~BBW, Eating, Romance, ~MWG - a FA matures in his love of larger women
Chapter One
You can learn many things in college. Academically, you can learn how to ponder the meaning of human existence, how to figure out discriminates, how to analyze Joyce, how to embezzle money by reading between the lines in accounting, how to argue a case to keep a monster from being executed, how to stage a coup, among other things. Socially, you can learn how to alienate people, how to make friends, how to degrade yourself to be accepted, how to make love, how to hate, how to love, how to be depressed, or how to break or have your heart broken.
It was four years ago, I was a freshman at a little liberal arts college in Orange County. Back then, I was young, well, younger and being fresh out of high school I was idealistic. I wanted the world to be some much better, so much more accepting.
Looking back at it, idealism and naivety aren’t that far from each other. College was such a shock for me, there was so many big women! The variety on campus was expansive and ranged from the smaller one hundred fifty pound to two hundred pound girls with large chests and oozing muffin tops to the larger three hundred pounders with monumental hips and thunderous thighs.
I always had a thing for bigger women; mainly subconsciously, something drew me to them from a young age. However, it wasn’t until my junior year of high school that I realized that they were more men and even women who shared my predilection confirming that I wasn’t some fetishist. My inability to figure out my preference lead to painful social awkwardness during my first two years of high school, my not ever having a girlfriend or going to dances in those two years lead many of my male peers to think I was a homosexual. That changed when my I arrived at my fat girl epiphany while it didn’t endear me to the guys at my high school; I guess it’s better to like fat chicks than to be gay.
Once I figured out what I liked, I had a few pudgy girlfriends, the selection of larger women was slim, no pun intended. I first dated Claudia, a fiery bottomed heavy Latina around one hundred and sixty pounds, who only accepted my invite to go out to dinner because she had recently broken up with her boyfriend Emanuel. Her appetite didn’t disappoint, and during our first date she ate three entrees at the Italian restaurant she suggested. It hurt my wallet but I didn’t mind, watching her sensually inhale her linguine caused me buckle at the knees. On the our third date after treating her to three large chili dogs on the PCH, we were walking down the beach she cradling her belly gently rubbing it to relieve the pressure and I was staring at her.
“Ya know I’ve put on ten pounds since deciding to go out with you. I‘m gettin’ fat,” she said placing her hand on her expanding pooch and shaking it for emphasis.
“It took me forty five minutes to get these pants on, they were skin tight before we ate, but now,” she raised the flowing blouse and revealed the button on the pants undone, “I had to unbutton them after the first dog, you’re a bad influence, ya know?”
I said nothing, just smiled and stared deeply in her eyes, she smiled and then jumped me. We both fell to the ground and stared making out. After a few minutes, she looked at me and said, “Take off your clothes”.
Not one to be rude, I obliged and that night I lost my virginity.
After we’d been going out for two months, her ex, Emanuel and a few of his friends approached me in the hallway while I was heading to Psychology. He was a big guy, tall as he was wide and the other two with him looked like infants compared to him. He cracked he knuckles and twisted he neck. He took off his sunglasses and glared at me. He said nothing and glowered at me for a while. Then he apparently had figured out what he wanted to tell me.
“Ya been going out with my gurl, haven’t ya?” he growled.
“I have.”
“That’s too bad.” He said. His two friends grabbed me by the arms and as I struggled to get free, Emanuel punched me in the stomach and it felt like a gut shot from a sawed-off. I doubled over, gasping for air and clutching my stomach.
Emanuel kneeled down and right above my ear said, “Ya ain’t gonna be seein’ Claudia again, will ya? If ya do, next time it won’t be a fist.”
I nodded and he got up and walked away. The two guys followed him leaving me on the floor wondering what I did wrong.
I learned after the incident that the only reason she agreed to go out with me was to make her boyfriend jealous, and that she mainly used me for the free meals. Its been a few years since the. I ran into her a few months back at a grocery. She blew up, her hips which used to flare out now exploded from her hanging belly and took up most of the aisle.
I noted as she made her way toward me that she brushed past a rack of cereal knocking a few boxes down. Seeing her bend over to pick the boxes up was heavenly. She was easily over three hundred pounds now, but that makes sense since she had two kids. Both of them are Emanuel’s, whom she told me ran out on her after the second one was born. She does her best to support them on her own; she usually has to get help from her Mom.
She apologized to me for how she treated me and asked if I’d like to catch up sometime if she could get her Mom to watch the kids. I jotted down her number and said I’d give her a call sometime.
