~BHM, BBW, Eating, ~SWG – two plump hotties compare their hefty hubbies and one's son learns an important lesson
Chapter One
Eight years back Steve Harrison had made a decision. Once his first wife put the two letter word “ex” in front of the phrase “jock” his rugby playing days were over.
That was before a divorce and marriage to his current blonde babe wife. She had different ideas. She had encouraged him back onto the playing field. He was now half way through a season with his local team, the Bessecarr Rugby Union Football Club, and was having his second lease of life. And, in addition to feeling it was good for him, he was enjoying it.
That wasn’t to say it was easy. Back in university and through much of his twenties the burly 6’ 2 Steve had played rugby to a semi-pro standard. He had played for his university team and then a host of local Yorkshire sides. However, in his playing hey day he was toned and muscular but by age thirty five the former athlete had bulked out some.
His previously washboard middle had bowed out into a firm belly. The belly had expanded more as he progressed into his thirties and stuck out prominently. His wife told him he looked especially handsome in his rugby uniform with a definite packed appearance. Steve himself wasn’t so sure. But he had a tanned face, brown eyes and short cropped hair and even with his extra weight Steve Harrison still had a way with the ladies. He told himself they still swooned only because he had a good job and a hefty salary; the truth was he was still solid and carried his extra weight well.
That said, he had natural athletic ability and even an overweight Steve had become an essential part of the team’s pack. The normally lackluster Bessacarr Senior side were having an upswing of form and were safely upper half of the Yorkshire league. The teams coach attributed much of the team upswing in performance to Steve’s solid play and leadership qualities.
Now they had their toughest test yet – an away game to the previous year’s champions Otley RUFC.
“Right lads,” boomed the team’s coach. “This is going to be our toughest test of the year, so I need you all to dig deep, hunker down and keep going…”
The team listened patiently as the coach ran through his clichéd pep talk. To a man they already knew this was going to be a grueling eighty minutes.
They would be battered, bruised and potentially pummeled by a side that only a year before had taken them 28-3.
Walking from the car park to the pitch two bottle blonde women were chattering happily. A troop of six small children followed several feet behind.
The two blondes were roughly the same height at 5’ 4”, both attractive and well dressed. Blonde number one had a short platinum bob whilst blonde number two had long, cascading platinum extensions. The two “Chelsea Tractors”, a black Range Rover Sport and a silver Jeep Grande Cherokee, they were walking away from suggested an affluent and comfortable existence.
The expensive hair styling, perfectly glowing skin and youthful looks despite being in their mid thirties combined with designer clothes bore further hint to their lifestyle. Rugby games have never been noted as a place for high fashion so both women were practically dressed – but wearing a £120 pair of Diesel jeans to a muddy rugby field is a powerful statement. A final suggestion to their pampered lifestyle was that, despite all their attention to fashion and beauty, both women were definitely plump.
Plump blonde number one, Nicola, was saying “You wouldn’t believe what my Jim was like after the Otley game last year; I swear he was in bed for almost a week.”
“Steve could hardly walk after the Hull game,” replied plump blonde number two, “and I’ve got an ice pack in the car today just in case.”
“Trust me Tracey, you’ll probably need it.”
Tracey nodded. She’d spent ten years married to a professional footballer before Steve and she was well used to looking after sporting wounds. Popular fiction and TV shows had it that a sportsman’s wife simply looked pretty and cheered from the sidelines. But from Tracey’s experience she was expected to do all that whilst tending to wounds, repairing bruised egos and now looking after two sets of kids – her own and Steve’s. She did, however, love the role.
The second blonde bombshell liked her men to be true men. The modern man portrayed in the fashion mags was ok, but not enough for Tracey. She wanted a guy who could take some pain, looked good on the sports field and made her feel all warm and cozy at home. Her first husband had managed the first two but had failed miserably at the third whilst Steve seemed to fit all three. Tracey had long since concluded he was quite a catch.
“I think Steve looks kinda sexy in his rugby stuff.”
“Yeah. Nothing like a bunch of men in shorts chasing round a pitch after a ball,” laughed Nicola.
“Hey Nikki, have you seen Gareth Jones the winger. He is totally smokin’ hot,” dreamed Tracey. “I could watch him all day.”
“Oh yeah. I could watch him running around all day too…”
“That sexy bum…”
“Those pecks…”
Both women laughed at each other. Both were married with kids and dreaming like school girls about some rugby playing hunk they both knew to be a total jerk.
