chapter 10

To my surprise, for the next three weeks Kelly stuck to her diet and she went to the gym at least three times a week. The sex continued, three or four nights a week. I could tell she was losing weight, but slowly. Not more than a pound a week. It had been a lot easier for her to put it on than to take it off. She knew how to get my juices going, so she would tell me fantasies about getting fatter, even as the weight slowly came off.

Kelly and Matt would Skype a couple of times a week, and she would tell him about her progress. Matt would e-mail me, and I would assure him that Kelly was sticking to it. I could tell, though, that time wasn't making this any easier on Kelly. If anything, it was getting worse for her. She got moody sometimes, which had never happened before, and her sense of humor seemed to have gotten lost somewhere.

It was Friday evening, about a month after Matt left. I knew that Kelly had been working hard at her job, since her company had a new, important client. Kelly got home at about six that night. She hadn't been to the gym, since she had her work outfit on. She came in, grumbled a hello and went to the refrigerator. She reached for one of her Ultra Light beers, hesitated, and said, "Fuck it. I need a real beer." She grabbed an IPA, popped it open and took a long pull from the bottle.

"Bad day?" I asked.

"Bad week," and she took another long pull. "Let's go to the Wet Your Whistle. I need something besides those almost meals in the freezer." So we drove to the Wet Your Whistle, which only took a few minutes. We got seated, the waitress came over and asked if we'd like something to drink. "A large India Ale, and a platter of nachos," was Kelly's reply. I didn't say anything, but I'm sure my face gave me away. The India Ale was the heaviest beer they had, and of course the nachos were a calorie bomb. "Don't judge. I've had a lousy day on top of a lousy week. And I'm sick of dieting. And I'm sick of the gawdamn gym. I need a break." What could I say? I sure wasn't going to treat her like a kid and scold her. She was all grown up and could make her own decisions. Which she did. Her next decision was to order the double bacon double cheeseburger, with fries, and another India Ale. Her decision after that was to order their specialty dessert, the Wet Whistle Cheesecake.

Caught up in the moment, I ate pretty well myself. I ate some of the nachos, although she got the lion's share. My burger wasn't as gargantuan as hers, but it was still impressive. And I got a couple of bites of her cheesecake. There was only time for me to get a couple of bites, because she inhaled the rest. Kelly paid the bill ("I'm buying. Think of it as me bribing you not to tell Matt.") and we got up to leave. Getting up was a little painful for me, since I'd eaten more than I usually do. Kelly struggled to get up, since she had truly gorged tonight. But mixed with the painful struggle I thought I saw a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes, as though she had filled a need that had gone too long without filling.

When we got home Kelly pushed me onto the sofa. She got on top of me, and whispered in my ear. "Did you like watching me stuff myself, Jeff? How many calories do you think I put away tonight? Two thousand? Three thousand. How much new fat will that mean on me, Jeff?" It didn't take much more talk like that before I was uncontrollably ready. Our clothes flew everywhere, and Kelly rode me hard and fast. She held herself with her back arched, her large breasts and belly shaking as she rode, up and down, up and down, faster and faster. I grabbed at all of her plushness, reveling in feeling all of her softness. When we came, it was like we'd both gone over Niagara Falls.

She spent the night with me, which meant another session about an hour later, and yet another in the morning. She had been insatiable. After the morning round, Kelly got up and went to the kitchen. Soon I smelled coffee, then bacon. I put on my robe and padded out to the kitchen. Kelly had bacon in the pan, and I smelled biscuits in the oven. There was butter, honey and jars of marmalade set out. She was cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Well," I said with a small grin, "when you fall off the wagon, you fall all the way." For a moment I worried that I had made her mad, but she grinned back at me.

"I am not meant to be a skinny girl, Jeff. The diet and exercise thing was making me cranky and unhappy. I wasn't enjoying life, and I don't think anyone else enjoyed being around me."

"I can't argue with that. But what about Matt?" I asked.

"I love Matt. But he doesn't deserve a woman who has to be cranky to be skinny. I love him, but he's going to have to take me fat. That's just who I am."

"So when are you going to tell him?"

"I'll e-mail him after breakfast. Which is almost ready."