Inspired by one of my favorite Modern Family episodes ...
A Fattening Anniversary
I stride proudly into the upscale hotel bar, confident that my new 54" waist charcoal gray slacks and size 58 navy blazer are concealing from all the women in the room that I'm a portly middle-aged guy who tips the scales at more than 325 pounds. Since I'm too fat to buy off the rack anymore I had them made-to-measure for me by Brooks Brothers.
How did I get to this state of obesity, you ask. Well, I have a beautiful wife whom after years of marriage I discovered likes me fat. Not just garden variety fat, but enormously fat. Her secret was revealed to me during a sexy tryst at a hotel, much like this one, the night of our anniversary last year.
We had dinner before retreating to our hotel room and I overate just a bit. OK, I overate a LOT. Appetizers, my main course, half of her main course, and two desserts that we were supposed to share but which I ended up consuming but for a couple of dainty bites that she took. My appetite seemed insatiable that night, but the odd thing was that the more I ate and the fuller I got the more turned on my wife became.
We started out the evening seated across from each other, but as I started polishing off a calamari appetizer all by myself, I felt her bare foot under the table pressing into my belly, then into my crotch where she used it to massage me into a nice erection.
By the time she slid the uneaten half of her 12 ounce filet and most of a loaded baked potato my way, she had changed chairs so that we were seated side-by-side. Other diners seemingly oblivious, she reached one hand under the table cloth, then the other, and massaged my belly, coaxing me to eat more. Whenver I faltered, one hand would then move down between my legs and I'd be told of the surprises that awaited me if I ate everything.
I weighed about 240 pounds then, packed on a 5'9" frame, so I was definitely fat but not enormous by any means. But as our two desserts, a large slice of key lime pie and a massive slab of carrot cake arrived, she announced that she just loved to see a fat man eat and how it turned her on to imagine the fat man getting fatter and fatter with each bite he took. "You mean me?," I asked a bit incredulously.
"Of course I mean you," she said with a smile, "now I want you to eat all of this for me." She even got me started, cutting off a triangular end piece of the pie with her fork and lifting it to my eager lips. Then she sliced off a big piece of carrot cake and lifted a bite of that to my mouth, making sure to get plenty of the cream cheese icing on the fork. She continued alternating big bites of each dessert until I was almost moaning between each bite. My low moans seemed to drive her crazy with desire and soon she handed me the fork as she spread her legs and reached both hands beneath the table cloth.
Now it was her turn to moan lowly as she watched me take bite after bite until both desserts were totally gone. Then there was a noticeble gasp, which turned the heads of a few of our fellow diners, as I slid my chair back from the table and patted my belly to show her how full I was. I grinned and whispered quietly to her "I didn't know how much my eating turned you on." "If only you knew," she whispered back and then added, "I've got much bigger plans for you."
An Auspicious Introduction
I had been anticipating this night for weeks, wondering if I still had what it took to walk into a hotel bar and lure a woman up to my room. My wife had told me she planned to be away this particular night and teased me that I should take the opportunity to get out and do something different and that was just what I had in mind.
Nowadays I didn't have many chances to get out on my own as my wife had really meant it when she told me during our last anniversary celebration that she had "big" plans for me. It seemed like all I had done since that night was to eat ... and then eat some more.
Over the last year or so my belly had gone from good-sized to totally massive and I figured I had put on at least 75 or maybe 80 pounds. But I didn't quite know for sure because my wife zealously guarded her prerogative of deciding when her growing hubby got to weigh himself. My last official weigh-in had been about three weeks before and I had registered a whopping 309 pounds, a gain of 69 pounds since our anniversary dinner.
As I climbed out of the shower and dried myself I spied the scale in the corner of the master bath. I thought to myself that my wife would be mad if I weighed myself without her, but then decided that what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her ... or me.
I walked over to the heavy duty scale, 500 pounds in capacity (she had bought it for me for my last birthday), and slid it back about two feet from the wall (to provide enough space for me to lean forward to see the readout past my protruding belly). I cautiously put one foot on, then the other, and waited ten seconds or so for the digital scale to finally decide on my weight. When I craned my neck and head to peer over my belly, I discovered that I now weighed 326 pounds. "Wow," I thought, an 86 pound gain in about twelve months and a 17 pound gain in just three weeks!
