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Old 10-07-2013, 12:15 PM   #2
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Join Date: May 2006
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Part Two - The Build Up

The next day Steve called me to thank me for my company at the reunion. I told him that I'd like to take him up on his offer to see him again by making him dinner at my place the following Friday. I might have made that offer too quickly as the entire week I was in a state. What do I make? What will he like? What should I wear? How will I have time to accomplish it all amidst a particularly hectic work project with a Friday deadline?

But I knew that Steve was special and I wanted to impress him. So I cheated. I hired a cleaning service for my condo, splurged on a manicure and a delicate new fragrance. Though my coup d'etat was having a very good friend and chef extraordinaire, Bobby, cook us a special meal for the occasion.

I knew Bobby through my friend Jenna whom he dated during our senior year in high school. Jenna was a big beautiful girl with long red hair and a thick hourglass figure. In the last email from her she announced she was moving to Italy to be with her lover in Milan. Then, through pure coincidence, I ran into Bobby while I was working in San Francisco. He was doing an apprenticeship at a trendy French-Californian fusion restaurant in the Castro area.

I ascertained by his references to gay life that he was no longer living in the closet. Still, we had never discussed the details of his personal life since I respected his general silence on the topic. Until one night, we met for drinks and got into deep conversation about our romantic histories. Finally I asked him why he chose to date Jenna if he knew he was gay. In a state of lowered inhibitions, he admitted he was not interested in traditional sex with her but was mesmerized by her exceedingly plump body.

My own conversational inhibitions were decimated at that point. I admitted to him that I had similar tendencies with my attraction to bulky boys. He countered one better, loudly proclaiming, "I'm a chaser too!" Several men sitting nearby us laughed out loud, knowing the terminology of the fat admiration sub-culture all too well. It turned out that his deep-rooted excitement over excess body flesh inspired him from childhood to become a great chef. He told me his lifelong goal would be to fatten up the world, one hungry customer at a time.

We would walk around town pointing out fat guys, dividing the straight and gay up between us. Sometimes on a slow weekend we would watch football games together drooling over the paunchy linemen in their shiny tight uniforms. I'll never forget one of our conversations about our mutual dream to be the team trainer with the splendid task of taking heights, weights, comprehensive body measurements and body fat tests.

"Wow, you've really packed on a lot of weight in the off-season," poking a bare belly in a half shirt. "You'll need a special uniform made to accommodate this chubby belly," extending the tape measure slowly and carefully around his middle, scolding, "stop sucking it in…" Then gently pinching an abundant roll of side fat with affectionate fingers. "But you know, you really could stand to put on some more weight…"

Lured by a head chef position at a fabulous French restaurant downtown Chicago, Bobby moved back to our mid-western enclave a year before I did. Knowing his kinship with me in such matters, I immediately called him and shared the news of my new hot and heavy love interest. I stopped by his restaurant to show him a picture of Steve in my high school yearbook and told him to imagine that beautiful boy plus probably over 100 pounds. Bobby gushingly admitted his pure green jealousy. However, in the spirit of his dedication to making the world a fatter place, he was easily recruited in my efforts to properly sate a man with voracious potential.

Bobby concocted an incredible feast. The gastronomic pleasure spread included an asparagus salad with kassari cheese and champagne vinaigrette; a delicate appetizer of pesto ravioli de chevre with a velvety sun-dried tomato sauce; a mountain of shrimp and scallop saffron risotto; creamy garlic mashed potatoes; and to top it off, my absolute favorite, a chilled tiramisu torte. Bobby excitedly told me that he couldn't remember using that much butter and heavy cream in one meal. I picked it up right after work, warming the hot stuff in the oven and popping the cool stuff in the fridge.

- - - - - - - - - -

Steve arrived right on time, just as I was lighting a few mood candles. I answered the door and he gave me a big hug. I felt his girth press into my body and that familiar rush came flooding back. It was hard to release him from the embrace.

He was wearing a tidy black button down shirt tucked into his khaki pants and the look really highlighted his size. I took note of the fit of his shirt. It was not excessively tight but it draped nicely down his round middle. Walking behind him into the living room and watching his gate shift his pronounced love handles and soft rear end was almost more than I could bear.

I chose an unusually tarty California Riesling that I had brought back from one of my trips to Sonoma and poured him a glass. We sat down in the living room to catch up on our respective weeks of work. I heard every word he said but I was having a difficult time not losing myself while drinking in his fabulous body.

I did confess that I hadn't cooked dinner myself since my work deadlines during the week didn't afford me the time to plan a meal adequate for the occasion. But I reassured him that he was about to eat the cooking of a preeminent chef from the city. He admitted he did have an appreciation for fine foods and seemed eager to enjoy it. I served dinner, course by course, fascinated with every forkful entering his luscious lips. His eating was quick but measured; every bite enjoyed yet never quite enough.