“Didn’t you once go out with Gareth?” queried Tracey.
“Yeah, when I was twenty we went out a few times.”
“Mmm…what’s he like in bed?” whispered Tracey so the kids couldn’t hear.
Nikki turned up her nose. “Disappointing.”
“Ooo, that makes me feel better for missing out!”
Nikki giggled. “But how come we both ended up with husbands with big fat bellies and Gareth Jones is single?”
Tracey reached over and wrapped her hands round her friend and laughed. “Cos he’s a jerk and you already told me he’s crap in bed. But don’t tell them we think they’ve got big fat bellies.”
“Ooo, but they both have! My Jim looks like he swallowed a basketball these days.”
Tracey laughed mischievously, “That’s so mean Nikki! But if Jim swallowed a basketball then Steve must have swallowed something like a watermelon!”
Both yummy mummy’s laughed at their hefty husband’s expense while conveniently ignoring their own spreading waistlines.
“I’ll bet you Jim is definitely fatter than Steve,” challenged Nikki.
“Nah, Steve has got really big…”
The “whose husband is fattest” conversation was broken when one of the children shouted.
“Mum, can we get something to eat?”
“But we stopped at McDonalds on the way,” countered Nikki.
“But I’m hungry!”
“Me too!” shouted another kid
“…and me,” interjected a third.
“I suppose we could get a meat pie from the club house,” suggested Tracey. “Its not a rugby game without pie and peas.”
Tracey knew her hubby liked her fuller figure and was never one to pass up an excuse to indulge her robust appetite. Even if rugby clubs pie and peas were at best mediocre.
“Ooo yeah! Tasty. I guess,” said Nikki with no conviction.
“Come on kids,” shouted Tracey. “We’ll get a meat pie then watch daddy…okay?”
“Yes!”
Snacks purchased, the eightsome headed for the bleachers. Almost in unison
Tracey and Nikki tugged down at their sweaters to hide bellies that were begging to show and led their troop of kids to the club house. True, both had devoured a McMuffin on the way up but both had healthy appetites. Whilst their husbands had definitely gained over the years the two blondes had too.
Taking her first bite of mushy peas Tracey asked “So how’s work?”
“Same old same old,” responded Nikki as she dug in. “Still doing the customer service job. But it’s so much better than being cabin crew…”
“Yeah I bet,” sympathized Tracey “I never knew how you managed with the kids and stuff.”
“My mum and dad helped out but its nice being in the office.”
“I bet.”
“My boss wants me to apply for a HR Director role,” said Tracey as she grappled with her plastic fork.
“Are you going to?”
“I can’t really decide.…it’s a massive pay rise but its also a lot of hours and I like my trips to the salon and dropping the kids off at school…”
“I know,” sympathized Nikkie. “That’s why I’m still a boring customer service manager. I like my nine to five and lunch breaks. They pay you a lot, they think they own you.”
“Yeah and Steve makes enough money for us.”
“So does Jim,” added Nikki. “So maybe we should kick back a little.”
“Yeah, maybe. But the truth is I like what I’m doing and I’d soon miss it.”
The two women continued to snack. Both held middle management positions and despite minimal academic qualifications had careers. Tracey was HR Manager for a local business and after many years as a cabin crew member Nikki now worked as Customer Service Manager for Doncaster-Sheffield Airport. Both women were proud to have built a career and contribute to the family budget.
Up in the clubhouse their husbands were standing next to each other in the changing rooms. Steve and Jim tried to suck the hefty guts their sweethearts had alluded to. Both were somewhat aware of having become heavier and both knew it made for a much harder eighty minutes. But sucking it in wasn’t going to help.
“I take it your good lady wife is up here to watch?” asked Steve.
“Of course she is, my man.” bellowed Jim. “I think Nikki takes great pleasure in watching me get my ass kicked for eighty minutes.”
“So does Tracey,” concurred Steve. “I tell you, I thought I was out of this game before I hooked up with her.”
“It beats golf and it’s good for the old heart.”
“Yeah, lugging this big thing around for eighty minutes is a real workout,” said Steve with a hand atop his gut. “It almost makes a man think about cutting back on nights out at the pub.”
