Adipophilia Ch. 02

I don't think I "slept," but I dozed. There was something about all of that soft flesh I was snuggled against. Her hands, lightly stroking my hair and face, helped. I felt like I could just sink into her, and I liked the feeling.

When I woke, so I guess I did sleep at least lightly, the first thing of which I was aware was the sensation of heat. She has pulled the covers up, and they retained the heat she emitted like an oven.

She was on her side, her chin propped on her palm in that way you do when you're lying on your side reading a book or watching TV, watching me.

She smiled, a soft, wan smile, and said, softly, "If you want to leave, I understand."

Suddenly, I was angry.

"God DAMN it, Linda," I snapped, rolling up to mirror her position, "will you fucking STOP that shit."

Her eyes got big, but I was rolling by then.

"If I wanted to leave, there's not one goddam thing you could do to stop me unless you've got a fucking gun around somewhere that I didn't notice," I said, "But I don't, you goddam idiot, because you're fun, you're interesting, and your fucking BEAUTIFUL."

That burned through my first anger, but I wanted to finish while I had a good head of steam up.

"This is beautiful," I said, brushing my fingertips down her cheek and then lightly tickling the rest of her face.

"These are beautiful," I said, lightly tracing the stretchmarks across that soft flesh between her shoulder and the rise of her breast, the result, I was sure, of a continued regimen of dieting and binging that left much of her skin looking like a recently pregnant woman's belly.

"These are gorgeous," I said, lifting and then kissing her heavy breast, so big and soft it overflowed my hand.

"But this," I said, grabbing a handful of that wonderfully soft belly fat and giving it a jiggle, "and this," squeezing a handful of waist fat, "and this," lifting, as if I was weighing in my hand, one of those big rolls of fat across her back, "is stunning."

She started to say something, but I stopped her with a light slap across the cheek, lightly, but enough to make her eyes go big.

"I'm not done," I snapped and kissed her, a soft, lingering kiss on the lips, and then a quick, light kiss where I slapped her.

"All of the things I just said are true," I said, holding her eyes, "but it's all of it, it's your pretty face and your oversized body that make you unique. I like it all, Hell, I love it all. I'll be proud to take you anywhere and show the world that you're mine."

I kissed her again.

"But if you keep putting yourself down, I'm OUT OF HERE because it's fucking depressing and I don't choose to be depressed," I finished.

She was crying. Well, tears were flowing from her eyes, and her nose had little swollen bulges on either side from the way her sinuses had swollen, although she wasn't visibly sobbing.

"You really think I'm pretty," she said, and there was no catch in her voice, "even with this?" She reached down and jiggled that bottom roll of fat, making her entire body "Shake like a bowlfull of jelly," as Clement Clarke Moore put it once. It was a straight question, so I gave her a straight answer.

"Yes," I said simply.

After a dramatic pause I added, "I'm going to take you the store, buy you the skimpiest bikini I can find, something that makes the old 'two band aids and a cork' joke seem modest, and then we're going to the public pool where we'll promenade so I can show the world how proud I am to be seen with this beautiful woman."

Her eyes were big, the tears were flowing, and now they were joined by water-clear mucus as her nose started running.

When she drew breath to say something, I went on.

"It's not just that I want to show the world that I'm the lucky one in this couple," I said, seriously now, "I want YOU to understand it."

She was crying now, full-on crying with the hitching breathing to accompany the tears and runny nose as she grabbed me suddenly and pulled me into a kiss.

This was one of those full-body kisses. Her lips covered mine, and her tongue was exploring, meeting, and playing with mine. Her right hand, the bottom hand, the way she was lying on her side, entwined her fingers in my hair and held our mouths together. Her left hand went to the small of my back and pulled me to her until I felt her warm, soft, and, interestingly, sweaty body pressing against me. Her left leg moved to cover my thigh, and her heel hooked behind my knee, pulling me close.

There it was again, that sensation of being absorbed into her bigger body, that sensation I have come to crave almost to the point I think I have a full-blown fetish.

When she started to pull me, wanting me on top in the classic "Missionary Position," I managed to break the kiss enough to say, "No, Linda."

She froze, and there was a deep sob.

"Oh, God, you don't want me," she sort of wailed around her sobs.

"NO, DUMBASS," I said, slapping her ass as hard as my awkward position allowed.

I waited for her eyes to meet mine.

