Aurora Dupree is a former burlesque dancer turned author, who enjoys titillating her fans with scintillating tales both real and imagined.
She resides in New Orleans, where she's always meeting sexy people with sexy stories.
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Big Girls Just Want to Have Fun (BBW erotica)by Aurora Dupree
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Debbie Beaumont never thought a rock star like Clyde Strummer would be interested in a big girl her. But Clyde, lead singer of the world-famous rock band Unholy Night, likes women with a little meat on their bones. After a sizzling tour bus tryst, Debbie finds herself on a whirlwind, cross country tour with the band, reaching untold sexual pleasures she'd never dreamed of.
But along with rock stars comes drama, and Cedric, the blue-eyed, blonde-haired guitarist has a thing for Debbie as well. Will she be forced to choose between the two studs? Or will she manage to have both of them?
This 10,000 word erotic romance features hot bbw action, including light bondage, BDSM, steamy sex, and a scorching menage a trois. Life for a big girl sure can get sexy!
Before I knew what was happening, Clyde had grabbed my hand, and was leading me down a long tunnel. I guessed we were headed out of the arena, through the underground. There were roadies and staff hanging all around through the tunnels, and they all smiled and waved when Clyde walked past.
"Hey man, great set!"
"Unholy Night slays!"
"You guys killed it tonight."
Clyde bore all of it with that same wry grin, giving them a hand wave, stopping briefly to shake some hands and slap some high fives.
"Doesn't it get old?" I asked, as he continued whisking me down the tunnel, barely fast enough for me to catch my breath.
"Nope," he replied honestly. "Never does."
Finally we made it outside. I looked up at the night sky, a million stars shining down on me. We were behind the arena, where a row of cars and limousines were lined up next to the curb. There was a loading dock on the side where roadies were tirelessly lugging band equipment out of the space. I pointed to a large tour bus, painted in Gothic black and red colors, emblazoned with a giant, fire-breathing dragon.
"I'm assuming that's your bus?"
"Sure is. You like the paint job?"
"It's a little tacky."
"Tacky is what I do, babe."
Clyde fished out a set of keys from his pocket and swung open the doors to the bus. He jumped up the steps, grabbing my hand and hoisting me up behind him. I took in the surroundings. It was a luxurious ride, that was for sure. There was a large couch where the seats would normally be, and in the back I could see a bunch of beds arranged in a bunk style. There was a bar and a television, and what looked like a miniature pool table in the middle of the space. The whole thing was outfitted with chic shag carpet, and mood lighting. It was a rock star bus for sure.
"Wow," I said, running my hand over the plush carpet. "This is pretty rock star for sure."
"When we can't fly, it's the next best thing," Clyde said, shrugging. "Would you like a drink?"
"No thanks, I'm good for right now."
"Suit yourself." Clyde moved over to the bar, pouring some whiskey from a tumbler into a glass. He took a large swig and set it down. Then he went over to the couch, hopping onto it, shoes and all. He patted the seat next to him.
"Come sit next to me," he said.
I hesitated, unsure.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to bite. That is, unless that's what you're into."
"I know that!" I said, a little irritated. I walked over and sat next to him, arms crossed. His arm naturally draped around my shoulder, and I had to admit I didn't mind it one bit. I turned to look at him--his tall frame, long dark hair, multifarious tattoos. I still couldn't really believe I was sitting on a tour bus with him, and that his band was apparently so popular. It was like some kind of strange dream.
"So..." Clyde said.
"So," I said, giggling a little bit.
"You having a good time tonight?"
"I am, actually."
"Good." He leaned forward and kissed me, strong on the mouth. I could taste the whiskey on his breath, but I didn't mind. I smiled and put my arms around him, and we continued to make out. His hands trailed down to my breasts, and I didn't protest as he squeezed and massaged them through my shirt. Returning the favor, my own hand crept down to his crotch, where the bulge in his pants was already beginning to grow. I moved my hand over his stiffening cock, listening to his soft moans as I rubbed him through his pants. But I didn't stay that way for long. Barely even realizing what I was doing, I unbuttoned his fly and reached down to grab his manhood, skin on skin. I was impressed by his size. I guess it is true what they say about rock stars.
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