Freshman Orientation
There I was in Charleston, South Carolina, a lovely old town with loads of southern charm and way too many great restaurants for a fat guy like me.
I was from Atlanta and was in town having just dropped my 18 year old daughter off for college. My ex-wife was too busy to come as she was in Hawaii celebrating her first anniversary with Mr. Perfect, her 6'3" six pack abs, muscles galore, fantastic hair with a hint of gray, husband. Me? I was Mr. Perfect's total opposite -- a shade under 5'10", balding and what was left was prematurely gray, unknown weight but over 370 for sure, and a massive double belly that hung way down my thighs and which had completely obscured my manhood for at least the last 120 pounds. And while Mr. Perfect was probably getting it every night, my only dates were with "Minny Thumb and her four sisters" (a euphemism a fraternity brother of mine had used back in college, which I thought was funny as hell at the time).
My wife filed papers and moved in with Mr. Right a little over two years ago. They worked together and apparently their affair had been going on a long time, but I'd never even been suspicious. I was about 275 pounds then, having put on a hundred pounds over our 19-year marriage. Her decision to leave really hit me hard and it hit harder that she had been having an affair under my nose.
Soon my best friends were Ben and Jerry, the pudgy waitress who served me at the diner where I began to eat all three meals and sometimes a fourth, and the counter girl at my neighborhood bakery. Needless to say, the pounds started piling on, which my then soon to be ex mercilessly pointed out every time I picked up and dropped off my daughter, making comments like "you really need to join a gym" or "go a little less heavy on the pastries this week" or just plain old mean "I can't believe I was married to such a blimp."
The digital scale at our old house was only supposed to go to 350 and on the day our divorce became final I weighed in almost to the max -- 348 pounds or almost a 75 pound gain in one year.
My ex, always a person of great discretion (not), married Mr. Perfect the week after the divorce became final. And that sent me on even more of an eating rampage for a couple of months, and the scale kept measuring me until it finally maxed out with a reading of 372 about 10 weeks later.
It was now less than ten months later and I could only guess what I weighed by the time I reached Charleston. I knew I must be over 400 pounds but was too lazy and too scared to order a bigger scale or to go to my doctor, who would only criticize me for gaining so much. And I wasn't even sure if the doctor's scale would be big enough to weigh me -- how embarrassing would that have been?
But back to why I was here ... my daughter was really pissed at my ex for leaving me in the first place and even more pissed that she didn't come to help drop her off for college.
But in a way, I think my daughter was a little relieved too. She and her mom had a complex relationship, due in part to the fact that my daughter physically took after me -- she was a stunning young woman but she inherited my weight problem. She was about 5'9" and weighed about 220 pounds, but she was evenly proportioned and I imagined that she had to beat her male classmates off with a stick. She had been dating a skinny little guy for a couple of years, who worshiped the ground she walked on, but I thought she could do better as beautiful and smart as she was.
But my ex, a tall thin woman, never recognized our daughter's innate beauty and was always criticizing her about her weight. When she was 12, my ex even wanted to enroll her in a fat camp, but I put my foot down. Even as she prepared to go off to college, my wife was trying to put her on diets to lose 20 pounds before going off to school. It was insane and I was surprised my daughter held up under that pressure as well as she did.
I was glad that I was able to have some time with her at this important stage of her life and more glad that my ex wasn't there to be a buzz kill for my daughter. I was really liking Charleston too and decided that my daughter had made the right decision in college choices.
As we were sitting in an auditorium for a new students orientation session, with me barely being able to squeeze into the seat, I spotted an attractive woman walk in with her son. First, I thought the son looked like a good match for my daughter -- he was a little pudgy himself, maybe 200 pounds, and a handsome guy. I thought he'd be a much better choice for my lovely daughter than the guy she had dated back home. And I kind of thought she might feel more self-confident being with a guy her size.
But second, I thought mom was totally hot, but figured a big fat blimp like me would have no choice with her. She had a definite New Jersey look about her (not that there is anything wrong with that), probably of Italian origins with a great mane of brunette hair and olive skin. She was a little bit pudgy, I estimated about 180 pounds, with an incredible rack, smallish belly underneath, and a pleasantly plump ass in back to help balance all that breast weight in front! Having been without female companionship in over two years, I briefly imagined what it would be like to be with her, but then dismissed the idea as ridiculous.
But a few minutes later, I caught another glance of her across the room and thought "what if?" I had always been a sucker for Italian women, particularly the mob wives in the Sopranos, who were the type of chicks who could probably kick my ass -- what a turn on that was! Being fed and played with by a woman like that was a dream indeed ...
