BBW Gym or Chocolate by Donna Bee

Dimensions Magazine

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🎶 Melophile & Bibliophile 📚
Sep 29, 2005
This 5564 word short story, structured like an incredibly short novel, is my first foray into writing about erotic food play. Inspired by a novel of the same name, it features a confident BBW lead character and contains explicit descriptions of sex and eating. THIS STORY IS NSFW. Trigger warning: there is an anti-fat image and some fat-phobic language in the beginning, but it is central to the story. I have included the text of the Instagram posts that are included for those who cannot read the smaller font in the images. I hope you enjoy. ALL images used are royalty free, I do not own the rights to these images, only the words.


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From: @fabulousMollyMcKinney
Hey @TheRealCadyCallahan
There’s no way your fat arse is going to work out with @RickRobertsBodyTech.
NO one wants to see that! You’ll prolly have a heart attack just walking into the
Locker room. BTW, their snack bar doesn’t serve chocolate shakes & chips.
Gym or chocolate? You have to choose!
#Concerned4YourHealth #fataintfit #whenpigsfly #fuglies

Chapter One: Cady

I read her Instagram post and saw red. Molly McKinney, a former British reality TV star turned Instagram Influencer and her Fuglies account were infamous and unfortunately this wasn’t my first mention on her hate-filled page. She was anathema to me and my personal mantra of body positivity. I prefer to lift people up, where she loves nothing more than to tear people down. Ugh.

When I won the one-year membership & free personal training sessions for the most elite gym in the city, I was planning on quietly gifting it to one of my exercise inclined coworkers at WXYZ. Being fat since childhood, I had learned that I was not welcome in a gymnasium, even if I wanted to be there. I should want to be there. After all, Body Tech boasted a year’s waiting list for memberships, and at least two years for their personal training services. But the man who owned Body Tech and would reportedly be doing the training, Richard “Rick” Roberts, was what I would call surly. At best.

He had his reasons, I suppose. A former rugby player for England’s Newcastle Falcons, his career had ended due to injury before it had barely begun when he was in his late twenties. The strain of all his surgeries and rehab stints caused his marriage to one of Britain’s more successful actresses to crumble within a year. His best friend Vin Vass, a popular model for brands like Armani, convinced Rick to move with him to New York and model as well. At thirty-five, he took his modeling money and sunk it all into Body Tech and over the next three years painstakingly built Body Tech from the ground up using skills he had learned during his sports career.

Earlier in the year, I had Rick as a guest on my morning radio show. He wasn’t my normal guest for obvious reasons, but my producers convinced me his story would be popular with my listeners. The interview had been one of the most painful of my career, worse even than when they booked Ann Coulter. Her answers were at least full sentences. He answered in monosyllables and glared at me the entire time.

When I ate a donut during one of the commercial breaks, I think his head nearly exploded. To quote my best friend Grace, the dude was a prick.

As soon as I read Molly McKinney’s post, I vowed that I would not only use my membership, but I would also throw my heart and soul into it and prove that even if I was fat, I could get healthy. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Rick Roberts was a smoking hot piece of prime man meat, and most of his celebrity clientele were all star athletes and action movie heroes buffing up for their next project. Get fit and ogle hot men? Yes, please!

From: @TheRealCadyCallahan
Hey @fabulousMollyMckinney
Watch me prove you wrong. My ass might be fat
But at least I’m not ugly inside like you.
Oh and @RickRobertsBodyTech: Hope you are ready, cowboy.
#fatcanbefit #betterfatthanbitchy @FuckYourConcern #ToHellWithBeautyStandards

Chapter Two: Rick

What the bloody hell am I going to do? I can’t train radio show host Cadence “Cady” Callahan. Well, I could train her. In fact, I would very much enjoy watching her run around my club in workout gear, the tighter, the better. With her soft, round body, her impossibly pale skin, beautiful dark eyes, and silky hair. And her breasts! Her mouthwatering breasts were a gift from the heavens and practically begged to be fondled.

But I had made a fool of myself when I was on her radio show. A right, foul plank, for sure. I was so struck by her beauty and fighting my body’s obvious reaction to her, I couldn’t speak. I was so busy trying to think of anything awful to stem the tide of lecherous thoughts. When she ate a donut, finishing by licking the dripping glaze off her chubby fingers, I nearly came on the spot.

