~BHM, BBW, Eating, ~SWG – two plump hotties compare their hefty hubbies and one's son learns an important lesson
Chapter Two
Back in the bleachers the families were oblivious to the tension in the dressing room. The two mums were occupied with the usual management issues of a brood.
“Be careful Declan!” shouted Tracey, “or you’ll get mushy peas on your coat!”
“But mum…”
“Don’t but mum me,” she countered. “Eat it properly or you’ll sit in the car.”
That drew the desired response from her eight year old son. He had the family sporting genes in him and was far more interested in watching the game. So he ate properly. Satisfied, Tracey stopped her glaring and watched the game. Ten minutes of the game passed and whilst Otley hadn’t yet scored they were clearly the stronger side. She took another mouthful of her meat pie as she watched Steve bashed left and then right in another rook.
“Ooo, poor Steve.”
“This is going to be bad,” concurred Nikki before shouting “Go Bessecarr!”
That brought with it a chorus of support from the sidelines as Bessecarr struggled to drive forward.
“Go get em Steve!!”
Both women stood with baited breaths as their husbands battled against the tough Otley side. Despite their mocking comments earlier both women loved their men and it was a tense experience watching them battle through a rugby game.
As forwards they bore the brunt of a potent Otley side and both Steve and Jim were taking a battering. Nervously Tracey bit her pink, collagen pumped lip and looked over at Nikki…she had a similar look across her pretty face.
Tracey then glanced down slightly. Nikki’s pink sweater had ridden up showing off a chubby belly and chunky love handles. Oblivious, Nikki gasped and clapped her hands and that pudgy paunch wobbled and her sweater rode up further.
Then a shout from the field took Tracey’s attentions away from her friend’s on show porkiness and back to the action.
“Steve get up and drive forward!” shouted the blonde MILF with all her might.
Nikki looked over and smiled at Tracey’s enthusiastic support. Every game she certainly gave her all in supporting the team and her man.
“Ref…he’s pulling his shirt!” shouted Tracey even louder this time. “Don’t just stand there --- do something about it!!!!”
All the vocal support was putting Tracey’s own chubby excesses on graphic display. Tracey was wearing a cream, tight fitting D&G top under her pink leather jacket. She’d bought the top originally to show off her surgically enhanced boobs but the skin tight top also had a tendency to show off a tubby middle and deep belly button. Normally Tracey tugged down and only the outline of her gut was on show but watching the rugby match her attentions were elsewhere and the top had ridden up and a hefty, fake tanned paunch had popped out.
Standing together both blonde’s looked like the two well-fed, over-indulged little hotties they were. Not only were their bellies on show but both women’s beautiful faces had softened, their behinds had grown into chunky bubble butts, and their hips and thighs had spread to jean bursting proportions. They looked like two cute, sexy yet decidedly chubby little heart breakers.
With an injured player staggering off the pitch the game came the game break and the two wives had a chance to resume their earlier conversation.
“I think my Jim’s belly is definitely bigger,” said Nikki across to her friend.
“Um…noooo….Steve is way bigger, ” replied Tracey. “He looks sooo fat – like a cuddly bear.”
“Can we settle that they both look really huge?” conceded Nikki. She didn’t
like to admit it but Steve probably was the winner of the dubious award. Nikki had no idea why she was even bothered but it did seem fun.
Tracey raised a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “So does that mean you’re admitting Steve’s got a bigger belly?”
Grudgingly Nikki nodded. “Go on Tracey you take it. Your husband is definitely fatter than mine.”
“I feed him up well,” returned Tracey smugly. “And he drinks waaaay too much beer”.
“So does Jim”
“We had a bar installed in the snooker room…”
Nikki glanced down at her friend’s own belly. “Yeah and it looks like he’s been feeding you up too”.
“But I do think a belly is kinda sexy on a guy,” giggled Nikki.
“Yeah, but would we say that with our growing boys?” mused Tracey, noting that for her it was truer than she wanted to declare. “Now Gareth Jones, he is sexy…”
“Mmmm” replied Nikki dreamily as her eyes switched to the strapping Gareth “no belly at all.”
“… but he’s a total loser”
“Oh yeah, and how many jobs has he had in the last year?”
“Like five or something…”
“And he’s crap in bed…”
“No wonder he’s still single.”
Nikki leaned across and whispered into Tracey’s ear. “He used to shout ‘I win’ real loud after he lasted like a minute and I was always thinking ‘please let me win once.’”