Then I glanced across the room again and I swore the New Jersey hotty was checking me out!
Bumping Into Each Other (Literally)
The orientation session droned on and I was totally bored and began to look around the audience to check out the mothers and see if there were any dads fatter than me. Lots of great looking moms but no dads fatter than me, at least that I could see!
Several times I tried to catch a brief glimpse of my New Jersey MILF and two or three times I caught her checking me out to, or at least I thought. One time, I even swear that she touched one of her massive boobs when she knew I was watching. Or maybe it was just my imagination ...
The good thing was that I hadn't spotted Mr. MILF -- she seemed to be alone with her son. Unfortunately, she was too far away for me to tell if she had a wedding band on, but I was hoping for the best.
I was definitely hoping to position myself closer once the orientation session ended, but when that happened there was a mad dash for the doors and I lost her in the crowd. Alas, I thought I had missed my chance, so I spent the rest of the day tending to my daughter, driving to the Sullivan's Island Walmart to pick up dorm room supplies, going to the Piggly Wiggly for groceries, and other Daddy-dos.
We went to dinner at a seafood place called Hank's with her roommate and her parents and I didn't even feel self-conscious because all of them were plus-sized too. The roommate looked to be a hundred pounds heavier than my daughter and the dad and mom both appeared to be over 300 pounds too. Thus, no one thought the least when everyone ordered the massive fried seafood platter and not a bite was left uneaten on anyone's plate. All of us even ordered desert! Afterwards, as we walked the girls back to their dorm, us parents talked to ourselves and we were really glad that our girls weren't matched up with some stick thin roommate who might make them feel insecure. We figured they'd be a good support system for each other.
I was exhuasted after the walk (it ain't easy lugging around 400 pounds) and hailed a cab to take me the three blocks to my hotel, Charleston Place. I apologized for the small fare and gave the driver a $20 tip for his trouble. On my way in, I stopped at the lobby shop and bought a selection of candy bars, chips, and other snacks for my evening in -- after all, I didn't need to diet because I'd probably blown my chance of meeting Ms. MILF and besides, she probably wouldn't have a thing to do with a fatty like me anyway. Sigh ...
The next morning, I walked around the corner to a men's store called Dumas, in which on a trip to Charleston many years ago with my ex, I had seen an old fashioned display on the wall advertising that they carried jeans up to an 84 inch waist. I was a lot skinnier then, but it stuck in my head and I hoped that they would have some stylish, or at least practical fat man clothes for me. But alas I went in and the place had been reinvented as a trendy men's store with designer and preppy threads and nothing bigger than a 44 waist. Sigh ... I really could have used some 62 waist jeans and a 6-X polo shirt or two.
So I decided to walk the five or six blocks to the City Market, just to check it out. It was a place that offered a crazy mix of mid-to-high end merchandise you might actually buy and too-tacky-for-words items like Confederate battle flag paraphernalia and t-shirts extolling GRITS (girls raised in the South) which also often pictured the battle flag. It was hard to believe that you could buy such schlock in as classy a town as Charleston ...
As I walked slowly thru the market I had this feeling that someone was watching me, so I would occasionally turn around as surreptitiously as I could, but never saw anyone I recognized. I had left the higher-end merchandise behind and was now halfway through the last stall in the market, where the really tacky merchandise resided, and decided I'd had my fill of tackiness and it was time to turn around.
So I stopped suddenly, pivoted around to go back, and bumped right into a striking brunette, almost knocking her over. My big belly collided with her full force but fortunately her massive boobs cushioned the blow a bit! But I still had to grab her by the shoulders to keep her from falling backwards, then I noticed, it was my MILF from the day before!
I apologized profusely and she laughed and said "well you should be sorry -- that belly of yours is a dangerous weapon when aimed at a dainty flower like me -- it's just a good thing that I had my girls here to protect me," pointing to her enormous rack. Then I laughed and said that "you were lucky, but I think your girls may have left bruises on my chest -- they are pretty effective weapons too when aimed at a 98 pound weakling like me." She got hysterical over that line, then patted me on the chest and then the belly and said "I'm so sorry sir!"
Then I introduced myself -- "Jon." And she reciprocated -- "Bambi." I said "no, get out -- Bambi? -- I've ALWAYS wanted to meet a Bambi!" Where you from? "Short Hills, New Jersey" (I knew it!) and she asked me the same -- "Atlanta."
Then I made my usual awkward move -- "say, you look real familiar, weren't you in the freshman orientation meeting at the college yesterday?"
