It was a long couple of months till the magazines featuring Millie came out. We got them, both at once--the regular monthly, and the special edition devoted only to her--maybe a week before they hit the newsstands, by overnight mail direct from DeMarco's office at CURVY.
I tore the box open eagerly. It contained two copies of each, wrapped in those plastic bags that mask out everything but the title. It wasn't hard to tell the difference; one said "CURVY" above the black square, with a very familiar pair of big blue eyes looking at me over it--and the other had "CURVY presents" in very small letters in the upper left corner, and "MILLIE" across the top in sea-blue letters two inches high. The cover price was $24.95, and it was at least twice as thick as the regular issue. You could just see the top of Millie's head above the black square on that one, a little crescent of red hair.
My hands were trembling as I tore the plastic off the regular issue first. Millie was watching me, of course, sitting crosslegged on the floor in front of the coffee table as I sat on the sofa behind it.
I looked at the cover of the monthly. My mouth fell open. There was my wife, on the cover of CURVY, my favorite plumper magazine--wearing nothing but an innocent smile.
The seamless background was white, not blue. She stood with her bare feet together and her pale, fat thighs pressed tightly against each other, crouching just enough to keep her pussy slit from showing. She was bending over slightly, and was holding her hands flat, in front of her huge, hanging breasts--and her hands were just big enough to barely conceal her huge nipples. The expression on her pretty round face was a teasing smile. I stroked my cock through my pants involuntarily.
Millie giggled. "It took 20 minutes to get that shot right," she said. "Open it!"
I did. The Table of Contents featured a quarter-page shot of Millie with a big 45 in the bottom corner, the page number where her feature could be found. The picture was--remarkable.
The top half of the shot showed Millie looking down between her enormous tits, her innocent, wide-eyed baby face framed between her pale globes and fully-inflated knobs, her nipple-tips standing up like sausages--and the bottom half was a closeup of Millie's hairless, flaring, glistening pussy, with the tips of her fingers holding it wide open. You could see her smoothly erect labia, her swollen, prominent clit, and maybe three inches into her red, liquid hole. Millie was stretching her cunt open right over the camera lens.
"Jesus," I whispered, and Millie gave me that sexy little giggle I love so much. I looked from her delighted face in front of me, to the picture of her blatantly aroused and wide-open hole with that same face in the background above it in the magazine, and then back to her real face again.
"I've never been this horny in my whole life," I said. She squealed with joy and clapped her hands like a child.
"Get your dick out and jack off to it!" she whispered eagerly. "I so want to see you do that!"
"Not yet, Big Tits," I said. My voice was a little shaky. I would have shot in that moment if I'd gotten it out then. And this was just the first picture.
"Turn to page 45!" she said, bouncing up and down a little. The upper slopes of her tits rippled liquidly, but the coffee table concealed the rest of her.
Did I mention that she was naked? She had planned this for when the magazines came.
I did turn to page 45, and I stared, transfixed. It was a full-page shot of Millie against a black background, which emphasized and exaggerated the milky-white perfection of her skin, all over. She was stark naked, covered with gleaming oil, and posing like a Balinese dancer: bare feet wide apart and flat on the floor, knees turned outward and bent till her pale, fat, glistening thighs were horizontal. Her plump pelvis was cocked forward to exhibit her white, hairless pussy mound. Her flaring pink pussy lips were prominently displayed, clearly swollen and fetchingly parted.
Her plump, pretty hands were pressed flat together as if praying, directly over her head, with her chubby, curvy arms forming a frame for her sweet baby face. She was looking directly into the camera, with the hint of a smile on her rosebud lips.
And then there were her tits.
In the picture, Millie's pale, gigantic, shining breasts seemed to flow from below her pale shoulders, flaring outward from her armpits till they were twice as wide as her body, her huge pink nipples pointing slightly down and outward. Her huge milkers hung to just above her waist--but were still pointed, full and preternaturally firm.
The caption, the title of the feature, was in green Irish Uncial type: "Irish Cream."
I was thinking that it was the most perfect naked picture I'd ever seen, absolutely suited to my taste--my favorite pose, made more perfect by the oil and her uplifted hands--when Millie said, "I wanted them to use that one on the first page. I knew you'd like it."
"Y-you helped them lay out the feature?"
She giggled. "It was the last thing I did before we left. They decided it would be fun to hear my suggestions, and they liked them so much they just let me plan the whole thing. They did the special issue, though. I don't know what's in that one."
My hard-on was already leaking pre-cum into my briefs. I felt it pumping more as Millie talked. I looked at her beautiful childlike face, her smooth white shoulders, and the foot or so of inviting cleavage between her huge pale tits that ended at the coffee table. Then I looked back at the incredibly erotic picture.