Surely she thinks I am a beast. I could, in theory, assign one of my staff trainers for her personal sessions, but now that Molly McKinney and her awful social media account made it all public knowledge, if I assigned her to another trainer, she would know something was amiss. What had my ***** of an ex-wife seen in that cheeky social climber, I couldn’t tell you. Bloody foooooking hell, as my friend Vin would say, she must think me a right and true git.

(continued in next post)
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🎶 Melophile & Bibliophile 📚
Sep 29, 2005
Chapter Three: Cady, almost a year later.

My year of training and working out with Rick was almost over. Throughout that time, much to our mutual surprise, we formed a close friendship. I discovered his grumpiness was mostly a protective mechanism. Rick was a good trainer, never pushing me to do things I wasn’t physically able to do, but always challenging me to work past my potential. He had even handled the whole diet and nutrition talk with uncharacteristic charm and wit.

It was getting harder and harder to hang out with him, though. The more he came out of his shell, the more I liked him as more than just a friend. I was falling for him. Hard. And I was starting to get the impression he was developing feelings for me as well. There were times during training sessions when we would stop and be standing so close, our breathing heavy from activity, looking at each other intently. I thought for sure he was going to lean further in and kiss me.

But then he wouldn’t. And then it was awkward.

Then there was tonight. We had standing dinner plans on Thursday nights after he finished with my training session. Tonight, he had opted to cook for us in his apartment in the penthouse of the building that housed Body Tech. His views of the city were amazing, and he was always such a wonderful cook. He made healthy food delicious.

“I have a surprise for you after our final session tomorrow,” he said around a bite of his excellent trout almondine. “So don’t make any plans.”

“It better be some kind of decadent dessert, cowboy,” I shot back playfully. He let out an exacerbating breath.

“Trust me, Cady.”

Oh god, I’m in trouble!

Chapter Four: Rick

I had arranged massages down in Body Tech to celebrate Cady completing a year with her training. And we definitely needed them. Despite her decision to continue working out at Body Tech regularly, I had asked her to start working with one of my staff trainers. She was disappointed, but I could tell she was trying to hide it. She felt like it was a rejection. I tried desperately to reassure her our friendship was not going to change, and that I just had too much going on to be able to handle personal sessions any longer.

The truth was, I was head over heels in love with her and considering asking her to take our friendship to a new level, one I had wanted from the first time I had laid eyes on her. But Body Tech is my business, and it would be inappropriate to train her and be in a sexual relationship with her.

Although I’d much rather have my hands on Cady myself, I did book a female masseuse for her. I had jealousy issues, but if she let me, I’d spend my life working on it.

Cady was so relaxed that she was almost in a coma after her massage, sleepy-eyed and limp, soft and quiet like I’d hardly ever seen her before. She made her living talking, and it showed in all aspects of her life. Once the massages were complete, we took the lift back to my apartment to laze around. Eating and napping, curled up together on the sofa. Exhaustion washed over us and zoning out together was the most peaceful I’d ever felt.

Turning on a movie, I quickly drifted off.

I woke up later in the afternoon and stretched, feeling warm and contented. Cady was watching me, a small smile on her face.

“Where’s Vin?” I asked, my apartment being suspiciously quiet.

“Buried him in the backyard,” said Cady, grinning at me from her end of the sofa where she lay with a book beside her, an empty box of lemon-glazed donuts, and a large glass of wine.

“You shouldn’t have.”

Cady raised her eyebrows “It seemed fair. That man is beautiful, but he never shuts up.”

“Agreed, but I wanted to watch. Maybe mock him as he begged for mercy.”

She laughed. “We’re definitely on the same page, big guy.”

“So, what did you do with him?” She gave a small wince. “I might have accidentally given him Grace’s phone number… and address. He’s gone over there to take her out for dinner.”

“Uh, really? I didn’t think she liked him.”

“She thinks he’s a knob-head, to use his own description, but he seemed sure that his charm would prevail. Personally, I think she’ll have him arrested. Either way, I’ve told him not to come back here tonight on pain of death or dismemberment—probably both—and not necessarily in that order.”