"Why yes I was, but I think you know that since you were checking me out the entire time."
"Me checking you out? I thought it was the other way around."
"Well Jon, that might be partially true. It's not every day that I see such a sexy fatty as you" and she patted me on the belly again. "And I figured you might be a boob man the way you seemed to be checking out my rack ..."
At that point, I was blushing from her directness and really turned on that she had touched my belly twice in a minute or so of time.
Before I could formulate an erudite response, she whispered in my ear "it's 10:30 and I bet you're starving huh Fatty?" She shook her head yes and then I shook mine yes, and she grabbed me by the hand and led me out of the market and across the street where there the Ben & Jerry's ice cream shoppe had just opened for the day. There was already a small line since it was a hot humid August day and as we stood there she whispered again in my ear "you like to eat don't you Fatty? No need to answer, I can see you do. Now let me order for us and you grab us a table and before long we'll get something sweet and fattening in that big sexy tum tum of yours."
Late Morning Delight
I told Bambi that my favorite B&J flavor was the regular old chocolate and she came back with a triple scoop cone, while she had a single scoop of Chubby Hubby for herself.
I said "I can't eat all of this," and she said "you better or it's going to melt all over your nice white shirt and those khaki shorts and it's going to ruin them." She was right, so I started taking huge bites out of the top scoop, then the second scoop until the cone was down to a manageable single scoop.
"See, I knew you could do it" and she took one foot out of its shoe and from beneath the table stubbed me in the belly with her toes.
Once the triple-decker cone was more or less under control, we began to talk. "Is Bambi your real name? "Yes, my mother named me after the Disney movie." "Well she did well -- it is such a sexy name."
Then it was her turn -- "I don't see a ring so are you single or did you fingers just get too fat for rings." "I'm divorced." "How long?" "She left a little over two years ago and we've been officially divorced for a little over one year and the bitch couldn't come to take her daughter to college because she's celebrating her first anniversary with her new husband."
"Wow -- she IS a bitch. If you don't mind me being nosy, why did you separate?" So I told her the story of the affair with Mr. Perfect. "TOTAL bitch" she said, and added "a woman should be worshipping a God like you -- you are just so big and sexy. "That's what made it worse," I explained. "I was much thinner then, nothing like I am now." She reached across the table to hold my free hand with both of hers and said "tell me more!"
I explained how I'd been about 185 pounds when we married, chubby but not fat, then put on about 90 pounds over the course of our marriage. "So you weighed 275 when she packed up and left?" "Yeah, that's right." "And how much have you gained since then?"
"Around 375 the last time I weighed."
"Darling, I hate to tell you, but you have to be at least 420 pounds now!"
"What makes YOU such an expert?"
Well Fatso, I'm such an expert because my late husband weighed about 550 pounds" and she stubbed me in the belly with her toes again (which I loved).
"First off, I'm sorry to hear that he passed on, and second, not to be insensitive, but wow! He was a big dude. How long ago?" "About the same amount of time you've been single, two years and four months. He was in a car accident (heart attack was my guess, so I was wrong)." "That's awful that he passed so young." "It's OK, I'm mostly over it now."
By then, I had finished my cone, but was so stuffed I didn't think I could move for at least a few minutes, so we continued to talk. She commented that I looked absolutely stuffed and commented how much she liked my belly. Then I had to compliment her on her attributes too, because they were simply magnificent.
"If you don't mind me saying, you have got quite the impressive body yourself. It's a body that belongs with a name like Bambi! "
"Are you talking about these?" as she put her outstretched palms under her melon-like breasts for emphasis. "I'm most definitely referring to those -- they are like the seventh natural wonder of the world -- that is assuming they are real." Mimicking Terry Hatcher from Seinfeld and in the same inflection "they're real and they're magnificent!"
"I'll say. But you know I like your entire package -- your hair, your face, your little itty bitty tummy, and your delicious derriere. You are one sexy mom!"
"Are you calling me a MILF?" "I suppose I am ..." Then she reached across the table (her boobs brushing the table top), gave me a kiss on the lips, and said that's the greatest thing any man has said to me since Tony (her late husband) passed, may he rest in peace."
I looked a little incredulous, and asked "you mean a hot busty girl like you doesn't have guys in north Jersey lined up around the block to ask you out? Guys have got to be hitting on you all the time!" "Nope, there just isn't much interest in the mom of a teenager." "Well, those guys don't know what a great woman they're missing."
Then the subject turned to my non-existent dating life and Bambi lamented "well I guess we're just two big fat losers." Then she started playing with my belly under the table, this time with both feet, and said "but I think our luck is about to change Fat Man."
