Tara decides you need to help her with her morn...
One Foot Tall Fiancé
chapter 25
by
copier
· original author:
falseident
"Alright, wait here twerp. I've got to prepare for our start of the day together." With a yank, you find yourself pulled free of your booby trap, feeling how much colder it was outside of Tara's embrace. Rising up, Tara begins sauntering back to your shared bedroom with a purpose.
"Ah, what'll it be this time...I thought for sure that affection I gave her ass would've been enough. Guess I better not plan on getting too much done today." You begin to stretch your body in various ways, fully anticipating that these preemptive exercises will help you for the trials today will bring. At least it was a Saturday...
Despite your trepidation, you can't help but feel your body swell (in many ways) with excitement. Tara had become a master at pushing all your right buttons. Not to mention that years with her had taught your body the sultry allure of being absolutely destroyed by her. The games you played with her were almost always non-stop foreplay and only ended with you being a shivering mess. That kind of history is ingrained in you, down to your bones. By the time you hear the heavy footsteps, you had begun to shadowbox to help diffuse some of the nervous excited energy.
"Pipsqueak, I've decided we're going to start today with some exercise. You...good to see you're pumped up, twerp." Tara giggles into her upraised palm, looking at your bouncing form. At this, you paused to take a moment and take in your wife, Tara Biggs. Big was an understatement; Tara was dressed in a simple black sports bra and leopard print nylon shorts. Only Tara could take such simple clothing and turn them into national treasures. Her assets looking like perfectly packaged plump buns ready to be torn open and...well, squish you, you suppose. Though you'd try to ravish them, at least.
"That's another thing that won't get old; your dumb little stare trying to drink in all of my tits and ass. Too bad it's going to always be too much for you, pipsqueak." She strikes a pose and slaps her ass, sending it in a fit of wobbling that sent a shudder down your spine. "Alright, enough window shopping twerp, let's get to the living room." She begins marching which you belatedly begin following as you took a moment to stare at your wife's big ass for the umpteenth time in your life.
By the time you arrived, Tara had already placed her favorite pink yoga mat in front of the living room couch. "Alright, today I'm going to be doing some squats. Not that it needs it but I feel like my ass could use some additional loving, wouldn't you agree, twerp?" She cocks her hips to the side, looking over her shoulder at you waiting on an answer. You snark "What, have I not given enough today?" Tara scoffs back "Yeah right, that's why you're involved, twerp. I need you to help me with my...form." She points her thumb back towards the couch that just so happened to be positioned behind her. "I need you to make sure my ass doesn't touch the couch...don't want to overstretch my ligaments, y'know?"
She looks away, fiddling with a remote to find a song she wants to play. With as much speed as you can muster, you vaunt up the couch and position yourself squarely with her ass. The shorts she chose were the typical garish leopard print Tara loves and it was perhaps a size too small judging by how much those cheeks were eating said shorts. Typical Tara, really.
"Alright, twerp, ready for some weight training?" At that, you hear the start of some corny disco song but you cannot comment on her song choice as you see a mountain rushing towards you. In less than a second, you pull your hands up to hold up the sky as Tara's ass crashes down on you forcing you on your knees; not far enough to flatten you to the couch but certainly enough where your hands sink deep into her flesh and your head spelunks deep into her nylon covered ass cheeks. All you can smell is a unique combination of soap and earthiness. Like in a proper squat, Tara holds the pose for a bit...also taking the time to clench her cheeks and squish your head. With a ponderous motion, Tara straightens up, unclenching her cheeks and letting you crumple fully to your knees, a bit dizzy.
"One down. Twenty-nine to go, twerp."
That was all the warning you would get; you hurriedly get back into position and experience the same head squishing as before. A few more in, Tara has begun to sweat which makes sense. You wouldn't call Tara the epitome of fitness and all that flesh requires a lot of energy to move. Soon enough, the trips your head takes up her ass results in your face getting a fresh coat of sweat. Comically, your hair is getting "styled" by the sweat into a bit of a cone. You have no time to take note of this; Tara's rear was taking all of your concentration to support. By the twentieth squat Tara has begun to audibly pant and you find that her squats are getting lower...no doubt, her butt desperately wants to sit down and rest. Which is why you find yourself getting pressed lower and lower each time...