"No, Dumbass," I said, again, this time gently, "I want YOU on top. I want to feel all of you. I want you to understand just how fucking beautiful I think you are."

Once again, her eyes got big, and I realized I liked that look on her. She stared.

"Be careful, David," she said, her face as serious as a judge handing down a bad sentence to a criminal, "what you wish for. You just might get it."

I smiled, kissed her cheek where I slapped her, and said, "I wish you would be on top when we make love."

I realized I loved those little sounds she made as she moved. That was a lot of weight, and it required a lot of effort.

She made a soft grunting sound as she rocked back to get some momentum and then swung her heavy leg over me. There was more of that soft animal sound as she pushed herself up on all fours, those big legs straddling my hips.

She was sweating now. Not perspiring or, as they say in the South, "glistening," she was sweating from the warmth under the blanket and her exertions. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead to join into little rivulets down her cheeks and ultimately to drip off the tip of her nose and her chin onto my face. I opened my mouth and drank her warm, salty sweat like the best beer ever. Boobsweat wetted my chest. Bellysweat wetted my belly. Pussysweat wetted my erection before her love honey lubricated it.

Her hair was sweat-damp now, hanging lank as she looked straight down at me. Her eyes were wide, her sweat dripping, and the mucus that covered her upper lip was starting to form a thick teardrop. I welcomed it all as she slowly lowered herself to kiss me. It was a sweat-salty, and mucus-slick kiss.

It was a great kiss.

I wasn't inside of her yet. The softness of the big fat pad of her mons and her oversized labia were surrounding my erection, and the sensation was, in many ways, even better than the simple feeling of being inside of her. But the way she was moving, it was clear that she wanted me.

"Sit back," I said.

There were those animal sounds again as she pushed with her arms to get enough angle so she could lean back until she was in the classic cowgirl position, astride me.

Her belly was big enough that it covered my erection, so I had to work my hand under its warm, damp, soft weight to get to my erection and guide it.

"Lift, Linda," I said softly, watching her face as she grunted again and lifted herself enough that I could guide myself to find that slick entrance to her sex.

She sighed, a long, slow exhalation as she slowly lowered herself, impaling herself on my erection until I felt soft, fat labia cover my balls and spread to that sensitive skin high on the inside of my thighs.

"Hold still now," I said, my hands moving rapidly now, caressing belly and breasts and big, soft arms, "hold still and take your pleasure."

"Oh myyyyyyy," she breathed.

I felt her squeeze and relax as my fingers rolled her nipples.

I was exploring her now, looking for those places that got to her. Her nipples hardened on areolas that tightened, and she squeezed again as I played.

She giggled when I squeezed the soft pad at the back of her upper arms, but there was no reaction where I was inside her.

It turned out, once she was past her feeling that her size made her unattractive, she liked having her rolls and pads of fat played with.

When I squeezed that soft roll just below her armpit, not her breast, just a roll of fat flesh, she squeezed where I was inside her.

"Tight now," I said, and pinched that soft roll I had just squeezed, drawing a soft cry and a sudden tightness.

I moved my hands back to her breasts, palms flat, feeling her hard nipples against my sensitive skin, and pressed.

"Tight," I said, pressing, feeling the firmness of her mammary glands against my hands as I slowly increased the pressure. And the pressure squeezing where I was inside of her increased with it.

"Hold very still now," I said softly, moving my hands in slow circles, feeling the way those big glands' shape was changed slowly as I did it.

She moaned.

"Hold still," I said, continuing the slow movement of my hands.

She groaned as I pressed harder, her mammary glands forced forward so that her nipples were distended.

"Easy, Linda," I said, meeting her eyes, "let it happen."

Her breath was coming in harsh gasps now, and she moaned as I pressed still harder.

And she came.

Suddenly.

Powerfully. Squeezing so hard it was painful as she soaked us both with her release.

I released her breasts as she came, and she shuddered, her whole body jerking, as she came again, just as powerfully.

I held her up, my hands on her shoulders now, feeling her relax slowly.

When she was calm, her breathing easy and the tension gone from her muscles, I said, "Let me have your weight."

There were those suddenly big eyes again.

"David?" she asked.

I smiled and let my hands move slowly to her waist.

"Let me have your weight," I said, moving my hands to her shoulders and pulling gently.

She extended her arms and leaned forward. She smiled down at me, big breasts brushing my chest, her big soft belly sweat slick and warm against my harder torso.

