The bedroom was quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the tangled breaths of Jack and Veronica. After the wildness with Sabrina, everything between them shifted into something different—slower, deeper, more intimate.

Jack rolled onto his side, tracing his fingers down the curve of Veronica’s hip, watching goosebumps bloom beneath his touch.

“You still hungry?” he asked, voice low, rough with sleep and desire.

Veronica smiled, eyes half-lidded. “Always.”

Jack dipped his head and kissed her collarbone, then her breast, then lower still—worshipping her slowly. His tongue moved with patient precision, teasing her until her thighs trembled, her breath came in sharp whimpers, and her nails curled into the sheets.

They made love again, and again… sometimes slow and aching, sometimes deep and intense—but always connected. Between sessions, they lay tangled together, sharing soft kisses, dirty jokes, and the kind of touches that said you’re mine, at least for tonight.

When dawn crept through the curtains, Jack was still hard, still inside her, still moving with a rhythm that had them both trembling.

By the time morning truly broke, they were lying in a sweat-slicked mess of limbs and sheets, laughing breathlessly.

“You’re going to ruin me,” Veronica whispered, her voice hoarse.

Jack kissed her lips, then her neck, then her breast. “Then I’m doing it right.”

---

Later, they stood in his kitchen—Jack shirtless in sweatpants, Veronica in one of his oversized T-shirts—eating eggs and toast, sipping coffee, and stealing glances like two people who had barely scratched the surface of something dangerous.

Eventually, Veronica pulled on her clothes, kissed him long and slow, and whispered, “I’ll be back. Try not to start anything without me.”

He grinned. “No promises.”

She left with a wink, and Jack leaned against the doorframe, coffee in hand, soaking in the silence.

For about five minutes.

Knock knock.

Another knock. Lighter this time. Playful.

He opened the door—and there she was.

Darla.

She stood on his porch in a flowy summer dress that hugged every curve of her BBW figure like a second skin. Her hair was short and platinum blonde, tousled and cute—but her eyes had that spark. Mischief. Hunger. Confidence. Her breasts were enormous, full and swaying gently with every breath, barely contained by the thin fabric of her dress.

“Hi there,” she said with a honey-sweet Southern drawl. “I made muffins.”

Jack glanced down at the basket in her hands, then back up at the way her cleavage spilled from the scoop of her neckline.

“Looks like I’m the one getting spoiled today,” he said.

Darla giggled, stepping inside like she’d already been invited. “You’ve been on my mind, Jack. And after last night’s… fireworks… I figured it was time I came over and introduced myself properly.”

She set the muffins on the counter, then turned back to him, her eyes dragging down his body like she already had plans for every inch.

“You got time for a neighbor?” she purred.

Jack smiled slowly, the heat already rising again.

“I always do.”

Jack took a step closer to Darla, the scent of her perfume—warm vanilla and something sinfully floral—already wrapping around him. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned casually against the kitchen counter, letting her generous curves pour into the pose. The neckline of her sundress dipped low, exposing the deep, soft valley between her breasts, and the way her chest rose and fell was pure invitation.

“So,” she said, her voice low and rich, “am I the first woman to show up with baked goods… or just the first to admit I came for something else?”

Jack stepped up behind her, his chest brushing her back as he reached around her for a muffin, unwrapping it slowly, deliberately. “Depends,” he said, biting into it, his voice deep and thick. “Are you the type who wants to be fed… or eaten?”

Darla turned to face him, eyes wide, lips parted in a playful little gasp. “Well, aren’t you full of charm this morning…”

She reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers dragging down his abs, then slipping beneath the soft cotton until she wrapped them around the growing thickness of his cock.

“Mm. Not quite done from last night, are you?”

Jack leaned down, kissing the corner of her mouth, then trailing slowly to her ear. “You came to the door knowing exactly what you wanted.”

She pulled his cock free, stroking it slowly between them, letting it press against her soft belly as she purred, “And you’re about to give it to me.”

He backed her up against the fridge, his hands sliding up her sides, bunching the hem of her dress until it was at her waist—revealing thick, creamy thighs and a pair of lacy pink panties already damp.

Jack dropped to his knees.

“Oh—Jack,” she breathed, back arching as he pulled her panties aside and dove in.

His mouth was hot and hungry, his tongue sliding between her folds with slow, swirling strokes. Darla cried out, her fingers in his hair, hips rolling against his face as he devoured her. Her thighs trembled around his head, and her moans turned breathy and ragged as he sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking it with just the right rhythm.

