Georgia
by Green Onions

"Can you hand me the lotion, Dear? It's on the nightstand!"

Mark's eyes caressed her reflection in the mirror. Like the giant double-basses which he painstakingly built by hand, his wife of nearly three decades had skin which became smoother and a voice that had grown mellower through the years. Yet the instruments always remained the same size after they were built; whereas his fair Georgia had expanded slowly until she was now forty and fat as a cream puff.

As he palmed the full-size bottle of moisturizer he realized she could easily have gotten it herself. But Georgia was not generally given to such exertions. Once positioned, she liked to stay put.

Mark glanced at their wedding photograph, realizing how much she now resembled the one giant oak tree that he would never cut down for wood. The tree had been moderately large when they had gotten married, and he had resolved then that it would stand alone, high on the cliff.

Her mother had told him then how delighted she was that Georgia had obtained such a "good catch" because she was "so fat." Yes indeed, she had been a little plump when they had gotten married--perhaps twenty pounds overweight by today's perverse standards--though fashionably plump by the norms of those times.

"Do you think Jeannie will be all right with David?''

Childbirth had made its changes and by the time their only daughter had been born, Georgia had added another twenty pounds, only ten of which she would ever be able to take off.

"No Love, I'm sure they'll do fine. Remember David has lots of experience driving in the snow and there's only a few inches of it.''

And then there had been the decade of dieting. She would lose five pounds after ten terrible weeks of carrot juice and green beans. Then she would gain them back along with a few more in a subsequent month of moderate indulgence.

Georgia would try the all-nut, the all-fruit, the all-meat, the all-cheese, or the all-pasta diets, one after the other, losing a few pounds and reacquiring them with some extra to spare. As she became more curvaceous, the buttons' threads would become strained, her zippers and seams would become tighter, while still more dresses, pants and belts filled their closet.

"Yes, but I heard that all the schools are going to be closed tomorrow.''

By the time Jeannie's face and heart had broken out with the eruptions of adolescence, Georgia's body had changed completely from a slightly-pudgy Marilyn Monroe-like elegance to a richer, more luscious robustness.

Every spring thick upper arms seemed to burst out from her sleeveless blouses like the mushrooms sprouting from the fallen trees in the forest. Though her legs had become very substantial, her tummy was still not so prominent, and the frequency of the undulating haze of many summers' bright suns was matched by the dancing heartbeat of her full browned thighs that challenged the leggings of one pair of shorts after another.

"But that's due to the basketball finals--not snow--Dear!''

During next few years she tried exercise. For months at a time she would go religiously every day for four hours--two before work and two afterwards--losing thirty or forty pounds and her monthly cycle all at once. But the pressure was too much, and he would always breathe a sigh of relief when he saw her start to snack again.

It was then that she really started to fill out. If she left twenty pounds behind in three months at the gym she would gain twenty-five back in the next month. If her losses were thirty, she would later regain forty.

And then there was the one winter in which she exercised continuously from September to March. Her stunning shedding of fifty-five pounds had been balanced by the slow return of her lust for life, love, and food during the summer as she packed seventy back on during four months of barbecues, fish fries and camp-outs. Like the antlers of a male buck, her love handles seemed to disappear and grew back again with the seasons, always larger and more finely rippled with age.

"I don't know why they always have to put the stupid zippers in the back--can you help me?''

He watched her rise up to her full height, just a few inches shy of his own six foot frame. The long mirror in the bedroom seemed to broadcast the brightly-colored gown's effulgence into the empty night beyond their window, as if it were a lighthouse warning any strange vessels sailing on the snow to avoid the mansion built into the hill.

Most of the dancing shadows were created by the combination of her complex curves and the mirror-like fragments embedded in the dress. There was no denying the effect of her lush hips on the shape of the shimmers. Despite her height, it seemed as if she had a a very small back because of her buttocks. He could feel himself slowly stiffen as he gently pulled the zipper down.

Only the slightest movement from her was necessary to produce deep arroyos of flesh in her back, like fissures of flowing lava from a volcanic explosion. Mark couldn't help running his fingers between the inviting rolls.

"Ohhh...that feels nice!'' Georgia smiled, looked at him directly for the first time since she had sat down at her dressing table. The substantial layer of flesh on her back marbled itself into several striated rows of fat as a result.

The zipper was now down to her girdle, which had become absolutely essential since her repeated cycles of heavy exercise and subsequent weight gain. In that period her abdominal muscles had grown and her once-slender stomach had caught up with the rest of her. Mark knew that without the restraint, a huge jelly roll of soft dimpled tummy flesh would have descended lazily to the upper middle of her abundant thighs like this morning's clouds had settled upon the foggy winter horizon.

Mark looked straight into her eyes as he felt himself growing ever larger while his fingertips gently outlined the flesh rippling from the small of her back. He ran his tongue between her rolls very slowly and then kissed her. She responded with her own thick organ and languidly turned her girth towards him, as he reached for the slender bottle of scented oil.

Two minutes later, a cloud of long dark hair was all that adorned the deep curves of her upper body. The sloping mass of two rich breasts was distorted by the rise of her soft tummy, like ripe fruit hanging from an imagined bush.

Mark applied handful after handful of the massage oil to the lip of her juicy belly that hung over her waist, making sure to slather a few errant droplets on her fleshy legs. He knew she wanted his hands there--on the smooth creamy surfaces of her sensitive inner thighs--so she could squeeze them together as she became hotter and wetter. But not yet.

He slowly repositioned her on the bed to his liking, as she closed her lushly-lashed eyes in anticipation. The urge to cover her with his moisture was too strong, and he slowly engulfed a stockinged foot in his mouth as she squealed in surprise. She was so delicious that he had no trouble drawing a fine, wet, bright line with his tongue up to the middle of her leg.

There, he surprised her by licking the back of her knee as he squeezed a fatted calf with a palmful of massage balm. Georgia knew the white stockings would be ruined by the treatment, but the sensation of slippery oil being applied to her legs through the silken enclosure was too sensuous to protest.

It was only a matter of time before his tongue was working its way underneath the tight upper seam of the housing in order to tease her fleshy inner thighs, as he dribbled the odd jewel of oil on the sensitive exposed flesh below her hot springs.

She couldn't bear it any longer and pulled him over to her. He was ready to be taken and she warmed the matured sapling of his masculinity with her wind of desire before coaxing the poised nectar from its roundly-beveled crown. She could feel him spreading her own branches apart, as the wetness of the oil mixed with his own warm rain, dripping softly upon the border of her garden.

While she cradled his rootstock in her hand, she could feel him pushing, pulsing, and penetrating her own lusciousness with the insistent force of his tongue. They both gasped together as she took him into her cavernous mouth while her shuddering swamp became overrun with his lips and even his nose followed as she stiffened and moistened even more. Her wetness flowed into him as their two mouths became one, river merging with lake, while she groaned and shuddered in joy.

As he greedily drank of her essence and squeezed her mountains between his fingers to heighten her climax, he felt his own explosion between her lips. A few seconds later she caressed the undulating member with her smooth wet tongue and felt the last of him squirting on her dimpled check.

The branches of the huge oak creaked in the wind as the lovers licked each other's faces clean.