Chapter 2

He got up and locked the door, as if reading my mind. He stroked my chin lightly, down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. He followed the neckline of my shirt, spreading it open, and following his hand with his lips. He continued kissing along the neckline of the shirt as he ran his fingertips back and forth across my belly.

After a few minutes, he stood and unlocked the door again.

Shortly after that, the server came in with the fish course—a tower of shrimp and crab green papaya salad. He began to offer me small forksful of it, and the contrasting flavours and textures were thrilling. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, eating without thought, without sense of time, just feeling and tasting the food in my mouth. I was lost in the sensations, and realized that some point he was slowly massaging my rounding belly, very gently at first, so that I didn’t notice, but slowly growing in strength.

Next came a white vegetarian rice-noodle lasagne. I didn’t say anything, but I was impressed that he remembered my wheat intolerance and my dislike of red meats. I sat a bit more upright, and we began to feed each other again. We chatted about our early realizations of how unusual our fantasies are, touching each other here and there as we ate and chatted. Time slipped by, and the lasagna disappeared. We were both quite full, then, and we giggled as we looked at each other’s swollen bellies. We gently massaged each other again, and I blushed as I heard a little burp escape my lips.

Two servers then came in, each pushing a pastry cart. One was placed near each of us, and on the top level there were pitchers of cream and custard.

‘Which would you like first?’ he asked suggestively.

‘Crème brulee, I think.’

‘Excellent choice. It’s best when the crust is still warm, isn’t it?’

He leaned across me, picked it up, cracked the surface with a spoon, and began feeding it to me. I moaned with pleasure. Without missing a beat, he poured custard over a slab of flourless chocolate torte and began feeding me that as well. I was lost in the feeding again, my belly swollen and aching by now, my hands roaming over it as he continued. I kept thinking I should be feeding him, too, and finally I pulled myself out of the trance enough to say so.

‘Well, how about this: you eat desserts as long as I do. We can watch each other fill and swell. Sound appealing?’

‘Oh, honey, I don’t know how much more I can eat…’

‘I won’t eat another bite unless you agree.’

‘Oh. Are you sure I can’t convince you?’

‘Nope. My position is unchangeable.’

‘Well…ok, I’ll try.’

I took a parfait of fresh strawberries and whipped cream, and I began to eat as I watched him take his chocolate torte and pour custard on it. He began to spoon the thick, rich dessert into his mouth, and he groaned as it hit his tongue. Our eyes locked as we ate the desserts, pausing only to catch our breath and choose another dessert. We ate with complete abandon, knowing nothing but the sensuality of eating for each other.

I finished the cart before he did, so I lay back and rubbed my aching, swollen, bloated huge belly. He stared, redoubling his flagging efforts to finish. I purred, knowing the effect I was having on him and loving it. He managed to finish his cart, and he leaned back and began rubbing his tight gut.

He took my hand, kissing and nibbling my palm. He struggled up out of his seat, leaned over, putting an arm under me and helping me up, which was no small feat. I leaned against him for balance, leaning back to accommodate my overstretched, heavy stuffed belly. We waddled out together, feeling the stares of other diners on our round unwieldy bodies, giggling quietly to ourselves.

He opened the car door for me, and helped me in. He walked around to the other side of the car and got in awkwardly himself. Instructing the driver to return to my address, he slid nearer to me and put a hand on the crest of my belly. A shiver ran down my spine as I put my hand on his soft, thick thigh, palping the soft bulge on the inner side.

He leaned forward and whispered something to the driver, and shortly thereafter we stopped at a diner. He leaned in to kiss me, and I heard the car door snick shut. We kissed for some time, and eventually the driver came back, climbed in to the car, and we drove off. I leaned against his shoulder as he fondled the rolls of fat on my back and sides.

We pulled up to my building, and as I approached the front door, he turned back and picked up a bag from the front seat. I couldn’t imagine what it was, though it looked very heavy for its size. We stepped into the elevator, smiling at each other a bit nervously. When it reached my floor, we stepped out, got into my apartment, and he helped me out of my shawl. He led me to the couch, the bag still in his hand. He sat me down, sat next to me, and whispered,

‘Do you have room for a tiny bit more?’

‘NOOO,’ I thought, but I hesitated, and then said ‘Maybe…’

He leaned back, pulled my back against his chest, and slipped a drink out of the bag. He put a straw into it and offered it to me lips. I took a tiny sip, very tentatively, then realized it was a thick chocolate malted, my favourite treat, as he had obviously remembered from some long-ago chat.

I sipped slowly as he ran his fingers up and down my arms, enjoying the overload of sensation. I finished the shake, and he kissed my neck gently, then stood and took me by the hand. He picked up the bag, and he whispered quietly into my ear, ‘Lead on.’