After I dated, Claudia there was Jamie…that is too painful to remember, so the less said about Jaime the better. In my senior year, I joined the newspaper, and that’s where I met, Lauren, a buxom strawberry blonde with porcelain skin and a heavy potbelly. She just was promoted to the position of editor in chief and my being the only new reporter who was a senior, she took it upon herself to train me. The grizzled newsperson training the inexperienced cub relationship grew to be boyfriend and girlfriend soon as she realized my staring at her cleavage and me noticing she didn’t mind gorging herself on Chinese food.
She loved quoting Mencken and I loved burying myself deep in her mountainous breasts as she edited my articles. Knowing her love of Chinese, I took her to a standing date at the Korean buffet on 17th, and she would routinely clear three or four plates. We dated for the year and the constant indulgence at the buffet along with her snacking on a variety of chocolates while researching articles led to her putting on a good fifteen pounds, most going to her voluminous juggs. We broke up the summer after graduating as she got into an esteemed journalism school on the east coast and I, afraid of something new, decided to stay in Orange County.
I worked a job in the delivery bay at my college, a job that a subhuman could do, and entailed labeling packages, processing them, organizing them by building, and then delivering them to the person on the label. Overall uneventful and mind numbing, until one day when my boss, a short craggy face Hispanic man with an indecipherable accent said, “Mark, I nead ya ta go end deliber dese peckeges to Luwl bilding.”
“Huh?” I replied.
He held the sheet with the building name and numbers up to me and said, “Tek dese durh, queckly”.
He pointed at the door and clapped his hands. I took the list and set it in the plastic container with smaller packages and then kicked back the dolly and made my way out of the delivery bay.
Once outside, I stopped a thin girl with wispy blonde hair and asked, “Excuse me, do you happen to know where the Lowell building is?”
She smiled at me and said, “Yeah, just go to where the Bursar is and then make a left, can’t miss it.”
“Thank you” I replied, put the paper in my jacket pocket, and leaned the dolly back and began to head through the quad to the Bursar. One of the many drawbacks of the job is that you can’t go anywhere in a straight line because the use of dollies makes it impractical to use the stairs which means you have to take the long way around to the ramps to deliver the packages. Heaven help you if the elevators are out in a particular building, once I had to lug a dolly full of packages up four flights of stairs, easily the worse time of my life.
It took me ten minutes go get to the entrance to the Lowell building, and hit the handicap button that automatically opened the door. I stood back to let it swing open then made my way inside. The first few packages were easy enough to deliver and presented no excitement whatsoever. The second to last had me waiting ten minutes for the secretary to return from lunch, which was annoying, but killed time that I could otherwise be working. The last package was on the fourth floor and was for the Psychology research department. It was in delivering this package that I met Sara, a tubby Asian freshman with a pronounced pot belly, thick arms and hips that spilled slightly out of the arms of her computer chair, she worked there as an assistant to Doctor Manning.
She smiled when she saw me and asked, “How can I help you?”
“Ugh…ehrm…” I stammered and sweated a little bit as I held out the package.
“Oh, this is the book Doctor Manning has been waiting for, perfect. Do you have anything I need to sign?” Her smile bordered on manic as she took the package and set it on the desk.
“Yes, here.” I said handing her the sheet and pointing to where she need to sign, as she bent over to sign it I caught a nice glimpse of cleavage.
“Here you go, thank you. Have a nice day.”
“Yeah…you too.” I said and exited the room covered in embarrassment and shame.
I walked down the hallway with my head down and began lightly chastising myself, “You idiot, why didn’t you flirt with her a little bit? You should have asked for her phone number.” I stopped, set the dolly down and kicked the ground. Then stood in silence, all the while I didn’t hear the loud footsteps behind me as Sara waddled behind me and noticed my whole Tyler Dyrden episode.
“Uhmm, is this a bad time?” She asked as I turned around my face flushed with embarrassment.
“You didn’t just see all that did you?” I asked rubbing the back of my neck.
“See what?” She grinned. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop you and give you something.”
“I didn’t forget my sheet did I?” I said patting my jacket pocket and feeling for the paper.
“No, no nothing like that. I wanted to give you my phone number,” she said and handed me a slip of paper with her name and number on it,
“You’re cute, call me.” She said and waddled off, her hips swaying seductively. I looked at the sheet of paper and took out my cell phone and programmed her information in, then smiled and walked to the elevator.
I called her a few days later and we decided to go to a little Cuban café that I knew. I arrived a little early and got a table outside near one of the outdoor heaters they set up. She arrived wearing a thin black button up sweater stopped just above her belly and covered the top portion of her yellow dress.
