~BBW/BHM, Romance, Introspectiom ~~MWG - Some people will give up anything for true love
[Author's note: Originally posted on my web page, a number of years ago]
The critical point in our relationship came when I asked Mel “Pass me a cigarette, will you?”
Sure there were a lot of other critical points, times when if things had gone a little differently we might never even have gotten together.
For example, at my good-bye party from Robertson Multi-Pac. We were at Carlos', the usual place for work parties, and I’d had one of the famous one quart mugs of beer, leading to me feeling a bit maudlin about leaving my first full time job after three years there.
I was trying to think of the positive, like meeting new women at my new work place. I ran through my criteria: smart, sassy, fat, certainly well over 200 pounds but not much over 300 pounds, with a clearly defined waist and a belly that didn’t sag much.
At Robertson Multi-Pac all the women had been thin except for Mel, who was at least as far out of my criteria the other way. Then I suddenly realized that I was crazy for her looks anyway, the reason I’d not been able to get her out of my mind was not because she had such an extreme body, but because I had a crush on her.
I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t figured that out before then. Certainly there had been reasons not to date her before, such as working together and that she was a few years older then me. Also she was so extremely fat. It wasn’t just that she exceeded my criteria, or that she was shaped something like a dumpling, fat face on top of a fatter neck blending into rounded shoulders above the rolls that were her breasts which lay on her massive belly, protruding way out in front of her and drooping a fair way to her knees.
Just walking from her desk to the smoking room at the back of the plant she’d get flushed and short of breath. It was easy to find reasons not to date someone so physically incapable, but I realized that it didn’t matter, that although I was no jock, I had the capacity to help take care of her, and we could actually be a fine couple.
That afternoon I went around to say my final good-byes, and I managed to catch Mel in her office when nobody else was bugging her and she didn’t have a phone growing out of her ear. She single-handedly kept all of our shipments straight and on schedule, and I hated to interrupt one of her rare quiet moments.
Still, I went in and asked “Can I get a good bye hug?.
She blushed a bit, but agreed. To get out of her armless chair she had to lean forward, sending a wave of belly rolling onto her desk top. Then she braced two pudgy hands on her desk and pushed, somehow coming to her feet and rolling her chair away at once. Then she came around the desk with peculiar waddle, leaned back to balance the weight of her massive soft gut which spilled down the front of her legs most of the way to her knees.
When we hugged I had to lean forward over her belly, feeling her so soft fat form itself too me from thigh to chest. I gripped her sides, hands sinking inches deep into her pillowy softness, and held her close, then kissed her on both cheeks.
I almost left then, almost convinced myself that such a together and brilliant woman wouldn’t ever date me, but managed to work up the nerve to say: “Now that we aren’t working together, would you like to” I paused for a second, realizing just before I said “catch a movie” that there was no way she’d fit into the seats at the local theatre. I rapidly searched my brain and recovered with “go out to dinner, or something, sometime?”
She was a little flustered at the offer, but I gave her my phone number and got her promise to call me.
A couple of days later, she did call me. She sounded uncharacteristically nervous, but she called me. I’d already rushed around scouting restaurants for one where she could be safely and comfortably seated, and had chosen a place, and we agreed to meet for dinner.
I stopped by the restaurant and reserved a suitable table. I knocked on her door with flowers in hand, and once she was ready brought my Corolla around. The seat belt wouldn’t fit her, but I managed not to get into an accident or get pulled over. I dropped her at the door of the restaurant before going to park.
When I came into the entrance of the restaurant I found a couple of women in there with Mel, looking over her bulk and sniggering. I found my most confident voice and announced “If you’ll excuse me, my date and I have reservations.”
And I took her arm, feeling only the soft bulges of flesh as if there was no bone in there at all, and escorted her to the maitre d. He recognized me and we were immediately escorted to our table, and waited on handsomely. I was quietly proud, I’d recognized the limits created by her extreme size, and had made sure they didn’t get in our way. I could make this work.
Had any of those events gone otherwise, we probably wouldn’t have started formally dating.