"Al...alright...hah...twerp...let's...make these last few...count."
Tara, a bit clumsily, starts pulling her shorts down, revealing the full expanse of her giant and sweaty...sweaty ass. Swamp was a misnomer at this point. No, this was a bog of an ass. The heat radiating towards you begins to parch your throat.
"Keep...keep it up."
No more warning than that and you find your hands and head once again assaulted by Grade-A Tara-Raised buttcheeks. This time, however, it's all bared to the world; no shorts and no underwear to separate you from deeper depths. Speaking of depths, your hands lose their grip on her cheeks so nothing stops you from pressing forward and deeper. Nearly all of your torso disappears deep into Tara's crevice before your face stops at her asshole, the rubbery orifice giving you a quick sweat coated kiss. Tara moans in pain and pleasure. "Dammit twerp, I...I need you to focus. I almost...tumbled down then..." With great effort, Tara pulls herself up and takes you with her. Your legs kick pathetically in an effort to dislodge you from your imprisonment. Tara takes a moment to catch her breath and clear some sweat from her eyes which is a luxury you wouldn't have minded. You try to shout that you're still stuck but all you accomplish is some loud buzzing directly into Tara's butthole, having an impromptu makeout session with her backdoor. "Haaaa, you're such a perv, twerp. Just...just act like a kick stand for me. That should work." Readying herself, she drops down into another squat.
One moment you're face to face with an asshole. The next, you find your head completely consumed by Tara's black hole (not the first occurrence and certainly not the last in your married life.) With this sudden intrusion, Tara's back shoots straight up and loudly moans in ecstasy. She collapses fully back into the couch, crushing your legs underneath her tremendous thighs, trapping your torso in her cheeks and entombing your head fully up her rectum.
"Hah...hah...I think...twenty two squats is enough...wouldn't you agree...honey~?" Tara lolls her head back and subtly grinds her hips into the couch cushions, relishing the feeling of so many sensations you're giving her. "And I...think you ended up...enjoying this quite. a. bit." Each pause is accentuated by a vicious twist of her hips. True to her statement, there lies a wet patch in the couch just below your crotch, post-orgasm clarity leaving you limp underneath her.
"Ah, what'll it be this time...I thought for sure that affection I gave her ass would've been enough. Guess I better not plan on getting too much done today." You begin to stretch your body in various ways, fully anticipating that these preemptive exercises will help you for the trials today will bring. At least it was a Saturday...
Despite your trepidation, you can't help but feel your body swell (in many ways) with excitement. Tara had become a master at pushing all your right buttons. Not to mention that years with her had taught your body the sultry allure of being absolutely destroyed by her. The games you played with her were almost always non-stop foreplay and only ended with you being a shivering mess. That kind of history is ingrained in you, down to your bones. By the time you hear the heavy footsteps, you had begun to shadowbox to help diffuse some of the nervous excited energy.
"Pipsqueak, I've decided we're going to start today with some exercise. You...good to see you're pumped up, twerp." Tara giggles into her upraised palm, looking at your bouncing form. At this, you paused to take a moment and take in your wife, Tara Biggs. Big was an understatement; Tara was dressed in a simple black sports bra and leopard print nylon shorts. Only Tara could take such simple clothing and turn them into national treasures. Her assets looking like perfectly packaged plump buns ready to be torn open and...well, squish you, you suppose. Though you'd try to ravish them, at least.
"That's another thing that won't get old; your dumb little stare trying to drink in all of my tits and ass. Too bad it's going to always be too much for you, pipsqueak." She strikes a pose and slaps her ass, sending it in a fit of wobbling that sent a shudder down your spine. "Alright, enough window shopping twerp, let's get to the living room." She begins marching which you belatedly begin following as you took a moment to stare at your wife's big ass for the umpteenth time in your life.
By the time you arrived, Tara had already placed her favorite pink yoga mat in front of the living room couch. "Alright, today I'm going to be doing some squats. Not that it needs it but I feel like my ass could use some additional loving, wouldn't you agree, twerp?" She cocks her hips to the side, looking over her shoulder at you waiting on an answer. You snark "What, have I not given enough today?" Tara scoffs back "Yeah right, that's why you're involved, twerp. I need you to help me with my...form." She points her thumb back towards the couch that just so happened to be positioned behind her. "I need you to make sure my ass doesn't touch the couch...don't want to overstretch my ligaments, y'know?"
