The guys at the gym have a smug, self-satisfied look on their faces, as I walk past them. I can tell that they think I am turned on by their washboard abs, bulging pecs, and lean thighs. I give them a wink, and smile to myself, knowing it is really the very fat fellow in the corner, that is giving my heart its aerobic workout. I ponder how I could even begin to explain the attraction, or how it feels to the in the arms of a Big Beautiful Man. I suppose I'd began by telling them that, although I can appreciate the beauty of their hard bodies, in a detached, aesthetic sense; they seem plain to me. I am a sensual woman, and I like to have all my senses come into play, when I am with a man. To my thinking, a slim or muscle-bound man is a straight-backed, wooden chair; whereas a fat man is a cushiony, over-stuffed sofa; so nice to curl up in!
When I see an attractive, nicely dressed man of size, he is a feast for the eyes; there is so much going on. His fat may sway, or gently undulate as he moves. He may be leaning back somewhat, as if giving way to his awesome belly. To me, it appears as very sexy flesh, which some may feel should be hidden from sight; but has grown so big, that it will not be hidden, and fairly shouts, "Look at me!" That is a big turn-on.
I know there are some women who admire a large stomach, but they still prefer the man to be fairly trim and muscled everywhere else. I don't stop at bellies, I enjoy fat just about anywhere on a man's body. A man with large, soft thighs in a tight-fitting pair of jeans, is another sight to behold. It is the contrast of energy and mass, being constrained by those sturdy blue fibers, that sends me into a tail-spin. Thank you, Levi Strauss!
There is something else I should confess to, that I'm sure those gym jocks have never thought of. On a slender man, it is quite obvious where certain important parts of his anatomy are kept. But when I gaze at a large man, there is some mystery; exactly where is it, and if we were lovers, would I have to hunt to find it? O.K., I'm blushing now; but the sense of challenge, I think, is intriguing.
All these physical attractions aside, there are deeper thoughts and emotions that a good-looking, hefty and hearty fat man brings out in me. In a society that becomes more and more rigid in its obsession with thinness and discipline, (they have gone so far now, as to change the Michelin Man, Bibendum, to a low-fat version; they have given him a chest, and taken away his fat tummy! Apparently, a nice, protruding belly, even if it's made of air and rubber, is just too threatening.) the vision of a chubby or fat man says to me that this guy gives way to his desires; feeds his hungers; that he's not hung up on the control of everything around him. It sends an immediate charge to that part of myself that would indulge more, and control less. To abandon oneself to basic hungers is a compelling thought, indeed! But maybe this is all too abstract for those steroid popping, protein shake guzzling guys to understand. Perhaps if I explain to them, how that guy in the corner has it all over them, in the tactile department.
I am remembering a special man, whom I dated seriously, a couple of years ago, and I can envision him coming towards me. Just the anticipation alone of his body against mine, was enough to start me tingling all over. My arms would slip effortlessly around his cushioned sides, and the warm, comfortable press of his belly on mine, always made me dizzy. I'd close my eyes, and feel as though I had the world, right there in my arms. It was as if, after all my longings, he was finally enough. There was no place I could touch, that wasn't soft and oh so sexy; not a spot on him that was disappointing to the senses. He was finally enough, and I knew from then on, exactly what kind of man I needed.
While I have been attracted to certain average size men, like Christopher Lambert of Highlander fame, and most recently, the waltz king, Andre Rieu, that attraction seems to fall more upon the surface image of these desirable men.
I mean, what woman didn't love the swashbuckling Mel Gibson as William Wallace, in Braveheart. However, when it comes to kilt-watching, I'll admit to some hot and heavy fantasizing after the big battle, I'd have spread a sheepskin in the thistle, awaiting Wallace's lusty sidekick.
It is the depth of sensuality that seems to make the difference as to who I am most drawn to. I honestly believe that if more women knew just how arousing it feels to be close to a man of girth, they would widen their possible choices of love interests. Women say they love the sensation of being "filled up" by a man; a fat man fills every single curve and hollow; there is more contact of flesh than there is with a thin or muscular man; and often, there is not as big an ego to get in the way, as with some of their average size brothers. For this female FA, it is the experience of sensual love at its most complete and fulfilling.
The Greek gods are returning my smile now, with confident glints in their eyes, as I make my way over to the adorable fat guy who looks like he needs a cup of coffee and some friendly conversation. ß