chapter 5

Why did I have to find the one guy in the world besides Mason who liked me, that happened to be a stalker? Why couldn't he tell I was not interested, not even a little? The best thing would have been if he didn't ever like me to begin with. I didn't even know how he got to my house. Had he been following me?

I was up at six, showered, and making breakfast by seven. It was a really rainy Tuesday in November. I thought about what school would be like with Greyson. Mason had probably scared the shit out of him. The thing about it though, was that it was all his own fault and I kind of wanted him to leave me alone. Sadly, it was in my nature to feel sorry for him so I couldn't help feeling bad. At thirty minutes pass seven Mason came into the kitchen. He was wearing his work clothes.

"You have the morning shift?" I asked as I placed a huge omelet and sausages in front of him. I ate some sausages and toast as I sat at the table.

"Yeah," he said as he yawned. He then put a whole sausage patty in his mouth.

"I don't know what to say to Greyson." He put a large piece of the cheesy omelet in his mouth. "I mean, what should I say?"

"That he deserved what he got." He gulped down some milk.

"Fine," I said, still unsure of what to do. I stood up and placed my plate in the sink. Mason likely sensed I was still conflicted.

"What can you say, huh? He was bothering us and I took care of it." He had finished his fifth sausage, the rest of the omelet, and another glass of milk. He was pushing 350 pounds.

"You didn't have to hit him," I argued. "I think picking him up like some kind of giant got the message across. He was terrified."

"I'm not a frightening person."

"If you acted like that all the time I'd be too scared to talk to you."

"Maybe I should," he mumbled. He stood up and kissed me. "Keep all the other guys away from my Oliver."

"I like you like this," I said. "I have to go." I went and grabbed my jacket.

"I'll give you a ride." He fixed his shirt. He needed to get a bigger one. His arms and belly were threatening its existence. We were both running a bit behind. We needed to be at our destinations by eight-thirty.

"What happens after I get out?" I asked. I had work after class and if he drove me I wouldn't have my bike.

"It'll be my lunch break and I'll pick you up."

"Then you can't get lunch, because I have to work afterwards."

"We can take your bike," he said, putting on his own jacket. "It's not a big deal. The rain will have stopped by then. Now let's go."

We both got our keys, put my bike in his jeep, and were off. I was in class at eight-twenty. I hoped Mason made it on time. I found my seat and sat waiting for class to start.

Greyson wasn't here yet. Class started. The rain must have been a problem. He didn't show up. I started freaking out. What if he was really hurt? Or maybe he went to the police? What about the project! What if he didn't show up tomorrow? Greyson was seriously the biggest problem in my life.

He didn't show up the next day. He didn't show up the rest of the week. Or the next week. Countdown to Thanksgiving cooking demo: five days.

It was a Thursday evening and I had made three versions of pumpkin pie. Mason kept stealing the whipped cream. I snatched it away. "Mason," I pulled out some chips and handed him the bag. "I really need you to leave me alone."

"What's up with you lately?" he asked, obviously hurt. He was just a big old Mastiff dog, I swear. His sad puppy eyes and thick eyebrows got to me every time.

"If you never beat up Greyson everything would be fine," I said, anxious about school. "He hasn't been to class in two weeks. I can only hope he's working on his part of the meal. Thanksgiving is a week away. Projects are due Monday, which happen to be half of our grade. Half! These pies have been taking forever!" I started sobbing and sank to the floor. "If I fail, all this stuff we've gone through will be for nothing. What was the point of going to culinary school?"

"Don't stress out over pie. You went to school because you're a great cook." He walked over to me and sat next to me. "I've eaten a lot of food, and yours is always the best."

"Mason, Mrs. Wither said she doesn't care if he ever comes again, as long as she has the project."

"So finish your half. I'm sure he wouldn't want to fail too." I thought about it. He wouldn't want to fail either. He'd show up tomorrow ready to cook his portion of the meal.

"Okay. I--I guess--you're right." I stood up. He did too. "Do you want to taste some pie, official taster of foods?" I was calming down. I started to feel a lot better.

"Yeah," he said enthusiastically. "I love eating anything and everything you make." I smiled.

"Thanks." He sat at the table and I placed a slice of each pie in front of him. He pushed them away.

"You can have those, can I have the rest?" he asked. I laughed again.

"Of course." I placed the other portions in front of him. He ate the first one, the second one, and the third one. Between each pie he downed a glass of milk to cleanse his palate. I had eaten a piece of each--a small piece.

"I'm liking the last one." He pulled the plate containing the piece from the first pie in front of him and gobbled it down greedily. "But number one was delicious. And number two." He ate that one as well. "Has a strong lemony flavor. But," he said as he ate the last piece from number three. "I like pie number three the best." He stood up and went into our room. I followed. He was pulling off his underwear. I got a view of his meaty ass as he bent over. "I had a feeling you liked watching me eat all that pie."

"Yeah," I said, nearly drooling. His belly stuck out and was round and beautiful. His broad chest was completed by nice round nipples. His thighs had been getting huge and his ass had reached new limits. Its firm cheeks never failed to satisfy me.

I was undressed before I could even blink, not wanting to miss any glances at his fantastic body. I didn't want to stop looking at his meaty gut. He got on the bed and I climbed up behind him, condom already on and penis lubed up.

I paused. I jumped off of the bed and ran to the kitchen, my penis bobbing at full attention, and grabbed the whip cream.

I reentered the bedroom and squirted some in his mouth. He sat on the edge of the bed and I straddled him as best as I could. "Yum," he said as he ate the cream greedily. I put some on my nipples and he sucked it off. My penis was telling me to get the show on the road. I gasped as he sucked on my nipples for a bit longer. I gave him the whipped cream as he re-positioned himself and I finally entered his round ass.

The tingle of pleasure returned and I moved faster and faster as I saw his belly shake. He pushed the nozzle into his mouth and came at that moment. I finished seconds later with a satisfied gasp. That was great.

I took the whip cream and squirted more into his mouth and rubbed his belly. I was sitting next to him with my hand on his mountain of a stomach. He fell asleep after a time and I did too. Not even thinking about school or that idiot Greyson.