It is the second dessert that gets me in trouble, I think. I am sitting next to him at lunch time at the conference, a metaphorical horde of bees buzzing in my torso every time our elbows brush against each other, every time he leans toward me to address a remark exclusively to me. His voice is deep but it also has a slight droning quality to it, which some might find nasally unpleasant, but right now it reminds me pleasingly of the contented droning of bees on hot summer days. There are three or four others at the table with us, I think, but I couldn’t tell you who they are or what they’re saying. I haven’t been this attracted to a man in years. I haven’t been this attracted to a thin man in over a decade and I’m confused. It’s been fat boys for me ever since I fucked my first one and realized the lusty joys of luxurious rolls of plush fat. Thin men leave me meh. So why is this one clanging the alarms so hard?
He is tall, but I’m short so anyone over 5’ 5” towers over me. He’s got an average face - nice but nothing special - and his hairline is distinctly retreating. He has long fingers, no ring - I checked. And okay, there is a tiny bit of softness at his waist, enough to catch my attention. Not enough to call him chubby, or even plump, but not a hard body.
I am eating a slice of chocolate pie in small bites. He asks me if it’s good, then he grabs a slice from the buffet table behind us. He eats it neatly and rapidly as we talk. When his plate is empty, he looks back at the buffet, stands quickly and returns with one of the other dessert on offer - a miniature Oreo cheesecake. He looks at me and holds a finger to his lips before digging in. I am uncomfortably warm. Am I blushing? I am watching an attractive man eat two desserts, without any urging or encouragement from me. He can’t have any idea that he is tapping into my deepest sexual fantasies.
I imagine him swelling up, the hint of softness at his waist turning to an undeniably pudgy belly, soft and jiggly. His long-fingered, well-made hands becoming chubby and dimpled. His jawline softening and disappearing into the plush roll of a double chin. The soft mounds of manboobs straining the buttons of his neat button down shirt. The undeniable evidence of denying himself nothing.
I imagine myself feeding him sweet treats as he lays under my honeyed thighs, ready to eat his fill of delectable desserts and his mistress’s sweet pussy. Greedy in every way. A haze of lust carries me through the afternoon, and then we pack up and go back to our respective homes.
Maybe I’ll see him again at the next conference. Maybe he’ll be fatter then.
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