We talked at length about fine foods. He told me he liked to cook and try new things and every sentence relating to his love of food made me all the more delighted. For a moment I escaped in a mini-fantasy of touring Europe's finest restaurants with him attempting to quench his grand appetite; lavish and creamy Parisian nights; deep-fried anything and everything in a dim London pub; mounds of pasta in Palermo; zesty paella in Barcelona and velvety chocolate treats in Belgium. Feeding him every luscious bite until he was so full he would demand to expend just a fraction of those tens of thousands of calories by making mad passionate love to me.

In the discussion of his favorite culinary delights, he brought up his increased weight. "I love to eat all the things that are bad for me. I always did. My mother was always astounded at how high her grocery bills were trying to feed my little brother and me. She always asked us where we put it all. We told her we left it all on the football field, running track, basketball court…" he laughed.

"In college I filled out more. My coaches encouraged me since they felt I would make a better tight end than wide receiver, as I was naturally becoming bigger. I think I weighed about 40 pounds more just a year after high school, mostly muscle, but I was eating even more too."

"Wow" I said. "It must have been the right thing… You were a great tight end!"

"Yeah, except after the injury. My rehab lasted a long time. I gained a lot… about 80 pounds during my senior year." As I was salivating, wishing I had been his girlfriend during that time, he brought her up. "My ex hated it. She was thrilled to be the girlfriend of an big time athlete, but when the chips were down her true colors came through."

"What did she do?" I wanted to strangle her and I didn't even know her name.

"She always ridiculed me about my weight, my eating… she would tell my friends that I was a lazy slob. Not even my education major was good enough. I was kind of depressed already since I knew my pro career hopes were over so I guess just I put up with it. Finally, I tried to make her happy by losing almost 50 pounds my last semester; swimming, biking… anything that wouldn't affect my knee too badly. Beth still wasn't satisfied."

Beth, hmm… sounds like a total bitch to me, I jealously thought.

"Then I realized it wasn't really about my weight… just she would never be happy since I wasn't going to be a pro football star any more. I think all she wanted was the glory that I could no longer give her. And teaching was not going to make me a rich and famous man either."

"So you dumped her?" I hoped.

"Yeah, I regret it took me so long, but it felt good when I finally did," he smiled. I smiled back.

"So…" he continued, "I think I was so thrilled to be done with her, I kind of went on an eating rampage. Over the last couple of years I've... well… I'm a pretty big guy now, huh?"

"You've improved with age, Steve."

He blushed and shook his head, "You're really sweet Ashley. But I do need to lose some of this weight."

"I don't think you need to do anything. And I'm not just trying to be nice. You really are a great looking guy. You can think what you will, but some men are not meant to be thin."

He paused for a moment, looking at me like I had just told him that the moon was made of cheese. Then suddenly, his face changed to subtle agreement. "You know," he said. "I think women should look more like Marilyn Monroe than Ally McBeal!" warmly eyeing my body.

I smiled, thinking fondly about that glazed pastry I tried not to eat at work today, failing in my resolve. What a relief to hear I wouldn't have to obsess about my weight with him. In fact, at my current curvy size ten, I may have to indulge myself just a little myself to get to Marilyn's more curvy fourteen, I happily thought.

It was a beautiful warm late summer evening. "Do you want to go out on the deck?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Despite the high cost of living in the Bay Area, I had a nice set of tech stocks I cashed out in the nick of time when I returned home. I bought a great condo with a secluded back yard patio. I also invested in comfy deck furniture and a big gas grill for optimal entertainment opportunities. Leading Steve outside, I realized I bought my lawn furniture with a large man in mind. In fact, all the furniture in my home fits a person much bigger than me. I have an expensive digital scale I never stand on. I have kitchen appliances I only use when entertaining others. I even bought a king-size bed that I feel lost in alone.

Steve sat down on the outdoor divan and reclined a bit. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but his belly seemed slightly more extended since dinner. As he leaned back I noticed a little jiggle and practically bit my tongue, holding back from telling him how sexy his big squishy body looked. He left a little place for me to cozy up next to him.

I handed him a glass of Port and sat down. I had another treat for him to try. He protested that he was too stuffed but I insisted he would love it. I asked him to close his eyes and open his mouth. I popped a small piece of gourmet dark chocolate in his mouth and he slowly chewed and smiled. Then I directed him to drink a bit of the Port and enjoy the mix of flavors. He sipped, swallowed and his eyes grew big toward me. "Mmmmm, Ashley, that's amazing!"

"Yes, a tasty combination don't you think?"

"You are good," his eyes engaged with mine.

I simply wasn't going to hold back anymore so I leaned over and pressed my lips lightly to his, giving him a quick soft chocolate flavored smooch. I looked up at him and his cobalt eyes pierced through my every fiber. I smiled softly and looked down. I was still a shy girl at heart.

