by Joris K. Huysmans

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, DomSub, BBW, Foot Fetish, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Statuesque was the word they used to have for women like her-- tall, buxom, muscular, abundant. Not fat, but not like the little waifs you see in the fashion magazines today either. I was smitten the minute I entered the restaurant and saw her. And I knew what I wanted her to do.

In the dim light golden bubbles caught brief reflections of the city lights outside as they danced up the glass. I handed her one of the glasses and we sat down on the couch, sinking into the smooth, supple black leather. "Well," I said.

"Well," she said.

"It's been a wonderful evening," I said.

"It doesn't have to be over," she said.

I smiled, warmth and gratitude in my eyes. "I hoped not," I said. "This is what I've hoped for since I bought the restaurant."

She gave me a little sardonic look, as if to say, nobody buys a restaurant just for the chance to date the hostess. Well, I did. "You don't believe me. I know. But it's true. Six weeks ago, I brought my clients from Japan there because I knew Sergio's reputation for hiring such tall, beautiful staff, and attracting celebrities to the VIP lounge. I knew they'd be impressed by the scene. But I never dreamed I'd be blown away-- the moment I saw the hostess."

She blushed a little, and seemed a little uncomfortable. I knew why; she didn't think she was quite as beautiful as the other girls Sergio hired. But it was time to tell her the truth about the evening, the lovely evening we'd shared. I had to hope it wouldn't end it right there.

"My clients were all over the others, I know. They have conventional tastes, are easily wowed by blondes like so many foreigners. But I saw only you. Over six feet tall, and taller yet in high heels. Flaming red hair. Dramatic brown eyes. A broad, open smile. And from there... well, there used to be a word for it, statuesque."

Now she was really blushing. "Or just big boned," she said, a little caustically.

"Or just beautiful," I said. I could have gone on, had it been polite, to describe all the other things that attracted me-- large, high breasts which jutted out heroically; rounded bubble butt, a little broad and soft by model standards, breathtaking to me in tight jeans as she strolled back and forth through the restaurant that night, the click of her heels on the hard floor; and finally those long, long legs, starting somewhere around my chest, thick at the top, coming to a point with her heels. She wasn't fat, she wasn't skinny; she was statuesque, she was full-figured, she was heroic.

"I was taken by you the moment I entered the restaurant. A woman of such strength and size." I began to stroke her neck, and down the front of her blouse where those large bosoms strained against the buttons. Her breathing grew faster. "The next day I called Sergio. I just wanted a little information--" here she seemed to grow concerned, at my checking up on her-- "--because if you were married or in a serious relationship, I would have backed off immediately."

I moved closer to her and her leg went on top of mine. "But then I learned that Sergio was overextended and looking for a buyer. Within a week, I had made plans to buy the restaurant. So you see, I wasn't joking. I bought it to meet you." I stroked her face and her red lips parted, waiting for me to kiss her at last.

"The thing is, though, there's a problem with that."

Again, she looked at me with concern. I knew that, as much as we had enjoyed each other's company tonight, the owner-employer relationship made it a delicate situation. I had to say something to reassure her that abusing my position was the farthest thing from my mind.

"The problem is... I'm so unworthy of you."

She stared at me, mystified. I went on. "Who am I, to look at a strong and beautiful woman and wish to make love to you? I saw your power at the hostess stand, as people tried to scam their way in with phony reservations, or get seated near celebrities. You laughed at their pitiless attempts at hipness, their lame lines that meant nothing to you. You crushed their hopes of being admitted to the VIP lounge and squashed them like the bugs they are. Watching you in action, I knew that my hopes of winning you were as pathetic as their attempts to get inside, and deserved the same thing from you-- to be crushed."

Now her eyes were wide, but a bit of a malice was beginning to creep into her smile. "So you bought the restaurant... and you thought that entitled you to go out with me?"

I sank to the floor in front of her, kneeling before one foot, in its gleaming black pump. "Yes, for one mad instant I thought that," I said, the toe of the shoe just inches from my face.

She pressed her foot against my chin and pushed me backwards onto the shaggy white rug. She stood up and planted one mighty leg on either side of my chest, and put her hands on her hips, towering over me like the imperious statue of some ancient goddess, mighty legs disappearing into the inky blackness of her skirt, vast breasts jutting out like twin promontories, red hair cascading over her shoulders like blood running down a temple of human sacrifice.

Then she kicked off one shoe, pressed her bare foot against my cheek, and smashed my face against the rug. I could only watch with one eye as she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the white bra which held back the avalanche of her breasts, and then unsnapped it, allowing them to tumble forward from their captivity, pink and free.

"You really thought a worm like you was worthy of my body?" she said.

"Yes, yes, I was wrong," I muttered out the side of my mouth, and into her foot.

"Very wrong," she said, removing her foot from my face. "Take off your clothes, you miserable wretch."

"Yes, yes, certainly," I said, hurriedly scooting out of my clothes from my position on the floor. My cock was about ready to burst out of its skin, it was so hard.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / DomSub / BBW / Foot Fetish /