I shrugged. “I’ll bolt the door. He’s not coming in…and you’re not going anywhere.”

“Ooh, you’re so masterful! Alpha dog! Hot damn!” she said, sitting up and patting the seat next to her. I didn’t need another invitation. Finally, finally we were alone. Together. The two of us. We were awake, rested—and speaking for myself—raring to go.

I wanted to explore every inch of that incredible body. I wanted to run my hands over each voluptuous curve. I wanted to drown in her, sink into her, turn her on, love her up, love her down, love her from her toes to the tip of her nose. I wanted to grab her hair and tug hard as she went down on me. I wanted to take her from behind, from the side, on top of her, her on top of me. I wanted her every way she’d let me take her. I wanted it now and I wanted it again and again and again.

And from the way she was eyeing me, I knew that I wasn’t alone in being swamped by desire.

Suddenly, the buzzer to my apartment rang loudly and Cady jumped. “You’ve got to be kidding me! If that’s Vin, I’m going to hurt him. Badly.”

“If that’s Vin, you’ll have to take your turn,” I grinned at her. “But I think it’s someone you’ll be glad to see.”

“I doubt it,” she huffed.

I strode over and kissed her full on the lips. Fireworks. The door buzzed again, and I reluctantly pulled back. She whimpered, “I want more.”

“You shall have it, gorgeous. But I must answer the bell first.”

“Promise?” her eyes were big and round, dark pools beckoning me back to her before she closed them, her dark lashes resting on her rounded, pink cheeks.

“Oh, yeah. And that’s a promise.”

Her eyes were still closed as I turned and buzzed in the delivery that I’d ordered earlier—then fallen asleep and forgotten about.

I pulled a large bill out of my wallet, paid the delivery guy, added a hefty tip, and carried the boxes into my bedroom, then started tearing them open. Cady followed me, curiosity overcoming her obvious irritation.

(continued in next post)


🎶 Melophile & Bibliophile 📚
Sep 29, 2005
Chapter Five: Cady

What on god’s green earth was Rick doing?! He was supposed to be doing me! But instead, he was rummaging around in several delivery boxes filled with…wait! Was all of that food?

I knelt next to him and joined in.

“Fresh strawberries?”

“Yeah, I just gotta find the whipped cream?” he grinned at me mischievously. “And the double-chocolate sauce…three different flavors.”

I sat back on my heels and smiled slowly. Now I was catching on.

“Three different flavors?”

“Yup. In England we call this afternoon tea. I’ve ordered two different flavors of ice cream, a chocolate gateau, a vanilla sponge cake, six different flavors of muffins, and a dozen different flavors of donuts. Also, blueberries, raspberries, grapes and…”

“Peanut butter?”

“Both kinds.”


“Strawberry and raspberry jam.”

“Ooh! Rum truffles! Strawberry creams! Salted caramel-filled chocolates! Champagne pralines! Rick, what are we going to do with all this food?”

He chuckled, still eyeing me hungrily. “We’re going to have fun with food. Lots of food, lots of fun.” His smile grew gentle. “Isn’t that what you want, Cady? Fun with food? No pressure? No judgment, no calorie-counting? Just as much clean…and dirty…fun as you can stand.”

“Here and now?”

“Do you want to wait?” he asked seriously.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve waited way too long already.”

“I definitely agree,” he chuckled happily, his smile starting slowly then curving upwards. “I’ve wanted you since the first time we met at WXYZ.”

He opened one of the jars of chocolate sauce without taking his eyes from me, then pushed two long, strong fingers into the sauce and sucked them into his mouth.

Seeing Rick lapping at the chocolate around his fingers was so erotic, such an incredible turn on. Hot, sexy guy with abs of granite, buns of steel, and a heart that was soft and kind, the walls protecting him now crumbled away.

“Tastes good,” he said, his smile widening. “But it’ll taste better on you.”

Then he lunged for me, tackling me to the floor and pinning me to the thick rug in his bedroom. I felt the length of his erection pressing between my thighs, the heat of his body burning against mine. I had no inhibitions, no vulnerabilities, I felt completely body confident in a new and wonderful way. Before, I’d never cared what a man thought of my flesh and flab and curves, but now I knew for sure that Rick didn’t care either. Better than that, he loved my curves. Every touch told me that he worshipped my body: He loved me just as I was.

