In that hazy state between wakefulness and true
sleep, I feel a vague tingling between my thighs as
my husband's massive furry belly grazes my back,
settling into the bed behind me. I feel his strong
hand on my hip, and find myself slowly shifting
back toward alertness. It's amazing that he can
still do this to me, after all these years together
-- his beautiful, firm belly never ceases to arouse
me. Clothed, naked, it doesn't matter; with a big
loose shirt falling like a tent over its bulk, a
form-fitting knit shirt accentuating its curve, or
gloriously exposed, my blood always surges at the
sight.
Sleep is receding further and further at the touch
and thought of him, and when his hand slides up to
my waist, my nipples go rock hard and I moan. "Oh,
it's like that, is it?" I hear him tease.
"Mmmhmm..." Fully awake now, I roll over and push
him onto his back, thrilling at the smooth muscular
shoulder under my hand. I swing one leg over his
broad hips, and lean down to kiss him. Of course
my hair falls in his face, as it always does, so
after the first passionate kiss I reach over and
grab a hair-tie from the nightstand and braid my
hair. Of course I could be just binding it back
quickly in a ponytail, but I know the braiding
process gives him a longer view of my breasts at
their best, with my arms raised up to fool with my
hair. I can feel his cock stiffen as he takes in
the view.
Finished, I lean forward again, relishing the
feeling of his belly against the soft swell of
mine, my breasts dangling free and brushing his
chest. As we kiss, my arousal grows fiercer as I
feel his hands brushing and caressing my nipples
and breasts, sometimes rolling the nipples between
his fingers, sometimes trying in vain to cup the
entire breast in his hand. Should I go down on
him? I think about the texture of it, the smooth
silky skin of his cock in my mouth, my forehead
brushing his belly on each stroke, glancing up at
its magnificence, and decide that tempting as it
is, I just can't wait to feel his dick inside of
me, filling my aching cunt. I lower myself down
onto him slowly, thighs trembling with the effort
and sweet frustration. My eyes are closed, my
whole body focusing on the sensation of his wide
shaft penetrating me inch by delicious inch. I
hear his moans as a backdrop to my own, and when
we're completely joined, I open my eyes and smile
at him, warmed as always to see the love and lust
returned in his own face.
I lean forward, my belly to his, and begin to
slowly ride him, his hands roaming over my body as
I rock back and forth. I feel a special thrill as
he holds my hips, suggesting the tempo; our thrusts
become more insistent. Before too long, I'm
incoherent, exclaiming wordlessly with each stroke.
As he holds me firmly to him, I feel his cock pulse
inside of me, releasing his cum as the answering
waves ripple through me.
As we recover, I roll off and lie snuggled against
him, holding him with my arm across his chest, my
leg entwined with his. After we've caught our
breath for a few minutes, and are lying together in
the post-orgasmic peace, I hear his voice, tinged
with gentleness and uncertainty, "I want to ask you
something." I look at him, a bit surprised, and
see that he has a very vulnerable look on his face.
"Uh, sure...what is it?" I say, wondering what it
could possibly be.
"Well, promise you won't get mad?"
"Promise," I reply, with a smile on my face and
warmth in my voice.
"Well, uh, I know you've been working really hard
to lose weight, the last year or so, and I know
it's important to you. I know how you like feeling
more active. I don't want to stop you." He looks
at me, obviously looking for a sign to go on, and I
smile and nod. "But I really miss how we used to
eat together. Remember how we used to go out to
restaurants, and order huge quantities of food, and
encourage each other to eat and eat?"
The images rush through my mind, the evenings out,
followed by snacks and even more dessert at home
later. The whole weekends focusing on gluttonous
hedonism, nothing but food and sex. Ah, those were
the days. But I just didn't want to be that fat
anymore. It's not that I don't love being fat --
on the contrary, I'm incredibly turned on by my own
body. Feeling my hips and tummy and thighs ripple
and jiggle as I walk...spreading my legs as I sit
and feeling my belly nestle between them...the
bounce of my hips and ass when I fuck him (hard!)
...they are some of the most erotic sensations
that I know. And yet, sex isn't everything in
life, and I found myself wanting to try being
thinner. Not that I'm exactly thin now; I still
weigh in at about 225, but it's 75 pounds less than
I was. I shift up onto my elbow so I can look into
his eyes, and slowly, with a smile on my lips, say,
"Oh, yes...I remember."