"I'm a freakin' pig" I thought to myself as I walked over to the bed to retrieve my new Brooks Brothers outfit, which I fortunately had asked the tailor to build in a couple of more inches of space throughout. As I pulled the new slacks over my big bottom belly roll, I was relieved to see that they fit perfectly. Then I put on my new shirt and tucked it into the slacks, then slipped on the blazer and thought to myself that I looked pretty damned good for a big fat guy.
Strangely, even though I had put on a ton of weight and was constantly reminded of it by friends, family, and work colleagues, I wasn't the least bit self conscious anymore. In fact, I was more self confident than ever, feeling quite empowered and even sexy with my chins and moobs and belly quivering with every step I took! And now, I was ready to face the challenge of a hotel bar, no doubt with many sexy women looking for a little action. "Watch out ladies," I thought, "the fat man is coming ... and he's hungry."
35 minutes later I was striding confidently into the bar, belly heaving up and down underneath my new clothes. Almost immediately I spied a particularly beautiful woman, about my age and wearing a low cut number that showed off some awesome cleavage. I was instantly smitten and thankful to see that the barstool next to her was empty.
Eyeing my opening, I ratcheted up my courage and went in for what I hoped would be the kill. But the barstool was a little awkward for a 326 pound man and the sultry beauty giggled as I struggled to fit my ample butt into the seat. It didn't help in the least that the barstool seemed to groan under my weight. It was enough to turn my self-confidence into full-fledged fear of rejection!
But my fears were allayed a bit when the beauty asked, "what's your name Big Boy?" "Clive," I responded, "Clive Bixby." "And what do you do for a living Clyde?" "It's Clive, not Clyde," I reminded her, "and I'm the CEO of the largest bakery in California ... I'm in town to negotiate a business deal."
"You're a baker, huh? And do you eat a lot of your product?," she asked with a sly grin on her face.
"Why yes," I responded with an equally sly grin, "I started out as Vice President for Quality Control and was responsible for taste-testing all new products." "It definitely shows," she cooed and reached her long slender arm over to feel what was beneath my jacket.
"And what's your name?," I asked. "Julianna" was her curt response. "Julianna what?," I inquired. "Let's leave it at Julianna," she said in a husky whisper, "the less details the better, huh Big Boy?"
"So Julianna no last name, you won't tell me if you're married?" "Let's just say I left him at home tonight ... how about you Clive? Is there a Mrs. Bixby back home in California, baking cookies to make you even fatter?"
"She's away tonight too and let's leave it at that," I said.
"OK Clive, whatever you say." But then she seemed to take an extra close look at me, then felt around under my jacket some more and muttered "yes ... yes ... yes" as she felt around my the fat rolls hiding under my dress shirt.
"Yes what?" I asked. "Yes, Clive, I was just thinking that you remind me an awful lot of my husband."
"Oh," I exclaimed, "is he a big guy too?"
"He's ***ing enormous," she responded, then fondled me a little more, before adding "he's got an incredible appetite. "Is he bigger than me?," I asked. "Heaven's no," she said hautily, "you are MUCH fatter."
"How much fatter?," I felt compelled to ask.
"Well Big Boy, the last time I got him on a scale he was only a little over 300 pounds and I'm guessing you must outweigh him by 25 or 30 pounds."
"Does it turn you on that I'm so much bigger than him?"
"It does, it does!," she responded, then asked "does it turn your wife on that you are so ***ing fat?"
"It does ... in fact, she told me during our anniversary celebration last year that she wanted me to gain more weight ... a lot more weight."
"Intriguing," said Juliana. "And did you? And did she help you?"
"I did and she did."
"I MUST meet this woman and get some pointers on fattening up my husband some more!"
"I think you'd like her," I said.
"I bet I would too, her being a fellow Feedress and all ..."
"Feedress? I like that term, it sounds so sexy!"
"It's the sexiest thing imaginable, taking a fairly normal size man and fattening him into a giant mountain of blubber ..."
I was perspiring at that point and sheepishly asked, "since my wife is away tonight, would you be my feedress for the evening Julianna?"
"Only if you tell me how much weight she has packed on you since your anniversary last year ..."
I paused for a moment, then said, "on the night of our anniversary I weighed 240 pounds." "And how much now?," Julianna badgered me.
"Well, my wife doesn't like it when I weigh myself without her, but I was feeling so fat when I left tonight that I just had to climb on the scale and see what I weighed."
"I'm sure she won't mind," Julianna said sympathetically. "OK then," I stammered, I now weigh 326."