Damn. I wasn't going to make it to the end of this small feature without shooting in my pants. What was I going to do with Millie's special issue? I looked at her name above the square of black plastic and shivered.
Millie saw the heat and pressure on my face, and--of course--she came out with that wicked little giggle. "Jeffie," she said in a sweet, pleading tone, "Close your eyes for a minute..."
"Wh--why?" I stammered. I felt like a lake of sperm, an ocean, was pressing against the base of my dick, and I was trying to hold back the whole weight of it with nothing but a couple of tiny, quivering muscles and a scrap of will power. I had never been so close to shooting without touching my dick, or having it touched, in my life.
And I was looking at picture of Millie #3. Out of...
"Just close your eyes, Jeffie... Trust me..."
Shivering, I closed my eyes. "Okay," I said.
I heard her move. A few seconds later, she trilled in a childish singsong, "You can open them now..."
Millie was standing in the middle of the room in that exact same pose, with that exact same smile--hands together over her head, bald pussy thrust forward, and huge tits hanging and flaring out wider than her body. She smiled at me and began to bump her fat hips and swing her huge milkers from side to side.
I shuddered and jerked and came in my pants for the first time in my life, and Millie smiled sweetly and bumped and dangled and jiggled and shimmied outrageously to keep me shooting. "You like my picture, Jeffie?" she cooed.
"Y-yuh," was the best I could do. I just kept spurting as she wiggled her fat ass and waggled her enormous tits, smiling at me innocently, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and naked as a baby.
"Turn the page," she trilled.
I did. The next was a two-page spread, an enormous picture of her, still barefoot-naked and white as milk against the black seamless paper--
And she was squatting on her pretty toes, bare feet spaced wide apart, her plump crotch spread so wide her pink asshole was on display--
And she was stretching her swollen pussy flaps with both pretty hands, her tits captured between her bare arms and squeezed together so they swelled outward. They were so big they hid her arms from mid-forearm to just below her shoulders. Her nipples were swelling, her fat faucets as long and rubbery as Vienna sausages.
Her face was suffused witn sexual hunger, her mouth lolling open and her eyes half-shut. A string of fluid hung from her open, aroused cunthole to the paper, and another dangled beside it.
I looked up--and Millie was holding that same pose, licking her lips lewdly as she looked at me over her tits. As I stared, she started working her cuntmuscles in my face, and a thick drool of her fucking juice oozed from her flexing hole and slowly dripped to the floor.
I shot again.
Two loads in less than one minute. No hands. What was happening to me? This can't keep going.
"Turn," she said. I did. The next page didn't show her face, just a puff of red hair. It was Millie from behind, on her knees with her big pale ass in the air, fat thighs spread wide, bare feet posed prettily--and her lovely little hands pulling her fat white asscheeks apart to show off her gaping, glistening cunthole, obscenely red and swollen and, again, literally drooling liquid--
And her tits were spread out on the floor on either side of her, impossibly far, her fat nipples pointing in opposite directions.
I looked up, and there she was, spread-out tits and all. Her cunt was even redder than in the picture.
"Oh, baby," I moaned. "Oh, my sweet baby..." I didn't cum that time, but my cock was rapidly, impossibly stiffening again right after two involuntary orgasms.
The next shot was a killer. Millie was lying on her back on ocean-blue paper, her knees cocked up as high and wide as she could spread them, exhibiting her naked pussy and asshole as hard as she could. She was pulling her tits up by her nipples on either side of her sweetly innocent face--it was dwarfed by her huge tits--and looking at the camera from between them, open-mouthed and wide-eyed as if she had been unexpectedly surprised.
I hardly dared to look up--but when I did, there she was, duplicating that pose, smiling at me from between her huge pale tits.
It was maddening, so stimulating I couldn't bear it. The magazine showed Millie to stunning perfection, every detail and feature, every plump and bare square inch of her from her sweet face to her cute little toes, displayed to best advantage and to the most obscene and sexually charged effect, a sort of ultimate plumper-lover's wet-dream fantasy; and when I looked up, there she was, that same picture in the bare and perfect flesh. It was almost too much. It *was* too much.
I finally dropped my pants--and my sticky, cum-soaked briefs--so Millie could see the effect on my long-suffering dick.
After that, the effect was the same for both of us. I'd turn a page, gasp, and look up to see her doing it live--my cock would quake and drip fluid to the carpet, pre-cum running like a leaky faucet, and Millie's bald fat pussy would do the same.
