A very long winded introduction: Peter Paul Rubens is one of my favorite painters and is known for portraying big women and that’s why one word for thick girls is Rubenesque and it is where I drew inspiration from for this piece. I write a lot of erotic stories, but very few of them with full-figured women as the leads, which is odd since I am a chubby bunny myself and I love my body type. Maybe I just assume that people want to read about skinny/”normal” girls, I don’t know. So, this one, it’s very personal and means a lot to me. If you’re not chubby or fat or into girls who are, you can skip it. If, however, you do read it and see yourself in it, that would make me very happy. Although, if you’re looking for a shy woman embarrassed by her body, this isn’t that either. I love the way I look and I like big, confident women like myself.

One of my favorite Rubens ladies:

And, sorry, I have such a hardcore lady boner for him in glasses...




On a Friday morning, Michael Del Zotto woke up feeling great and actually had hope that maybe, just maybe, things were getting better. Two minutes later when he went into the bathroom, the pain in his hand and wrist returned with a vengeance and he let a few colorful curses fly as he leaned over his sink. He took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. He was still fuming, so he took another.

“Okay, better than yesterday, right?” He unwrapped his wrist and moved it gently, stretching the muscles and ligaments that had been repaired during surgery, testing his boundaries. It felt slightly better, but still not even close to one hundred percent. He was trying to be patient, but he tired of it all, of not playing hockey, of not feeling healthy, of the pain, of the seemingly endless days with nothing constructive to do.

Abandoning his pity party, he turned on the shower and went about his day: working out, grocery shopping, lunch with Ryan White, dinner with some other friends. Walking the streets of Philadelphia that evening, he checked his watch, smiling when he saw that he still had some time.

Twenty minutes later he arrived at the art museum and flashed his member’s card at the front desk. The place was deserted, because who goes to a museum on a Friday night? But this was his favorite day to come, his favorite time, precisely because there was no one there. He could wander around in peace, take his time, get as close as he wanted.

He stopped to visit a few of his favorite pieces before heading to his real target, the Rubens on the second floor, Prometheus Bound. Lately he had been thinking of the work more and more often, relating deeping to the artist’s rendering of the tale of daily agony, an endless cycle of pain, darkly created suffering with no end in sight.

One reason he came during the evening hours was so that he could be alone with it, study every detail. Because when he did that, for a few minutes, he forgot his own pain, focused on someone’s, even if they were fictional.

Up to this point, he hadn’t seen another soul other than the security guards who nodded politely at him. Except there, in front of what he thought of as his painting, was a woman. His first reaction was one of anger. What right did she have, didn't she know this was his piece, his time of day?

He moved closer, just about ready to irrationally cuss her out over invading his sanctum sanctorum, but he pulled up for short when he let the red he was seeing fade away and he took a good look at her. A yellow pencil skirt stretch tautly over her wide, round ass, bare calves nicely accentuated by tall black heels, a tight black camisole and fashionable blazer, black with white polka dots, with one button done up in the center of it to amplify her cleavage and stomach. She was absolutely gorgeous, perfectly soft, full body, sweet, round face, dark hair in a neat bun, and deep brown eyes now fixed on him from behind her vintage cat eye glasses.

She spoke while he was still staring at her, now just a few feet away. “Good evening.”

Her voice dripped over him like honey, warm and sweet. He only managed a short, breathy, “Hi.” Coming up to the painting, Michael stood right next to her, closer than was appropriate for strangers in any setting.

She looked at him without turning her head and smiled a little, while also taking a step to her left to put more than a few inches between them.

They stood like this, together, but each alone with their own thoughts in the silence that hung between them. Michael found it difficult to concentrate the way he normally would, overcome with this woman’s presence, her soft breathing, the rich, opulent scent of her perfume that was just strong enough to be noticed without being obnoxious.

Even though she didn’t show it, the woman was also keenly aware of him, his height, the biceps bulging in that overtaxed t-shirt, his great ass in those jeans, the thick framed glasses paired with a backwards hat making him look nerdy and athletic all at once. He still stood so close to her, inclining his head in her direction as he looked at the Rubens and distracting her even more. She let out a slow breath..

Without looking over he asked, “You like Rubens?”

Keeping her eyes fixed on the painting she told him, “I do. You?”