"My God," she exclaimed, "you are a porker ... let's see now, 326 minus 240 ... that means she has packed 86 pounds on you in ... how long has it been since your anniversary?" Right about a year," I again said sheepishly.
"Wow," she said, "you really like to eat don't you Fatty?"
"She makes me want to eat and get fatter and fatter for her ..."
"Well then," Julianna said with a wide grin, "I'll just have to take her place tonight while she is away." Next thing I knew she waved the bartender over and said "give us one of every appetizer you have on the menu!"
Appetizer Overload
Julianna and I sipped our drinks and made small talk as we awaited the first of the appetizers. She was rested one hand on the top shelf of my belly while she drank with the other. I seemingly had one hand perpetually in a bowl of peanuts that the bartender had left, and seemed to be replenishing for me every few minutes, and Julianna was quite amused that I always needed to have food in my mouth.
"So tell me Clyde," she started out. "Um it's Clive, remember?," I had to correct her. "That's too hard to remember," she replied, then said "I'm just going to call you 'Tubby' the rest of the night. That's easy to remember because you look like a tub o' lard!"
"Thanks," I sighed.
"So Tubby, tell me, what does your wife look like? Is she a big fat pig like you ... I bet she is ... tell me."
"Not at all," I said, "in fact she looks a lot like you, maybe even a little more beautiful."
"More beautiful than moi?"
"Oui," I said, "she's kind of tall, the same height as me, and super trim like you. A brunette too, very sexy figure, incredible legs, she's just the complete package."
"What turns you on most about her?"
"I've gotta be honest, it's her muscles."
"Her muscles?"
"You see, as I've gotten fatter and fatter over the last year, she has been going to the gym and working out and she now has these incredible biceps and thigh and calf muscles, she's even got six pack abs. She's turned into an exercise machine!"
Julianna laughed and said, "kinda like you've turned into an eating machine, huh Tubby?"
"Exactly," I said, "I'm just so turned on by the contrast in our bodies now, with me being this big fat blob and her being so ripped. And when we're in bed, she's just able to overpower me even though I outweigh her close to three-to-one."
"That does sound kind of hot Tubby," Juliana purred in a leering tone of voice, then she slipped off the jacket she was wearing and hung it over the back of my chair, showing off two very muscled arms of her own. I managed to stammer "wow, you seem kinda ripped yourself." At that, she held up both of her bare arms, flexed her considerable muscles, and asked "how do these guns stack up to her's Tubby?"
"Pretty big guns," I said in awe. Just about then, the bartender arrived with a jumbo shrimp cocktail and a plate of four hot sourdough rolls and butter. In the time it took me to take down two of the jumbo shrimp she had all four rolls buttered so I could begin eating those too. The combination of tastes between the buttered bread, the shrimp, and my whisky and ginger ale was delightful.
By the time the fried calamari arrived, I'd polished off eight jumbo shrimp and three of the four rolls. As Julianna started popping calarmari in my mouth, she asked the bartender to bring more hot bread and another round of drinks.
The bartender's timing was impeccible as just as the plate of calamari had almost disappeared completly into my stomach, he delivered a hefty bowl of New England clam chowder with extra oyster crackers, plus even more bread, and another whisky.
The chowder was a little hot, so Julianna dropped in some ice cubes from her glass of water to cool it down. Then she dared me to pick the bowl up with both hands and drink down the chowder in a few gulps! "You've gotta be kidding," I said. She wasn't and insisted I do it, "to fill up all the empty crevices" in my belly. As I did, the bartender and other patrons looked on incredulously at the stupid human trick of my gluttony.
Julianna clapped her hands with joy as I finished off the bowl, then used her tongue to lick off a drop of chowder that had driveled down my chin. I definitely felt full after that, but again, the bartender returned with more food, this time two mini-crabcakes. Although they looked absolutely delicious, I wasn't sure I could eat anything more after consuming two giant appetizers, a bowl of chowder, and ten dinner rolls.
I expected Julianna to berate me for my lack of appetite, but she recognized my predicament and whispered in my ear, "poor Tubby can't eat anymore can he?" I shook my head no and she waved the bartender over to ask him to wrap up the crabcakes and bring me the check.
Then she leaned over and nibbled my ear, then whispered "I'll be back in a minute, then we can go up to your room and I'll show you what my muscles can do to a pile of blubber like you."
As she sauntered off to the lavatory I wondered to myself if I was man enough for a woman like that ... I guess I'd find out soon enough.
