~BBW, Romance, Imagery, ~SWG Liam's relationship with the chubbiest and cutest water polo player progresses
Part of a famous multi-part WG saga, reposted with permission from the Mollycoddles collection. For the previous installment click here
The next day brought AP Biology and the promise of seeing Tara again after our evening buffet encounter. Considering the note we left on, I was pretty confident that my chances of getting together with Tara again were relatively high. However, it had been my experience that women changed like the wind, and I wasn’t going to stake the homestead on a date with Tara quite yet.
Being the good student that I am, I always arrive early to class, especially if it’s first thing in the morning, and Biology was. Don’t get me wrong: it wasn’t that I especially liked my classes (I didn’t, especially Biology), but I didn’t have a very wide circle of friends, and it was always warmer in a classroom in the morning anyway.
When I walked into the room I was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that only the teacher, the elderly and slightly comical Mr. Phillins, was in the room. Tara never arrived as early as I did (okay, okay, no one arrived as early as I did), as she was always chatting away in the student parking lot with her clique of friends, most of whom I held a slight, if not great, disdain for. You know how I’m talking about, that popular athletic crowd that saw school as one giant party, rather than a place to actually learn something.
After a few minutes, the first bell rang and the class started to trickle into the room. Tara was about the tenth person to arrive. My heart beat ever so slightly faster as she made eye contact with me, and I silently prayed that it was the same with her.
Today she was wearing a water polo sweatshirt and some sweatpants made of that stiffer, sort of shimmery fabric that seems to be so popular. Privately I wondered if perhaps her choice of wardrobe was in some way connected with last night’s large meal. Could all that cake have made her waistline slightly larger than was comfortable? She certainly wasn’t any slimmer, as her ample waistline attested, even despite the bulky clothing. I could only hope so within the inner recesses of my heart.
I smiled at Tara and she returned the gesture with one of her brilliant, but fleeting, grins, but soon averted her gaze as more people were coming in. Her seat was clear on the other side of the room and by the time I had convinced myself that I should go over and talk to her, the second bell rang and my window of opportunity was gone.
Let me take this opportunity to describe Tara’s background in a little more detail, just so you get a better picture of her. Tara’s last name, Kelly, was an Irish surname, a fact that I was well aware of. Being an Irish-American myself (after all, my parents had named me Liam) I had taken a great shine to the country and anything even remotely connected with it. Irish girls, in particular, had piqued my interest, so Tara was even more alluring to me, despite her larger size and rounder form.
She was acutely aware of her Irish heritage, as she had once jokingly commented how her name means a hill in Ireland, albeit the seat of the Gaelic kings prior to British subjugation of the Emerald Isle (can you tell I’d done my reading on the subject?). Occasionally I’d kid her about the fact that we were really the scum of the earth and she’d laugh and say it was true.
I’d heard that, like me, she’d absolutely aced the AP test for European history, so I guess that at least the Irish seem to have good heads on their shoulders these days.
As class began, I couldn’t help but allow my eyes wander over to Tara’s form two rows in front of me to the left. Her round, chunky, beautifully curved body was nothing short of angelic to my eyes. Every glimpse drove me wilder than the last. And every time the only thing that broke my longing gaze was Tara looking over her shoulder…at me. We’d both quickly return our eyes to our notes with embarrassment, but it didn’t take long before I was glancing over at Tara again.
Once or twice I actually caught her looking at me, rather than the other way around, but she quickly turned back around again whenever I’d make eye contact with her. It sort of felt like we were on exhibit for everyone in the class, but, upon retrospection, I think we were part of only a dozen people who weren’t asleep during the first period class, so I doubt anyone actually saw us.
When class was over, I gathered my things and valiantly tried to muster my courage to approach Tara and at least say hello and ask how she was doing. However, by the time I was ready, I just caught Tara skittering out the door and into the hall. Her body jiggled and bounced lusciously as she walked, arousing me for a moment or two. She was still rather sprightly, despite her girth, yet another plus in her favor.
I was both relieved and disappointed that I hadn’t gotten to talk with Tara again, but c’est la vie. I figured that I’d use the extra time to plan out exactly what I wanted to say to Tara. As I was active in a few, select clubs, I wouldn’t have the opportunity of seeing Tara at lunch and we didn’t have Biology again until Friday (suffice it to say our high school had one of the most complex and annoying bell schedules to the unfamiliar visitor).