Or I would spurt, my sperm arcing through the air, as Mille shuddered and came in front of me without touching her pussy, holding whatever pose had made me shoot.
It made her cum to see me shoot. That was my wife. What more could a man want, than my incredible Millie?
More pictures. Millie sucking her pretty toes with her tits flopped out across her creamy upturned thighs, above her glistening pussy.
Cradling her tits in both arms, and still they spilled over in huge-nippled abundance.
Stretching her cunt into a lewd pink funnel, showing off the depths of her liquidly gleaming fucking-hole--and looking innocently shocked, her mouth an "O" of surprise and her eyes wide.
A closeup of her pretty, chubby little hand, with her middle finger out of sight--buried knuckle-deep in her shaved slit.
Another of her bending over, her huge tits hanging bare, nipples pink and tempting.
Her huge pale ass, upturned and baby-bare, with her fat mound and swollen lips protruding between her cheeks--and her sweet smile, innocent and open, looking back as if she did not know her juicy cunt was on display.
Millie sucking her own tits--a difficult task, not because she could not reach them, but because it was so far down the long upper slope of her breast to her oversized baby-bottle nipples.
The last page of the feature had us both creaming--me with pulses of warm cum oozing from my dickhead to run down my cock and drip from my balls to the carpet, and Millie biting her lip and fingering herself to the sight. She did not attempt this pose.
It was an ad for the special issue. Full page again, on a blue background: Millie, still barefoot and stark naked, posing prettily--lifting her tits in her hidden hands, with both curvy bare legs bent, one pretty foot up on a chair--
And the stump of her big blue knobbly dildo protruding from between the pink and swollen, wet and flaring lips of her fat, shaved cunt. No hands.
It was devastating. Even as I came, without a touch, I saw Millie biting her lip squint-eyed and rising toward her own blistering-hot orgasm.
"My God, Millie!" I scolded her. "You're posing stark naked for a million men, with a dildo up your hole! Aren't you ashamed?"
She squealed and shivered and came for me, writhing naked on the floor.
We took a break for lunch before we looked at the special. Millie wrapped up in a plush terry robe; her enormous tits made it look like she was hiding a pillow underneath it. Her baby face was flushed and pink, her eyes bright.
"This is the neatest thing I've ever done, Jeff," she said. "Thank you for letting me do it."
"Letting you?" I said. "I ordered you to do it, Big Tits. Don't forget that."
She shivered. "Ooo, that's right," she breathed. "I had to. You made me." She shivered again. It was hardly really true, but it thrilled her anyway.
"How do you want to look at this one?" she asked. We were seated on the couch, Millie still in her robe. The special issue, still in its modest plastic wrapper, lay on the coffee table in front of us.
"You want to see it too, right? I mean, at the same time I do."
"Sure." She giggled. "I wish you could fuck me while we look at it, though. Maybe we can feel each other."
"I have an idea," I said. "Wait a minute."
I went out to the garage, and finally found it: my old music stand, from when I played trombone as a kid. Well, I probably shouldn't say I played it, but I carried it around, anyway.
I set in in front of the sofa. "Now you sit on my lap and turn the pages," I said, "and I can fuck you and play with your tits."
"Ooo!" Her eyes twinkled. "That sounds like good fun!"
I placed the magazine on the stand, then dropped my pants--all I was wearing--kicked them off, and sat down on the cushion.
My cock was standing up stuff as a fencepost, which seems amazing after the number of times I shot that morning, but living with Millie gave me an advantage there. Sex with her was a frequent and strenuous workout. It had given me the ability to get hard and shoot a dozen times a day when I needed to. I could probably have done 40-pound curls with my prostate if I could have picked up a dumbbell with it.
Millie dropped her robe--as always, I was slightly stunned at the sight of her astonishing body and the knowledge that she was my fucking toy--and backed up to me. Her pretty little hands delicately pulled her big, pale asscheeks apart, and she carefully settled her liquid pussy lips over my swelling dickhead--then slowly sat.
"Ooo," we said together, as my cock slid all the way inside her slippery, fluttery tube.
"Yoga style," I said, and she nodded. We had done Tantric sex before, where we sat facing each other crosslegged, my cock deep in her cunt, and did not move for hours. The usual result was a mindbending five- or ten-minute orgasm for both of us, but I somehow doubted it would take that long this time.
She began to unwrap the magazine. "I hope they used some of my bondage shots," she said. My cock twitched at that, and she giggled. "You're not supposed to move," she said.
"They let you play in the ropes and chains?" I asked.
"Oh, yes! That was fun. I felt so helpless and exposed! And it was fun to pretend to be scared and stuff, too!"