A Fattening Anniversary
I stride proudly into the upscale hotel bar, confident that my new 54" waist charcoal gray slacks and size 58 navy blazer are concealing from all the women in the room that I'm a portly middle-aged guy who tips the scales at more than 325 pounds. Since I'm too fat to buy off the rack anymore I had them made-to-measure for me by Brooks Brothers.
How did I get to this state of obesity, you ask. Well, I have a beautiful wife whom after years of marriage I discovered likes me fat. Not just garden variety fat, but enormously fat. Her secret was revealed to me during a sexy tryst at a hotel, much like this one, the night of our anniversary last year.
We had dinner before retreating to our hotel room and I overate just a bit. OK, I overate a LOT. Appetizers, my main course, half of her main course, and two desserts that we were supposed to share but which I ended up consuming but for a couple of dainty bites that she took. My appetite seemed insatiable that night, but the odd thing was that the more I ate and the fuller I got the more turned on my wife became.
We started out the evening seated across from each other, but as I started polishing off a calamari appetizer all by myself, I felt her bare foot under the table pressing into my belly, then into my crotch where she used it to massage me into a nice erection.
By the time she slid the uneaten half of her 12 ounce filet and most of a loaded baked potato my way, she had changed chairs so that we were seated side-by-side. Other diners seemingly oblivious, she reached one hand under the table cloth, then the other, and massaged my belly, coaxing me to eat more. Whenver I faltered, one hand would then move down between my legs and I'd be told of the surprises that awaited me if I ate everything.
I weighed about 240 pounds then, packed on a 5'9" frame, so I was definitely fat but not enormous by any means. But as our two desserts, a large slice of key lime pie and a massive slab of carrot cake arrived, she announced that she just loved to see a fat man eat and how it turned her on to imagine the fat man getting fatter and fatter with each bite he took. "You mean me?," I asked a bit incredulously.
"Of course I mean you," she said with a smile, "now I want you to eat all of this for me." She even got me started, cutting off a triangular end piece of the pie with her fork and lifting it to my eager lips. Then she sliced off a big piece of carrot cake and lifted a bite of that to my mouth, making sure to get plenty of the cream cheese icing on the fork. She continued alternating big bites of each dessert until I was almost moaning between each bite. My low moans seemed to drive her crazy with desire and soon she handed me the fork as she spread her legs and reached both hands beneath the table cloth.
Now it was her turn to moan lowly as she watched me take bite after bite until both desserts were totally gone. Then there was a noticeble gasp, which turned the heads of a few of our fellow diners, as I slid my chair back from the table and patted my belly to show her how full I was. I grinned and whispered quietly to her "I didn't know how much my eating turned you on." "If only you knew," she whispered back and then added, "I've got much bigger plans for you."
An Auspicious Introduction
I had been anticipating this night for weeks, wondering if I still had what it took to walk into a hotel bar and lure a woman up to my room. My wife had told me she planned to be away this particular night and teased me that I should take the opportunity to get out and do something different and that was just what I had in mind.
Nowadays I didn't have many chances to get out on my own as my wife had really meant it when she told me during our last anniversary celebration that she had "big" plans for me. It seemed like all I had done since that night was to eat ... and then eat some more.
Over the last year or so my belly had gone from good-sized to totally massive and I figured I had put on at least 75 or maybe 80 pounds. But I didn't quite know for sure because my wife zealously guarded her prerogative of deciding when her growing hubby got to weigh himself. My last official weigh-in had been about three weeks before and I had registered a whopping 309 pounds, a gain of 69 pounds since our anniversary dinner.
As I climbed out of the shower and dried myself I spied the scale in the corner of the master bath. I thought to myself that my wife would be mad if I weighed myself without her, but then decided that what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her ... or me.
I walked over to the heavy duty scale, 500 pounds in capacity (she had bought it for me for my last birthday), and slid it back about two feet from the wall (to provide enough space for me to lean forward to see the readout past my protruding belly). I cautiously put one foot on, then the other, and waited ten seconds or so for the digital scale to finally decide on my weight. When I craned my neck and head to peer over my belly, I discovered that I now weighed 326 pounds. "Wow," I thought, an 86 pound gain in about twelve months and a 17 pound gain in just three weeks!