Part of a famous multi-part WG saga, reposted with permission from the Mollycoddles collection. For the previous installment click here
Tara 2:“Hello Patsy Fagan”
(and other Irish ditties)
by The Id
(and other Irish ditties)
by The Id
The next day brought AP Biology and the promise of seeing Tara again after our evening buffet encounter. Considering the note we left on, I was pretty confident that my chances of getting together with Tara again were relatively high. However, it had been my experience that women changed like the wind, and I wasn’t going to stake the homestead on a date with Tara quite yet.
Being the good student that I am, I always arrive early to class, especially if it’s first thing in the morning, and Biology was. Don’t get me wrong: it wasn’t that I especially liked my classes (I didn’t, especially Biology), but I didn’t have a very wide circle of friends, and it was always warmer in a classroom in the morning anyway.
When I walked into the room I was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that only the teacher, the elderly and slightly comical Mr. Phillins, was in the room. Tara never arrived as early as I did (okay, okay, no one arrived as early as I did), as she was always chatting away in the student parking lot with her clique of friends, most of whom I held a slight, if not great, disdain for. You know how I’m talking about, that popular athletic crowd that saw school as one giant party, rather than a place to actually learn something.
After a few minutes, the first bell rang and the class started to trickle into the room. Tara was about the tenth person to arrive. My heart beat ever so slightly faster as she made eye contact with me, and I silently prayed that it was the same with her.
Today she was wearing a water polo sweatshirt and some sweatpants made of that stiffer, sort of shimmery fabric that seems to be so popular. Privately I wondered if perhaps her choice of wardrobe was in some way connected with last night’s large meal. Could all that cake have made her waistline slightly larger than was comfortable? She certainly wasn’t any slimmer, as her ample waistline attested, even despite the bulky clothing. I could only hope so within the inner recesses of my heart.
I smiled at Tara and she returned the gesture with one of her brilliant, but fleeting, grins, but soon averted her gaze as more people were coming in. Her seat was clear on the other side of the room and by the time I had convinced myself that I should go over and talk to her, the second bell rang and my window of opportunity was gone.
Let me take this opportunity to describe Tara’s background in a little more detail, just so you get a better picture of her. Tara’s last name, Kelly, was an Irish surname, a fact that I was well aware of. Being an Irish-American myself (after all, my parents had named me Liam) I had taken a great shine to the country and anything even remotely connected with it. Irish girls, in particular, had piqued my interest, so Tara was even more alluring to me, despite her larger size and rounder form.
She was acutely aware of her Irish heritage, as she had once jokingly commented how her name means a hill in Ireland, albeit the seat of the Gaelic kings prior to British subjugation of the Emerald Isle (can you tell I’d done my reading on the subject?). Occasionally I’d kid her about the fact that we were really the scum of the earth and she’d laugh and say it was true.
I’d heard that, like me, she’d absolutely aced the AP test for European history, so I guess that at least the Irish seem to have good heads on their shoulders these days.
As class began, I couldn’t help but allow my eyes wander over to Tara’s form two rows in front of me to the left. Her round, chunky, beautifully curved body was nothing short of angelic to my eyes. Every glimpse drove me wilder than the last. And every time the only thing that broke my longing gaze was Tara looking over her shoulder…at me. We’d both quickly return our eyes to our notes with embarrassment, but it didn’t take long before I was glancing over at Tara again.
Once or twice I actually caught her looking at me, rather than the other way around, but she quickly turned back around again whenever I’d make eye contact with her. It sort of felt like we were on exhibit for everyone in the class, but, upon retrospection, I think we were part of only a dozen people who weren’t asleep during the first period class, so I doubt anyone actually saw us.
When class was over, I gathered my things and valiantly tried to muster my courage to approach Tara and at least say hello and ask how she was doing. However, by the time I was ready, I just caught Tara skittering out the door and into the hall. Her body jiggled and bounced lusciously as she walked, arousing me for a moment or two. She was still rather sprightly, despite her girth, yet another plus in her favor.
I was both relieved and disappointed that I hadn’t gotten to talk with Tara again, but c’est la vie. I figured that I’d use the extra time to plan out exactly what I wanted to say to Tara. As I was active in a few, select clubs, I wouldn’t have the opportunity of seeing Tara at lunch and we didn’t have Biology again until Friday (suffice it to say our high school had one of the most complex and annoying bell schedules to the unfamiliar visitor).
