function where I was expected to come along, Laura would treat me as the man of the household…now an ongoing joke between us.
I brought breakfast up to her, in bed.
“Thank you fluffer girl. Now make sure you get the house in order while I’m away at work today. I’m bringing over an important client and everything must be in tip-top shape.”
Laura had become a very busy woman. She continued her rise within the company and was now earning more than double my own salary. She had also become deeply involved with the weights, becoming fascinated by the change occuring in her body. And she was still bringing in an outside man, though it was no longer Bill. More than a year ago they had come to an amicable parting of the ways, Bill having become engaged to a black woman his own age. All this made for a very tight schedule, and Laura decided that with her additional income my time could be put to better use as…her “wife.” I was her maid, chauffeur, cook, and anything else that might support her in her position.
The thing with the weights had been amazing. At 5’8″ tall, she now weighed 175 lbs. She could bench press 200 lbs. for several repetitions, and squat with 300 lbs. When she wanted my services, limited as they were, she’d scoop me up in a cradle carry, walking up the flight of stairs and across the threshold to her bed, where she’d gently deposit me. Who’d have dreamed? My satisfaction was entirely a function of satisfying her, though I had my moments. She was magnificent and I enjoyed every minute of it, few as those minutes may have been.
At the gym she met another big black guy, who effectively substituted for Bill. Older than Bill by a few years, but still younger than either of us, he too was a stud, actually a bit larger and thicker than Bill even though a few inches shorter in height. He didn’t have Bill’s manners, or for that matter his intelligence. He was a high-school dropout working as a mechanic in a local auto shop. He was contemptuous of me in my role as fluffer girl, but basically didn’t care where his dick got stimulated. It was clear by now that Laura had a big thing for the big black thing. She wasn’t interested in a serious relationship–just about sex–and I wasn’t about to compete with the guys she was bringing over. I was settling into my role as fluffer girl.
James, her new stud, would occasionally come over before Laura had returned from work. It was my job to treat him as I would Laura. He’d walk in with a look of contempt and order me to get him a drink. Then he’d demand to know exactly when Laura was due back. One time I told him I didn’t know. He got angry at me, shoved me, and started speaking loudly at me.
“What the fuck you good for, boy? Where dat queen bitch?”
I was quaking with fear, realizing this guy could tear me apart limb from limb.
“I’m sorry, James, but once in awhile Laura runs over her schedule. Let me call her and find out for you.”
James glowered at me as I called Laura. And Laura was no better, being angry for interrupting her at work. She demanded to speak to James.
Within moments James had calmed down, and as soon as he hung up the phone ordered me to work. I pulled off his pants, got down on my knees, and started massaging his thick, flaccid deck while he stood. About 6″ in the flaccid state–about an inch larger than myself when fully erect–within a minute it had expanded to a bountiful 11″ or so. Hard as a rock, he ordered me to take down my pants. He laughed as he stood next to me, the difference between his man cock and my boy cock being painfully apparent, even to the point of…laughter.
…to be continued
