parminder 03
You could probably walk faster, but why would you? Parminder matched your pace and walked beside you but you took her hand and threaded it around your back. It was partially to further thrill her with the anticipatory contact with her first lesbian lover.
But it’s mostly for the sensation of being touched. Your dress, cut like a country dress with coquettish asymmetric shoulders, is zip-burstingly tight. Her arm around your back helps drive home the distinction: there’s scarcely an ounce of fat where she touches your flanks, your back, the tops of your hips.
Technically your belly is also trim. But stuffed with Greek food it swells out before you and pulls taut both fabric and skin. It’s the sweetest discomfort. Every step brings a new squeeze; every shift of Parminder’s touch reminds you just how much you have eaten.
The brief, sensual walk ends in front of a modern but anonymous newbuild flat. It’s nice enough you don’t feel bad for seducing her into paying the bill. Not that it will matter soon, anyway. She stands in front of the keypad and roots inside her bra for the keycard. “This is home. Uh, first storey. D’you… wanna take the lift, like?”
Your lips part in appreciation. She’s so cute and thoughtful. Before she can wave the card you wrap her in a tight hug and press those lips to hers.
She’s overcome completely. Fights a little at first from simple shock and then submits. As you languidly taste her mouth she trembles. God, she’s like a baby lamb. You suck her face till she’s jelly.
When you let her go she stares at you dumbly. Smiling, you give a significant look at the keycard shaking in her hand. She looks down and dumbly boops it. Thus you both gain entry.
“I can take the stairs, pet.”
At the top you wish you hadn’t. Heaving your gut and bending your legs made you feel ever more sausage-like in your dress. It was effort to hide the exhalations of breath, but worth it. Parminder followed you up and you wanted her focus on your shapely bum and nowhere else.
For the sake of expediency you let her unlock her door without interference.
“My place,” she says with a flourish, stepping into a hallway and spinning to present it. “Make yourself at home!”
“I’m going to have to. This dress is faaaar too tight.”
Once again you smash into her defences like a bull. It’s almost too easy. While you stride into her living area and fiddle with your zip she stammers out a “would you like a drink?” mostly out of reflex.
“Gin, if you have any.”
She bustles off. You can’t quite get the zip to work past a ruck your enormous dinner is causing in the—
She didn’t bustle off. Shyly, she appears behind you, just a hand on your hip and another tracing down the partially-revealed skin of your back. “Need a hand?”
The mild surprise almost led to you lashing out with claws, fangs and tendrils, so it takes a beat to relax into the flirtatious touch. Once the moment passes you lean back into her. Your bum presses warm against her hips. “Be a darling.”
When your shoulders are relaxed there is no impediment. She unzips the dress. Blissful release flows down your body as the dress’s tyranny yields. You can’t help but release a little moan as your stomach crests and then bounces free. It’s still astonishingly hard and tight—a petite cannonball—but fuck does it feel good to breathe now.
With the dress unzipped but still hugging your hips she gives you a little more freedom. Your bra clasp gives up quickly and she pulls it away and sets it down on a coffee table.
She’s found some confidence or some hunger because she pulls you to her. You allow it, but divert the hand that was gliding up to your breast and redirect it to the lower curve of your belly.
“Weigh me. In your hands.”
Her arms encircle you and two thin, delicate hands cross and cup your belly. When she bounces it she also presses it inwards, increasing the sensation of heft. You sigh and let your head fall back on her shoulder. An airy burp bursts up your relaxed throat. If she notices, she doesn’t comment.
“I can’t believe how much you ate.”
“How did it make you feel?”
Unbidden, you feel her touch wander away from the sole task of carrying your gut and instead begin to explore. They glide upwards, pressing hard enough to intuit what is muscle, what little is fat, and what is Greek-stuffed alimentary sac. A shiver runs through you as she kneads innocently. Feeling that, she kneads a little harder.
“Impressed. … A little intimidated. It was strange. Watching you be so hungry. So greedy—”
Your breath catches in your throat. With a turn of your head her neck is against your lips. “Say that again.”
“Hungry? Greedy. You were so greedy Raven.”
When you lick the side of her neck she sways. You have to grab her frozen hands and press them back into your belly. She gets the hint and really begins to massage, working hard enough to squeeze liquifying food inside, stimulating digestion and the secretion of more enzymes. You lick again.
“I thought you’d never stop eating. I thought your dress would tear. You greedy thing. A glutton. Gluttonous Raven, with your massive bell— oup!”
She didn’t know the danger she was in, letting you lap at the pulsing skin of her throat. You did, and you’re not finished with her yet, so you tear yourself away and spin to face her. You pounce.
Your kiss this time is pure hunger. Her head belongs to you, gripped between two clawed hands, and you kiss hard enough that she knows what your fangs are for. Her grazed tongue flavours the kiss red. You kiss her all the harder for it.
When she is transfixed by your mouth your hands relax and stroke down her hair. Once on her shoulders they become heavy. Intoxicated, she resists, but you’re not taking no for an answer and soon she must bend her knees. Her look of desperation as she parts from your lips gives you a shiver of delight. But she’s gracious: she kisses your whole body on her way down.
While her lips linger on your belly, between ribs and belly button, she peels off the rest of your dress, and your panties along with it. You step out of both and gaze down at her, imperious.
“Yes, I’m greedy. I want to eat everything. I want to eat you. Make me some room to eat you. Massage my tummy. And for God’s sake, put your mouth to good use while you do!”