The buttons on the sweater fit fine on the bust and strained a bit at the top of her gut. The dress seemed like usually it’d reach down to her knees but rode up a bit and revealed a generous amount of her tanned thighs and gave me a good view of how they rubbed together hypnotically as she walked over to the table.
Being taught by my mother to always be a gentleman, I sat up from my chair and walked behind her seat, pulled it out, motioned for her to sit and pushed the chair in for her. I’d found that the antiquated gesture has the added bonus of being able to check out a girl’s ass as she sat down and noting how difficult or not it was for her to get into it.
In this regard, Sara provided quality material that I’d use later that night when drifting to sleep and handling business. Her ass looked amazing, so fat and round. The yellow dress was so tight that I could make out the lines of her panties. She was wearing ones that covered her whole ass, something I’m particularly fond of, which isn’t to say I don’t enjoy a nice thong or no panties at all, but there is something about the amount of material it takes to cover an ass of monumental proportions that is such a turn on.
As she squeezed into the chair, I noticed the edges of her thighs and hips squeeze in tightly between the arms, I fantasized her hips and thighs growing to where she couldn’t fit in them, and then I watched as the sides of her thighs spilled out the side of the chair. After helping into her chair, I returned to my seat and as I did I noticed out the side of my eye how her juicy potbelly sat on her thunderous thighs and bunched up into two delicious rolls.
“They brought some rolls, would you like one?” I asked offering her the basket of bread the waiter brought out a few minutes before she arrived.
“Yes,” she said taking a roll from the basket and placing it on the plate in front of her, “Thank you”.
“Would you like some butter for it?” I asked.
“What would be a roll without it?” She replied as I passed the butter over to her while placing a roll on my plate as well. She took the napkin to the right of her plate, unrolled it and placed it neatly on her lap. She then scooted the chair in a little more; her belly pressed tightly against the edge, and seeped over stopping just short of the plate.
She smiled broadly at me as she smoothered her roll in butter, remarking as she did, “Oh, thank goodness this is real butter. I can’t stand that margarine nonsense.”
“I can’t stand that stuff either,” I replied, spreading a little butter on my own roll.
“It’s got no taste,” she said. Then took a large bite out of her butter drench bread and chewed slowly savoring each bite, she bit her bottom lip and let out a soft squeal of joy as she swallowed.
“Oh wow, that is so good,” she yelped and quickly finished the rest of the bread then took another piece from the basket and slathered it in butter. Almost as soon as she finished buttering the second piece, it disappeared from her plate.
She noticed my staring, took the napkin from her lap, and began to wipe her mouth. She placed the napkin back on her lap and said, “Sorry, it’s just so good I couldn’t help myself. I’m making a bit of a pig out of myself.”
“Nonsense. I like a girl who can enjoy a good meal, this bread is phenomenal. Don’t feel the need to hold back on my account.” I said pushing the basket a bit closer to her.
“Oh, okay. But I have a feeling I’ll regret eating this much later,” she said grabbing two more pieces of bread from the basket, “but these are just so good.”
She slathered them in butter and inhaled them just as the waiter arrived. He smiled weakly and his eyes widened as he saw Sara’s considerable bulk crammed in the chair. He composed himself quickly and asked, “Can I start you two off with some drinks?”
“Sure, I’ll have a sprite.” I said while looking over the menu.
“And for you, miss?”
“Hmmm, how is the Cuban coffee?” She said scrunching her nose looking at the item’s description.
“Miss, it’s out of this world. It’s so rich and flavorful; your taste buds will be in utter disbelief.” He said and put his fingers to his lips and then gave them a slight kiss and threw them in the air.
“You make a strong case,” she leaned forward and thought for a moment, “okay, I’ll have one.”
“Oh, you’ve made a wise choice, you won’t regret this,” He wrote down her drink order and then added, “I’ll give you two a moment while I get your drinks to go over the menu.”
“Looks like you’re going to get quite the cup of coffee.” I said deciding on what I was going to order.
“Yeah, I was afraid he was going to go into epileptic shock he was so excited.”
“It all seems very Freudian.” I said grinning slightly.
“How’s that?” She asked raising her left eyebrow.
My cheeks rushed with blood and I slumped a bit in my seat. I meekly said, “I don’t know, I was just trying to seem like I knew something about psychology, considering…”
She looked at me emotionless for a minute then her mouth slowly tensed upward and she began to laugh loudly. “Oh, sorry for laughing, but that is so adorable. I don’t care if you know about psychology. I’m mean, it’s my major and all, but don’t feel you need to try and impress me.”