“Ouch,” giggled Tracey. “That’s bad”
The conversation about Gareth Jones’ limited sexual skills halted as the game kicked back into action. Both women focused intently on the pitch and watched as Bessecarr continued to battle against the tide. After a long and impressive driving maul inside the Otley twenty two both Tracey and Nikki were clapping enthusiastically.
“Come on Bessecarr!”
As the play moved into a line out Steve glanced over at the bleachers. He could see and hear Tracey’s support. Then he focused. At 6ft2 and playing number 5 it was Steve’s role to catch the ball in the line out and get it into play. However, on this throw hiss mark stumbled and the beefy boy took a clean hold of the ball and instinctively moved forward.
A confused Otley side struggled to adapt. Steve smashed through a somewhat shorter Otley back and powered forward. He had a clear run to the try line but glancing left and right he could see the faster Otley players were beginning to react. His first instinct was the pass the ball out to his backs but nobody had moved forward with him. So he dug deep.
“Here goes,” shouted the overweight ex-jock. “Time to move.”
He powered forward as fast as he could. At eighteen stone Steve wasn’t as fast as he once was but on this one occasion he was. The world switched into slow motion as he powered forward, rugby boots slamming into the soft turf, and the shouts of the crowd and other players behind him. Seconds later he slammed the ball into the ground and collapsed across the try line.
The team piled round as he gasped for breath on the floor.
“Awesome play man!”
“You’re the man Steve!”
“Careful you don’t have a heart attack fat boy!” jabbed Gareth.
“Get lost.”
From the stands Tracey reacted instinctively. She’d cheered her husband all the way to the try line and as he’d collapsed she’d run forward towards the pitch. A more reasoned thinker would have proposed against the move but at that moment in time Tracey was neither reasoned nor a thinker. She was almost as excited as her husband.
Her tall heels sunk into the muddy field as she dashed forward, planting a kiss on her husbands sweaty, mud coated lips.
“That was so amazing Steve huni!” she shouted, kissing him deeper this time. He tasted salty, sweaty and the mud on his shirt was staining her D&G top but Tracey couldn’t resist her beefy husband.
“I told you! You still can play rugby!” she gushed. “That was awesome”
He was still struggling for breath, but one mud coated hand did manage to cup his wife’s butt cheeks and squeeze.
“Thanks Tracey babe.” he gasped “but you better get off the field..”
That got a confused look from his blonde wife as she tried to take a step back. Her stiletto boots had sunk deep into the rain sodden playing field. With an embarrassed smile she said.
“My heels…”
Steve rolled his eyes. Only his Tracey could have thought to have run onto a sodden playing field in heels.
“Then I’ll just have to carry you back.”
With one scoop he took hold of his curvy, plump wife.
“Oooo Steve,” she squealed. “Be careful…my jeans are tight and the button…”
He carried her back across the pitch to a chorus of cheers from his team mate and the fans in the bleachers. His four kids were cheering wildly and when he placed her down on the tarmac it was one of the proudest moments of his life. He planted a final kiss on her lips, waved at the kids and headed back out.
Still beaming Tracey made her way back up to Nikki and the kids. Despite now being coated a bit in mud herself she was positively gushing.
“Tracey you’ve got daddy’s handprint on your bum,” shouted one of Steve’s kids.
Glancing back at her bootylicious behind Tracey smiled at the handprint as she tried to clean her jacket. Steve definitely knew what to go for. She tried with limited success to rub it off her trendy Diesel jeans as the kids laughed at her expense.
“Mum, your bums even bigger than Steve’s hand” jabbed her eldest boy. At age ten he was starting to test his mum’s patience. “Mrs. Smith said that if you eat too much crisps and chocolate you get a fat bum”
The other five kids giggled.
“Kyle stop being silly,” snapped Tracey, “and be a good boy”
“…but…”
“Zip it!” shouted Tracey as she tried to wipe off the mud and divert her kid’s conversation from her own excesses.
“But Mrs. Smith…”
“Mrs. Smith’s a frumpy fifty year old with a skinny butt” hissed Tracey. “Don’t talk about me and her together…”
That got the kids laughing at Mrs. Smith’s expense. Indeed, the poor teacher was likely to hear the quote time and time again the following morning at school. Not for the first time the frumpy, fifty year old Mrs. Smith would curse Tracey Harrison.
“You know the kids are gonna tell Mrs. Smith that tomorrow,” laughed Nikki. “They can be so cruel.”
