~BBW, Descriptive - A delightful vignette of a woman and her sensual delights.
Three Sweetmeats
- Or, Over the Top -
by Rondeurs
Ouk...can't any more...I'm up to the nostrils...
Yet scarcely a minute passes before she reaches for another.
Her flesh, softer and more yielding than any cushion, tautly fills a skin smoother than the finest silk, lustrous with overnourishment, without a ripple or rough patch to mar its perfection. Her figure is that of an overblown primal Venus with prodigious breasts and buttocks, an extravagant surplus of femininity, almost indecently curvaceous; though at present this voluptuous topography merely serves to emphasize the alarming distention of her belly, which is bloated to four times its normal size and stretched so tight it appears almost transparent. It quivers on the couch beside her as if possessed of a life of its own. Invisible at the bottom of its well of flesh, she feels her navel suddenly evert like that of a woman in the late stages of pregnancy.
Years of practice have taught her to judge the safe limit of her capacity to a nicety; she has considerably exceeded it today.
Oh, I can hardly breathe.
The wide silver dish on the table beside her holds only three more sweetmeats, half submerged in a pool of syrup. Poumpi dips a dainty, beringed finger in the syrup and licks it meditatively.
She lies on her left side, one pillowy, overstuffed thigh resting heavily across the other. Between them her drooling nether mouth anticipates its own feast: her lover is expected. She will engulf him slowly, a hairsbreadth at a time like a python devouring a pig, straining to admit and contain him within her already dangerously overloaded belly. For Poumpi, a full stomach sharpens her pleasure in, and appetite for, lovemaking; and her stomach has never been more full than it is tonight.
But her lover is not expected for half an hour; and first, there is a little matter of three sweetmeats to attend to.