“Sorry…” I said looking down to the side of the table. She was about to speak when the waiter interrupted her by placing our drinks next to each of us.
“You two ready to order?” He asked flipping his notepad to a new page and readying his pen.
“Uhmm…” I said, but Sara spoke over me, “Yes, we’re ready. I’ll have the number four and three empanadas.”
“Superb choices and for you, sir?” He said looking at me.
“Cuban sandwich with the house soup.” I said handing him the menu. Sara handed her menu to him as well and took a sip of coffee as he walked away. Then she looked at me and tilted her head to the side and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s just…nothing.” I murmured.
“Come on, tell me.”
“I mean I didn’t appreciate you laughing at me.”
“Why? It wasn’t like it was a bad thing, I thought it was cute.”
“It’s just makes me feel bad.”
“I’m sorry then,” she said grabbing her napkin and wringing it a bit under the table, “You shouldn’t feel bad though.”
“I know, I know. I just...am a bit nervous. I want you to like me.”
She smirked, “Like you’re the first person to be nervous on a first date and said something stupid. Do you honestly think I’m any less nervous? I mean for heaven’s sake I’ve just about ate an entire basket of bread and a stick of butter.”
She patted her tummy for emphasis.
I grinned broadly and said, “I guess you have a point.”
“I do, now, why don’t you relax and tell me about your major.” She said ripping a piece of the latest roll she had just put on her plate.
We continued to talk. She told me her dreams and I told her my fears. When the food came, she tore into hers with vigor. I ate mine slowly, reluctantly. I only finished half by the time she chewed the last morsel. She looked at me as I picked at my food. She offered her help in finishing my meal. I, not that hungry. didn’t refuse.
After I finished we finished eat, paid the check and left the tip, I walked her back to her apartment. Despite my initial awkwardness and outburst at dinner, we got into a comfortable rhythm of conversation we laughed at each other’s jokes and thought deeply at the right cues.
By the time, we arrived at her house we were all out of things to talk about, so we stood outside in silence uncomfortably looking away from time to time until I decided to grow some balls and kiss her. We began to make out for a while, and then she unlocked her door and motioned with her finger for me to come into her room. That night we made love and after she cried. She said it wasn’t because of me, but I had my suspicions.
“You know man, being a pizza delivery guy is nothing like in the movies,” my roommate said sitting in a computer chair in nothing but his under and a world’s greatest lover trucker hat. He was playing a shoot em up game on the Xbox 360, and I was laying on my bed staring at the ceiling half listening to his inane ramblings.
“Uh huh,” I replied rubbing my temples.
“No seriously, I feel betrayed, like I can’t trust anything anymore. I mean the only women who can’t pay for the pizza are the ones that you don’t want to have sex with, well, except maybe you, but you know, normal guys wouldn’t unless under the haze of half a bottle of whiskey. Like yesterday I get this order for two large pizzas with the works, and when I get there this chick takes up the entire door frame, and she’s in nothing but her bathrobe. You can see the cellulite on her thighs and her giant gut hanging out of the bottom of it. It was disgusting, anyway she says she doesn’t have the full amount, but figures we can work something out. Then she unties the sash on the robe and I’m just staring at her naked body for a second. I stand there speechless, and just shove the pizzas at her and run like do not want.”
“That sucks, man.”
“You’re not even listening, are you?”
“Can’t say that I am.”
“Whatever, so, how’d your date go with whatsherface? Did you get down to some hot whaling?”
“It went alright, and if by whaling you mean did we have sex? Then yes, and that was odd.”
“Outside of the usual odd of having sex with a blimp, how do you mean?”
“She cried after.”
“Oh,” he replied pausing the game and turned to me, “That’s rough man.”
“Yeah,” I said wiping my hand over my face.
“So, I guess you’re not going to see her again then.”
“Actually, we have a date this Saturday, I’m taking her to that all you can Korean place on 17th.”
“She’s getting the famous Mikey second date.”
I sat up leaning my head against the wall and said, “I have appearances to keep up after all.”
“Speaking of gluttony and all, I’m starving, wanna go grab a bite?”
“I could eat. Where do you want to go?”
“Depends do you want to pay or not.”
“I gotta save my bread.”
“Then let me get dress and we’ll drop by my work. I think Nicola is working and she should hook us up.”
“Doesn’t she hate you though?”
“You kidding? She loves me, she just doesn’t know it is all.”
“Alright man, get ready and let’s go.” I said.