I shivered again. She placed the magazine, unwrapped now, back on the stand--and we both gasped.
Her name was at the top in huge letters. There was little other type on the cover. To the left it said, "Hottest new model ever!" and "Our first special edition!" To the right it said, "Over 500 photos!" and "ALL TOTALLY NUDE!"
The cover shot was amazing. It showed my sweet, fat wife standing naked and barefoot on a plain white background, trying to cover herself modestly with one hand at her pussy and her arm pressed across her breasts. Her tits swelled out both above and below her chubby forearm, but it managed to conceal her huge pink knobs by a millimeter.
The expression on her round baby face was one of shocked surprise, as if she had been caught innocently naked by the photographer; her big blue eyes were wide, and her rosebud lips made a tiny "O" of embarrassment and violated modesty. The effect was stunningly erotic.
"Jesus," I said, and Millie squealed and giggled with delight.
"I look like a scared little girl!" she said.
I looked at her huge tits in the picture. "Scared big girl, maybe," I said. She slapped my leg lightly and laughed.
I felt my cock throbbing in her pussy. My cum was already rising, like a slow incoming tide.
We didn't know it then, but Millie's special issue #1 (as it turned out to be) would become a legend in the world of softcore porn. For big-tit and plumper lovers, it became almost a holy book; it went through a dozen printings and sold more than 150,000 copies, and still brings prices in the high three figures on the used market years later. A dog-eared, cum-stained copy will bring $100 or more, and a pristine new one closer to a thousand. I still have three, unopened. Sorry, they're not for sale.
Millie opened the magazine, and I spurted deep inside her. She spasmed and came hard, her juicy-wet cuntmuscles milking my bursting cock like a fist.
No ads, as she had said. Inside the front cover was a two-page spread--appropriately so called--of my plump and naked Millie squatting, from behind, her bare feet wide apart, her skin milk-white against a seamless black background. Her whole chubby body was glistening with shiny oil, and her pale and hairless crotch was completely exposed; her wet pink pussy was gaping open and her tiny puckered asshole was on gleaming display--and her stunning, huge and long and heavy tits were glisteningly revealed from underneath, dangling so low her long, fat nipples were an inch above the floor with a thin stream of oil trickling from each one. She was looking back at the camera with a sweet, embarrassed smile.
The copy just said, "Say hello to Millie...."
"Jesus God," I said, when I was done shooting. Millie was still shivering, which was doing nothing at all to soften my still steel-hard cock.
"I look good, don't I?" she said in a tiny voice. "Everybody thinks I look good..."
For the first time that day, I took her tits in my hands and caressed them. "You look way better than good, baby. You look fantastic."
She leaned back against me, lifting her chest to my hands. "Oh, Jeffie," she whispered. "I'm pretty..." I fondled her 20 pounds of soft and warm breast-flesh and nuzzled her smooth cheek.
After a moment, she turned the page. The next page was a table of contents, and across from it was a full-page portrait of Millie's sweet, round face, wearing her incandescent smile and looking at the camera with huge and sparkling blue eyes. I cut it out and had it framed, and it hangs on my office wall as I write this.
The table of contents had me quivering again. I wondered how many time I would shoot in Millie's fat pussy before we got to the last page.
3 Millie in the studio
25 Millie in bed
49 Millie's Workout
79 Millie's shower
107 Baby Oil Millie
135 Pole Dancer Millie
167 Punishing Millie
207 Millie's Toys
251 Millie's Fantasies
282 Beyond Outrageous
That last had me wondering. What could be "beyond outrageous?"
I asked Millie, but she only giggled and shook her head. I'd have to wait and see.
The first section, "Millie in the Studio," contained dozens of beautiful shots of my chubby, sweet wife, buck naked, posing prettily on blue background paper that matched her eyes. The pictures were artistic and tasteful, excepting of course the sight of her ridiculously gigantic tits; she did not exhibit her pussy too blatantly, though she took no trouble to hide it either.
"You're not just pretty, Millie," I whispered in her ear as we looked and fucked. "You're stunning. You're beautiful. You're gorgeous. You're a man-killer." She sighed and whimpered and humped me a little, subtly moving her plump hips to circle her pussy around and around on my hard cock.
Every shot was spurt-worthy in its own right, especially one with Millie simply sitting on the floor. She was facing the camera, leaning back with her arms braced on the floor behind her and her pale, fat legs, knees bent, splayed casually apart. With her back bent forward like that, her tits hung below her navel. For some reason that one got me. She looked like she had just lost a game of strip poker and was waiting to see when she could get her clothes back. "I was just relaxing between poses there," she said. "I'm surprised they used it..."