[Author's note: Originally posted on my web page, a number of years ago]
Smoke
by EDX
by EDX
The critical point in our relationship came when I asked Mel “Pass me a cigarette, will you?”
Sure there were a lot of other critical points, times when if things had gone a little differently we might never even have gotten together.
For example, at my good-bye party from Robertson Multi-Pac. We were at Carlos', the usual place for work parties, and I’d had one of the famous one quart mugs of beer, leading to me feeling a bit maudlin about leaving my first full time job after three years there.
I was trying to think of the positive, like meeting new women at my new work place. I ran through my criteria: smart, sassy, fat, certainly well over 200 pounds but not much over 300 pounds, with a clearly defined waist and a belly that didn’t sag much.
At Robertson Multi-Pac all the women had been thin except for Mel, who was at least as far out of my criteria the other way. Then I suddenly realized that I was crazy for her looks anyway, the reason I’d not been able to get her out of my mind was not because she had such an extreme body, but because I had a crush on her.
I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t figured that out before then. Certainly there had been reasons not to date her before, such as working together and that she was a few years older then me. Also she was so extremely fat. It wasn’t just that she exceeded my criteria, or that she was shaped something like a dumpling, fat face on top of a fatter neck blending into rounded shoulders above the rolls that were her breasts which lay on her massive belly, protruding way out in front of her and drooping a fair way to her knees.
Just walking from her desk to the smoking room at the back of the plant she’d get flushed and short of breath. It was easy to find reasons not to date someone so physically incapable, but I realized that it didn’t matter, that although I was no jock, I had the capacity to help take care of her, and we could actually be a fine couple.
That afternoon I went around to say my final good-byes, and I managed to catch Mel in her office when nobody else was bugging her and she didn’t have a phone growing out of her ear. She single-handedly kept all of our shipments straight and on schedule, and I hated to interrupt one of her rare quiet moments.
Still, I went in and asked “Can I get a good bye hug?.
She blushed a bit, but agreed. To get out of her armless chair she had to lean forward, sending a wave of belly rolling onto her desk top. Then she braced two pudgy hands on her desk and pushed, somehow coming to her feet and rolling her chair away at once. Then she came around the desk with peculiar waddle, leaned back to balance the weight of her massive soft gut which spilled down the front of her legs most of the way to her knees.
When we hugged I had to lean forward over her belly, feeling her so soft fat form itself too me from thigh to chest. I gripped her sides, hands sinking inches deep into her pillowy softness, and held her close, then kissed her on both cheeks.
I almost left then, almost convinced myself that such a together and brilliant woman wouldn’t ever date me, but managed to work up the nerve to say: “Now that we aren’t working together, would you like to” I paused for a second, realizing just before I said “catch a movie” that there was no way she’d fit into the seats at the local theatre. I rapidly searched my brain and recovered with “go out to dinner, or something, sometime?”
She was a little flustered at the offer, but I gave her my phone number and got her promise to call me.
A couple of days later, she did call me. She sounded uncharacteristically nervous, but she called me. I’d already rushed around scouting restaurants for one where she could be safely and comfortably seated, and had chosen a place, and we agreed to meet for dinner.
I stopped by the restaurant and reserved a suitable table. I knocked on her door with flowers in hand, and once she was ready brought my Corolla around. The seat belt wouldn’t fit her, but I managed not to get into an accident or get pulled over. I dropped her at the door of the restaurant before going to park.
When I came into the entrance of the restaurant I found a couple of women in there with Mel, looking over her bulk and sniggering. I found my most confident voice and announced “If you’ll excuse me, my date and I have reservations.”
And I took her arm, feeling only the soft bulges of flesh as if there was no bone in there at all, and escorted her to the maitre d. He recognized me and we were immediately escorted to our table, and waited on handsomely. I was quietly proud, I’d recognized the limits created by her extreme size, and had made sure they didn’t get in our way. I could make this work.
Had any of those events gone otherwise, we probably wouldn’t have started formally dating.