“I don’t know much about him, but I like this one.”

“Prometheus was a popular subject at the time this was done, but I think Rubens does it better than anyone. You have excellent taste.”

“And what brings you here, Rubens or Prometheus?”

“Both, more so the artist who has a special place in my heart. Rubens always portrayed women as they exist in reality, not a fantasized version. They were big, bold, imperfect, but so lovely in their flawed state. His work has always been my favorite respite from a modern culture that constantly asks women to be less present in the world, quieter, more polite, smaller, perfect. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do.” He had never seen Rubens’ other works, but he was curious about them now. Any artist that could spark the interest of this woman was worth looking into. He finally looked over at her. “You -” He cut short when she turned to look at him, hands clasped behind her back, forcing her breasts up and forward under that plunging neckline and driving him out his mind with distraction. Her eyes were so dark, serious yet playful.

She smiled at his reaction, noting the movement of his eyes towards her chest. “Yes?”

Michael cleared his throat, started again. “What is your perfume?”

“Vera Wang. Birthday gift.”

“Happy Birthday.”

“It was three months ago.”

He chuckled, only slightly embarrassed. “Well, just the same. Who’s got the good taste?”

“I picked it out, Henri paid.”

He frowned, asking, “Boyfriend?”

She smirked, telling him, “Brother.”

He mirrored her position, hands locked behind his back, mostly because he was afraid he might lose control and touch her as he got closer. He took a step forward, tilted his head and leaned towards her neck, his mouth less than an inch from her skin, and from there he breathed her in.

The woman felt her pulse jump and Michael saw it in the vein in her neck, watched her swallow as he took another wiff of her. His hot breath drew goosebumps from her flesh as he whispered, “Mmm, smells good. Complicated, but delicate.”

She resisted the urge to gasp at his nearness and sexy tone. Instead she just said quietly, “I’ve always liked it.”

Another voice interrupted their moment before it could continue. “Ms. James, you alright?”

Michael jumped back and looked toward the entryway where a security guard was standing. The woman turned and answered, “Fine, Al.”

Al nodded while eyeing up Michael. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you.”

Michael turned his attention back to the woman. “You come here a lot, Ms. James?”

“Tallulah. And you could say that. I work here. In house counsel.”

“You’re too pretty to be a lawyer.”

Tallulah’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she still smiled. “That’s not a compliment.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, but no offense, it’s true.”

“No offense taken. I didn’t set out to do this, anyway.”

“How does one accidentally become a lawyer?”

She considered him for a moment and then answered, “I did my undergraduate work in the fine arts, painting mostly, but I fooled around with other things. It was my father’s idea that I go to law school, get a real job, all that. I come from a family of very serious professionals who were not pleased to have an artist in the family. I paint in my free time, just for pleasure, but I do wish I could do it more often. This job keeps me busy.”

His frown bespoke of his understanding when he told her, “It’s not easy, being denied the time or opportunity to do what you love.”

“Now, see, I don’t think there’s another soul in the city who understands that more than you. How’s your wrist healing, Michael?”

He couldn't contain his wide, cheesy grin. “You know who I am?”

“You’re not the only one in Philly who enjoys both sports and the arts.”

“Good point.”

“So…how is your wrist?”

Without thinking about it, he shook out his hand. “Alright. Not where I want it, but I’m getting there.”

“Good to hear. We should go, they’ll be closing up soon.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah. You need to give me your number, though. I want to see what sort of paintings serious lawyers do their spare time.”

Tallulah started to walk away smiling and Michael kept pace with her. “Why don’t you come to my place. I live nearby, we can have a drink, and I’ll show you a few of my better pieces.”

Agreeing with a grin, Michael walked out with her and they kept on walking until they reached a small brick house on a sleepy street. The dwelling was modest, the cement stairs a little worn down, the gutters a little rusty, and inside it was clearly lived in. Tallulah had combined the living room and dining room to create a wide open space for leisure and painting.

She kicked off her heels when they entered and he slipped free of his sneakers as well. “Make yourself at home. You like scotch?”

“Who doesn’t?” Michael immediately went to her easel and looked at the work in progress, in spite of her objections hollered from the kitchen.