Her first orgasm hit fast—explosive, unexpected—and she gasped, her body jerking, clenching, spilling onto his tongue.

Jack rose, lips wet, eyes dark with lust. “That’s breakfast.”

She dragged him to the couch, breathing hard, and shoved him down before climbing into his lap. Her dress was still bunched at her waist, tits practically bursting from her top, nipples hard and begging to be touched.

She grabbed his cock, lined him up, and sank down—inch by inch—her pussy gripping him like a velvet vice.

“Ooh, fuck yes,” she moaned, head falling back, her hands on his chest. “You’re so deep, baby…”

Jack groaned, hands on her wide hips, guiding her as she started to ride him—slow and steady, grinding her clit against the base of his cock with every drop.

Her breasts bounced heavily with each movement, and Jack couldn’t help but lean forward and take one into his mouth, sucking it deep, flicking her nipple while she fucked him with that perfect rhythm.

“Goddamn, Darla,” he growled. “You feel like heaven.”

She rode him harder now, her thighs slapping against his as she chased her next climax. “That’s ‘cause I’ve been dying to ride this cock since the day you moved in.”

Jack’s fingers dug into her ass, helping her bounce, his cock slick with her arousal as she whimpered and gasped with every thrust.

“Come for me again,” he whispered, lips against her neck.

And she did—loud and raw, body shaking, nails raking down his chest as she came hard around him, milking every inch of his thick cock.

He flipped her onto her back, driving into her with powerful, deep thrusts, her legs over his shoulders now, her body open and dripping for him.

“Fucking take it, Darla,” he groaned, slamming into her.

“Yes—yes, Jack, don’t stop—fill me up!”

His thrusts turned frantic, rougher, until his release surged—hot and thick—spilling deep inside her as he held her tight, both of them crying out, coming together in one hard, messy, glorious finish.

They collapsed in a tangled, sweaty heap, Darla’s chest rising and falling against his, her lipstick smudged, her smile lazy and satisfied.

“I was right,” she purred. “Way better than muffins.” As she got up to leave.

There was a new arrival and it started with little glances.

Chasity had only been in the neighborhood a few weeks, moving in with her grandmother, old Ms. Miller, after her boyfriend vanished the second the pregnancy test came back positive. Jack didn’t know the full story—just that Chasity was in her mid-twenties, visibly pregnant, and suddenly spending a lot of afternoons on the porch swing next door, rubbing her belly absentmindedly and watching the neighborhood like she was trying to feel normal again.

But what started as innocent eye contact turned into something else entirely.

At first, Jack caught her looking when he mowed the lawn shirtless—her eyes lingering a little too long on the curve of his chest, the sweat glistening along his shoulders. The next time, it was when he stepped out to grab the mail, stretching in the morning sun, only to notice her at the window, watching through the curtains.

She never looked away fast enough.

And each time he saw her, she seemed more flushed, more restless. She’d wave shyly, bite her lip, and then disappear inside like she was trying to fight off a fantasy that had already taken root.

Jack knew that look. He’d seen it before—desire building beneath the surface, simmering until it boiled over.

And pregnant or not, Chasity was stunning. Her body was glowing, fuller in all the right places, her skin radiant, curves amplified by motherhood. Her breasts had grown heavy and round, her hips wider, her belly swelling beautifully. But what really struck Jack was the need in her eyes—deep, aching, and hungry.

One morning, Jack stepped out to water his front garden and found her already on the porch swing, sipping orange juice and wearing a tight tank top stretched over her belly and soft cotton shorts that clung to the generous curve of her ass.

“Morning, Jack,” she called, voice sweet, but a little breathless.

He looked her over slowly, deliberately, letting her feel the weight of his gaze this time.

“Morning, Chasity. You sleep okay?”

She bit her lip, hesitating. “Not really. These hormones have me… wired. All the time.”

She glanced down at her body, then back up at him, eyes darker than before. “It’s like everything’s extra sensitive. My skin… my chest… even just being touched…”

Jack smiled gently. “That sounds like a lot to handle.”

She laughed, but it had an edge to it. “It is. Especially when there’s no one around to help me out.”

That hung in the air for a moment, thick and electric.

Jack walked closer to the edge of his lawn. “You ever get lonely over there?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Every damn day.”

He nodded, took a slow sip from his water bottle, then said, “You should come by sometime. I make a pretty good iced tea. Or… whatever you’re thirsty for.”

Her breath hitched, her eyes glued to him now.

“I’ll knock,” she whispered.

Jack smirked. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Chasity’s Page
Sabrina’s Page
Darla’s Page
Jack’s Page