Tracey shrugged whilst pulling out some hand wipes from her hand bag and continuing to work on her rotund posterior.
“Yeah but boys will be boys and that Mrs. Smith gave my Kyle a D in his review last month and kept him in detention twice.”
With a pout Tracey added “and I had to miss getting my nails done to pick him up.”
“Sounds bad,” nodded Nikki. “My eldest’s in her class next year and I love my nail appointments.”
With the kids conversation safely away from her portly curves, Tracey eventually managed to get the handprint faded somewhat and two wives attentions then switched back to their husbands as the teams returned to the field. Both Tracey and Nikki couldn’t get the idea out of their blonde heads that maybe their husband’s guts really were sexy. The thought also, at a subconscious level, made both hottie’s feel less bad about their own increased poundage.
As the game moved into the second half the result was became a forgone conclusion. Otley had scored five tires and converted on all of them. Although limiting them to only five was a huge improvement over the prior year Besseccar’s only remaining high point was a lucky try scored by Gareth Jones.
However, at the seventieth minute the game was put on hold as the aforementioned try scorer was taken off the pitch and into the ambulance. Inexplicably the whole Bessecarr pack had managed to leave Gareth exposed with the ball. The effect was he’d been flattened by two nineteen stone Otley forwards.
“Ouch that had to hurt,” winced Tracey as the player hobbled off the pitch.
“He was dumb to get caught with the ball.”
“Yeah, well he is a dumb ass.”
With the game winding down the two blonde’s attention switched to planning the afternoon’s activities. After watching rugby in a muddy field a nice warm pub lunch was sounding appealing.
“So are you guys coming to the Hare & Tortoise?” quizzed Nikki. “It’s an awesome carvery they do. We go almost every Sunday.”
“Mmm…I think so…although my diet…”
“I forget my diet on Sundays,” rushed Nikki. “I love my Sunday dinner way too much. It’s all healthy too…um…I think anyway…”
“Me too…my mum used to cook these amazing roast potatoes.”
“Mine did too! I used to eat loads.”
“Why don’t we take the kids and the men can follow down?”
“Sounds good…I’m sick of this horrible field.”
“OK, give me a moment to try and get some more of this dirt off.”
(click here for next chapter)
Chapter Two
Back in the bleachers the families were oblivious to the tension in the dressing room. The two mums were occupied with the usual management issues of a brood.
“Be careful Declan!” shouted Tracey, “or you’ll get mushy peas on your coat!”
“But mum…”
“Don’t but mum me,” she countered. “Eat it properly or you’ll sit in the car.”
That drew the desired response from her eight year old son. He had the family sporting genes in him and was far more interested in watching the game. So he ate properly. Satisfied, Tracey stopped her glaring and watched the game. Ten minutes of the game passed and whilst Otley hadn’t yet scored they were clearly the stronger side. She took another mouthful of her meat pie as she watched Steve bashed left and then right in another rook.
“Ooo, poor Steve.”
“This is going to be bad,” concurred Nikki before shouting “Go Bessecarr!”
That brought with it a chorus of support from the sidelines as Bessecarr struggled to drive forward.
“Go get em Steve!!”
Both women stood with baited breaths as their husbands battled against the tough Otley side. Despite their mocking comments earlier both women loved their men and it was a tense experience watching them battle through a rugby game.
As forwards they bore the brunt of a potent Otley side and both Steve and Jim were taking a battering. Nervously Tracey bit her pink, collagen pumped lip and looked over at Nikki…she had a similar look across her pretty face.
Tracey then glanced down slightly. Nikki’s pink sweater had ridden up showing off a chubby belly and chunky love handles. Oblivious, Nikki gasped and clapped her hands and that pudgy paunch wobbled and her sweater rode up further.
Then a shout from the field took Tracey’s attentions away from her friend’s on show porkiness and back to the action.
“Steve get up and drive forward!” shouted the blonde MILF with all her might.
Nikki looked over and smiled at Tracey’s enthusiastic support. Every game she certainly gave her all in supporting the team and her man.
“Ref…he’s pulling his shirt!” shouted Tracey even louder this time. “Don’t just stand there --- do something about it!!!!”