“Nah…can’t beat a good pint,” chuckled Jim. “Speaking of pubs, how about you, Tracey and the kids stop off with us at the Hare & Tortoise on the way back. It’s a great carvery, it’s got a Wacky Warehouse for the kids and the beer is good.”
A hand still on his beer enhanced middle Steve didn’t need persuading.
“Sounds good…something to look forward to if we survive this ordeal.”
“That’s very much if we survive,” Jim agreed.
“Did I hear you lads talking about beer?” questioned the burly bloke standing beside them.
“Oh yeah…”
Standing across the changing room Gareth Jones eyed the group of overweight forwards with a mixture of disgust and jealousy. Neither Steve nor Jim had his ripped athletic look and both sported corpulent bellies. Jim was going bald and even for a forward Steve Harrison was a porker. But
Gareth’s physical revulsion was exceeded by his jealousy. Both seemed to be happily married, had beautiful wives, children, good jobs and lived in big new houses. That beat Gareth’s own meager existence and array of part time jobs. In fact Gareth had once dated Jim’s wife Nikki before she dumped him and moved on.
So, even though they’d never done a thing towards him and bore him no ill feelings Gareth decided to make himself feel just a little better at their expense.
“Yo fat boys, do you think you’ll last eighty minutes this time?”
The comment cut across the changing room. On a senior rugby team Steve and Jim were far from the only two sporting a beer belly. True, they were the team’s biggest but the comment drew a division between the forwards and backs.
“Shut up,” hurled Steve back, “or we’ll just let em through and they can have your scrawny ass.”
“Then I’ll pass you the ball and see if your fat ass can run the length of the field.”
“Just try it pretty boy…”
The coach stepped in. Gareth Jones was a notorious jerk and he didn’t want him ruining team spirit. Any rugby team puts the big guys up front so the athletic, smaller “backs” can fun with the ball. For the next eighty minutes he wanted Steve and Jim to take all Otley could throw at them to protect his backs. That was unlikely if Gareth kept his taunting up.
“Okay lads. Let’s calm down.” he shouted. “Just dig deep and get the job done…”
“How ‘bout we let one through onto him?” whispered the guy standing next to Jim and Steve. “He had a go at my desert head last week.”
“Nah, lets focus on the win. The guys just a plonker but he can run…”
(Click here for next installment)
Tracey’s Steve Wins Belly Contest
By Samster
By Samster
Chapter One
Eight years back Steve Harrison had made a decision. Once his first wife put the two letter word “ex” in front of the phrase “jock” his rugby playing days were over.
That was before a divorce and marriage to his current blonde babe wife. She had different ideas. She had encouraged him back onto the playing field. He was now half way through a season with his local team, the Bessecarr Rugby Union Football Club, and was having his second lease of life. And, in addition to feeling it was good for him, he was enjoying it.
That wasn’t to say it was easy. Back in university and through much of his twenties the burly 6’ 2 Steve had played rugby to a semi-pro standard. He had played for his university team and then a host of local Yorkshire sides. However, in his playing hey day he was toned and muscular but by age thirty five the former athlete had bulked out some.
His previously washboard middle had bowed out into a firm belly. The belly had expanded more as he progressed into his thirties and stuck out prominently. His wife told him he looked especially handsome in his rugby uniform with a definite packed appearance. Steve himself wasn’t so sure. But he had a tanned face, brown eyes and short cropped hair and even with his extra weight Steve Harrison still had a way with the ladies. He told himself they still swooned only because he had a good job and a hefty salary; the truth was he was still solid and carried his extra weight well.
That said, he had natural athletic ability and even an overweight Steve had become an essential part of the team’s pack. The normally lackluster Bessacarr Senior side were having an upswing of form and were safely upper half of the Yorkshire league. The teams coach attributed much of the team upswing in performance to Steve’s solid play and leadership qualities.
Now they had their toughest test yet – an away game to the previous year’s champions Otley RUFC.
“Right lads,” boomed the team’s coach. “This is going to be our toughest test of the year, so I need you all to dig deep, hunker down and keep going…”
The team listened patiently as the coach ran through his clichéd pep talk. To a man they already knew this was going to be a grueling eighty minutes.
They would be battered, bruised and potentially pummeled by a side that only a year before had taken them 28-3.
Walking from the car park to the pitch two bottle blonde women were chattering happily. A troop of six small children followed several feet behind.
