political science
Another time, another place.
This was the first time I’d ever seen you gain significantly. The ins and outs of your diet were at that time a mystery to me—still are, though I’m a little better acquainted with the “outs” now.
You woke with the heat and pleasure of a stomach full of meat, freshly sloughed off the bones of a uni student you got talking to on a bus. She’d had interesting things to say about America’s place on the global stage, and once you’d had your fill of conversation you switched to discussing her own place in the world. You both disagreed violently, but in the end you were proved right. Coming off a week of hearty meals your gorgeous fat stomach had smothered her, sparing her the agony of consciously enduring her caustic dissolution.
You greeted 4am with a sudden, volcanic burp. Sometimes your meals dry-drown, and your stomach juices had just softened her chest to the point that air-packed lungs had simultaneously ruptured. Her last breath forms a crude sequence of vowels unworthy of her extensive education: ~uwouuUOOOooourp~.
You looked across guiltily to see if you’d woken me, but I was already awake, upright and looking at you.
“I’ve never seen you so big,” I said to you in the quiet voice one reserves for the middle of the night. All the world was dark and silent, except for a streetlight that threw your curvaceous form into sharp relief.
“See anything you like?” you murmur, moving to turn on your side.
The motion is not a small one. Your high-quality bedframe and mattress creak and groan. As you turn the slabs of fat that form your belly shift like a slow mudslide, pooling on the bed and engulfing my thigh. As the ebbing tide reveals a shipwreck, the shifting flab revealed the harder bulge of the academic still stewing in your stomach.
Your breasts, two immense boulders flattening under their own weight, displayed ariola stretched by their sheer fat content to the size of saucers. You watched my eyes travel from there down, tracing your silhouette over the crags at your waist where the skin rolled and folded, then climbing the luscious, excessive swell of your hips. Smooth, pale skin invited touch by its very nature, being soft and warm, enveloping every advance.
It enveloped my hand presently as I kneaded your awesome stomach with reverence. “Everything,” I said, low voice thick with emotion. “Every single part of you is perfection.”
“Every part?” You’re so fat that the sounds of digestion are muted, but a riotous gloooork advertises the student’s initial stuttering squirt into your duodenum. “You haven’t even seen every part.”
“Show me,” I say, breathless.
“Mm, lie here.” You pat a place lower down the mattress. I have to work to free my thigh enough from the weight of your casual belly flop, but once I do I swiftly comply.
Your whole body moves around your frame as you heave yourself up above me. I cannot see your eyes, hidden as they are by a belly growing increasingly noisy. It hangs over two hips verging on the size of my torso, skin dimpled by the complex weight of constituent fat beneath the surface. Even your knees puddle slightly where they bite deep into the softness that supports you.
Two chubby hands are necessary to free your cunt from over-eager inner thighs. You hear me gasp, feel my hands start to knead your gargantuan buttocks. I’m watching you touch yourself, teasing me with the glimpse of hungry pink swaddled between fatted lips that bulge and glisten.
When you finally tire of pleasing yourself you swoop down, crushing me like a doll into the bed. My eager tongue seeks out the hidden places that make you moan, even as your soft skin swallows me up entirely. You have occasionally to lift your belly to allow me to breathe.
You take your time. This is all for you. Grinding your weight down through your hips and my face you explore your own body with your hands. Only when you have touched and loved every inch of your arse, hips, flanks, belly, navel-slit, breasts, arms, do you finally allow yourself to climax. You almost drown me, an uncharacteristic squirt turned torrential by the gluttonous excess of your body.
When you peel your satiated pussy from my face you hear me gasp in a desperate breath. It leaves as the words “your body is incredible”.
Right, you think to yourself, sitting right back down. Both of us deserve more of it.