“Ignore that, it’s not done.” It was a fairly small piece and simple, a still life of flowers and a what appeared to be the skull of a small animal. He looked at the hutch where the items were laid out. She was an incredible artist, recreating the setting perfectly, capturing what he assumed was the play of light and shadows in the room created by the sun during the afternoon. The colors were bright but realistic, the lines clean and precise.

He looked up as she handed him a tumbler half full of brown liquid. “You’re amazing.”

“I told you to ignore that one.”

“Show me something else then.”

She took a sip of scotch and pointed to their left. “I always liked that one, hence why I hung it. Let me find another.”

As Tallulah turned, sorting through a series of works propped against the wall, Michael looked at the large piece. It was a nude male, tall, well-defined, handsome, and done so realistically it almost made him feel like the man was in the room with them, watching. She held out another painting to him, but his eyes were still fixed on the wall and she followed his lead.

“Who is that?”

“An old lover.”

“I can tell.”

Tallulah pulled a face that made Michael laugh. “How?”

“It’s very intimate. Not because he’s naked, but it’s the eyes. They’re relaxed, kind of sleepy. Sometimes you can look at a piece and tell it was just a model sitting for the artist, the eyes are intent, almost sterile or vacant. This one, his are soft, at ease.”

Now they were just looking at each other, the massive work of art on the wall forgotten. “You’re very perceptive, Michael.”

She took a sip of scotch and he just watched before downing his own drink. “Will you draw me?”

“Like one of my French boys?”

“Oh, oui, cherie.”

Tallulah answered cheekily, only half kidding, “I only do nude portraits.”

Eyes full of amusement, she watched Michael throw his hat on the ground, take off his shirt, and then immediately start on his pants. “Where do you want me?”

Nearly bursting with laughter now, her eyes were on his beautiful bared thighs when he brushed aside his jeans. “You’re pretty eager to - oh, wow.”

Michael had his boxers off and stood before her naked and fully erect without an ounce of shyness. He matched her playful smile and asked again, “Where do you want me?”

Tallulah ran her tongue along her lips, eyeing him up shamelessly. “Is my bed the wrong answer?”

He took a step closer, touching her with only his hand on her jaw as she tried not salivate at the sight of him. “We’ll get there. I want you to draw me first.”

“Tease.”

“Can’t have you thinking I’m that easy.”

“Right, of course. Because dropping your pants a hour after meeting someone is the definition of playing hard to get.” Michael laughed and she pointed behind him. “The stool, please. Keep your glasses on.”

Near the hutch with the still life there was a tall stool, the seat draped in a white sheet and Michael sat down. “Tell me what to do, boss.”

Tallulah had slipped off her blazer and now had a large sketchbook in her hands as she looked at him. If he wanted this done, she would take it seriously, studying him intently and deciding on the best position for him to be in. She hardly noticed his lithe, tan body and beautiful cock that shot nearly straight up in the air as he sat there smiling like a child waiting for his school portrait to be taken. At least, she gave the impression she didn’t notice those things.

“Put one foot on the bottom rung, the other leg should be relaxed. Okay. Now left elbow on your elevated knee, the other arm loose…slouch forward just a touch more. Perfect. Don’t move.”

Sitting in front of him on her own stool, spiral bound book propped on her knee, Tallulah went to work with her pencils, switching her gaze from him to the sketch, avoiding his intense eyes whenever possible so she could concentrate.

Ten minutes in, Michael broke down and finally moved, but only his mouth. “Tell me about him.”

Tallulah didn’t look up. “Who?”

Michael waved towards the painting and then returned to his position. “The naked hottie on your wall.”

She had to chuckle at the slightly jealous tone in his voice. “I told you, old lover.”

“How did you meet him?”

“He was a professional artist’s model. I hired him to pose for me.”

“And you seduced him?”

“Stop talking, Michael.”

“I’m just curious.”

“I didn’t approach him sexually, no. He came on to me.”

“Of course he did. You’re gorgeous.”

For a few seconds, the only sound was her scratching on the thick paper. Finally she looked back at him to study his face and answered simply, “I know, but thank you.” Michael started to laugh and she just smiled, going back to her drawing of him. “What? Do you want me to lie to you? Blush and stutter when you compliment me? I’m not that sort of girl, Michael. You should know that upfront.”