"Really?" I said. "What have you got in mind Chesty?" "What hotel are you in Fatty?" "Charleston Place, about five blocks away." "Too far" she said -- "I'm a block away at the Renaissance" and whispered in my ear "let's go Blubber Boy -- it's been over two years and momma needs to do a little whale riding."
Technical Difficulties Resolved
Bambi, in anticipation of getting laid, just bounded down the sidewalk, boobs and ass cheeks bouncing up and down in the most mesmerizing way. She was goading me along to hurry up, but a fatty like me could only go so fast and my belly, boobs, and all four of my cheeks were a shaking too!
She did stop momentarily in the window of a t-shirt shop which featured a tee for the Piggly Wiggly grocery chain, commenting that it would look great on me and wondering if it came in 5-X. I corrected her, that I needed a 6-X, and she grabbed my hand and start pulling me behind her, like a woman possessed.
We crossed at the busy light at Meeting & Market Streets and we were at her hotel. And five minutes later we were in her room and she told me to get comfy while she went to the bathroom. So I stripped out of my clothes and underwear, pulled down the covers, and assumed my sexiest pose on top of her bed.
Then I heard the flush and awaited her arrival and what an arrival it was! She emerged fully naked, revealing the largest set of all-natural boobs I had ever beheld, on the Internet or anywhere (or at least the largest on a woman who weighed under 300 pounds).
I asked Busty Bambi to just stand there for a minute and pose for me and she put on much more of a show than I expected. She was hoisting her girls up and dropping them, playing with them, shaking them from side-to-side, and even pulling them up to her mouth and sucking on them (I'd only dreamed of ever seeing a woman do that in person).
I was erect about three seconds into her act, then after a minute or so, I hoisted myself off the bed and waddled over the beautiful MILF so I could play with her boobage myself. They indeed were real and really spectacular! Then she started playing with my moobs and quickly moved down to my belly rolls and what lay buried deep beneath.
That got me even more excited and I was afraid I might go prematurely, having not been with a woman in over two years. She had me lift up my bottom roll for her and started exploring for the buried treasure. "I can't believe how fat you are -- with all this belly blubber I'm upping my estimate -- you must be 450 pounds if you're an ounce."
When she found what she was looking for, she began to gently nudge me backwards to the bed, pushing me backwards with her massive tits. When my legs hit the edge of the bed, I fell backwards on the mattress and feared the whole thing would go under my weight, but it held firm. Then Bambi helped me rearrange my blubber and snuggled in beside me playing with my moobs and belly rolls and planting sweet kisses all over my lips, cheeks, neck, and belly. I was incredibly turned on when she started nibbling my nipples, and I said "wait a minute, I'm supposed to be doing that to YOU." Her response was a very sexy "there's plenty of time for that Fat Man."
Finally she gave me an opening and I was able to roll over enough to start fondling her again and place my kisses all over her incredibly sexy body. I started playing with her clit and soon she was as hot and bothered as I was.
Bambi finally asked "are you ready to rumble Fatty?" I hesitated in answering and she asked what was wrong. "Well, the last time I had sex was probably almost 150 pounds ago and I'm not sure how to ... you know ... at this weight. She laughed and said "leave it to me -- you gotta remember that I have a little experience with fatties like you!"
It was literally the greatest sex I'd ever had and what made it so wonderful was that I was with a woman who wanted to be in bed with me and who wasn't dreaming about Mr. Perfect while banging Mr. Imperfect. And Bambi seemed to enjoy it too -- she told me later that she had orgasmed twice (I wasn't sure if my ex had orgasmed once in the last three or four years of our marriage!).
It also didn't hurt that Bambi was sticking her boobs in my face for most of the event. Those things were amazing -- "wonder jugs" as I started calling them!
We snuggled for a whole hour afterwards as I was running my fingers gently all over her body and nibbling tenderly on her neck and giving an occasional nibble or suckle to her breasts. I told her how awesome her boobage was and finally had to ask. "What cup size?"
"46 J." OMG -- the biggest I'd ever experienced were 36 D's! God was definitely rewarding me after two years of wailing and gnashing of teeth with my ex! When she told me her dimensions, I apologized for what I was about to do, then stuck my head in her cleavage and motor boated those amazing mammaries. She thought that was the funniest thing ever and indulged me for a good 30 seconds before pushing me away and assuming a new position on top of my mounded belly.
"Now it's my turn to play with your mountain of blubber for a few minutes, then we're going to go get you some lunch -- I don't want my big fat lover wasting away to nothing!"
