Chapter 5

Jess was sitting at the kitchen table at my parents' house, wearing just a t-shirt, panties and bra; I was wearing the same outfit. We were both feeling very full, having together finished 10 or 11 burritos, a pound of tortilla chips, a quart of black bean soup and a sixpack of beer. I was standing behind her, my hand stroking the nape of her neck when we both realized that I -- sexually straight Melanie, who was due to go on a date with Andrew Sansome, incredible male model and probable closet feeder -- was making a pass at her.

She grabbed my hand gently and led me around back to my seat. "Melanie," she said, "there's something I have to tell you. A secret I've been keeping from you for a while. About my... my... sexual orientation." I looked right at her: "It's not really a secret," I said. "I've kind of known for a while... And it's okay."

She seemed to relax, then smiled, shook her head, closed her eyes and took a healthy bite of the burrito. "I've been so afraid of this moment. I was afraid I'd lose you as a friend. But how did you know?"

"Come on, Jess," I said. "A million little things. None of them worth anything on their own, but... Going to spend the weekend with some 'friends' in the city. College 'friends' with no names. Going out to clubs with no names. Never mentioning guys. Then all that talk about Sandra, Sandra, Sandra. Then, one day, no Sandra anymore -- just 'we weren't getting along.' So, I figured it was either you were gay, or having a secret life as a prostitute or dealing drugs -- and I just couldn't see you doing any illegal stuff, so..."

We clinked our beer bottles, both of us seeming to forget about the pass I was making. "To us," I said. "Let's live it up! Have another burrito!" She did and I did, and then we went into the living room. I opened up a little ceramic box my parents kept in the curio cabinet and took out their stash of pot. We smoked the joint I rolled, talking, giggling, drinking beer.

An hour later, the munchies kicked in and, although we could hardly believe it, we were ravenous. We raced each other to the kitchen, holding our already-gorged bellies and made short work of the remaining burritos. "How many did you have?" she asked. "eight or nine," I answered, "but I'm not sure." "I think I had more than that," she said. "But -- this is totally blowing me away -- I'm still hungry!"

Opening up the freezer, I took out two half-gallons of ice cream. "Ta-Da!" She took the carton of Chocolate-Chocolate Chunk and said, "You can have the other one!" We took spoons, plopped down on the couch, and dug in. I was full -- moving very slowly -- and still had about a quarter of the container left when she finished hers. "Mind if I help?" she asked.

I handed the carton to her, saying, "Where are you putting all that?" I lifted up her t-shirt and put my cold hand on her incredibly swollen stomach. She moaned a little, then shivered , and I started to gently rub her soft, sweet blubber. I kept rubbing; she kept moaning and eating. In a few minutes, she finished the last bit of dessert and put her hand on my hand. "Well," she said, "I can almost certainly say that this is the stuffed-est I've ever been. Help me up. I have to go pee."

I struggled to haul my gorged self out of the deep, plush couch, then, stood in front of her, grabbed her hands and pulled. Both of us were drunk and stoned, and when she finally got up, she bonked into me, bloated belly to bloated belly. I put my arms around her waist, surprised that I was able to reach my hands around our combined girth, and before either of us realized what we were doing, I was kissing her.

As our lips met and our frozen tongues began their explorations of each others' mouths, the word that kept going through my mind was "soft." Jess was soft. Her tongue was soft on my tongue; her lips were soft on my lips. My hands found their way down her back, feeling the soft, combed cotton of her panties covering the soft, rich flesh of her magnificent ass. I reached under the tight waistband of her panties and felt her soft skin, covered in a fine downy fuzz, like a peach. I was sure that if I bit her, she'd be juicy and sweet. I caressed her soft flesh, feeling it yield beneath my gentle touch. I pressed my fingers In deep and pulled her tightly against me. Our bellies squashed against one another, separated only by the thin t-shirt material. Her hands stroked my long hair, stroked down my back, then massaged and kneaded my newly-rounded buns.

Suddenly, her hands stopped their dreamy motions and made their way to my shoulders, gently pushing me away. "Stop, Melanie," she said. "Do you know what you're doing?" She turned away and went to the bathroom. I smiled and waited patiently, knowing she'd be back in a second.

She did come back, and I watched her every motion -- her red hair shining and bouncing in time with the sway of her wide hips, her hard nipples and her deep belly button making themselves known through the white t-shirt, the ripples in the flesh on the inside of her meaty thighs. She touched my cheek as she came over to me, and I felt the softness and pinkness of her skin as I would feel a feather on my face. "Melanie," she said, "we can't do this. We're drunk and stoned. You don't know what you're doing. I don't want to hurt you and I don't want to be hurt."

"I know exactly what I'm doing, Jess. I'm doing what feels good. And it would feel good to you, too, if you'd just let it. Unless..." I had a sudden moment of doubt -- a feeling like I had somehow joined a game and didn't know all the rules. "Unless you don't find me attractive?"

She laughed and I didn't know whether to join in or to be insulted. "Don't find YOU attractive?" she asked. "God, Melanie. It was my attraction to you that made me realize what I am! All through high school I was fantasizing about you day and night. I gave myself my first orgasm in the spare bedroom of this house -- after that pool party you had where everyone else wound up going home and just you and me wound up skinny-dipping and playing pool tag at two in the morning. You know what a good swimmer I am, but I was swimming extra slow that night just so you'd catch me and so I could feel your naked skin brush against mine -- I was half-ecstatic at your touch and half-mortified that you knew what I was doing. I was jealous of every boyfriend you ever had -- I thought I was the most horrible person in the world because I kept hoping you'd break up with whoever you were going with at that moment and you'd be upset and you'd come to me and we'd... we'd wind up... like... like THIS!" She motioned at me and at herself and the room.