"I'm a freakin' pig" I thought to myself as I walked over to the bed to retrieve my new Brooks Brothers outfit, which I fortunately had asked the tailor to build in a couple of more inches of space throughout. As I pulled the new slacks over my big bottom belly roll, I was relieved to see that they fit perfectly. Then I put on my new shirt and tucked it into the slacks, then slipped on the blazer and thought to myself that I looked pretty damned good for a big fat guy.
Strangely, even though I had put on a ton of weight and was constantly reminded of it by friends, family, and work colleagues, I wasn't the least bit self conscious anymore. In fact, I was more self confident than ever, feeling quite empowered and even sexy with my chins and moobs and belly quivering with every step I took! And now, I was ready to face the challenge of a hotel bar, no doubt with many sexy women looking for a little action. "Watch out ladies," I thought, "the fat man is coming ... and he's hungry."
35 minutes later I was striding confidently into the bar, belly heaving up and down underneath my new clothes. Almost immediately I spied a particularly beautiful woman, about my age and wearing a low cut number that showed off some awesome cleavage. I was instantly smitten and thankful to see that the barstool next to her was empty.
Eyeing my opening, I ratcheted up my courage and went in for what I hoped would be the kill. But the barstool was a little awkward for a 326 pound man and the sultry beauty giggled as I struggled to fit my ample butt into the seat. It didn't help in the least that the barstool seemed to groan under my weight. It was enough to turn my self-confidence into full-fledged fear of rejection!
But my fears were allayed a bit when the beauty asked, "what's your name Big Boy?" "Clive," I responded, "Clive Bixby." "And what do you do for a living Clyde?" "It's Clive, not Clyde," I reminded her, "and I'm the CEO of the largest bakery in California ... I'm in town to negotiate a business deal."
"You're a baker, huh? And do you eat a lot of your product?," she asked with a sly grin on her face.
"Why yes," I responded with an equally sly grin, "I started out as Vice President for Quality Control and was responsible for taste-testing all new products." "It definitely shows," she cooed and reached her long slender arm over to feel what was beneath my jacket.
"And what's your name?," I asked. "Julianna" was her curt response. "Julianna what?," I inquired. "Let's leave it at Julianna," she said in a husky whisper, "the less details the better, huh Big Boy?"
"So Julianna no last name, you won't tell me if you're married?" "Let's just say I left him at home tonight ... how about you Clive? Is there a Mrs. Bixby back home in California, baking cookies to make you even fatter?"
"She's away tonight too and let's leave it at that," I said.
"OK Clive, whatever you say." But then she seemed to take an extra close look at me, then felt around under my jacket some more and muttered "yes ... yes ... yes" as she felt around my the fat rolls hiding under my dress shirt.
"Yes what?" I asked. "Yes, Clive, I was just thinking that you remind me an awful lot of my husband."
"Oh," I exclaimed, "is he a big guy too?"
"He's ***ing enormous," she responded, then fondled me a little more, before adding "he's got an incredible appetite. "Is he bigger than me?," I asked. "Heaven's no," she said hautily, "you are MUCH fatter."
"How much fatter?," I felt compelled to ask.
"Well Big Boy, the last time I got him on a scale he was only a little over 300 pounds and I'm guessing you must outweigh him by 25 or 30 pounds."
"Does it turn you on that I'm so much bigger than him?"
"It does, it does!," she responded, then asked "does it turn your wife on that you are so ***ing fat?"
"It does ... in fact, she told me during our anniversary celebration last year that she wanted me to gain more weight ... a lot more weight."
"Intriguing," said Juliana. "And did you? And did she help you?"
"I did and she did."
"I MUST meet this woman and get some pointers on fattening up my husband some more!"
"I think you'd like her," I said.
"I bet I would too, her being a fellow Feedress and all ..."
"Feedress? I like that term, it sounds so sexy!"
"It's the sexiest thing imaginable, taking a fairly normal size man and fattening him into a giant mountain of blubber ..."
I was perspiring at that point and sheepishly asked, "since my wife is away tonight, would you be my feedress for the evening Julianna?"
"Only if you tell me how much weight she has packed on you since your anniversary last year ..."
I paused for a moment, then said, "on the night of our anniversary I weighed 240 pounds." "And how much now?," Julianna badgered me.
"Well, my wife doesn't like it when I weigh myself without her, but I was feeling so fat when I left tonight that I just had to climb on the scale and see what I weighed."
"I'm sure she won't mind," Julianna said sympathetically. "OK then," I stammered, I now weigh 326."