(To be continued)
What You Can Learn in College
by None
(based on the original story by Azorfire)
[Author's Note: This is a story I adopted from the discard room, here, and decided to try and develop it a bit more. This will be in three parts, and hopefully it is slightly enjoyable.]
by None
(based on the original story by Azorfire)
[Author's Note: This is a story I adopted from the discard room, here, and decided to try and develop it a bit more. This will be in three parts, and hopefully it is slightly enjoyable.]
Chapter One
You can learn many things in college. Academically, you can learn how to ponder the meaning of human existence, how to figure out discriminates, how to analyze Joyce, how to embezzle money by reading between the lines in accounting, how to argue a case to keep a monster from being executed, how to stage a coup, among other things. Socially, you can learn how to alienate people, how to make friends, how to degrade yourself to be accepted, how to make love, how to hate, how to love, how to be depressed, or how to break or have your heart broken.
It was four years ago, I was a freshman at a little liberal arts college in Orange County. Back then, I was young, well, younger and being fresh out of high school I was idealistic. I wanted the world to be some much better, so much more accepting.
Looking back at it, idealism and naivety aren’t that far from each other. College was such a shock for me, there was so many big women! The variety on campus was expansive and ranged from the smaller one hundred fifty pound to two hundred pound girls with large chests and oozing muffin tops to the larger three hundred pounders with monumental hips and thunderous thighs.
I always had a thing for bigger women; mainly subconsciously, something drew me to them from a young age. However, it wasn’t until my junior year of high school that I realized that they were more men and even women who shared my predilection confirming that I wasn’t some fetishist. My inability to figure out my preference lead to painful social awkwardness during my first two years of high school, my not ever having a girlfriend or going to dances in those two years lead many of my male peers to think I was a homosexual. That changed when my I arrived at my fat girl epiphany while it didn’t endear me to the guys at my high school; I guess it’s better to like fat chicks than to be gay.
Once I figured out what I liked, I had a few pudgy girlfriends, the selection of larger women was slim, no pun intended. I first dated Claudia, a fiery bottomed heavy Latina around one hundred and sixty pounds, who only accepted my invite to go out to dinner because she had recently broken up with her boyfriend Emanuel. Her appetite didn’t disappoint, and during our first date she ate three entrees at the Italian restaurant she suggested. It hurt my wallet but I didn’t mind, watching her sensually inhale her linguine caused me buckle at the knees. On the our third date after treating her to three large chili dogs on the PCH, we were walking down the beach she cradling her belly gently rubbing it to relieve the pressure and I was staring at her.
“Ya know I’ve put on ten pounds since deciding to go out with you. I‘m gettin’ fat,” she said placing her hand on her expanding pooch and shaking it for emphasis.
“It took me forty five minutes to get these pants on, they were skin tight before we ate, but now,” she raised the flowing blouse and revealed the button on the pants undone, “I had to unbutton them after the first dog, you’re a bad influence, ya know?”
I said nothing, just smiled and stared deeply in her eyes, she smiled and then jumped me. We both fell to the ground and stared making out. After a few minutes, she looked at me and said, “Take off your clothes”.
Not one to be rude, I obliged and that night I lost my virginity.
After we’d been going out for two months, her ex, Emanuel and a few of his friends approached me in the hallway while I was heading to Psychology. He was a big guy, tall as he was wide and the other two with him looked like infants compared to him. He cracked he knuckles and twisted he neck. He took off his sunglasses and glared at me. He said nothing and glowered at me for a while. Then he apparently had figured out what he wanted to tell me.
“Ya been going out with my gurl, haven’t ya?” he growled.
“I have.”
“That’s too bad.” He said. His two friends grabbed me by the arms and as I struggled to get free, Emanuel punched me in the stomach and it felt like a gut shot from a sawed-off. I doubled over, gasping for air and clutching my stomach.
Emanuel kneeled down and right above my ear said, “Ya ain’t gonna be seein’ Claudia again, will ya? If ya do, next time it won’t be a fist.”
I nodded and he got up and walked away. The two guys followed him leaving me on the floor wondering what I did wrong.
I learned after the incident that the only reason she agreed to go out with me was to make her boyfriend jealous, and that she mainly used me for the free meals. Its been a few years since the. I ran into her a few months back at a grocery. She blew up, her hips which used to flare out now exploded from her hanging belly and took up most of the aisle.
I noted as she made her way toward me that she brushed past a rack of cereal knocking a few boxes down. Seeing her bend over to pick the boxes up was heavenly. She was easily over three hundred pounds now, but that makes sense since she had two kids. Both of them are Emanuel’s, whom she told me ran out on her after the second one was born. She does her best to support them on her own; she usually has to get help from her Mom.