She looks away, fiddling with a remote to find a song she wants to play. With as much speed as you can muster, you vaunt up the couch and position yourself squarely with her ass. The shorts she chose were the typical garish leopard print Tara loves and it was perhaps a size too small judging by how much those cheeks were eating said shorts. Typical Tara, really.
"Alright, twerp, ready for some weight training?" At that, you hear the start of some corny disco song but you cannot comment on her song choice as you see a mountain rushing towards you. In less than a second, you pull your hands up to hold up the sky as Tara's ass crashes down on you forcing you on your knees; not far enough to flatten you to the couch but certainly enough where your hands sink deep into her flesh and your head spelunks deep into her nylon covered ass cheeks. All you can smell is a unique combination of soap and earthiness. Like in a proper squat, Tara holds the pose for a bit...also taking the time to clench her cheeks and squish your head. With a ponderous motion, Tara straightens up, unclenching her cheeks and letting you crumple fully to your knees, a bit dizzy.
"One down. Twenty-nine to go, twerp."
That was all the warning you would get; you hurriedly get back into position and experience the same head squishing as before. A few more in, Tara has begun to sweat which makes sense. You wouldn't call Tara the epitome of fitness and all that flesh requires a lot of energy to move. Soon enough, the trips your head takes up her ass results in your face getting a fresh coat of sweat. Comically, your hair is getting "styled" by the sweat into a bit of a cone. You have no time to take note of this; Tara's rear was taking all of your concentration to support. By the twentieth squat Tara has begun to audibly pant and you find that her squats are getting lower...no doubt, her butt desperately wants to sit down and rest. Which is why you find yourself getting pressed lower and lower each time...
"Al...alright...hah...twerp...let's...make these last few...count."
Tara, a bit clumsily, starts pulling her shorts down, revealing the full expanse of her giant and sweaty...sweaty ass. Swamp was a misnomer at this point. No, this was a bog of an ass. The heat radiating towards you begins to parch your throat.
"Keep...keep it up."
No more warning than that and you find your hands and head once again assaulted by Grade-A Tara-Raised buttcheeks. This time, however, it's all bared to the world; no shorts and no underwear to separate you from deeper depths. Speaking of depths, your hands lose their grip on her cheeks so nothing stops you from pressing forward and deeper. Nearly all of your torso disappears deep into Tara's crevice before your face stops at her asshole, the rubbery orifice giving you a quick sweat coated kiss. Tara moans in pain and pleasure. "Dammit twerp, I...I need you to focus. I almost...tumbled down then..." With great effort, Tara pulls herself up and takes you with her. Your legs kick pathetically in an effort to dislodge you from your imprisonment. Tara takes a moment to catch her breath and clear some sweat from her eyes which is a luxury you wouldn't have minded. You try to shout that you're still stuck but all you accomplish is some loud buzzing directly into Tara's butthole, having an impromptu makeout session with her backdoor. "Haaaa, you're such a perv, twerp. Just...just act like a kick stand for me. That should work." Readying herself, she drops down into another squat.
One moment you're face to face with an asshole. The next, you find your head completely consumed by Tara's black hole (not the first occurrence and certainly not the last in your married life.) With this sudden intrusion, Tara's back shoots straight up and loudly moans in ecstasy. She collapses fully back into the couch, crushing your legs underneath her tremendous thighs, trapping your torso in her cheeks and entombing your head fully up her rectum.
"Hah...hah...I think...twenty two squats is enough...wouldn't you agree...honey~?" Tara lolls her head back and subtly grinds her hips into the couch cushions, relishing the feeling of so many sensations you're giving her. "And I...think you ended up...enjoying this quite. a. bit." Each pause is accentuated by a vicious twist of her hips. True to her statement, there lies a wet patch in the couch just below your crotch, post-orgasm clarity leaving you limp underneath her.
96 views
·
March 28, 2025
Log in to comment