All the vocal support was putting Tracey’s own chubby excesses on graphic display. Tracey was wearing a cream, tight fitting D&G top under her pink leather jacket. She’d bought the top originally to show off her surgically enhanced boobs but the skin tight top also had a tendency to show off a tubby middle and deep belly button. Normally Tracey tugged down and only the outline of her gut was on show but watching the rugby match her attentions were elsewhere and the top had ridden up and a hefty, fake tanned paunch had popped out.
Standing together both blonde’s looked like the two well-fed, over-indulged little hotties they were. Not only were their bellies on show but both women’s beautiful faces had softened, their behinds had grown into chunky bubble butts, and their hips and thighs had spread to jean bursting proportions. They looked like two cute, sexy yet decidedly chubby little heart breakers.
With an injured player staggering off the pitch the game came the game break and the two wives had a chance to resume their earlier conversation.
“I think my Jim’s belly is definitely bigger,” said Nikki across to her friend.
“Um…noooo….Steve is way bigger, ” replied Tracey. “He looks sooo fat – like a cuddly bear.”
“Can we settle that they both look really huge?” conceded Nikki. She didn’t
like to admit it but Steve probably was the winner of the dubious award. Nikki had no idea why she was even bothered but it did seem fun.
Tracey raised a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “So does that mean you’re admitting Steve’s got a bigger belly?”
Grudgingly Nikki nodded. “Go on Tracey you take it. Your husband is definitely fatter than mine.”
“I feed him up well,” returned Tracey smugly. “And he drinks waaaay too much beer”.
“So does Jim”
“We had a bar installed in the snooker room…”
Nikki glanced down at her friend’s own belly. “Yeah and it looks like he’s been feeding you up too”.
“But I do think a belly is kinda sexy on a guy,” giggled Nikki.
“Yeah, but would we say that with our growing boys?” mused Tracey, noting that for her it was truer than she wanted to declare. “Now Gareth Jones, he is sexy…”
“Mmmm” replied Nikki dreamily as her eyes switched to the strapping Gareth “no belly at all.”
“… but he’s a total loser”
“Oh yeah, and how many jobs has he had in the last year?”
“Like five or something…”
“And he’s crap in bed…”
“No wonder he’s still single.”
Nikki leaned across and whispered into Tracey’s ear. “He used to shout ‘I win’ real loud after he lasted like a minute and I was always thinking ‘please let me win once.’”
“Ouch,” giggled Tracey. “That’s bad”
The conversation about Gareth Jones’ limited sexual skills halted as the game kicked back into action. Both women focused intently on the pitch and watched as Bessecarr continued to battle against the tide. After a long and impressive driving maul inside the Otley twenty two both Tracey and Nikki were clapping enthusiastically.
“Come on Bessecarr!”
As the play moved into a line out Steve glanced over at the bleachers. He could see and hear Tracey’s support. Then he focused. At 6ft2 and playing number 5 it was Steve’s role to catch the ball in the line out and get it into play. However, on this throw hiss mark stumbled and the beefy boy took a clean hold of the ball and instinctively moved forward.
A confused Otley side struggled to adapt. Steve smashed through a somewhat shorter Otley back and powered forward. He had a clear run to the try line but glancing left and right he could see the faster Otley players were beginning to react. His first instinct was the pass the ball out to his backs but nobody had moved forward with him. So he dug deep.
“Here goes,” shouted the overweight ex-jock. “Time to move.”
He powered forward as fast as he could. At eighteen stone Steve wasn’t as fast as he once was but on this one occasion he was. The world switched into slow motion as he powered forward, rugby boots slamming into the soft turf, and the shouts of the crowd and other players behind him. Seconds later he slammed the ball into the ground and collapsed across the try line.
The team piled round as he gasped for breath on the floor.
“Awesome play man!”
“You’re the man Steve!”
“Careful you don’t have a heart attack fat boy!” jabbed Gareth.
“Get lost.”
From the stands Tracey reacted instinctively. She’d cheered her husband all the way to the try line and as he’d collapsed she’d run forward towards the pitch. A more reasoned thinker would have proposed against the move but at that moment in time Tracey was neither reasoned nor a thinker. She was almost as excited as her husband.
Her tall heels sunk into the muddy field as she dashed forward, planting a kiss on her husbands sweaty, mud coated lips.
“That was so amazing Steve huni!” she shouted, kissing him deeper this time. He tasted salty, sweaty and the mud on his shirt was staining her D&G top but Tracey couldn’t resist her beefy husband.
“I told you! You still can play rugby!” she gushed. “That was awesome”
He was still struggling for breath, but one mud coated hand did manage to cup his wife’s butt cheeks and squeeze.
