Create Your Own Perfect Plumper
By Ilikem Large
(Originally appeared in BUF's “Erotic Encounters” column) When I first met Beverly, she was an average size girl who didn't seem entirely happy, although she had an intoxicating smile. Her eyes had a hungry look in them. I knew that look well. She had been dieting for a long time, Beverly had, I could tell. And what for? Beverly was definitely the type of woman that needed food like a fish needs water. She was starving. And I was prepared to feed her.
Some men look at a woman and mentally undress them. I, on the other hand, mentally fatten them up. I picture that woman's perfect weight. I then begin to put on rolls and rolls of sweet, juicy fat, and feel myself getting hard as a stick of dynamite waiting to explode into the large woman's voluminous body. And now I was looking at a sweet but forlorn face, and a body that could drive me into a frenzy --- someday. But first I had to introduce myself.
I went to the table where the food was for the taking. Parties are great for that. I loaded up my plate with lots of delectable goodies, pastries of all sorts, and a few carrot sticks to get the conversation rolling. Drink and plate in hand, I walked over to the girl I wanted.
"Hi. Is this seat taken?"
"No. Please sit down."
I remained quiet for a moment, feeling that, yes, this girl was definitely a "plumper-to-be”.
Her eyes contacted mine. I purposely took a bite of a sugary confection, as I looked back at her, playfully.
She shifted nervously in her seat, and then looked away. Just as quickly, she looked back again.
Her voice had a deep, throaty quality to it. “I'm Beverly D'Amo. I don't believe I know you.”
“Would you like to?” I said, licking the powdered sugar off my lips very slowly.
“Well, I …” She was taken aback. Her chest heaved and she let out a sigh. Again she shifted in her chair.
"Have something?" I offered her the plate of goodies.
She eyed the desserts, but forcefully her hand went to a carrot stick.
"You must not be very hungry, Beverly. Either that, or you don't enjoy sweet things."
"Oh, I do..." she trailed off and looked away.
I took a chance. I reached over and touched her face, encouraging her to look at me.
"Beverly, I'm Brian Donnelly. I came to sit here because I find you very attractive."
She looked up tentatively, and then tried to look away. I stopped her.
"I would find you attractive even if you ate a dessert or two."
Beverly responded. "Oh, Brian, I can't. I'll gain weight. I gain so quickly, and, and ..."
"And what? You don't want to? You'd rather be unhappy?"
"Well, no, but, but, I want to be attractive to the guys, too.”
"What would you say if I told you I could picture you at well over 200 pounds and looking more glorious with every bite you ate?"
"I'd say you were definitely unique."
"Beverly, you would not believe how many good looking men find large women attractive. The media has led us all to believe that we want Twiggys. The truth is, I've had my share of thin girls, there's nothing to 'em. It takes a real woman to 'Let Go!' Also, it's no fun being with a diet nut all min the time. I want my woman to express the freedom she's entitled to: the freedom to eat whatever and whenever SHE wants to. She'll always be beautiful to me.”
A smile crept onto Beverly's face. She now exuded a radiance that had not been there before.
"Brian ...?"
"Yes, Beverly?"
"Wanna walk with me to the dessert table?"
"Better yet, come with me to my apartment. I want to show you a new way of dining."
“Dessert first."
"Wrap 'em up to go."
When we arrived at my apartment, Beverly went straight for the kitchen. I followed. She opened the refrigerator door.
"Not yet." I pulled her close. "You have a little chocolate on your chin," I licked it off, "and your nose," another lick, "and ...”
"My lips," whispered Beverly, and pressed her lips against mine, hips writhing frantically against my waiting cock. Beverly was a bird set free, a blind person regaining her sight. She was in love with love, and afraid it would go away. I knew I had to act and act quickly if I was going to get the process of plumping on the right track.
"Darling, down the hall and to the right is my bedroom. Go take off your things. Do not, I repeat, do not, come out until I call you. O.K.?"
"O.K.!" Beverly ran into the bedroom like a little kid. I then got to work.
I stripped down, tossing my clothes on a chair. Then I went to the refrigerator. I pulled out chocolate syrup, maraschino cherries, marshmallow sauce, and pineapple topping. In the freezer I had a variety of ice creams. Out they came. The chopped nuts were in the cupboard. After getting out the ice cream scoops and spoons, I set it all on a tray, which I placed on the floor. I laid an exercise mat on the floor (I've always been the athletic type), and I lay down on top of it. My cock was so hard it was ready to cream all over. Wait a minute, I forgot the whipped cream! One more reach into the frig and it was ready. And so was I.
"Bev?"
"Yes?"
"What day is it?"
"Sunday ..." She sounded puzzled.
"Right!!! You win a prize! Come on out, now, slowly."
The door opened and in she came. She looked at me cautiously, then curiously. Her nipples were erect, and so was I.
"How long has it been since you've been to an ice cream parlor?"
"Ages," she breathed huskily.
"Well, welcome to mine. I think it only befitting that we begin right here in kitchen."
"But where are the bowls?” Suddenly a light shone in her hazel-colored eyes.
"Aha! So YOU'RE the bowl!" She smiled contentedly, like a cat that just found a mouse.
Immediately, she got into the fun of it. She started with the whipped cream can. “Around, and around and around we go." I felt a stiffening sensation as she started at the base of my cock, and continued shooting the whipped cream around and around until it reached the very tip of my penis. “And now for the cherry.” Beverly placed a maraschino cherry on the tip of my penis. Then she began to lick.
"Hey, that's not an cream sundae," I complained, although it felt soooo good.
"Be quiet, you, sundaes don't talk." Beverly was definitely a quick learner. I lay back and got one of the best blow jobs of my life.
After I had spent my load, Beverly sat licking her hands, grinning like a cheshire cat. "Now, for the main course.”
She began to put mounds of ice cold ice cream around base of my limp cock. "Bev, honey, we're going to have to wait awhile."
"For what? Dinner? Wow, this is the lousiest service ever gotten in a restaurant.”
"All right, go ahead, but I don't know ..."
"Thank you." And she proceeded to make a huge banana split on my cock. As soon was finished, she dove right in.
The noises she made while she was eating in such rapture conquered the feeling of coldness on my cock. Before knew it, I was again getting hard.
"Here comes the banana!” Beverly said through muffled tones, and began to lick me appreciatively.
What did I say about the best blow job I'd ever had? Well, that was wrong. THIS was the best!
This woman was insatiable. The following year, Bev had stocked herself with seventy more beautiful pounds, and I am definitely the most fucked guy in this town. Not only does she have an appetite for food, she has an appetite for sex.
Some nights I don't think I can keep up with her. But I sure don't plan on giving up the chance of trying.
She's one hell of a woman, Beverly D' Amo, and I was the man who unleashed her from that cage of being someone she was not. I found, and I intend to keep, my own Perfect Plumper.