"Well, do you think we might do that again, just
for the weekend? I know you'll want to get back to
a more moderate diet on Monday, but do you think
that for tomorrow and Sunday we could have it be
like old times?"
I consider for a minute, knowing how hard it will
be to go back to a sensible routine on Monday, but
the desire wins out, and without a word, I lift
myself out of bed and go to the kitchen, returning
with a pint of Mint Chocolate Cookie and a pair of
spoons.
The matter resolved, we dig in with gusto,
alternately feeding ourselves and feeding each
other, the ice cream disappearing with alarming
speed. I rise again, returning with Heath Toffee
Crunch, which also swiftly meets its end. After a
glance at each other, we both start to talk; I let
him have the right of way. "Wanna go out for a
late-night snack?" "Sure!" I reply.
I put on a denim sheath dress with a scoop
neckline, not too tight as denim doesn't stretch
much. The look in his eyes tells me I've made the
right choice, while I'm sure he sees the same as I
admire the snug blue polo shirt and jeans he's
chosen to adorn his body. We head out to a nearby
greek diner, which used to be one of our favorite
haunts. The staff still know us, of course, but we
haven't been quite as much of a strain on the
kitchen as of late, with only one of us really
packing it away.
Tonight, though, we begin rather modestly with an
order of fried mozzarella and a heaping plate of
nachos, and before we're done, we've consumed
between us at least four appetizers, as many main
dishes, and six or seven orders of different
desserts. I do my best to keep up with him, to
meet him mouthful for mouthful, but I know I'm
lagging behind. After the initial rush, I find that
I need time to rest between dishes -- I'm just not
in training for this anymore! By the time we get
to dessert, each mouthful is a struggle, but it's
all so delicious, and the look on his face so
priceless, that I manage it. As we stand up to
leave, I'm flushed with the eating, the arousal,
the looks of amusement from the staff. I walk to
the door, reveling in the feelings of the dress
tight against my hips and belly, my thighs sliding
against each other, wet with sweat and pussy
juices. He's a step behind me, probably so he can
look at my ass -- I imagine it's outlined clearly
now that my belly is straining against the front of
the dress. I feel my nipples harden, thinking
about the lust that must be filling him at the
sight of his wife stuffed tight into a dress that
skimmed her body less than two hours ago! As I sit
down in the car, I notice the hem has ridden up a
few inches from the gluttony, exposing much more of
my plump thighs than it had on our way to the
diner. I see that he notices, too, his breath
catching in his throat.
How I can be capable of wanting sex as stuffed as I
am, I don't know, but our hands are all over each
other on the way home. When we get there, the door
is barely closed behind us before he is fumbling to
get me out of the dress. The sensation of my
breasts and belly and hips being freed from their
confinement as the dress unzips is intensely
erotic, and I close my eyes as I feel his hands and
mouth begin their work, kissing my lips and nipples
and belly, caressing my back and breasts and hips
until I can barely stand, interrupted only for a
few moments as he strips his own clothes off.
I feel his hand in mine, leading me back to our
bedroom, and he lies me down and I feel his balls
against my lips. I open my mouth and start to
tease them gently, swirling my tongue around them,
tasting the sweat. I suck them into my mouth, one
at a time, and then both together, rolling them
against each other. My world has narrowed to this,
the feeling of his balls in my mouth, his thighs
straddling me, the musky smell. I open my eyes,
and the sight of his expanse of belly, filling my
field of view, arouses me to new heights. I can
feel my breasts pressed against the backs of his
thighs and butt, nipples aching. I start to lick
the shaft, flicking my tongue against it. I hear
him gasp as I reach the skin just under the head,
and for a few moments I take the head into my mouth
and caress it with my tongue. Soon, though, the
treat is taken away, as he moves to fuck me. The
sensation of his belly hanging free, swaying gently
as it descends my body before coming to rest
against my own, sends a new tremor through me, and
I gasp as he penetrates me in one swift stroke.
There is nothing of gentleness in this sex, but
none is needed, as I reach higher and higher until
I start to come, his cock still pumping, keeping me
in a state of orgasm or near orgasm for what seems
like an impossibly long time until he, too, reaches
his peak and thrusts deep inside me.
We stay like this for a few minutes, totally spent,
until he rolls off of me and we lie next to each
other, snuggled together as we both drift off into
a well-earned sleep.
by
GeekyBiBabe