"The other day," she continued, "when you asked me measure you, it was all I could do to keep from blurting out how much I wanted you. And then, when you got undressed and I saw how round and soft and full you'd gotten, it took this Herculean effort to stop me from burying my face between your breasts and..." I was tingling all over by then, practically ripping my shirt and my bra off of my swollen body and rushing towards her. We were kissing passionately, our hands and mouths in constant motion. Jess was naked, too, a moment later, and we both became even more frenzied. Her tongue was playing with my nipples -- kissing them and sucking them -- not too hard and not too gentle. Her hands were stroking my ass, my thighs, my love handles, the back of my neck -- a mirror image of what my hands were doing to her.

Without having to say a word, we made our way upstairs and into my parents' king-size bed. We became a flurry and a frenzy of moans and groans, hands and fingers, lips and tongues, hearts and hot hot pussies. It was all so new to me -- and yet so familiar. I kissed her breasts as if I'd always been kissing breasts -- and I realized that I was kissing her breasts the way I always wanted mine to be kissed -- the way I'd told every man I'd ever been with how to kiss mine. Her pubic hair was stiff and yet soft against my stuffed belly -- like an old favorite baby brush -- and I could feel each individual hair as it tickled my skin. I slid downward on the bed, my tongue and my teeth kissing and gently nibbling on her blubbery jiggly stomach-flesh; my hands found their way along the rolls at her waist, and my mouth kept moving lower and lower.

She smelled warm and tasted hot and her hips were thrusting towards my face in a gentle, yet insistent rhythm. She had the aroma of sex -- earthy and rich -- and my tongue mixed my saliva with her juices, stirring around and around, tickling her clitoris, playing with it, teasing it. Her thick thighs clenched my head, pulling me in tighter; my hands were gripping her hips, pushing my face in deeper. Her hands were tangling themselves in my long hair and her belly was heaving itself into impossible proportions as she took deep breath after deep breath, her back arched again and again, tossing us both around like ships in a storm-tossed bed.

I stopped, and the storm quieted to intermittent quivers. I rested my head on her belly for a moment, sinking through several inches of blubber before my descent was halted by the solidity of her too-full stomach. Her hands -- still shaking -- were on my shoulders then, a gentle pressure, motioning me to come further up on the bed. I obeyed, and seconds later, we were entangled in a passionate kiss, our arms stroking each others necks and backs and asses, our legs twining and untwining, our pussie rubbing on each other's thighs, our tongues and lips sharing each other's tastes.

Then, she was sliding down the bed and burying her head in my boobs. She was kissing and rubbing the sensitive nipples, licking and sucking and massaging, while I slid my burning twat against her hip, bringing me nearly to orgasm. Her hands massaged my bloated belly and, as she stroked it and kneaded it, I felt every ripple of my flesh like a shiver up my spine. I could see only hints of flaming red hair over the rise of my stomach, but when I closed my eyes I could see every move of her fingers and her tongue as if they were lighting little beacon fires inside of me. Soon, the fires began to connect and I felt the waves of heat and pleasure welling up from deep inside my womb and spilling out towards the extremities. My spine was on fire, my belly button, my nipples, my fingers, my toes -- every heaving breath I took just fanned the flames hotter and higher, over and over again.

The next thing I remember, it was a little after two in the morning. We'd been making love for hours and now, Jess and I were embracing -- my big belly filling up the hollow of her back, my arm cupping her breast, her large, soft ass pressing against my pubic mound. "Are you awake?" I whispered. She nodded her head, brushing my face with her hair. She turned over to face me, and when we were belly to belly, she touched my cheek and asked, "Melanie, do you think it's possible that we could stay friends?" "Of course," I answered. "Could we stay lovers?" "Sometimes. I would like that. Sometimes when we need each other this way. Okay?"

She smiled a beautiful smile. "This has been wonderful, Melanie. You are so great" "I know," I said. "And I'm so modest, too." She laughed -- a sudden, surprising, tension-releasing laugh -- and then gave me a spank on my butt. I felt a wave moving through my blubber, tickling my love-handles and my belly.

"You know what's the greatest thing about me, though," I asked, sitting up. "It's that I can read minds. And I can read that you wish there was a whole Boston creme pie just waiting in the refrigerator, right? Well -- there is!"

"You're crazy!" she said "How could you possibly still want to eat?" But, nonetheless, she followed me downstairs into the kitchen and didn't refuse when I put a quarter of the pie on her plate and handed her a fork. We finished those slices and then the rest of the pie in record time; we leaned back in our chairs and rested our hands on our distended stomachs. We didn't say anything for a few minutes, then -- wiseass me -- I mimicked Jess from the other day, "Wow, " I said. "I can't believe how fat you've gotten." She laughed, recognizing the reference, then said, "Yeah, well, it's nothing like how fat I'll get if I keep hanging around with you! I'll be 300 pounds in no time!"

"That would be okay," I said, "but only if you put it all on in your ass, like Genice, the lady from the fat lady clothing store."

"Oh, God," Jess said, "is that ass MAGNIFICENT, or what? I see her everyday I work -- there's this coffee shop right near my store and she stops in every morning for a large coffee and two of these big, gooey cinammon buns -- and I practically drool after her like some construction worker seeing Cindy Crawford. I would just LOVE to bury my face in all that flesh! But, she's straight. Married..."

"I'm straight, too," I reminded her, " so... You never know!. "Well," she said, "for now, I'm just going to go to sleep and dream about it. And I'm going to dream about your chubby little ass, too!" "You won't have to dream about it," I said, "because my chubby little ass is going to be right next to you."

We waddled upstairs, crawled back into the well-used bed, kissed and cuddled, and before we knew it, we were both fast asleep.