“No, that’s not what I want you to do. And I’m sure what I’m saying isn’t new, people probably compliment you all the time.”

“Not really, no. In fact, people sometimes have rude things to say to me, I just learned a long time ago how to ignore them and listen to myself instead.”

“What’s there to be rude about?”

She quirked any eyebrow at him. “Maybe the fact that I’m definitely not thin, a little Rubenesque if you will. And speaking of my body, I wanted to ask -”

“I like it, really like it. But not like it’s a fetish or anything. I just enjoy all kinds of women.” He had answered too quickly he realized, now maybe wondering if that was what she had even thinking. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

Tallulah met his eyes with mirth as he stammered on. “No, I don’t normally ask for verbal approval from men. I assume they know what they’re getting into when they hit on me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“No need, Michael. I told you, I’m not one of those girls. I’m not at all uncomfortable with what I look like or with calling a spade a spade. But thank you for clarifying that you’re neither disinterested nor creepily interested in my body type. I was simply going to ask if you minded if I took off my clothes as well. I normally work naked and I’m feeling a little restricted.”

Michael swallowed and then sighed as she stood. “Please.”

She kept her eyes locked with his as she stripped down, laying her clothes on the couch behind her. It was strange, while Michael’s cock responded to her instantly, hardening even more and twitching between his thighs, he had no desire to jump on her or drag her to the nearest flat surface.

When she sat down to finish the drawing, he appreciated her body for its innate beauty and reveled in the sudden and comfortable intimacy the two had swiftly established. It’s hard sometimes to even be honest in your comments on a first date, or third date for that matter, but there they were, both exposed and content with it as if they had been doing this for years.

He didn’t want to bother her again so he just watched her work and admired every detail that he wished he could transfer to paper the way she could. Her skin was the palest white, the mark of someone who rarely sees the sun in any season and it was almost unnaturally smooth, making her body all soft curves and buffed edges. She paused only once more to take her hair down and it fell down her back like a dark veil. By the time she was done, Michael felt as if he had memorized every inch of her and the desire to run his hands along her frame was now foremost in his mind.

Tallulah held the drawing at arm’s length, turning her head to evaluate it and then shrugging. “Alright. Best I could do on short notice.”

She cut the distance between them and handed him the sketchpad, standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder so they could look at it together. He was silent for a while and Tallulah thought she might have offended him in some way. He set the book against the wall, standing, then pulling her against him.

He asked quietly, almost unsettled, “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Draw the way I was feeling today.”

“And how exactly were you feeling?”

“Unhappy, restless, anxious, helpless.”

“Is that how you think I drew you?”

“Isn’t it?”

She pulled away and picked up the sketch, showing it to him again, tracing lines as she made her point. “I drew you the way you are, beautiful, maybe a little sad, but more just…vulnerable. Where you see restless, I see a sort of controlled intensity running below the surface. You see helplessness, in your hands I’m guessing, but I see softness, you position them delicately, not uselessly. They aren’t helpless, they’re cared for until they can heal. Your eyes aren’t anxious, they’re just a little aroused I think. Sorry if I had something to do with that.”

He finally met her gaze and the teasing joy on her face. “Tallulah…you are so…where the hell did you come from?”

“St. Louis. Now are you gonna kiss me or is this the part where you put your pants back on and steal my work?”

“Believe me, I’m taking the drawing, but not until tomorrow.”

He let the book fall from his hand and hauled her back against him, his cock pressing flat against her stomach. She let out a brief protest of his rough treatment of her book before his mouth was on hers, swallow down her words with his tongue.

She smiled against his lips, slipping her tongue between his and holding him by his narrow hips to pull him even closer against her. He pressed her aggressively, backing them up until she hit the hutch, rattled the vases of flowers and nearly knocking them all down.

Tallulah was giggling when she pulled away, taking him by the hands to lead him through the house. When they hit her bedroom and as they both adorably removed their glasses she asked, “Do I need to be gentle with your wrist?”

“I’m good, I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

He moved to kiss her, but she stopped him by cradling his face in her hands. “Don’t try to be tough with me, Michael. Tell me the truth.”

He kissed her nose and she allowed that. “Fine. I can’t be on top.”