There was very little copy accompanying the pictures. Typically, the first picture in each section would have a short phrase to introduce it, as if spoken by her. The first, for instance, said "Do you think I'm sexy?" on the first page.
The next section, "Millie in Bed," was hotter. Every shot showed Millie apparently about to be fucked, as in, one second from it--as if the reader was about to step forward and stick it in. The first photo showed her on her back, holding her knees wide open and exposing her flaring pussy lips, with a passionate, smoky-eyed, open-mouthed expression. Her big knobs were at full erection--which means full inflation, with Millie--dark pink and as big as softballs with her long, fat titty-tips sticking out like thumbs. The copy at the top of the page said, "Fuck me... Oh, please fuck me..."
Every picture in that section was like that. Millie on her knees, sticking her hairless cunt out shamelessly; on her side, one plump leg lifted and her fingers holding herself open, her huge tits spreading over the bed; with her bare little feet in the air, open wide and waiting. I came again as we went through that one, and Millie came with me.
"Millie's Workout" began with a shot of her doing Jumping Jacks, caught in mid-leap; her bare feet were off the floor, her pale, giant tits flying up so high they hid all of her face below her laughing eyes. All the sweet white flesh of her thighs and belly was lifted upward by her leap, too. She looked like she was flying.
The copy was, "Work up a sweat while you watch me!"
"I'm working up a sweat right now, Big Tits," I said. She giggled, predictably enough, and I decided to make her life more difficult for a while.
I grabbed her big nipples and crushed them in my fists like I was crumpling a piece of paper. She hissed in shock at the sudden stimulation, and moaned as I twisted my fists back and forth and pulled hard at her big, soft udders.
"Turn the page," I said. She did, whimpering, her pretty hand shaking.
That section was amazing. Fat, white Millie, bare naked, on various exercise machines, always seeming to have her plump, pale thighs wide apart and her incredible chest thrust out as she pushed and pulled and bent and squatted.
Millie doing deep-knee bends--over the camera. A page with a dozen smaller pictures of chubby naked Millie running in place, her tits flopping and swinging, no two pictures even close to alike. Millie doing Windmills, from the front and from behind. Tit-squashing Push-ups. Pussy-splitting Bicycles, with her plump bare legs and feet in the air and her big tits in her face. Stretches and flexes and dangles and squats and splits and spreads that would harden your dick while they broke your heart.
I was still crumpling and crushing Millie's delicate knobs in my hands, and she was grunting and panting and gushing fuck-me juice all over my cock. "Oh, Jeffie, I didn't have any clothes on..."
"That's right, BigTits. You were bare-fat-pussy naked, and millions of men are shooting their sperm all over your pictures--right--now..."
She jerked and came on me, and I tugged at her fat nipples like I was trying to pull them off her tits. The picture before us was a two page spread of Millie working a stairclimber--barefoot, backwards, and squatting. I spurted up Millie's clenching hole as she shuddered out the last of her own climax.
We rested for a minute after that one, and I caressed and soothed her poor swollen nipples.
"Millie's Shower" began with a picture of her standing in the spray and laughing at the camera, sticking her huge tits out and displaying them as brazenly as she could, with her hands on her fat hips. The caption read, "Come play with my bath toys!"
Page after page of plump white Millie, twisting and bending and squatting naked, foamy and gleaming with slick soapy lather and hot water. It was devastating, sweet and innocent and steaming-hot erotic at the same time.
I was pumping her pussy from underneath, commenting on every picture as if I were speaking to another guy, and Millie was whimpering with heat: "Look at those tits! Don't you just want to chew those big pink knobs like bubble gum? I bet she fucks like a milking machine! Oh, man, look at that big fat ass! How would you like to spank that for not blowing you long enough?"
Millie loved it. It made her cum, especially when I said something really filthy, like "All that fat bitch should ever be allowed to wear is fuck-sweat on her pussy and sperm all over her face!"
The next section, "Baby Oil Millie," found her back on the seamless background again. Black. It emphasized the pale perfection of her skin and made her seem a shining goddess, floating in space.
The first picture was similar to the one in the regular magazine--half-squatting, thick legs turned outward like a Balinese dancer--except that her hands were behind her back and her face bore an impish smile. She was glistening all over, covered from head to toes with a thick coating of shiny oil.
The caption read, "I'm slippery on the inside, too!"
I groaned and shot in Millie's pussy again, and that was the first time I ever heard her giggle while she was coming.
I came again before we were done with that section. Millie plump and naked is mind-bending and cock-bursting enough, but Millie plump and naked and shining with oil ought to come with a heart-attack warning. Big greasy nipples and an oily, fleshy shaved pussy, gleaming plump legs and a big shiny ass.... All displayed as lewdly as you can--or, rather, can't--imagine....