“Thanks Tracey babe.” he gasped “but you better get off the field..”
That got a confused look from his blonde wife as she tried to take a step back. Her stiletto boots had sunk deep into the rain sodden playing field. With an embarrassed smile she said.
“My heels…”
Steve rolled his eyes. Only his Tracey could have thought to have run onto a sodden playing field in heels.
“Then I’ll just have to carry you back.”
With one scoop he took hold of his curvy, plump wife.
“Oooo Steve,” she squealed. “Be careful…my jeans are tight and the button…”
He carried her back across the pitch to a chorus of cheers from his team mate and the fans in the bleachers. His four kids were cheering wildly and when he placed her down on the tarmac it was one of the proudest moments of his life. He planted a final kiss on her lips, waved at the kids and headed back out.
Still beaming Tracey made her way back up to Nikki and the kids. Despite now being coated a bit in mud herself she was positively gushing.
“Tracey you’ve got daddy’s handprint on your bum,” shouted one of Steve’s kids.
Glancing back at her bootylicious behind Tracey smiled at the handprint as she tried to clean her jacket. Steve definitely knew what to go for. She tried with limited success to rub it off her trendy Diesel jeans as the kids laughed at her expense.
“Mum, your bums even bigger than Steve’s hand” jabbed her eldest boy. At age ten he was starting to test his mum’s patience. “Mrs. Smith said that if you eat too much crisps and chocolate you get a fat bum”
The other five kids giggled.
“Kyle stop being silly,” snapped Tracey, “and be a good boy”
“…but…”
“Zip it!” shouted Tracey as she tried to wipe off the mud and divert her kid’s conversation from her own excesses.
“But Mrs. Smith…”
“Mrs. Smith’s a frumpy fifty year old with a skinny butt” hissed Tracey. “Don’t talk about me and her together…”
That got the kids laughing at Mrs. Smith’s expense. Indeed, the poor teacher was likely to hear the quote time and time again the following morning at school. Not for the first time the frumpy, fifty year old Mrs. Smith would curse Tracey Harrison.
“You know the kids are gonna tell Mrs. Smith that tomorrow,” laughed Nikki. “They can be so cruel.”
Tracey shrugged whilst pulling out some hand wipes from her hand bag and continuing to work on her rotund posterior.
“Yeah but boys will be boys and that Mrs. Smith gave my Kyle a D in his review last month and kept him in detention twice.”
With a pout Tracey added “and I had to miss getting my nails done to pick him up.”
“Sounds bad,” nodded Nikki. “My eldest’s in her class next year and I love my nail appointments.”
With the kids conversation safely away from her portly curves, Tracey eventually managed to get the handprint faded somewhat and two wives attentions then switched back to their husbands as the teams returned to the field. Both Tracey and Nikki couldn’t get the idea out of their blonde heads that maybe their husband’s guts really were sexy. The thought also, at a subconscious level, made both hottie’s feel less bad about their own increased poundage.
As the game moved into the second half the result was became a forgone conclusion. Otley had scored five tires and converted on all of them. Although limiting them to only five was a huge improvement over the prior year Besseccar’s only remaining high point was a lucky try scored by Gareth Jones.
However, at the seventieth minute the game was put on hold as the aforementioned try scorer was taken off the pitch and into the ambulance. Inexplicably the whole Bessecarr pack had managed to leave Gareth exposed with the ball. The effect was he’d been flattened by two nineteen stone Otley forwards.
“Ouch that had to hurt,” winced Tracey as the player hobbled off the pitch.
“He was dumb to get caught with the ball.”
“Yeah, well he is a dumb ass.”
With the game winding down the two blonde’s attention switched to planning the afternoon’s activities. After watching rugby in a muddy field a nice warm pub lunch was sounding appealing.
“So are you guys coming to the Hare & Tortoise?” quizzed Nikki. “It’s an awesome carvery they do. We go almost every Sunday.”
“Mmm…I think so…although my diet…”
“I forget my diet on Sundays,” rushed Nikki. “I love my Sunday dinner way too much. It’s all healthy too…um…I think anyway…”
“Me too…my mum used to cook these amazing roast potatoes.”
“Mine did too! I used to eat loads.”
“Why don’t we take the kids and the men can follow down?”
“Sounds good…I’m sick of this horrible field.”
“OK, give me a moment to try and get some more of this dirt off.”
(click here for next chapter)