Breathing heavily, his eyes glazed and drugged with desire, he tugged my t-shirt and sports bra over my breasts, burying his face in my chest. With his left hand, he massaged and pinched my nipple, but with his right hand, he dipped a finger into the jar of chocolate sauce again, then drew a circle around my other nipple, sucking hard.

“Share!” I gasped.

Without unlatching his mouth, his right hand scrabbled for more chocolate sauce, dipping his fingers in for a third time, then laughing as I grabbed his hand, sucking his fingers into my mouth. The laugh turned to a groan, and I felt his dick jerk between my legs.

“More!” I ordered.

He obliged at once, pouring the chocolate sauce direct from the jar into my mouth, letting it drip down my chin and over my breasts. His head dipped as he lapped against me, chocolate sauce smeared in his hair and beard. Then he was kissing me, hot, thrusting tongue and rum-flavored chocolate sauce combining together.

Then he pulled back and planted a fresh strawberry on each of my breasts, cursing when the first one rolled off.

“Yeah, no way those strawberries are going to balance on them melons,” I chuckled breathily.

“Wait!” he commanded, then produced the fresh whipped cream, gluing the fruit to my nipples with several squirts from the container.

“Oh!” The chilled cream made me gasp, cutting off anything I might have said as he began feasting again, which I thought was wholly wonderful but wholly unfair.

I pushed against his hard chest, and he leaned back, his eyes burning with lust. I grabbed another jar, this time caramel-flavored chocolate sauce, and drizzled it across his pecs, obscuring the incredible swirls of inked artwork with sugary goodness. Or was it sugary badness? Why choose? It’s just sugary deliciousness.

Dipping my finger in the sauce, I began to write in it. He glanced down at his chest and stomach as I continued to work.

“What are you writing?”

“Cady was here,” I answered, my tongue stuck between my teeth as I concentrated. “Unoriginal, but oddly perfect, given the circumstances. Wait, I haven’t finished!”

“Don’t care,” he growled, pulling me on top of him and mashing several strawberries with blobs of whipped cream between us, and completely ruining the message I’d been writing. And did I care? That would be a hell no!

“God, I want this, I want to **** you for hours!” Rick heaved out, his hard chest rising and falling with the effort of breathing.

“Once we start this, you won’t last ten seconds,” I teased.

“Yeah, I will, but the last eight seconds I’ll be crying.”

I burst out laughing, then dissolved with the heat of another searing kiss. Whipped cream, squashed strawberries and drizzled chocolate glued our bodies together, a sucking, squishing, squelching sound breaking through the panting breaths and hot, heavy limbs.

Suddenly, Rick surged upwards, flipping me onto my back.

“I want to feed you cake!” he growled. “I love the way you love food!”

“Not gonna argue,” I half laughed, half gasped.

He reached across me, pulling the vanilla sponge towards him, then tearing out a huge chunk with his bare hands like some starving Viking about to plunder a pastry shop. I was really looking forward to being plundered.

“Eat!” he commanded.

(continued in next post)
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🎶 Melophile & Bibliophile 📚
Sep 29, 2005
I stuck out my tongue, licking the buttercream from the center, squirming with pleasure as the cool, iced filling hit my taste buds.

Rick fed me cake, his eyes fixed on my lips, his own mouth slightly open.

“Your turn,” I said in a husky voice, sinking my fingers into the chocolate gateau and feeding it to him, watching his eyes follow the route of my hand, sucking cake and my fingers into his mouth together.

Seeing Rick pillage that chocolate gateau was such a turn on, and definitely one of my favorite fantasies come to life. I pulled a mashed strawberry off my chest, dipped it in the caramel sauce and popped it in my mouth, my eyes rolling with pleasure.

Rick reached across and emptied the champagne pralines on top of me. Then he plucked one from the pile and held it in his teeth, an invitation to share that I had no intention of refusing.

I bit the chocolate in half, smiling as the sharpness of the champagne contrasted with the sweet, nutty praline.

“Somgoom!” I slurped. “’Nother!”

He repeated the action and my eyelids fluttered with pleasure.