So far, this was the sweetest, hottest and nastiest section yet. Standing, squatting, kneeling, bending over, ass in the air--modestly hidden, wide open, in between--it didn't matter. Millie's pictures could have given a hard-on to a corpse. You just wanted to tear off your clothes and jump into the picture and fuck her tits off.
Fortunate me--I didn't have to. I was tugging at Millie's nipples again, just her fat, sausagelike faucets this time, and whispering to her again: "Oh, shit, look what she's doing! Look at that greasy, open hole! God, I'd like to fuck that fat little bitch! Ooo, look at those swinging floppers! I wanna shoot my wad between 'em while she shakes 'em on my dick!"
Millie came four times as we looked at that section. I thought I was running out of steam myself, but I didn't count on how steamy the rest of that magazine would be.
The next part--"Pole Dancer Millie"--shot a steel rod up my dick. Fat Millie appeared to be dancing naked and barefoot on an actual stage, in front of a howling crowd of appreciative men. Photoshopped, I knew, but it was done flawlessly. The first picture had her squatting on her pretty bare toes and squeezing her tits around the brass pole, taken at an angle so her gaping, hairless cunt was exposed and brightly lit up. She was totally naked, without so much as a fleck of toenail polish on. The caption read, "Guess where you have to stick your dollar bills?"
I was humping Millie's juicy cunt with enthusiasm as we turned the pages. She was really dancing naked; many of the photos caught her gigantic milkers in motion, swinging out and flying up and distorted from her shaking them wildly. She kicked her plump legs high and did the midair splits and humped the pole like a pro, though I've never seen a pole dancer work barefoot.
All around her--she appeared to be dancing out at the end of a runway--the wide-eyed, staring men were cheering and whistling and clapping with abandon, and some were reaching out at her. "That looks r-real," she said as I held her tits and fucked her. "I was in the st-studio..."
"How about if I made you do that for real?" I whispered. She gave me an answer, all right; she came like a hurricane, grunting, "Oh, God, Jeff... Unnngh.... You wouldn't m-make me d-do thaaat.... Ungh, ungh... W-would you?"
I knew a hopeful question when I heard one. For the hundredth time, I thought about the strip club called Chubbies. Your time will come, baby, I thought, as her pussy squelched and squeezed on my dick.
The last picture, sure enough, had curvy Millie crouching naked at the edge of the stage, hunching and working hard at it, her enormous tits in the air--and her fat, shaved pussy stuffed with dollar bills. She was laughing.
The next section was "Punishing Millie." The first picture had plump Millie simply chained to a stone wall by her chubby wrists and ankles, plump arms spread wide above her head and thick and curvy legs spread even wider. Her jaws were held open by an enormous ball gag, and her eyes were wide with terror. Her huge tits were tied off with four separate ropes each, from her ribcage to her nipples, and stood out like huge, string-tied sausages, made longer and more pointed by the ropes. Her knobs were swollen grotesquely and were so red they were almost purple.
There were clothespins, two each, on her long, distended titty-tips, and three more at her crotch; two on her pussy lips, and one more on her clit. I felt another load about to boil over.
"Look at my feet," she gasped.
In the picture, her knees were bent, and she was balanced on her toes; beneath each pretty heel was a sharp steel spike, pointed upward, to keep her that way.
Diabolical. Her bare feet posed so prettily--and forced to be so. As I spurted in her, she grunted through her own climax, "They were rubber--look real--clothespins rubber, too...."
I was glad they took no chances with hurting my Millie, but the fantasy was vicious and delicious. She looked really terrified.
The caption read, "I'm sorry! I won't cum till you tell me to next time, I promise!"
The following pages were incredible: Millie, screaming, suspended in a huge steel ring, tied by twenty separate wires on her fingers and toes, with baseball-sized steel weights hanging from rings through her nipples and clit. Millie bent backwards over a huge barrel, tits pulled into long cones by chains from overhead hooked to her nipple rings, and her pussy stretched open with clamps on her cuntlips. Millie, crying, with tears streaming down her face, an iron collar around her neck, chained bending over with her wrists cuffed behind her and her tits swinging inches above a bed of glowing coals. Red lightbulbs, I knew, but the effect was eerily real--and my Millie was a gifted actress.
I stroked her all over as she writhed and came, staring at herself in artificial agony. She was more turned on by these than I was. More bondage in the bedroom, I thought. I looked forward to hogtying her and fucking her hard while I spanked her enormous tied-off tits.