She apologized to me for how she treated me and asked if I’d like to catch up sometime if she could get her Mom to watch the kids. I jotted down her number and said I’d give her a call sometime.
After I dated, Claudia there was Jamie…that is too painful to remember, so the less said about Jaime the better. In my senior year, I joined the newspaper, and that’s where I met, Lauren, a buxom strawberry blonde with porcelain skin and a heavy potbelly. She just was promoted to the position of editor in chief and my being the only new reporter who was a senior, she took it upon herself to train me. The grizzled newsperson training the inexperienced cub relationship grew to be boyfriend and girlfriend soon as she realized my staring at her cleavage and me noticing she didn’t mind gorging herself on Chinese food.
She loved quoting Mencken and I loved burying myself deep in her mountainous breasts as she edited my articles. Knowing her love of Chinese, I took her to a standing date at the Korean buffet on 17th, and she would routinely clear three or four plates. We dated for the year and the constant indulgence at the buffet along with her snacking on a variety of chocolates while researching articles led to her putting on a good fifteen pounds, most going to her voluminous juggs. We broke up the summer after graduating as she got into an esteemed journalism school on the east coast and I, afraid of something new, decided to stay in Orange County.
I worked a job in the delivery bay at my college, a job that a subhuman could do, and entailed labeling packages, processing them, organizing them by building, and then delivering them to the person on the label. Overall uneventful and mind numbing, until one day when my boss, a short craggy face Hispanic man with an indecipherable accent said, “Mark, I nead ya ta go end deliber dese peckeges to Luwl bilding.”
“Huh?” I replied.
He held the sheet with the building name and numbers up to me and said, “Tek dese durh, queckly”.
He pointed at the door and clapped his hands. I took the list and set it in the plastic container with smaller packages and then kicked back the dolly and made my way out of the delivery bay.
Once outside, I stopped a thin girl with wispy blonde hair and asked, “Excuse me, do you happen to know where the Lowell building is?”
She smiled at me and said, “Yeah, just go to where the Bursar is and then make a left, can’t miss it.”
“Thank you” I replied, put the paper in my jacket pocket, and leaned the dolly back and began to head through the quad to the Bursar. One of the many drawbacks of the job is that you can’t go anywhere in a straight line because the use of dollies makes it impractical to use the stairs which means you have to take the long way around to the ramps to deliver the packages. Heaven help you if the elevators are out in a particular building, once I had to lug a dolly full of packages up four flights of stairs, easily the worse time of my life.
It took me ten minutes go get to the entrance to the Lowell building, and hit the handicap button that automatically opened the door. I stood back to let it swing open then made my way inside. The first few packages were easy enough to deliver and presented no excitement whatsoever. The second to last had me waiting ten minutes for the secretary to return from lunch, which was annoying, but killed time that I could otherwise be working. The last package was on the fourth floor and was for the Psychology research department. It was in delivering this package that I met Sara, a tubby Asian freshman with a pronounced pot belly, thick arms and hips that spilled slightly out of the arms of her computer chair, she worked there as an assistant to Doctor Manning.
She smiled when she saw me and asked, “How can I help you?”
“Ugh…ehrm…” I stammered and sweated a little bit as I held out the package.
“Oh, this is the book Doctor Manning has been waiting for, perfect. Do you have anything I need to sign?” Her smile bordered on manic as she took the package and set it on the desk.
“Yes, here.” I said handing her the sheet and pointing to where she need to sign, as she bent over to sign it I caught a nice glimpse of cleavage.
“Here you go, thank you. Have a nice day.”
“Yeah…you too.” I said and exited the room covered in embarrassment and shame.
I walked down the hallway with my head down and began lightly chastising myself, “You idiot, why didn’t you flirt with her a little bit? You should have asked for her phone number.” I stopped, set the dolly down and kicked the ground. Then stood in silence, all the while I didn’t hear the loud footsteps behind me as Sara waddled behind me and noticed my whole Tyler Dyrden episode.
“Uhmm, is this a bad time?” She asked as I turned around my face flushed with embarrassment.
“You didn’t just see all that did you?” I asked rubbing the back of my neck.
“See what?” She grinned. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop you and give you something.”
“I didn’t forget my sheet did I?” I said patting my jacket pocket and feeling for the paper.
“No, no nothing like that. I wanted to give you my phone number,” she said and handed me a slip of paper with her name and number on it,
“You’re cute, call me.” She said and waddled off, her hips swaying seductively. I looked at the sheet of paper and took out my cell phone and programmed her information in, then smiled and walked to the elevator.