We kissed hard, our tongues mingling with the flavor of champagne and chocolate, Rick’s hands buried in my tangled hair, controlling the kiss and I didn’t care.

Have you seen the movie Ghost? Because that’s what it reminded me of as he knelt behind me. He poured hot chocolate sauce down my back and belly, massaging it into my neck, rubbing it into my breasts. I’d never had a hot chocolate massage, but I was going to recommend it to everyone I knew. Then he crumbled up a muffin in each hand.

“What are you doing, cowboy?”

“I’m turning you into a cake … and then I’m going to eat you.”

“Woah! Where are you putting that strawberry, dude?” He smiled at me lasciviously. “Why do I have a strawberry dipped in chocolate in my ass?”

“Just relax. I’ll get to it later.”

Then with only a warning growl, Rick tugged my legs open and sank between them, tonguing and teasing me as if I tasted as good as the candies he’d piled next to me.

Rick scooped ice cream onto my ass, then let the coolness drizzle down against my blazing sex—incredible!

“Just out of interest,” I gasped. “What flavor did you choose?”

“I’m into strawberries, as you’ve noticed. It’s healthy.”

“And what are you going to do with the blueberries?”

“You’ll find out later. Open wide for the strawberry cream.”

“My mouth is open.”

“I didn’t mean your mouth.”

He flipped me onto my back and my hips rocked upwards as he went down, and if Rick hadn’t placed his heavy arm across my stomach, I probably would have accidentally knocked him flying. Instead, I groaned and writhed as his skillful lips and talented tongue sucked and nipped and licked and probed between my legs, driving me wild with need as sparks zipped up and down my overheated, over-pleasured body.

Molten tremors rushed along my spine, shooting through my veins that had become an inferno. Fireworks exploded behind my closed eyes as he plucked at my swollen nub, launching me like a rocket, a starburst, a comet, then drifting back to earth, a spectacular light show, a meteor shower.

As I lay gasping, trying to remember how to breathe, I heard the distant popping of a champagne cork.

“Thirsty?” he whispered; his chocolate flavored lips close to my ear.

I was too near passing out from that amazing orgasm to answer, so I nodded with my eyes still closed. I could smell the crisp, fruit-filled aroma of champagne as he brought the glass to my lips and poured a tiny dribble into my open mouth, then another and another, laughing softly as it spilled over my chin, neck, and breasts.

I squeaked with surprise when he flipped me onto my stomach, my eyes popping open. I felt the fizz of champagne bubbles popping on my back and ass as Rick poured the cool liquid over my hot skin, then licked it up, his tongue finding the strawberry that had been in an interesting position for the last few minutes.

His manhood bobbed against my ass, and I held my breath, but then his knees disappeared from beside my thighs, and he helped me up and started backing me toward his bed.

“Rick! I’m covered in chocolate and…other things. Your sheets are going to be ruined!”

“Don’t care,” he whispered, his beard trailing across my chest and stomach as he gently guided me onto the bed. His kisses trailed down my body again, lighting fires as he went.

He reached down to the floor and picked up the tub of toffee and chocolate chip ice cream, smearing it over his chest, then lay back as the sticky confection melted. Oh, I was going to have so much fun cleaning that up, the dirty, dirty boy.

“How many donuts can you eat?” he asked.

“I’m eating ice cream,” I mumbled, my tongue working its way down his powerful pecs, sucking up the chocolate chips from the grooves of his abs.

“You’ll like these donuts,” he chuckled.

“That sounds…intriguing,” I said, sitting up expectantly.

He opened another box and pushed an extra-large, original glazed donut sprinkled with sugar over his erection, much to my surprise and delight.

“One,” he said, his voice low and filled with promise.

I swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth as a pink party ring followed… “Two.”

And a yellow party ring. “Three.”

Oh my God! How many were going to fit on Rick’s donut-covered man-club?

Strawberry frosted. “Four.”

Cinnamon sugar. “Five.”

“Is that…is that lemon glazed?” I breathed, my pulse racing.

“Hungry, Cady?”