In some of the pictures, I recognized Leon, the photographer's assistant, in a leather harness and full-head leather mask, standing over her with whips and paddles and red-hot irons. It all looked very real. Those guys were good!
The next section was the most brutally exciting yet--"Millie's Toys.". The first shot had Millie kissing a huge dildo, which I recognized--her biggest, a two-foot black monster as thick as her small wrist--and smiling at the camera, her hairless, fat pussy oiled and open and ready. "Think I can take it?" was the caption.
On the following pages, she did, grimacing as she forced that huge rubber cock up her red and stretched-out hole. She lay back with her feet behind her head, tits in her face, fat ass up, and pumped it with both hands; she squatted on it, wincing, and even stood up with it, crouching with her hands behind her head as it protruded from her cunt, "no hands."
She posed, laughing, with three dildos sticking out from underneath each tit, holding them up by the weight of her tits alone; and then she posed with her big blue knobby buzzer, which was obviously vibrating. It was slightly blurred in the pictures as she slid it in and out. I knew those expressions on her baby face; she was really cumming on it as the cameras caught her slit-eyed grimaces and gasps.
"Do that for me sometime," I groaned as we looked at a photo of her pumping it--upside down, her shoulders on the floor and her fat ass and pretty feet braced on the wall above her, her tits against her pink cheeks as she came.
"I'll do it on a street corner if you tell me to," she moaned.
The next-to-last section was "Millie's Fantasies." I thought I knew them all.
These were things she wouldn't want to do in real life, but liked to think about, she told me later. Good thing.
It started with pictures of Millie after an apparent gangbang. Fat Millie lying pale and naked on the floor of a men's room, in front of a row of urinals, in a pool of drying sperm; cum drooling from her red, distended pussy, cum all but covering her face, cum between and underneath her dripping tits, cum splashed on her plump belly and her heavy thighs, a spreading pool of cum beneath her broad ass.
The caption was, "Who's next?"
"Jesus, Millie," I whispered as she shuddered and came again, staring at the picture. "Do you really want that?"
"Nonononono...." She bit her lip and jerked as I pumped my cock in her. "F-fun to p-pretend.... I'm a f-filthy whooore..."
Twelve pictures in that set, including one of Millie licking her lips with cum spilling from her open mouth and drooling to her tits in sticky strings, her short hair matted with it. Egg white, cornstarch, and cream, she said. It looked real.
There followed a set of photos of fat Millie tied naked and blindfolded to a wooden pallet, knees up and wide open, and left alone with it leaning against a dumpster in an alley with a sign over her head that said "FUCK THE FAT WHITE GIRL."
She was gasping and cumming again. It looked like the fantasy of being gangfucked by strangers really got her hot. I started trying to think of ways we could play with that, short of really doing it.
Then there was a set of chubby Millie caught naked on a public sidewalk, horrified and trying desperately to cover herself; another of her hitchhiking, stark naked with her thumb and big tits out, trying to hide her plump pussy; and another of her leading a parade down Main Street, prancing along alone in front of the band, fat and barefoot and stark naked, with nothing on but a drummajor's headdress and carrying a baton. That one made my balls vibrate.
Running naked across a football field in front of a Super Bowl-sized crowd, tits flying; strip-searched to her skin in the public area at the airport, complete with body-cavity examination; marched down a public street to a police station, naked with her wrists cuffed behind her back--and then thrown in a cell with twenty men, still naked and still cuffed.
Through all of these, Millie was hissing and gasping with excitement. She loved it that I thought her fantasies were hot, too--every time I'd whisper, "Ooo, poor little Millie," or "Nobody's going to help her," or "I bet everyone has cameras," she'd squeal and shiver with delight.
There followed the interview--I will post that sometime if I get around to it--and then came the last section: "Beyond Outrageous."
It began with chubby Millie naked on a gynecologist's stirrup table, her plump and curvy legs cocked up and spread wide for her examination--but she was leaning back on her elbows and looking around, a horrified expression on her pretty baby face.
Small wonder; she wasn't in a doctor's office, but on a public street corner in sight of some rough-looking bars, and she was surrounded by a crowd of avidly watching men. The caption read, "I know fresh air is good for me, Doctor, but--a public pelvic?"
There were several more pictures in that set. Millie looking into the camera red-faced and biting her lip with embarrassment, with a speculum stretching her chubby hairless pussy open for the spectators. Millie lying naked on her stomach, huge tits spilling off the narrow table, with her big bare ass high in the air, pussy gaping--and a line of men behind her, all putting on rubber gloves. She was whimpering in my arms as I stroked her tits and gently rocked her on my exhausted, but still stiff, cock.