I called her a few days later and we decided to go to a little Cuban café that I knew. I arrived a little early and got a table outside near one of the outdoor heaters they set up. She arrived wearing a thin black button up sweater stopped just above her belly and covered the top portion of her yellow dress.
The buttons on the sweater fit fine on the bust and strained a bit at the top of her gut. The dress seemed like usually it’d reach down to her knees but rode up a bit and revealed a generous amount of her tanned thighs and gave me a good view of how they rubbed together hypnotically as she walked over to the table.
Being taught by my mother to always be a gentleman, I sat up from my chair and walked behind her seat, pulled it out, motioned for her to sit and pushed the chair in for her. I’d found that the antiquated gesture has the added bonus of being able to check out a girl’s ass as she sat down and noting how difficult or not it was for her to get into it.
In this regard, Sara provided quality material that I’d use later that night when drifting to sleep and handling business. Her ass looked amazing, so fat and round. The yellow dress was so tight that I could make out the lines of her panties. She was wearing ones that covered her whole ass, something I’m particularly fond of, which isn’t to say I don’t enjoy a nice thong or no panties at all, but there is something about the amount of material it takes to cover an ass of monumental proportions that is such a turn on.
As she squeezed into the chair, I noticed the edges of her thighs and hips squeeze in tightly between the arms, I fantasized her hips and thighs growing to where she couldn’t fit in them, and then I watched as the sides of her thighs spilled out the side of the chair. After helping into her chair, I returned to my seat and as I did I noticed out the side of my eye how her juicy potbelly sat on her thunderous thighs and bunched up into two delicious rolls.
“They brought some rolls, would you like one?” I asked offering her the basket of bread the waiter brought out a few minutes before she arrived.
“Yes,” she said taking a roll from the basket and placing it on the plate in front of her, “Thank you”.
“Would you like some butter for it?” I asked.
“What would be a roll without it?” She replied as I passed the butter over to her while placing a roll on my plate as well. She took the napkin to the right of her plate, unrolled it and placed it neatly on her lap. She then scooted the chair in a little more; her belly pressed tightly against the edge, and seeped over stopping just short of the plate.
She smiled broadly at me as she smoothered her roll in butter, remarking as she did, “Oh, thank goodness this is real butter. I can’t stand that margarine nonsense.”
“I can’t stand that stuff either,” I replied, spreading a little butter on my own roll.
“It’s got no taste,” she said. Then took a large bite out of her butter drench bread and chewed slowly savoring each bite, she bit her bottom lip and let out a soft squeal of joy as she swallowed.
“Oh wow, that is so good,” she yelped and quickly finished the rest of the bread then took another piece from the basket and slathered it in butter. Almost as soon as she finished buttering the second piece, it disappeared from her plate.
She noticed my staring, took the napkin from her lap, and began to wipe her mouth. She placed the napkin back on her lap and said, “Sorry, it’s just so good I couldn’t help myself. I’m making a bit of a pig out of myself.”
“Nonsense. I like a girl who can enjoy a good meal, this bread is phenomenal. Don’t feel the need to hold back on my account.” I said pushing the basket a bit closer to her.
“Oh, okay. But I have a feeling I’ll regret eating this much later,” she said grabbing two more pieces of bread from the basket, “but these are just so good.”
She slathered them in butter and inhaled them just as the waiter arrived. He smiled weakly and his eyes widened as he saw Sara’s considerable bulk crammed in the chair. He composed himself quickly and asked, “Can I start you two off with some drinks?”
“Sure, I’ll have a sprite.” I said while looking over the menu.
“And for you, miss?”
“Hmmm, how is the Cuban coffee?” She said scrunching her nose looking at the item’s description.
“Miss, it’s out of this world. It’s so rich and flavorful; your taste buds will be in utter disbelief.” He said and put his fingers to his lips and then gave them a slight kiss and threw them in the air.
“You make a strong case,” she leaned forward and thought for a moment, “okay, I’ll have one.”
“Oh, you’ve made a wise choice, you won’t regret this,” He wrote down her drink order and then added, “I’ll give you two a moment while I get your drinks to go over the menu.”
“Looks like you’re going to get quite the cup of coffee.” I said deciding on what I was going to order.
“Yeah, I was afraid he was going to go into epileptic shock he was so excited.”
“It all seems very Freudian.” I said grinning slightly.
“How’s that?” She asked raising her left eyebrow.
My cheeks rushed with blood and I slumped a bit in my seat. I meekly said, “I don’t know, I was just trying to seem like I knew something about psychology, considering…”
She looked at me emotionless for a minute then her mouth slowly tensed upward and she began to laugh loudly. “Oh, sorry for laughing, but that is so adorable. I don’t care if you know about psychology. I’m mean, it’s my major and all, but don’t feel you need to try and impress me.”