The two blondes were roughly the same height at 5’ 4”, both attractive and well dressed. Blonde number one had a short platinum bob whilst blonde number two had long, cascading platinum extensions. The two “Chelsea Tractors”, a black Range Rover Sport and a silver Jeep Grande Cherokee, they were walking away from suggested an affluent and comfortable existence.
The expensive hair styling, perfectly glowing skin and youthful looks despite being in their mid thirties combined with designer clothes bore further hint to their lifestyle. Rugby games have never been noted as a place for high fashion so both women were practically dressed – but wearing a £120 pair of Diesel jeans to a muddy rugby field is a powerful statement. A final suggestion to their pampered lifestyle was that, despite all their attention to fashion and beauty, both women were definitely plump.
Plump blonde number one, Nicola, was saying “You wouldn’t believe what my Jim was like after the Otley game last year; I swear he was in bed for almost a week.”
“Steve could hardly walk after the Hull game,” replied plump blonde number two, “and I’ve got an ice pack in the car today just in case.”
“Trust me Tracey, you’ll probably need it.”
Tracey nodded. She’d spent ten years married to a professional footballer before Steve and she was well used to looking after sporting wounds. Popular fiction and TV shows had it that a sportsman’s wife simply looked pretty and cheered from the sidelines. But from Tracey’s experience she was expected to do all that whilst tending to wounds, repairing bruised egos and now looking after two sets of kids – her own and Steve’s. She did, however, love the role.
The second blonde bombshell liked her men to be true men. The modern man portrayed in the fashion mags was ok, but not enough for Tracey. She wanted a guy who could take some pain, looked good on the sports field and made her feel all warm and cozy at home. Her first husband had managed the first two but had failed miserably at the third whilst Steve seemed to fit all three. Tracey had long since concluded he was quite a catch.
“I think Steve looks kinda sexy in his rugby stuff.”
“Yeah. Nothing like a bunch of men in shorts chasing round a pitch after a ball,” laughed Nicola.
“Hey Nikki, have you seen Gareth Jones the winger. He is totally smokin’ hot,” dreamed Tracey. “I could watch him all day.”
“Oh yeah. I could watch him running around all day too…”
“That sexy bum…”
“Those pecks…”
Both women laughed at each other. Both were married with kids and dreaming like school girls about some rugby playing hunk they both knew to be a total jerk.
“Didn’t you once go out with Gareth?” queried Tracey.
“Yeah, when I was twenty we went out a few times.”
“Mmm…what’s he like in bed?” whispered Tracey so the kids couldn’t hear.
Nikki turned up her nose. “Disappointing.”
“Ooo, that makes me feel better for missing out!”
Nikki giggled. “But how come we both ended up with husbands with big fat bellies and Gareth Jones is single?”
Tracey reached over and wrapped her hands round her friend and laughed. “Cos he’s a jerk and you already told me he’s crap in bed. But don’t tell them we think they’ve got big fat bellies.”
“Ooo, but they both have! My Jim looks like he swallowed a basketball these days.”
Tracey laughed mischievously, “That’s so mean Nikki! But if Jim swallowed a basketball then Steve must have swallowed something like a watermelon!”
Both yummy mummy’s laughed at their hefty husband’s expense while conveniently ignoring their own spreading waistlines.
“I’ll bet you Jim is definitely fatter than Steve,” challenged Nikki.
“Nah, Steve has got really big…”
The “whose husband is fattest” conversation was broken when one of the children shouted.
“Mum, can we get something to eat?”
“But we stopped at McDonalds on the way,” countered Nikki.
“But I’m hungry!”
“Me too!” shouted another kid
“…and me,” interjected a third.
“I suppose we could get a meat pie from the club house,” suggested Tracey. “Its not a rugby game without pie and peas.”
Tracey knew her hubby liked her fuller figure and was never one to pass up an excuse to indulge her robust appetite. Even if rugby clubs pie and peas were at best mediocre.
“Ooo yeah! Tasty. I guess,” said Nikki with no conviction.
“Come on kids,” shouted Tracey. “We’ll get a meat pie then watch daddy…okay?”
“Yes!”
Snacks purchased, the eightsome headed for the bleachers. Almost in unison
Tracey and Nikki tugged down at their sweaters to hide bellies that were begging to show and led their troop of kids to the club house. True, both had devoured a McMuffin on the way up but both had healthy appetites. Whilst their husbands had definitely gained over the years the two blondes had too.
