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An Evening Alone
by GeekyBiBabe

Warning: This story centers around overeating as an erotic experience. I wouldn't define it as a feeder/feedee kind of story, because it's autoerotic. However, people who are offended by this concept may want to avoid reading the story.

This is a more-or-less true story. I say "more-or-less true" because while each thing described in this story has really happened to me, and I've had extremely similar evenings, the actual details of this story are drawn from more than one occasion.

I've written it all at once, and haven't gone back to edit it. So it may be a bit raw in places, but I hope the genuine feelings behind it come through.

Without further ado:

I can barely keep my hands off myself, sitting here at a stop light on my way home. I probably wouldn't even be bothering to try, but there's a guy in a "sport/utility vehicle" next to me, and I don't really want to put on a show. I settle for holding on to my seatbelt where it crosses my chest, so my arm is brushing my nipple. All the while I'm squeezing my thighs together, getting hornier by the second. My husband is out of town, so I know I'll have the house to myself tonight.

Finally the traffic starts moving again, and I'm nearing the turn-off for the grocery store. I want to go to the store...but I want to get off...I'll prolong the agony and go to the store after all...the evening will be better in the end if I do.

At the store, my heart is racing, and my face feels hot. I try to look calm, but I'm not sure how well I'm doing. Sour cream, macaroni and cheese, pizza pockets, sausage, cheese, Pillsbury Grands biscuits, pop tarts, cool whip, Ben & Jerry's. I get through the checkout, and make it back to the car before I rip into some string cheese I've gotten for the ride home.

By the time I pull into my parking space, I've finished the string cheese. I race into my house and pop the mac & cheese into the microwave, hurriedly putting the rest of my purchases away. While the macaroni & cheese is cooking, I go to the bedroom to change. My sweater comes off first, and I look at myself in the mirror. My breasts are demurely covered in a sensible bra -- that will never do! I rummage through my drawers until I find a red bra I could never wear out of the house because of the way I look like I'm about to fall out of it. I take my time getting into it, leaning over and adjusting my breasts so they're displayed to best advantage. Looking at the rest of my body, I decide to leave that as it is. I love the feeling of my snug jeans, hugging my hips and stomach. Then I realize this could be even better, and open my jeans drawer. I pull out the jeans that are a size too small. The buzzer on the microwave rings, but I ignore it -- the food will be better if it cools for a few minutes, anyway.

I unzip my jeans, and slide them down over my hips. I close my eyes... I want to block out all the distractions besides my hands on my body. My underwear slides off with the jeans. Drat. Oh, well, it's probably for the best. I step out of the jeans and start putting the smaller ones on. I can feel the difference even when they're just up to my knees. I watch in the mirror as I'm pulling them up over my hips, awed at the way my fat gets pushed around. I turn to the side, so I can see how my tummy is hanging out of the undone button-fly. Turning back, I start to button them up. When I'm finished, I'm pleased with my handiwork. I'm hanging out over the top of the jeans on the sides and front. Turning around to look at the back in the mirror, I see that my ass is indecently outlined. I'm almost incoherent with desire. But no, first I should eat. It will be even better if I eat first.

So I return to the kitchen, and get the mac & cheese out of the microwave. I put some pizza pockets in, since I know I'll be wanting them soon enough. I grab the sour cream and lie down on the couch with the mac & cheese. A dab of sour cream, a forkful of macaroni & cheese...I wonder how I ever survived before I found this combination. The tartness of the sour cream adds so much to the cheese flavor. I finish it up in short order and go for the pizza pockets. They're the kind with the croissant crust, and I know I should wait for them to cool down a little. I start to nibble around the edges, and before I know it, they're gone, too.

Ok, I'm feeling a little full. Maybe now's a good time to make the biscuits. I get them into the oven and start frying up the sausage patties. I slice some Colby cheese, to go with it all. It feels so erotic, cooking in this outfit. My nipples are rock-hard, and letting me know it by the way they're pressing against the bra. The crotch of my jeans is starting to feel decidedly moist. It doesn't help that the seam is rubbing against my clit every time I move.

By the time the biscuits are ready, the sausage is, too. I force myself to butter all the biscuits while they're hot, and put slices of cheese in between the halves, so the cheese will get warm. Back to the couch with my overflowing plate. Halfway through, I'm starting to get uncomfortable, so I stand up and unbutton my jeans. Ahh...relief. I eat the rest of the biscuits standing up, my other hand between my legs. I can't stand it anymore.

As soon as I'm finished with the biscuits, I go back to the bedroom, where I can watch myself in the mirror. My right hand is busy with my pussy, and my left roams over my body, cupping a breast, squeezing a nipple, fondling my fat belly hanging out of my jeans. It gets better and better, until finally I have an explosive release. I lick my fingers, wet with pussy-juice, and think about what to do next. The jeans come off, since they've served their purpose, and I admire my broad hips and soft stomach. Turning to the side, I can see how it hangs over the tops of my thighs, just a little -- maybe an inch or two. I grab it in my hands, loving the heft of it. My hands wander up to my breasts, holding them gently through the smooth fabric of the bra.

Dessert! It's obviously time for dessert. The cool whip is partly softened, so I start by dipping pop tarts into the cool whip. A box gone in moments, I tear into another one. Partway through that box, I slow down. I'm feeling stuffed. I need to take another break, so I head back to the bedroom. This time, I lie down on the bed, and take it more slowly. I run my hands over my body until I can't stand it anymore, and slowly start to rub my clit. There's something missing. I want to feel full inside. I fumble for my dildo, and shove it home. Ah...now my muscles have something to grab onto. I hold my legs together, my full thighs keeping the dildo inside, and let my fingers do the walking. Predictably, a few minutes later I'm panting with exertion, a calm stealing over my body after the tension has been released. I lie there for a few more minutes, and then go back to my dessert. The rest of the pop tarts and the pint of Ben & Jerry's find their way into my body before too long, and I realize I've eaten everything I bought. I'm glad -- sometimes I can't finish it all, but tonight I succeeded. Should I go out for more? Not tonight, I don't think. I'll curl up with a good book instead... and another couple of rounds of sexual ecstasy.