"Is this what you want?" she asked, moving, writhing really, in small motions that made her hot, sweat-slick skin slide over mine.

I hooked my fingers into claws, reached as far as I could, and deliberately raked my fingers down the soft roll that protected her ribs, drawing a soft cry.

"Let. me. have. your. weight," I said for the third time.

"Oh, God," she moaned and slowly bent her arms, settling onto me as gently as a hen settling onto her egg.

She was hot and slick with sweat. The womanscent of arousal was thick under the covers. As she covered me, her big soft belly hanging over the sides of my body, her heavy breasts spreading across my chest, I knew I would never be interested in a skinny woman again.

This was what making love should be.

"All of it," I said, my hands caressing, my voice soft and inviting.

"Oh, God," she breathed again, and I felt her relax, the final tension left her muscles, and I was engulfed in her.

She was soft enough that I could still breathe, and I was still hard inside of her.

"Relax," I whispered.

She buried her face against my neck, and I felt hot tears.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, my hands caressing as far as I could reach.

She lifted herself enough that we could focus on each other.

And I saw that she was a mess.

She laughed then, a soft sound, spraying spit and snot and tears onto my chest.

"Because," and she lifted herself a little and dropped onto me, her belly meeting mine with an audible, wet smacking sound, "you've ruined me for anyone else."

I laughed at that.

"Linda, now that you know what you want, all you'll have to do is ask for it," I said softly, "because beautiful women can always get what they want from a man."

She smiled.

"Am I really beautiful, David?" she asked, arching her back, pressing her belly against me, her warmth and softness surrounding me.

"You are gorgeous," I said, digging my fingers into the tangle of her hair and pulling her down for a kiss.

She pulled away again, and this time she was grinning, not smiling.

"Show me you think I'm gorgeous," she said softly, "fuck me now. Cum inside of me. Fill me with the Gift."

As she said that she was relaxing, the last words whispered into my ear as she settled onto me, her full weight pinning me to the bed, pressing me into the mattress, her body hot now, engulfing mine in her size.

"Please, Baby," she whispered, "fill me up."

I had to strain to get any movement. Her three hundred pounds were dead weight, pinning me, and I had no leverage in this position.

As I labored to give her what she wanted, each tiny movement I managed drew soft mewing sounds from her, along with answering squeezes where she held me tight. But she was so slick now that there was no friction to stimulate sensitive nerve endings.

Now I was the one sweating, I could feel the sheet under me, sodden now, as I worked, struggling to finish, to show her how beautiful she was, while her overheated body covered me like a heavy electric blanket turned on "high."

"Please," she whispered again, and her voice was so full of need that I renewed my efforts.

I was tiring now, my breath coming in harsh gasps.

"Oh, God, I knew it," she sobbed, "I'm too FAT!"

As she started to lift herself, I dug my fingers into that thick pad of soft fat at her shoulder blades and pulled her down with my last strength.

"NO!" I gasped, and managed the three thrusts I needed to finish.

My ejaculation was like nothing I had ever imagined. I swear I could feel my balls emptying. Deep in my belly, I felt my prostate add its product. I felt my urethra stretch with the force of it. Being unable to move, too exhausted, but also simply pinned beneath her weight, added to my sensations.

Her reaction was just as spectacular. I felt her suddenly soaking me with her hot, sticky nectar. The way she flowed, I thought at first that she had lost bladder control.

"YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" she cried.

"Yes," I whispered, unable to draw a deep breath.

She came in three distinct waves, the third pushing me out as her vaginal muscles clenched with her completion.

"Oh, Jesus," she whispered.

"Oh, Jesus," I whispered.

"Oh, fucking JESUS," she whispered.

"Oh fucking JESUS," I whispered.

She giggled.

"Oh fucking Jesus," she whispered, starting to lift herself.

"No, Linda," I whispered, my fingers digging into the softness of her waist, holding her, "let me have your weight."

"Oh fucking Jesus," she whispered, settling down again, "you pervert."

I chuckled weakly.

"What did you call me that first time we met? A Chubby Chaser?" I asked.

"Yes," she breathed, "and you are now my favorite Fatty Fucker EVER!"

I think she said more, but I was already drifting off to sleep. A combination of the sexual satisfaction, the sheer physical exhaustion, and the amazing comfort of her enormous body covering me just overwhelmed me.

I slept.