"My God," she exclaimed, "you are a porker ... let's see now, 326 minus 240 ... that means she has packed 86 pounds on you in ... how long has it been since your anniversary?" Right about a year," I again said sheepishly.
"Wow," she said, "you really like to eat don't you Fatty?"
"She makes me want to eat and get fatter and fatter for her ..."
"Well then," Julianna said with a wide grin, "I'll just have to take her place tonight while she is away." Next thing I knew she waved the bartender over and said "give us one of every appetizer you have on the menu!"
Appetizer Overload
Julianna and I sipped our drinks and made small talk as we awaited the first of the appetizers. She was rested one hand on the top shelf of my belly while she drank with the other. I seemingly had one hand perpetually in a bowl of peanuts that the bartender had left, and seemed to be replenishing for me every few minutes, and Julianna was quite amused that I always needed to have food in my mouth.
"So tell me Clyde," she started out. "Um it's Clive, remember?," I had to correct her. "That's too hard to remember," she replied, then said "I'm just going to call you 'Tubby' the rest of the night. That's easy to remember because you look like a tub o' lard!"
"Thanks," I sighed.
"So Tubby, tell me, what does your wife look like? Is she a big fat pig like you ... I bet she is ... tell me."
"Not at all," I said, "in fact she looks a lot like you, maybe even a little more beautiful."
"More beautiful than moi?"
"Oui," I said, "she's kind of tall, the same height as me, and super trim like you. A brunette too, very sexy figure, incredible legs, she's just the complete package."
"What turns you on most about her?"
"I've gotta be honest, it's her muscles."
"Her muscles?"
"You see, as I've gotten fatter and fatter over the last year, she has been going to the gym and working out and she now has these incredible biceps and thigh and calf muscles, she's even got six pack abs. She's turned into an exercise machine!"
Julianna laughed and said, "kinda like you've turned into an eating machine, huh Tubby?"
"Exactly," I said, "I'm just so turned on by the contrast in our bodies now, with me being this big fat blob and her being so ripped. And when we're in bed, she's just able to overpower me even though I outweigh her close to three-to-one."
"That does sound kind of hot Tubby," Juliana purred in a leering tone of voice, then she slipped off the jacket she was wearing and hung it over the back of my chair, showing off two very muscled arms of her own. I managed to stammer "wow, you seem kinda ripped yourself." At that, she held up both of her bare arms, flexed her considerable muscles, and asked "how do these guns stack up to her's Tubby?"
"Pretty big guns," I said in awe. Just about then, the bartender arrived with a jumbo shrimp cocktail and a plate of four hot sourdough rolls and butter. In the time it took me to take down two of the jumbo shrimp she had all four rolls buttered so I could begin eating those too. The combination of tastes between the buttered bread, the shrimp, and my whisky and ginger ale was delightful.
By the time the fried calamari arrived, I'd polished off eight jumbo shrimp and three of the four rolls. As Julianna started popping calarmari in my mouth, she asked the bartender to bring more hot bread and another round of drinks.
The bartender's timing was impeccible as just as the plate of calamari had almost disappeared completly into my stomach, he delivered a hefty bowl of New England clam chowder with extra oyster crackers, plus even more bread, and another whisky.
The chowder was a little hot, so Julianna dropped in some ice cubes from her glass of water to cool it down. Then she dared me to pick the bowl up with both hands and drink down the chowder in a few gulps! "You've gotta be kidding," I said. She wasn't and insisted I do it, "to fill up all the empty crevices" in my belly. As I did, the bartender and other patrons looked on incredulously at the stupid human trick of my gluttony.
Julianna clapped her hands with joy as I finished off the bowl, then used her tongue to lick off a drop of chowder that had driveled down my chin. I definitely felt full after that, but again, the bartender returned with more food, this time two mini-crabcakes. Although they looked absolutely delicious, I wasn't sure I could eat anything more after consuming two giant appetizers, a bowl of chowder, and ten dinner rolls.
I expected Julianna to berate me for my lack of appetite, but she recognized my predicament and whispered in my ear, "poor Tubby can't eat anymore can he?" I shook my head no and she waved the bartender over to ask him to wrap up the crabcakes and bring me the check.
Then she leaned over and nibbled my ear, then whispered "I'll be back in a minute, then we can go up to your room and I'll show you what my muscles can do to a pile of blubber like you."
As she sauntered off to the lavatory I wondered to myself if I was man enough for a woman like that ... I guess I'd find out soon enough.