There I was in Charleston, South Carolina, a lovely old town with loads of southern charm and way too many great restaurants for a fat guy like me.
I was from Atlanta and was in town having just dropped my 18 year old daughter off for college. My ex-wife was too busy to come as she was in Hawaii celebrating her first anniversary with Mr. Perfect, her 6'3" six pack abs, muscles galore, fantastic hair with a hint of gray, husband. Me? I was Mr. Perfect's total opposite -- a shade under 5'10", balding and what was left was prematurely gray, unknown weight but over 370 for sure, and a massive double belly that hung way down my thighs and which had completely obscured my manhood for at least the last 120 pounds. And while Mr. Perfect was probably getting it every night, my only dates were with "Minny Thumb and her four sisters" (a euphemism a fraternity brother of mine had used back in college, which I thought was funny as hell at the time).
My wife filed papers and moved in with Mr. Right a little over two years ago. They worked together and apparently their affair had been going on a long time, but I'd never even been suspicious. I was about 275 pounds then, having put on a hundred pounds over our 19-year marriage. Her decision to leave really hit me hard and it hit harder that she had been having an affair under my nose.
Soon my best friends were Ben and Jerry, the pudgy waitress who served me at the diner where I began to eat all three meals and sometimes a fourth, and the counter girl at my neighborhood bakery. Needless to say, the pounds started piling on, which my then soon to be ex mercilessly pointed out every time I picked up and dropped off my daughter, making comments like "you really need to join a gym" or "go a little less heavy on the pastries this week" or just plain old mean "I can't believe I was married to such a blimp."
The digital scale at our old house was only supposed to go to 350 and on the day our divorce became final I weighed in almost to the max -- 348 pounds or almost a 75 pound gain in one year.
My ex, always a person of great discretion (not), married Mr. Perfect the week after the divorce became final. And that sent me on even more of an eating rampage for a couple of months, and the scale kept measuring me until it finally maxed out with a reading of 372 about 10 weeks later.
It was now less than ten months later and I could only guess what I weighed by the time I reached Charleston. I knew I must be over 400 pounds but was too lazy and too scared to order a bigger scale or to go to my doctor, who would only criticize me for gaining so much. And I wasn't even sure if the doctor's scale would be big enough to weigh me -- how embarrassing would that have been?
But back to why I was here ... my daughter was really pissed at my ex for leaving me in the first place and even more pissed that she didn't come to help drop her off for college.
But in a way, I think my daughter was a little relieved too. She and her mom had a complex relationship, due in part to the fact that my daughter physically took after me -- she was a stunning young woman but she inherited my weight problem. She was about 5'9" and weighed about 220 pounds, but she was evenly proportioned and I imagined that she had to beat her male classmates off with a stick. She had been dating a skinny little guy for a couple of years, who worshiped the ground she walked on, but I thought she could do better as beautiful and smart as she was.
But my ex, a tall thin woman, never recognized our daughter's innate beauty and was always criticizing her about her weight. When she was 12, my ex even wanted to enroll her in a fat camp, but I put my foot down. Even as she prepared to go off to college, my wife was trying to put her on diets to lose 20 pounds before going off to school. It was insane and I was surprised my daughter held up under that pressure as well as she did.
I was glad that I was able to have some time with her at this important stage of her life and more glad that my ex wasn't there to be a buzz kill for my daughter. I was really liking Charleston too and decided that my daughter had made the right decision in college choices.
As we were sitting in an auditorium for a new students orientation session, with me barely being able to squeeze into the seat, I spotted an attractive woman walk in with her son. First, I thought the son looked like a good match for my daughter -- he was a little pudgy himself, maybe 200 pounds, and a handsome guy. I thought he'd be a much better choice for my lovely daughter than the guy she had dated back home. And I kind of thought she might feel more self-confident being with a guy her size.
But second, I thought mom was totally hot, but figured a big fat blimp like me would have no choice with her. She had a definite New Jersey look about her (not that there is anything wrong with that), probably of Italian origins with a great mane of brunette hair and olive skin. She was a little bit pudgy, I estimated about 180 pounds, with an incredible rack, smallish belly underneath, and a pleasantly plump ass in back to help balance all that breast weight in front! Having been without female companionship in over two years, I briefly imagined what it would be like to be with her, but then dismissed the idea as ridiculous.
But a few minutes later, I caught another glance of her across the room and thought "what if?" I had always been a sucker for Italian women, particularly the mob wives in the Sopranos, who were the type of chicks who could probably kick my ass -- what a turn on that was! Being fed and played with by a woman like that was a dream indeed ...
