John Smith:
Years ago, I had some strange flash visions that reoccured thrice in full middle of the day and once a few years later while sleeping overnight. The vision would last for two or three seconds and ceases as abruptly it started, but my mind will always notes a plethora of details in what appeared to be just a few milliseconds.
I was perched in the middle of a cottage exterior or backyard, richly decorated and gardened by an exotic domestic flora of plants and warm coloured flowers that spiced up the lawn. I could tell it was a sun-blazen afternoon day of summer like the one that made me have this vision a first time, but just a few hours apart. Facing me, a large, ovioid shaped pool circumvented by a white stony floor and the whole upper class backyard kit for summertime, followed up about a dozen of feet away by the solid porchs and walls painted in ochre beige of some vast hacienda styled house or mansion with its tiled roofing. I could deduce that I was not in Quebec, let alone in Canada: something about this place was giving me a hunch that wherever I was had rarely to never knew the type of snowy winter we may have here, lest any proper wintertime. In spite his stupendous beauty and posh setting, I felt somewhat unfazed by this place and could sense I was carrying myself as if I actually owned it .
At the first half-second, my eyes focused intuitively on the main protagonist of this vision opposing me from the other edge of the deep-bue watery pool facing the porchs and immediatly recognized her: my first ex-feedee (which at the time I had these flashes, was still not an ex yet) , standing afoot. At the time I have these dreams, she was into her mid-twenties then later mid-late twenties and hovering between a smallish yet well-built 130-lbs frame and a downright plump, buxomly 180-ish pounds frame: but the woman who was approaching the pool was older, objectively sporting her thirties... and twice the biggest size she ever had.
Waddling to-and-fro half-lazily with a elephantine step, her corpulent body, cladded into a provocative yellow canary fatkini (which was unusual: even during her episodic turn-ons and "naughty Cinderella vamp" phases, she never showed that much skin around men thanks to her overreligious background) matching well with her mocha complexioned skin, was rippling and undulating in all directions like a quivering sea of jello and mayo. She unabashedly exuded a sensuality and voluptuousness she rarely showed off during our years spent hooking up, as her humongeous, globular watermelon-sized blimpers bobbing and bouncing in all directions threatened to rip the fabric of her bra apart. Her fatkini trunks could barely conceal the full girth from the lowest regions of her ginormous spherical double-or-triple-creased belly inching and girthing several dozens of inches overall, as wide as a Jeep car tire and yet still the smallet part of her hybrid-buttersquash/Spoon shaped silhouette. Her cellulite-cladded, jodhpur-shaped, trunk sized thighs clapping against each other, her portly cankles and enormous wings arms has little to no match among 350+ lbs women. Her face, totally puffened out and roundened beyond recognition by decades of unsalvaged gluttony, has her triple chins swallowing up almost nearly everything left of her neck.
She made a step into the pool... then the vision faded.
It is always the same. With only for few diferences the fatkini she wore and whether she wore a beach fedora or not.
Wow, you’re really good at describing detail😳
