Standing in the bathroom stall at work, I can almost feel his hands snake around my body to caress my aching breasts. I imagine the curve of his belly snuggled up against my back. I close my eyes and lean my head back against his chest, savoring his comfortableness.
My nipples need little encouragement to become tiny crinkled mountains, pushing insistently at the fabric of my bra. His hands slide under my breasts, supporting them far better than any bra could hope to, while his thumb and forefinger continue to tease those firm little knobs. For a few moments he's running his fingernails over them rapidly; then he's grasping them, rolling them back and forth between his fingers; when he pushes in on them briefly as though they were buttons, I am surprised to feel an electric surge between my legs and nearly fail to stifle a moan. His hands slide up over my breasts, gently letting them fall, and move slowly down my sides, lingering over each fold and curve and bulge. My excitement mounts, knowing that this man understands the eroticism of fat.
His hands reach the proud curve of my hips, resting on their solid support, pulling me tightly against him. I want him, want to feel his firm, broad cock filling my throbbing, soaking cunt. I know he can sense my desire, but it is not yet time.
His hands resume their trip, over the sweeping expanse of my flanks, down to the valley above my pudgy thighs. Moving toward the front, they burrow into the warmth beneath my sagging belly, and then begin gently lifting it, free from the reality of gravity. The cool air against those freshly-exposed surfaces sends chills down my spine, and my nipples clamor for attention. His hands begin their climb back up the front of my body, eventually releasing the soft belly fold to nestle back against the top of my legs. He caresses the gentle swell of my upper belly, and as he reaches my nipples again, my need becomes more insistent. My back arches, conforming to the curve of that prodigious belly, wanting to feel his cock pressing against my ass. It isn't until I give up his masterful touch on my breasts and bend over that I am able to push myself firmly against his crotch, feeling his hardness at last. He grabs my hips and holds me there; I rub my wetness into his warm cock, as much as I am able.
My entire consciousness is centered around my waiting cunt. He enters me slowly, and I want to force myself against him, to feel the entirety of his manhood inside of me. My hands find a wall to push on, but it does me no good, as he pulls away as I push toward him. Millimeter by millimeter, he allows my greedy mouth to swallow him. Finally, we're fully engaged, and he begins to fuck me. I want to scream at the agony of his glacial pace. But soon enough, his movements quicken, and we begin to slam against each other. His strong hands on my hips ensure perfect coordination of our movements, and with each stroke, I feel layers of fat all over my body jiggling with the impact. The force of it sends my belly crashing back and forth wavelike, almost painful in its exuberance.
Soon, our excitement peaks, and as my cunt pulses with orgasm, his beautiful cock begins to pump me full of cum. We remain joined for a few moments, letting the sensations wind down, and then he moves back and I unbend.
Leaving the bathroom with a spring in my step, I wonder if my colleagues also have fantasy lovers living there, or if I am the only one who craves release in the middle of the afternoon.