Then I glanced across the room again and I swore the New Jersey hotty was checking me out!
Bumping Into Each Other (Literally)
The orientation session droned on and I was totally bored and began to look around the audience to check out the mothers and see if there were any dads fatter than me. Lots of great looking moms but no dads fatter than me, at least that I could see!
Several times I tried to catch a brief glimpse of my New Jersey MILF and two or three times I caught her checking me out to, or at least I thought. One time, I even swear that she touched one of her massive boobs when she knew I was watching. Or maybe it was just my imagination ...
The good thing was that I hadn't spotted Mr. MILF -- she seemed to be alone with her son. Unfortunately, she was too far away for me to tell if she had a wedding band on, but I was hoping for the best.
I was definitely hoping to position myself closer once the orientation session ended, but when that happened there was a mad dash for the doors and I lost her in the crowd. Alas, I thought I had missed my chance, so I spent the rest of the day tending to my daughter, driving to the Sullivan's Island Walmart to pick up dorm room supplies, going to the Piggly Wiggly for groceries, and other Daddy-dos.
We went to dinner at a seafood place called Hank's with her roommate and her parents and I didn't even feel self-conscious because all of them were plus-sized too. The roommate looked to be a hundred pounds heavier than my daughter and the dad and mom both appeared to be over 300 pounds too. Thus, no one thought the least when everyone ordered the massive fried seafood platter and not a bite was left uneaten on anyone's plate. All of us even ordered desert! Afterwards, as we walked the girls back to their dorm, us parents talked to ourselves and we were really glad that our girls weren't matched up with some stick thin roommate who might make them feel insecure. We figured they'd be a good support system for each other.
I was exhuasted after the walk (it ain't easy lugging around 400 pounds) and hailed a cab to take me the three blocks to my hotel, Charleston Place. I apologized for the small fare and gave the driver a $20 tip for his trouble. On my way in, I stopped at the lobby shop and bought a selection of candy bars, chips, and other snacks for my evening in -- after all, I didn't need to diet because I'd probably blown my chance of meeting Ms. MILF and besides, she probably wouldn't have a thing to do with a fatty like me anyway. Sigh ...
The next morning, I walked around the corner to a men's store called Dumas, in which on a trip to Charleston many years ago with my ex, I had seen an old fashioned display on the wall advertising that they carried jeans up to an 84 inch waist. I was a lot skinnier then, but it stuck in my head and I hoped that they would have some stylish, or at least practical fat man clothes for me. But alas I went in and the place had been reinvented as a trendy men's store with designer and preppy threads and nothing bigger than a 44 waist. Sigh ... I really could have used some 62 waist jeans and a 6-X polo shirt or two.
So I decided to walk the five or six blocks to the City Market, just to check it out. It was a place that offered a crazy mix of mid-to-high end merchandise you might actually buy and too-tacky-for-words items like Confederate battle flag paraphernalia and t-shirts extolling GRITS (girls raised in the South) which also often pictured the battle flag. It was hard to believe that you could buy such schlock in as classy a town as Charleston ...
As I walked slowly thru the market I had this feeling that someone was watching me, so I would occasionally turn around as surreptitiously as I could, but never saw anyone I recognized. I had left the higher-end merchandise behind and was now halfway through the last stall in the market, where the really tacky merchandise resided, and decided I'd had my fill of tackiness and it was time to turn around.
So I stopped suddenly, pivoted around to go back, and bumped right into a striking brunette, almost knocking her over. My big belly collided with her full force but fortunately her massive boobs cushioned the blow a bit! But I still had to grab her by the shoulders to keep her from falling backwards, then I noticed, it was my MILF from the day before!
I apologized profusely and she laughed and said "well you should be sorry -- that belly of yours is a dangerous weapon when aimed at a dainty flower like me -- it's just a good thing that I had my girls here to protect me," pointing to her enormous rack. Then I laughed and said that "you were lucky, but I think your girls may have left bruises on my chest -- they are pretty effective weapons too when aimed at a 98 pound weakling like me." She got hysterical over that line, then patted me on the chest and then the belly and said "I'm so sorry sir!"
Then I introduced myself -- "Jon." And she reciprocated -- "Bambi." I said "no, get out -- Bambi? -- I've ALWAYS wanted to meet a Bambi!" Where you from? "Short Hills, New Jersey" (I knew it!) and she asked me the same -- "Atlanta."
Then I made my usual awkward move -- "say, you look real familiar, weren't you in the freshman orientation meeting at the college yesterday?"
