Has Robby always been this broad?
You quietly ask yourself the question of the hour as Michael Robinavitch nestles himself between your legs. They're thrown wide, thighs burning as you're forced to accommodate his mass. You've always known your attending was a big man, tall and with a solid weight to him, seen in his wide shoulders and thick arms.
This, however, is something else entirely, because scrubs apparently do an incredible job of blurring the lines. Robby is large, clearly muscular and with a comforting layer of fat all around, and with him so close in front of you, all you can think about is just how much of him there is.
"What're you looking at?" Robby teases, crawling up your body. You feel dizzy staring up at him, feeling the reach of his thighs across your hips as he straddles you.
"Robby... you're just..." You shake your head in disbelief as Robby leans down. His upper body covers yours as he leans down to kiss your ear. His chest hair is soft, tickling the bare skin of your own chest as you squeak, "You're big, baby."
His lips still, and Robby pulls away. For a moment, you're afraid that your words came out wrong, that you've offended him, but when Robby's face comes into view, he's smirking.
"I'm big?" He asks, raising an arm to rest it on the wall above you. Of course, you take the bait, staring at the length of him stretched over you. "You like that, baby?"
You bite your lip, nodding. Robby opens his mouth. You hear what he says in theory, but you don't comprehend it on account of being too busy staring at his thick arm and wondering what it would feel like around your neck when he's fucking you.