“Good. I prefer to be in control anyway.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“You want me to fuck you or not, smart aleck?”

He took hold of her hand and put it on his chest, dragging it down along his hard muscles until it wrapped around his cock. “What do you think?”

She answered by squeezing him in her fist and returning her mouth against his. Michael had a little feel of her skin downstairs, but now he just wanted to touch her until he was sated. His hands ran along her hips, down the slope of her ass, and then onto her thighs. She was as soft as she looked, silky skin over deliciously pliant flesh that moulded to his will.

Where he was firm and lean, she was plush and full. Their bodies together were the perfect combination of give and take, of malleability and resistance, where he pushed, she accepted. When they got close to the bed, he guided her down and gingerly crawled on top out of both habit and desire.

“What was that you just said?”

“Let me have this for a little bit.”

She saw him grimace as he came down to kiss and she pushed him off. “No, Michael…come on.”

“Alright. I just wanna feel you, I can’t help it.”

“Get on your back.”

He complied and they switched until she knelt with a knee on either side of his body, hands on the bed next to his head. Her voice was soft, encouraging, “Touch all you want.”

As she kissed him sweetly, his hands started on her sides, stroking her ample curves and the edges of her breasts that hung between them and that he then moved to cup and knead. She moaned quietly, arched her back until her ass popped out and her chest moved down to meet his greedy hands. That cleavage he had admired at the museum was even better like this, naturally giving and feeling like heaven in his palms. Her hair fell down around them, a silky curtain that blocked out everything but each other.

He stroked lower, over the rounded flesh of her midsection, giving it a playful squeeze that elicited a giggle from her. When his hand slipped between her thighs, she went back to moaning. And when two fingers found their way through her folds and into the wet channel of her pussy, she broke from his mouth, gasping for air while grinding her hips back.

“Yes…”

“Goddamn, your body is so fucking beautiful.” She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he ran his thumb along her bottom lip and then slipped it against her tongue. “Don’t say ‘I know’ just say ‘thank you.’ I know you know, just let me tell you.”

She sucked at his thumb a little, still pressing back to take his fingers deeper. “Thank you, Michael. And you are absolutely breathtaking. Now don’t stop.”

He came up on one elbow and kissed her once more, working his fingers between her folds a little faster as he did so. He did stop, though, suddenly, grabbing her hips. “Turn around. Let me have a taste.”

Gleefully, she flipped her body, knees now above his shoulders as he laid back down, hands alongside his hips. He licked through her from behind, lapping at the sweet juice she expelled for him. For a few moments, all she could do was lean back, press her ass closer, silently beg from him to give her more. When he tongued at her clit, she breathed out his name and finally paid some attention to his cock that was needy and right in front of her face.

Propped up with one hand, she used the other to guide his dick between her lips, sucking at him right away as he teased her clit and lips at the other end. The feel of his hardness along her tongue excited her even more and she started to buck back against his mouth almost uncontrollably. His cock fell from her lips as she started started to come and moaned aloud. Michael grabbed her ass with both hands, forcing her pussy against his tongue and lips as she shook and shuddered and gasped for him.

When she fell forward, weak from her orgasm, she mindlessly stroked his cock while she found her breath. She flipped back again, kissing his soaked mouth and licking herself from his lips. “You’re very good with that mouth of yours.”

“I know.”

Tallulah started to laugh against his lips and he joined in. “Fair enough. Sit up for me. I need to fuck you.”

“Goddamn.” Using his good hand, Michael pushed himself up, sitting with his back against the pillows. Tallulah pushed his legs up at the knees and then wide apart as she settled between them. Her legs were bent and layered over his, knees crossing, his cock inches from her cunt as she nudged closer. He gave her a confused look, but she just hauled him closer for a kiss as she reached between them stroking his cock.

“Trust me. It’ll blow your fucking mind.” As she said this, she guided his cock inside her as she jutted her hips towards him.

“Fucking hell.” Her sweet cunt was as luscious as the rest of her, cushioning his cock on all sides in her wet, elastic center.

“Just…let me work.” She kept her hands hooked behind his neck, holding their faces close as they kissed through heavy breaths. The natural inclination for his cock to jut upwards combined with the horizontal angle created an intense pressure on her g-spot with every stroke she made. And she did all the work, thrusting her hips against his at a steady pace as he just appreciated her for it and let himself be lost to the feel of her.