I kneeled down in front of him, my hands propped on his rock-hard thighs, and started eating my way towards him as his body tensed, the muscles in his stomach jumping. As I nibbled and licked, moaned, and groaned, Rick’s hands tightened in my hair, his breath rasping in his chest. When he opened his eyes, they were soft, liquid and drugged with desire, for me.

For me.

Most of the donuts fell onto the sheets after a few bites, but I kept going, until all that was left was his straining dick, purple at the tip, and covered in sugar and glaze. God, he was delicious! The most amazing taste sensation in the history of blow jobs.

I swirled my tongue around him, and his eyes crossed, his forehead creased with tension.

“I’m going to…! I’m going to…” He shuddered and moaned loudly. It tasted both salty and sweet.

Rick collapsed backwards onto the bed, and I lay on top of him, listening to the thundering of his heart, his pulse staccato.

Slowly, life crept back into him, and he opened one eye, squinting at me.

“That was…” I listened patiently, but Rick was out of words. I smiled like the cat that had the cream.

“Worth waiting for, big guy?”

He nodded, still mute, then ran his hands over my back, cupping my ass and squeezing gently.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he said, his gravel-filled voice rumbling through his chest.

“Is it because I’m sugar-coated?” I chuckled.

“That makes you sweet—the beautiful part was always there.”

I grinned happily. Okay, so it had taken him a year to realize my potential, but he was forgiven.

He leaned across me and pulled something out of this bedroom drawer.

“Um, I’m good without condoms if you are. Had all the checks and came back squeaky clean.”

His eyes widened. “****! I hadn’t thought about condoms. Are you sure you’re okay with that? I haven’t had sex in a few years…”

My eyebrows shot up. “Really?!”

He frowned. “Yeah, not since…”

“Divorce got it. So, what are you hiding in your hand?”

He opened his callused palm and held out a small blue bottle with a black stopper.

“Why do you have liquid Viagra? Do you have…um…a problem? No, I’ve already seen that you don’t…”

He shrugged; his smile heated.

“I’m 38, not 18.”

“Old guy, huh?”

He shrugged. “I’m a pretty fast re-loader, although that’s probably because it’s you. But I’ve waited a long time for this. You make me so bloody horny…and anyway, Vin left this behind. I didn’t know it would come in so handy.”

He twisted open the stopper, grabbed a chocolate and squirted the Viagra inside, then popped the candy into his mouth.

“Wait! Did you just take a hit of Viagra in that strawberry cream?”

“Yep, you’re mine all night.”

“Don’t be greedy, I want one, too. Fully loaded.”

Grinning, he fed another squirt of liquid Viagra inside a raspberry and white chocolate muffin then handed it to me.

“How long does it take to work?” I mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs.

“You have ten minutes—better be ready.”

“Okay, so that gives us ten minutes to talk.”

His smile drooped then disappeared. “Okay,” he said, with the enthusiasm of a man about to have a vasectomy without anesthetic.

“We’ve got the sexual chemistry thing down, I think…” I said and Rick nodded. “I also know that I annoy the hell out of you.” He nodded again, a small grin on his full lips. “But you still love me?”


“Just checking. Sometimes a guy’s brains get ejaculated out through his dick when he orgasms.” Rick started to laugh but I shrugged. “Trust me, I’ve seen it happen. One minute they’re talking about particle physics, one good blow later, and they think Einstein is a hard rock band.”

He screwed up his face. “Don’t talk to me about other men and blow jobs in the same sentence, please, I’m begging you.”

“Not yet, but you will be.”

“Cady! I’m trying to be serious.”

“I know. You’re too serious. But please feel free to continue.”

“I’ve made so many stupid mistakes…”


“Hush, woman!”

“Don’t hush me! I’m…”

He kissed me firmly and I shut up. I did love how he chastised me. Something to explore later.

“I made a lot of mistakes. But telling you that I couldn’t train you wasn’t one of them.”

“It wasn’t?” I asked, somewhat crestfallen.

“No, because it made me free to be with you this way and to take our friendship to a new level.”

“A new level??”

He closed his eyes as if praying for inner strength. “That I love you.”

“You did mention it, but I’m glad I checked again. I’m enjoying hearing it.”

He huffed out a laugh. “What am I going to do with you, Cady Callahan?”

“Anything you want, stud. Time’s up.”

