Weight Room Title Bar

Friday Night
by GeekyBiBabe

In that hazy state between wakefulness and true sleep, I feel a vague tingling between my thighs as my husband's massive furry belly grazes my back, settling into the bed behind me. I feel his strong hand on my hip, and find myself slowly shifting back toward alertness. It's amazing that he can still do this to me, after all these years together -- his beautiful, firm belly never ceases to arouse me. Clothed, naked, it doesn't matter; with a big loose shirt falling like a tent over its bulk, a form-fitting knit shirt accentuating its curve, or gloriously exposed, my blood always surges at the sight.

Sleep is receding further and further at the touch and thought of him, and when his hand slides up to my waist, my nipples go rock hard and I moan. "Oh, it's like that, is it?" I hear him tease. "Mmmhmm..." Fully awake now, I roll over and push him onto his back, thrilling at the smooth muscular shoulder under my hand. I swing one leg over his broad hips, and lean down to kiss him. Of course my hair falls in his face, as it always does, so after the first passionate kiss I reach over and grab a hair-tie from the nightstand and braid my hair. Of course I could be just binding it back quickly in a ponytail, but I know the braiding process gives him a longer view of my breasts at their best, with my arms raised up to fool with my hair. I can feel his cock stiffen as he takes in the view.

Finished, I lean forward again, relishing the feeling of his belly against the soft swell of mine, my breasts dangling free and brushing his chest. As we kiss, my arousal grows fiercer as I feel his hands brushing and caressing my nipples and breasts, sometimes rolling the nipples between his fingers, sometimes trying in vain to cup the entire breast in his hand. Should I go down on him? I think about the texture of it, the smooth silky skin of his cock in my mouth, my forehead brushing his belly on each stroke, glancing up at its magnificence, and decide that tempting as it is, I just can't wait to feel his dick inside of me, filling my aching cunt. I lower myself down onto him slowly, thighs trembling with the effort and sweet frustration. My eyes are closed, my whole body focusing on the sensation of his wide shaft penetrating me inch by delicious inch. I hear his moans as a backdrop to my own, and when we're completely joined, I open my eyes and smile at him, warmed as always to see the love and lust returned in his own face.

I lean forward, my belly to his, and begin to slowly ride him, his hands roaming over my body as I rock back and forth. I feel a special thrill as he holds my hips, suggesting the tempo; our thrusts become more insistent. Before too long, I'm incoherent, exclaiming wordlessly with each stroke. As he holds me firmly to him, I feel his cock pulse inside of me, releasing his cum as the answering waves ripple through me.

As we recover, I roll off and lie snuggled against him, holding him with my arm across his chest, my leg entwined with his. After we've caught our breath for a few minutes, and are lying together in the post-orgasmic peace, I hear his voice, tinged with gentleness and uncertainty, "I want to ask you something." I look at him, a bit surprised, and see that he has a very vulnerable look on his face.

"Uh, sure...what is it?" I say, wondering what it could possibly be.

"Well, promise you won't get mad?"

"Promise," I reply, with a smile on my face and warmth in my voice.

"Well, uh, I know you've been working really hard to lose weight, the last year or so, and I know it's important to you. I know how you like feeling more active. I don't want to stop you." He looks at me, obviously looking for a sign to go on, and I smile and nod. "But I really miss how we used to eat together. Remember how we used to go out to restaurants, and order huge quantities of food, and encourage each other to eat and eat?"

The images rush through my mind, the evenings out, followed by snacks and even more dessert at home later. The whole weekends focusing on gluttonous hedonism, nothing but food and sex. Ah, those were the days. But I just didn't want to be that fat anymore. It's not that I don't love being fat -- on the contrary, I'm incredibly turned on by my own body. Feeling my hips and tummy and thighs ripple and jiggle as I walk...spreading my legs as I sit and feeling my belly nestle between them...the bounce of my hips and ass when I fuck him (hard!) ...they are some of the most erotic sensations that I know. And yet, sex isn't everything in life, and I found myself wanting to try being thinner. Not that I'm exactly thin now; I still weigh in at about 225, but it's 75 pounds less than I was. I shift up onto my elbow so I can look into his eyes, and slowly, with a smile on my lips, say, "Oh, yes...I remember."