I handed him a few more chocolates and enjoyed a couple myself. Our "mmmms" and "ahhhs" over the sweet chocolate Port bliss hinted at something much more indulgent we both desired.

Our eyes engaged again and as soon as I looked down he put his hand under my chin and lifted my lips to his. As we kissed more his fingers brushed along my waist and I put my arm around him. My hand traveled from his shoulder along his back and found that wonderful extra bulging roll of fat that forms on a chubby man's side when he sits. Heavenly.

"I don't want to be too aggressive with your time Ashley, but I'd like to see you again… soon."

"I'd like that Steve," I whispered, "very much."

We enjoyed a few more kisses before I felt a chill in the air. We decided to go inside and watch a movie. We kissed a little more, held hands and enjoyed each other's company. As much as I wanted to invite him into my bedroom and test my new bed springs, I did not want him to think me a sleazy girl. A mutual yawn signaled the evening was winding down and I walked him to the door. We shared one last kiss before I watched him saunter to his car and drive away.

- - - - - - - - - -

He called me the next day leaving a message on my voice mail thanking me for dinner and asking me if I wanted to go to the baseball game with him on the following Saturday. It was the last home game of the season. I called him back and gave him an enthusiastic yes.

He picked me up in his SUV, which was perfect for our little pre-game tailgate picnic. In fact it is a perfect vehicle for a big boy like him. An SUV can give a bumpier ride and with his eyes on the road I was able to spot some lovely scenery jiggling underneath his loose fitting shirt.

We grilled cheeseburgers accompanied by chips, pasta salad, veggies with dip, watermelon and homemade brownies. It was enough to have me quite stuffed by the time we entered the stadium. He bought roomy seats in the pricey section so we were able to get comfortable during the game.

During the sixth inning I saw him eyeing the hot dog vendor, then the nachos vendor, and then I heard a faint stomach grumble. That was my hint to buy him some ballpark munchies. I told him I was going to get a soda and offered to buy him the same. I came back with more than that: a bratwurst, fries, and ice cream for dessert. His eyes got big. "Is that all for you?" he asked.

"No, goofball, for you!"

He smiled, "you must have read my mind, I'm getting a little hungry again."

He ate the brat what seemed like in less than a minute. I fed him the fries, stealing a couple for myself. Any style of fried potatoes has always been a weakness for me. He finished off the ice cream, also sharing a few spoonfuls with me. I was so lost in our little feeding session that the cheering crowd startled me. It seems we hit a home run and even Steve, Mr. Sports Nut himself, was too busy eating to realize our team was having a successful final game. We enjoyed the rest of the afternoon at the stadium and then cruised down to a lakefront park for some quiet time.

We got out of the car and walked to the pier. There were no other people around us so we felt free to play kissy face again. My hands massaged his sizeable soft but very muscular arms. His big hands roamed my body, unfastening enough buttons to reach into my shirt and caress my bra-covered breasts. His strong wide hands were so gentle with my body that I couldn't ignore the sensation between my legs. I started to lose sense of where I was. I reached under his untucked shirt to glide my hand across his soft swollen tummy.

He flinched a little and laughed. He whispered to me that he was ticklish. I continued my hand's accent up his chest and felt his broad shoulders. The motion of my hand upward lifted his shirt and I was able to catch a glance of his bare belly, faintly hairy and beautifully round. I once again began pawing at his stunning bulk, but he tugged his shirt down.

Drawing back he said, "Ashley, I have to admit I'm not used to a woman's touch, especially since I broke it off with Beth. I mean I had enough girlfriends before her, but she was my last long term relationship and… she wouldn't even touch me… you know, when I started getting big…"

"Don't even think about that," I protested. "You are an incredibly sexy man. I mean… well, when I say this I don't want to sound cheap," I nervously smiled, "but with you, I just know what I want. You really turn me on..." I couldn't believe I was getting this forward, it usually wasn't my style. But I guess his level of honesty prompted me.

"What, you want a big fat guy?" he joked.

"Steve…" I smiled back, "I am very turned on by your body. You have amazing broad shoulders and big strong arms… sexy powerful legs…. It's not just physical; I am attracted to your amazing personality and charm. And you have stunning eyes," I giggled. "But I can't deny that your…" I was trying to find the right words, "size makes you even more appealing to me."

"Wow, that concept is new to me," he blushed. "So is that why you keep feeding me so much food?"

I laughed, but nervously. How do I explain my way out of this one? Could I if I tried? "Hmmm, well, I don't know. I mean I really like you and I want to make you happy, I guess. And you said you liked food…"

He laughed, "I suppose with this body it's pretty obvious anyway."


"Well, it's true."

"And I love the hungry look in your when you kiss me," I smiled. His eyes looked hungrier than ever.

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