He glanced down at his dick that was giving me a friendly wave, then took my hand and kissed it. That was his last gentlemanly act, because seven minutes later, Rick was pounding into me from behind. I was sprawled on my hands and knees in the disaster zone that was his bed, cake and candy and chocolate sauce smeared over the sheets in a scene of debauchery and dissipation that was almost biblical.

I tensed my arms as my thighs trembled and my mouth hung open. Sweat coated my body, and my next orgasm was impending. I panted heavily as Rick’s hot breath roared in my ears. But he was so strong, so energetic, that I face planted in what was left of the vanilla sponge.

“Gimme cake!” I yelled. “More cake!” And he thrust even harder. “More! More! More cake!”

The orgasm rushed through me, ripping the air from my lungs as Rick shouted, his hands gripping my hips as he pulsed inside me, then we both collapsed onto the bed, my face and hair plastered in butter cream, sticky, and overwhelmingly satisfied.

I managed to turn my head to gaze at Rick. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks were flushed. Our reflection in his bedroom mirror showed the incredibly erotic sight of two satiated people—covered in chocolate. Even through the chocolate carnage, his male beauty shined brightly. We were a wildly improbable pair in every possible way, but we were real and somehow we worked.

I planted a soft kiss on his nearest sugary pec, and his eyelids fluttered. When he stared at me, his eyes were glazed. Then his lips curved upwards in a gentle smile.

“Wow!” he said.

My man of few words, he preferred to speak with his body.

“Ready for more?” he breathed into my neck. “I have ice cubes and rum truffles.”

“Where are you putting those?” I asked.

He smiled wickedly. “How much do you want to find out?”

My thighs were still trembling, my arms were weak, my sex had seen more action in the last hour than the rest of the previous year put together.

Every part of me was sore and aching in the best possible way.

“I want to find out,” I grinned at him.

Five minutes later, I was pressed against his enormous picture window with a view down onto the busy streets below, while he sucked on the ice cubes that were cooling my over-heated apex from the inside out. As I screamed his name, I swear the window rattled.

When my knees gave out, I landed on his rug, squashing the blueberry muffins that I’d yet to taste. Rick lay beside me, breathing heavily. He tried to stroke my matted hair, but gave up and simply stroked my soft belly, his fingers trailing over my pale, wobbly flesh, leaving shivers in his wake. When he traced his fingers along my silvery stretch marks, my heart swelled.

It took another ten minutes for us to recover enough to sit up and survey the damage. There was chocolate on the sheets, crumbs in the carpet, jelly on the walls, blueberry stains all over the duvet, trodden into the rug with the strawberry creams. There was even chocolate sauce dripping from the lampshade.

It was worse than an explosion in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory after a hurricane had ripped through it. And how the hell did we get jelly on the ceiling? Were those peanut butter handprints smeared on the window, and two chocolate circles where my boobs had been pressed against the cold glass.

Rick looked as though he’d been dipped in chocolate and rolled in crumbs—I guess he kind of had.

“Uh, Rick, my darling, I think we’re going to have to call a cleaning crew.”

He stared at the scene of devastation. “I think I should just move house—it’ll be cheaper.”

“Can I make a suggestion?”


“Next time we have afternoon tea, let’s do it in the shower.”

“A chocolate shower?”

“I love the way you think—you’re my kind of guy. But for now, I think we need a real shower. Let me scrub your back.”

Rick and I cleaned each other, and then we spent two hours cleaning his bedroom. The rug was probably a lost cause and the sheets needed professional help. Don’t ask about what happened to the rum truffle—I never found it. But it was an amazing workout with chocolate. It was the best afternoon tea I’d ever had. I couldn’t help wondering how many calories I’d burned off—probably several billion.

Gym or chocolate? I didn’t have to choose anymore—I was having both, and I loved it. I loved him!

(continued next post)
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🎶 Melophile & Bibliophile 📚
Sep 29, 2005

From: @TheRealCadyCallahan
Hey @fabulousMollyMckinney
Just to say thanks for bringing me & @RickRobertsBodyTech
together. I’m so happy, I gained 10 lbs! We’re getting married
next week. You’re NOT invited.
Love, Cady x

#DidntHave2Choose #GymAndChoclate

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