"Why yes I was, but I think you know that since you were checking me out the entire time."
"Me checking you out? I thought it was the other way around."
"Well Jon, that might be partially true. It's not every day that I see such a sexy fatty as you" and she patted me on the belly again. "And I figured you might be a boob man the way you seemed to be checking out my rack ..."
At that point, I was blushing from her directness and really turned on that she had touched my belly twice in a minute or so of time.
Before I could formulate an erudite response, she whispered in my ear "it's 10:30 and I bet you're starving huh Fatty?" She shook her head yes and then I shook mine yes, and she grabbed me by the hand and led me out of the market and across the street where there the Ben & Jerry's ice cream shoppe had just opened for the day. There was already a small line since it was a hot humid August day and as we stood there she whispered again in my ear "you like to eat don't you Fatty? No need to answer, I can see you do. Now let me order for us and you grab us a table and before long we'll get something sweet and fattening in that big sexy tum tum of yours."
Late Morning Delight
I told Bambi that my favorite B&J flavor was the regular old chocolate and she came back with a triple scoop cone, while she had a single scoop of Chubby Hubby for herself.
I said "I can't eat all of this," and she said "you better or it's going to melt all over your nice white shirt and those khaki shorts and it's going to ruin them." She was right, so I started taking huge bites out of the top scoop, then the second scoop until the cone was down to a manageable single scoop.
"See, I knew you could do it" and she took one foot out of its shoe and from beneath the table stubbed me in the belly with her toes.
Once the triple-decker cone was more or less under control, we began to talk. "Is Bambi your real name? "Yes, my mother named me after the Disney movie." "Well she did well -- it is such a sexy name."
Then it was her turn -- "I don't see a ring so are you single or did you fingers just get too fat for rings." "I'm divorced." "How long?" "She left a little over two years ago and we've been officially divorced for a little over one year and the bitch couldn't come to take her daughter to college because she's celebrating her first anniversary with her new husband."
"Wow -- she IS a bitch. If you don't mind me being nosy, why did you separate?" So I told her the story of the affair with Mr. Perfect. "TOTAL bitch" she said, and added "a woman should be worshipping a God like you -- you are just so big and sexy. "That's what made it worse," I explained. "I was much thinner then, nothing like I am now." She reached across the table to hold my free hand with both of hers and said "tell me more!"
I explained how I'd been about 185 pounds when we married, chubby but not fat, then put on about 90 pounds over the course of our marriage. "So you weighed 275 when she packed up and left?" "Yeah, that's right." "And how much have you gained since then?"
"Around 375 the last time I weighed."
"Darling, I hate to tell you, but you have to be at least 420 pounds now!"
"What makes YOU such an expert?"
Well Fatso, I'm such an expert because my late husband weighed about 550 pounds" and she stubbed me in the belly with her toes again (which I loved).
"First off, I'm sorry to hear that he passed on, and second, not to be insensitive, but wow! He was a big dude. How long ago?" "About the same amount of time you've been single, two years and four months. He was in a car accident (heart attack was my guess, so I was wrong)." "That's awful that he passed so young." "It's OK, I'm mostly over it now."
By then, I had finished my cone, but was so stuffed I didn't think I could move for at least a few minutes, so we continued to talk. She commented that I looked absolutely stuffed and commented how much she liked my belly. Then I had to compliment her on her attributes too, because they were simply magnificent.
"If you don't mind me saying, you have got quite the impressive body yourself. It's a body that belongs with a name like Bambi! "
"Are you talking about these?" as she put her outstretched palms under her melon-like breasts for emphasis. "I'm most definitely referring to those -- they are like the seventh natural wonder of the world -- that is assuming they are real." Mimicking Terry Hatcher from Seinfeld and in the same inflection "they're real and they're magnificent!"
"I'll say. But you know I like your entire package -- your hair, your face, your little itty bitty tummy, and your delicious derriere. You are one sexy mom!"
"Are you calling me a MILF?" "I suppose I am ..." Then she reached across the table (her boobs brushing the table top), gave me a kiss on the lips, and said that's the greatest thing any man has said to me since Tony (her late husband) passed, may he rest in peace."
I looked a little incredulous, and asked "you mean a hot busty girl like you doesn't have guys in north Jersey lined up around the block to ask you out? Guys have got to be hitting on you all the time!" "Nope, there just isn't much interest in the mom of a teenager." "Well, those guys don't know what a great woman they're missing."
Then the subject turned to my non-existent dating life and Bambi lamented "well I guess we're just two big fat losers." Then she started playing with my belly under the table, this time with both feet, and said "but I think our luck is about to change Fat Man."