“Sorry…” I said looking down to the side of the table. She was about to speak when the waiter interrupted her by placing our drinks next to each of us.
“You two ready to order?” He asked flipping his notepad to a new page and readying his pen.
“Uhmm…” I said, but Sara spoke over me, “Yes, we’re ready. I’ll have the number four and three empanadas.”
“Superb choices and for you, sir?” He said looking at me.
“Cuban sandwich with the house soup.” I said handing him the menu. Sara handed her menu to him as well and took a sip of coffee as he walked away. Then she looked at me and tilted her head to the side and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s just…nothing.” I murmured.
“Come on, tell me.”
“I mean I didn’t appreciate you laughing at me.”
“Why? It wasn’t like it was a bad thing, I thought it was cute.”
“It’s just makes me feel bad.”
“I’m sorry then,” she said grabbing her napkin and wringing it a bit under the table, “You shouldn’t feel bad though.”
“I know, I know. I just...am a bit nervous. I want you to like me.”
She smirked, “Like you’re the first person to be nervous on a first date and said something stupid. Do you honestly think I’m any less nervous? I mean for heaven’s sake I’ve just about ate an entire basket of bread and a stick of butter.”
She patted her tummy for emphasis.
I grinned broadly and said, “I guess you have a point.”
“I do, now, why don’t you relax and tell me about your major.” She said ripping a piece of the latest roll she had just put on her plate.
We continued to talk. She told me her dreams and I told her my fears. When the food came, she tore into hers with vigor. I ate mine slowly, reluctantly. I only finished half by the time she chewed the last morsel. She looked at me as I picked at my food. She offered her help in finishing my meal. I, not that hungry. didn’t refuse.
After I finished we finished eat, paid the check and left the tip, I walked her back to her apartment. Despite my initial awkwardness and outburst at dinner, we got into a comfortable rhythm of conversation we laughed at each other’s jokes and thought deeply at the right cues.
By the time, we arrived at her house we were all out of things to talk about, so we stood outside in silence uncomfortably looking away from time to time until I decided to grow some balls and kiss her. We began to make out for a while, and then she unlocked her door and motioned with her finger for me to come into her room. That night we made love and after she cried. She said it wasn’t because of me, but I had my suspicions.
“You know man, being a pizza delivery guy is nothing like in the movies,” my roommate said sitting in a computer chair in nothing but his under and a world’s greatest lover trucker hat. He was playing a shoot em up game on the Xbox 360, and I was laying on my bed staring at the ceiling half listening to his inane ramblings.
“Uh huh,” I replied rubbing my temples.
“No seriously, I feel betrayed, like I can’t trust anything anymore. I mean the only women who can’t pay for the pizza are the ones that you don’t want to have sex with, well, except maybe you, but you know, normal guys wouldn’t unless under the haze of half a bottle of whiskey. Like yesterday I get this order for two large pizzas with the works, and when I get there this chick takes up the entire door frame, and she’s in nothing but her bathrobe. You can see the cellulite on her thighs and her giant gut hanging out of the bottom of it. It was disgusting, anyway she says she doesn’t have the full amount, but figures we can work something out. Then she unties the sash on the robe and I’m just staring at her naked body for a second. I stand there speechless, and just shove the pizzas at her and run like do not want.”
“That sucks, man.”
“You’re not even listening, are you?”
“Can’t say that I am.”
“Whatever, so, how’d your date go with whatsherface? Did you get down to some hot whaling?”
“It went alright, and if by whaling you mean did we have sex? Then yes, and that was odd.”
“Outside of the usual odd of having sex with a blimp, how do you mean?”
“She cried after.”
“Oh,” he replied pausing the game and turned to me, “That’s rough man.”
“Yeah,” I said wiping my hand over my face.
“So, I guess you’re not going to see her again then.”
“Actually, we have a date this Saturday, I’m taking her to that all you can Korean place on 17th.”
“She’s getting the famous Mikey second date.”
I sat up leaning my head against the wall and said, “I have appearances to keep up after all.”
“Speaking of gluttony and all, I’m starving, wanna go grab a bite?”
“I could eat. Where do you want to go?”
“Depends do you want to pay or not.”
“I gotta save my bread.”
“Then let me get dress and we’ll drop by my work. I think Nicola is working and she should hook us up.”
“Doesn’t she hate you though?”
“You kidding? She loves me, she just doesn’t know it is all.”
“Alright man, get ready and let’s go.” I said.
(To be continued)