Taking her first bite of mushy peas Tracey asked “So how’s work?”
“Same old same old,” responded Nikki as she dug in. “Still doing the customer service job. But it’s so much better than being cabin crew…”
“Yeah I bet,” sympathized Tracey “I never knew how you managed with the kids and stuff.”
“My mum and dad helped out but its nice being in the office.”
“I bet.”
“My boss wants me to apply for a HR Director role,” said Tracey as she grappled with her plastic fork.
“Are you going to?”
“I can’t really decide.…it’s a massive pay rise but its also a lot of hours and I like my trips to the salon and dropping the kids off at school…”
“I know,” sympathized Nikkie. “That’s why I’m still a boring customer service manager. I like my nine to five and lunch breaks. They pay you a lot, they think they own you.”
“Yeah and Steve makes enough money for us.”
“So does Jim,” added Nikki. “So maybe we should kick back a little.”
“Yeah, maybe. But the truth is I like what I’m doing and I’d soon miss it.”
The two women continued to snack. Both held middle management positions and despite minimal academic qualifications had careers. Tracey was HR Manager for a local business and after many years as a cabin crew member Nikki now worked as Customer Service Manager for Doncaster-Sheffield Airport. Both women were proud to have built a career and contribute to the family budget.
Up in the clubhouse their husbands were standing next to each other in the changing rooms. Steve and Jim tried to suck the hefty guts their sweethearts had alluded to. Both were somewhat aware of having become heavier and both knew it made for a much harder eighty minutes. But sucking it in wasn’t going to help.
“I take it your good lady wife is up here to watch?” asked Steve.
“Of course she is, my man.” bellowed Jim. “I think Nikki takes great pleasure in watching me get my ass kicked for eighty minutes.”
“So does Tracey,” concurred Steve. “I tell you, I thought I was out of this game before I hooked up with her.”
“It beats golf and it’s good for the old heart.”
“Yeah, lugging this big thing around for eighty minutes is a real workout,” said Steve with a hand atop his gut. “It almost makes a man think about cutting back on nights out at the pub.”
“Nah…can’t beat a good pint,” chuckled Jim. “Speaking of pubs, how about you, Tracey and the kids stop off with us at the Hare & Tortoise on the way back. It’s a great carvery, it’s got a Wacky Warehouse for the kids and the beer is good.”
A hand still on his beer enhanced middle Steve didn’t need persuading.
“Sounds good…something to look forward to if we survive this ordeal.”
“That’s very much if we survive,” Jim agreed.
“Did I hear you lads talking about beer?” questioned the burly bloke standing beside them.
“Oh yeah…”
Standing across the changing room Gareth Jones eyed the group of overweight forwards with a mixture of disgust and jealousy. Neither Steve nor Jim had his ripped athletic look and both sported corpulent bellies. Jim was going bald and even for a forward Steve Harrison was a porker. But
Gareth’s physical revulsion was exceeded by his jealousy. Both seemed to be happily married, had beautiful wives, children, good jobs and lived in big new houses. That beat Gareth’s own meager existence and array of part time jobs. In fact Gareth had once dated Jim’s wife Nikki before she dumped him and moved on.
So, even though they’d never done a thing towards him and bore him no ill feelings Gareth decided to make himself feel just a little better at their expense.
“Yo fat boys, do you think you’ll last eighty minutes this time?”
The comment cut across the changing room. On a senior rugby team Steve and Jim were far from the only two sporting a beer belly. True, they were the team’s biggest but the comment drew a division between the forwards and backs.
“Shut up,” hurled Steve back, “or we’ll just let em through and they can have your scrawny ass.”
“Then I’ll pass you the ball and see if your fat ass can run the length of the field.”
“Just try it pretty boy…”
The coach stepped in. Gareth Jones was a notorious jerk and he didn’t want him ruining team spirit. Any rugby team puts the big guys up front so the athletic, smaller “backs” can fun with the ball. For the next eighty minutes he wanted Steve and Jim to take all Otley could throw at them to protect his backs. That was unlikely if Gareth kept his taunting up.
“Okay lads. Let’s calm down.” he shouted. “Just dig deep and get the job done…”
“How ‘bout we let one through onto him?” whispered the guy standing next to Jim and Steve. “He had a go at my desert head last week.”
“Nah, lets focus on the win. The guys just a plonker but he can run…”
(Click here for next installment)