"Really?" I said. "What have you got in mind Chesty?" "What hotel are you in Fatty?" "Charleston Place, about five blocks away." "Too far" she said -- "I'm a block away at the Renaissance" and whispered in my ear "let's go Blubber Boy -- it's been over two years and momma needs to do a little whale riding."
Technical Difficulties Resolved
Bambi, in anticipation of getting laid, just bounded down the sidewalk, boobs and ass cheeks bouncing up and down in the most mesmerizing way. She was goading me along to hurry up, but a fatty like me could only go so fast and my belly, boobs, and all four of my cheeks were a shaking too!
She did stop momentarily in the window of a t-shirt shop which featured a tee for the Piggly Wiggly grocery chain, commenting that it would look great on me and wondering if it came in 5-X. I corrected her, that I needed a 6-X, and she grabbed my hand and start pulling me behind her, like a woman possessed.
We crossed at the busy light at Meeting & Market Streets and we were at her hotel. And five minutes later we were in her room and she told me to get comfy while she went to the bathroom. So I stripped out of my clothes and underwear, pulled down the covers, and assumed my sexiest pose on top of her bed.
Then I heard the flush and awaited her arrival and what an arrival it was! She emerged fully naked, revealing the largest set of all-natural boobs I had ever beheld, on the Internet or anywhere (or at least the largest on a woman who weighed under 300 pounds).
I asked Busty Bambi to just stand there for a minute and pose for me and she put on much more of a show than I expected. She was hoisting her girls up and dropping them, playing with them, shaking them from side-to-side, and even pulling them up to her mouth and sucking on them (I'd only dreamed of ever seeing a woman do that in person).
I was erect about three seconds into her act, then after a minute or so, I hoisted myself off the bed and waddled over the beautiful MILF so I could play with her boobage myself. They indeed were real and really spectacular! Then she started playing with my moobs and quickly moved down to my belly rolls and what lay buried deep beneath.
That got me even more excited and I was afraid I might go prematurely, having not been with a woman in over two years. She had me lift up my bottom roll for her and started exploring for the buried treasure. "I can't believe how fat you are -- with all this belly blubber I'm upping my estimate -- you must be 450 pounds if you're an ounce."
When she found what she was looking for, she began to gently nudge me backwards to the bed, pushing me backwards with her massive tits. When my legs hit the edge of the bed, I fell backwards on the mattress and feared the whole thing would go under my weight, but it held firm. Then Bambi helped me rearrange my blubber and snuggled in beside me playing with my moobs and belly rolls and planting sweet kisses all over my lips, cheeks, neck, and belly. I was incredibly turned on when she started nibbling my nipples, and I said "wait a minute, I'm supposed to be doing that to YOU." Her response was a very sexy "there's plenty of time for that Fat Man."
Finally she gave me an opening and I was able to roll over enough to start fondling her again and place my kisses all over her incredibly sexy body. I started playing with her clit and soon she was as hot and bothered as I was.
Bambi finally asked "are you ready to rumble Fatty?" I hesitated in answering and she asked what was wrong. "Well, the last time I had sex was probably almost 150 pounds ago and I'm not sure how to ... you know ... at this weight. She laughed and said "leave it to me -- you gotta remember that I have a little experience with fatties like you!"
It was literally the greatest sex I'd ever had and what made it so wonderful was that I was with a woman who wanted to be in bed with me and who wasn't dreaming about Mr. Perfect while banging Mr. Imperfect. And Bambi seemed to enjoy it too -- she told me later that she had orgasmed twice (I wasn't sure if my ex had orgasmed once in the last three or four years of our marriage!).
It also didn't hurt that Bambi was sticking her boobs in my face for most of the event. Those things were amazing -- "wonder jugs" as I started calling them!
We snuggled for a whole hour afterwards as I was running my fingers gently all over her body and nibbling tenderly on her neck and giving an occasional nibble or suckle to her breasts. I told her how awesome her boobage was and finally had to ask. "What cup size?"
"46 J." OMG -- the biggest I'd ever experienced were 36 D's! God was definitely rewarding me after two years of wailing and gnashing of teeth with my ex! When she told me her dimensions, I apologized for what I was about to do, then stuck my head in her cleavage and motor boated those amazing mammaries. She thought that was the funniest thing ever and indulged me for a good 30 seconds before pushing me away and assuming a new position on top of my mounded belly.
"Now it's my turn to play with your mountain of blubber for a few minutes, then we're going to go get you some lunch -- I don't want my big fat lover wasting away to nothing!"