"Well, do you think we might do that again, just for the weekend? I know you'll want to get back to a more moderate diet on Monday, but do you think that for tomorrow and Sunday we could have it be like old times?"

I consider for a minute, knowing how hard it will be to go back to a sensible routine on Monday, but the desire wins out, and without a word, I lift myself out of bed and go to the kitchen, returning with a pint of Mint Chocolate Cookie and a pair of spoons.

The matter resolved, we dig in with gusto, alternately feeding ourselves and feeding each other, the ice cream disappearing with alarming speed. I rise again, returning with Heath Toffee Crunch, which also swiftly meets its end. After a glance at each other, we both start to talk; I let him have the right of way. "Wanna go out for a late-night snack?" "Sure!" I reply.

I put on a denim sheath dress with a scoop neckline, not too tight as denim doesn't stretch much. The look in his eyes tells me I've made the right choice, while I'm sure he sees the same as I admire the snug blue polo shirt and jeans he's chosen to adorn his body. We head out to a nearby greek diner, which used to be one of our favorite haunts. The staff still know us, of course, but we haven't been quite as much of a strain on the kitchen as of late, with only one of us really packing it away.

Tonight, though, we begin rather modestly with an order of fried mozzarella and a heaping plate of nachos, and before we're done, we've consumed between us at least four appetizers, as many main dishes, and six or seven orders of different desserts. I do my best to keep up with him, to meet him mouthful for mouthful, but I know I'm lagging behind. After the initial rush, I find that I need time to rest between dishes -- I'm just not in training for this anymore! By the time we get to dessert, each mouthful is a struggle, but it's all so delicious, and the look on his face so priceless, that I manage it. As we stand up to leave, I'm flushed with the eating, the arousal, the looks of amusement from the staff. I walk to the door, reveling in the feelings of the dress tight against my hips and belly, my thighs sliding against each other, wet with sweat and pussy juices. He's a step behind me, probably so he can look at my ass -- I imagine it's outlined clearly now that my belly is straining against the front of the dress. I feel my nipples harden, thinking about the lust that must be filling him at the sight of his wife stuffed tight into a dress that skimmed her body less than two hours ago! As I sit down in the car, I notice the hem has ridden up a few inches from the gluttony, exposing much more of my plump thighs than it had on our way to the diner. I see that he notices, too, his breath catching in his throat.

How I can be capable of wanting sex as stuffed as I am, I don't know, but our hands are all over each other on the way home. When we get there, the door is barely closed behind us before he is fumbling to get me out of the dress. The sensation of my breasts and belly and hips being freed from their confinement as the dress unzips is intensely erotic, and I close my eyes as I feel his hands and mouth begin their work, kissing my lips and nipples and belly, caressing my back and breasts and hips until I can barely stand, interrupted only for a few moments as he strips his own clothes off.

I feel his hand in mine, leading me back to our bedroom, and he lies me down and I feel his balls against my lips. I open my mouth and start to tease them gently, swirling my tongue around them, tasting the sweat. I suck them into my mouth, one at a time, and then both together, rolling them against each other. My world has narrowed to this, the feeling of his balls in my mouth, his thighs straddling me, the musky smell. I open my eyes, and the sight of his expanse of belly, filling my field of view, arouses me to new heights. I can feel my breasts pressed against the backs of his thighs and butt, nipples aching. I start to lick the shaft, flicking my tongue against it. I hear him gasp as I reach the skin just under the head, and for a few moments I take the head into my mouth and caress it with my tongue. Soon, though, the treat is taken away, as he moves to fuck me. The sensation of his belly hanging free, swaying gently as it descends my body before coming to rest against my own, sends a new tremor through me, and I gasp as he penetrates me in one swift stroke. There is nothing of gentleness in this sex, but none is needed, as I reach higher and higher until I start to come, his cock still pumping, keeping me in a state of orgasm or near orgasm for what seems like an impossibly long time until he, too, reaches his peak and thrusts deep inside me.

We stay like this for a few minutes, totally spent, until he rolls off of me and we lie next to each other, snuggled together as we both drift off into a well-earned sleep.