When she leaned back on her hands and opened up her body to his touch, Michael took full advantage. His palms found her heavy breasts, his fingers stroked her puckered nipples, and he grips her sides while rubbing circles with his thumbs on the soft flesh of her stomach. She used her hands on the bed behind her to get even more leverage, lifting her hips back and up before swirling them down and forward. Her widened thighs meant he could get deep and they both felt every inch of the pleasure it drew.

“Michael...sweetheart…you feel so damn good.”

“You too, baby. God, it’s good.”

He was stroking her collarbones when she laid her hand over his wrist, gently guiding him down until his fingers found where their bodies met.

“Yes, yes, just like that.” Her hips matched the pace of her breathing and with his cock buried deep and the pads of his fingers massage her clit, she came around him, panting his name before falling back against the bed and letting his cock pop out of her cunt. When she could open her eyes, he was smiling at her, leaning forward with his arms resting on his bent knees.

“Did you even come?”

“No. I’m not done with you.”

Tallulah laughed, but was impressed at the same time. “That’s the sexiest thing you could have said. What do you have in mind for the finale?”

His smile was wide as he untangled their legs and came up to sit back on his heels. “Come here, like this. Let me feel that glorious ass against me.”

Rolling onto her hands on knees, Tallulah presented her ass towards him, which he smacked on each cheek, much to her amusement. With his hands on her hips, he guided her back until she nestled against him and his cock burrowed home.

“Mmm, perfect. Sit up, though. I love to feel your body.” She pressed up, leaned back with her ass against his thighs, back against his chest. “Yes…God, I love it.” His palms went back to work exploring her and his mouth found the side of her neck. Tallulah rewarded him by taking back over the bulk of the movement, leveraging up with her knees and then sinking back down onto his lap.

She spread her thighs even wider, letting his stay closed and together between hers as she fucked herself back onto his cock again and again. Her ass bounced against his firm thighs and it was the most delicious feeling for them both. He never stopped touching her, cupping her breasts and then hugging her stomach and then running his fingertips on the inside of her thighs, teasing her and making her whimper.

She covered his hands on her thighs with hers as she leaned forward to then buck wildly against him, so close to coming again. He brought his hand to throat, hauling her back against him. “Come for me, like this. I’m so close, baby.”

“Wait for me, I’m right there. Right there.”

He pinched her nipples as she rode him, circling her hips now, grinding her ass against him and forcing more of his cock inside her. When she started to pump quickly, he felt himself letting go, jerking and coming in her warmth and she went soon after, grabbing and squeezing his thighs with both hands as her body released.

They settled in for the night after that, with Michael cuddled up against her side, using a breast as a pillow and making them both laugh with the action. He woke several hours later when it was still dark outside, his head on a real pillow, the heat of her body gone. He sat up and found her sitting naked and cross legged in bed, sketching him and then smiling when their eyes met.

She whispered, even though they were alone; the predawn stillness of the world seeping into her tone. “Sorry. You’re just so lovely, Michael.”

He had found out last night that this was an incredibly deep and wonderful woman, but this, the drawing of him in his sleep, it touched a part of him he could hardly explain and he found himself overwhelmed with affection for her. “Tallulah…come and snuggle. Draw me in the morning.”

She listened, resumed her place at his side as they laid on their sides facing each other. He ran his fingers through her hair, just to tame it, but when she moan softly, he kept doing it, watching her close her eyes in pleasure.

When she looked back at him she asked, “What are you doing today? Plans?”

He thought about his endless stream of empty days and hoped that meeting her meant he could put an end to them. “Nothing planned. I’d like for you to draw me again, show me some more Rubens, and then fuck me, at least half a dozen a times. If you don’t mind.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled. “I don’t mind doing any of those things. Not at all.”

Notes

I'm gonna try to do two requests and then one of my own, but some of the requests might take a little longer because when I don't know a lot about the players I have a hard time coming up with a story that feels authentic and that really blocks my writing. If you requested someone and want to message me a scenario, insight, or idea, please do!

Also, to the anon who messaged me on my blog - I got your message and have put that threesome on the list. :D