Millie as a signboard: fat legs spread wide, lifting her huge tits by her stretchy nipples to reveal "FUCK ME" written on them underneath. A closeup of her bald, wet pussy, aroused and open, with a cartoon of an erect cock drawn above it on her hairless pussy mound with an arrow pointing downward. Her fat white ass, displayed and spread wide open, with "SPERM DUMP" scrawled across it in lipstick. Her pretty baby face--with "SLUT" across her forehead, "FUCK ME" on one cheek, and "I SUCK DICKS" on the other. Her swinging milkers, with "FREE TIT FUCKS" written across her pale, deep cleavage. "FUCK MY FAT CUNT" on the insides of her beautiful thick white thighs; and so on.
"We can do that, Big Tits," I said. "I can write all over you. How about 'BIG TITS' on your big tits?" She half-giggled and half-gasped.
Fat Millie entertaining: carrying Coke bottles naked to the table--"no hands." Millie at the table, seated low, with her enormous tits spread out on it as a serving tray for hors d'oeurves--crackers with cheese and ham, salmon puffs, shrimp wrapped with bacon, dozens of them. Millie standing on her head, tits in her face and fat legs spread wide, a lighted candle inserted in her cunt. Millie serving drinks by crawling on her hands and knees, glasses balanced on her back and a dildo sticking out of her pussy, tits dragging on the carpet.
"Have to have some friends over," I said. "I'll tell 'em to bring their own French ticklers...." She made a keening sound like a bowed violin string.
Plump Millie as a pet: chained naked to a doghouse by her leather collar, eating from a dog's bowl without using her hands and with her tits on the ground, squatting naked to pee in the grass.
"Such a bitch," I said. "But I like you better as a cow. I think I'll take you to the beach with nothing on but a ring in your nose and a cowbell, and bring a stool so the guys can sit down and milk your big white udders. You'll have to bend way over and moo while they do it..."
"M-mooo," she said, breathing raggedly. "M-m-mooooo.... Mooo.... Everybody milk me off...."
The very last page of the special issue was a truly lovely picture of Millie, sitting on an ordinary chair with one bare foot drawn up on it, chubby legs splayed apart to show her fat bald pussy and her chest thrust out to stick out her bare tits. She was smiling sweetly and waving goodbye. Across the bottom was written--in Millie's own hand--"I hope you COME to me again real soon! Love, Millie".
I felt Millie rising toward another blistering climax, probably her last for the day; so I decided to whip her into a little bit of a frenzy. I reached around and started massaging her bare, incredibly swollen clit. At the same time, I whispered, "How would you like to go swimming naked in the swimming pool you could fill with the sperm you've made shoot? A million wads, Millie--you could swim in them--"
It worked. She grunted low in her belly and kind of drew herself into a ball and bore down, and I felt her cunt clench on my dick like a soft, slippery bear trap. I reached forward and flipped the magazine closed, then put the other one beside it on the stand. "Look, Big Tits!" I said loudly. "Look! You're stark naked on the covers! You're a naked jack-off girl!" I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "You didn't have a single stitch on, not a thread, in any of those pictures! You were barefoot and bare naked and shaved bare in every single one!"
She was making a kind of incoherent gargling sound, staring at herself on the magazine covers and shivering. "You're beautiful, Millie!" I said. "You aren't 'fatandugly'--you're fat and beautiful and sexy and you make men cum just from looking at you! Just look!"
She came so hard she blacked out.
Millie came to in about a minute, and I cuddled her for a while; then she went to sleep. I think she was exhausted more from an excess of joy and fulfillment than from coming fifty or sixty times, but I could be wrong.
Anyway, I was pretty exhausted myself, so I put the magazines in our floor safe and wrapped up in a blanket on the floor beside the couch and went to sleep next to her.
We woke up later that evening, took a hot shower together, and went to bed naked. She snuggled close and slept in my arms, smiling.
The last things we said to each other before sleep were these:
"I love you, Jeffie. No one but you. Always."
"I love you too, Big Tits. You're my heart."
She smiled sleepily. "I'm so lucky. You taught me I'm hot, and then you let me enjoy it. I love the things you make me do."
I kissed her. "Time for our poker game tomorrow night. It's Friday."
She smiled wider. "What are you gonna bet me?"
"A naked dance."
She looked disappointed. "Is that all?"
"On stage in front of a couple of hundred horny guys."
"Ooo." She giggled and snuggled close, and I felt her nipples throbbing against my chest. "I fold..."
More to come.
So to speak.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/exhibitionism/teaching-millie-shes-hot-part-v-the.aspx">Teaching Millie She's Hot, Part V; The Magazines</a>