Chapter 2

“You see, cara mia, what a world of possibilities your abundance holds? And we’ve only toured the front half of your torso…there is so very very much more to learn about. But before we continue, have you been standing too long? I have a thought about how to continue the tour on your bed, if you would prefer that?”

“Oh, yes, please, Tony—how did you know? I’m starting to really ache in my back and hips and ankles. Standing is just too hard for me later in the day…” She looked off, embarrassed.

“Sweet, never give it a second thought. All I want is your comfort and happiness. Come.” He took her pudgy soft hand, playing with it, stroking it with his thumb, as he pulled her over to the door and across the hallway into her bedroom. He paused for a minute, stunned. Before him was an enormous bed, clearly custom-made, and something about it gave one the feeling that rhinoceroses could play trampoline on it without doing damage. He noticed the cream silk satin sheets, the caramel brocade bedspread, the piles of pillows of all shapes and sizes, with tone-on-tone chocolate brown shams. It looked regal.

He emitted a long, low whistle. “That, dolcezza, is a BED.” He grinned, then wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I do like your style.” She smacked him playfully on the arm. “Don’t be so cheeky, you! I got tired of breaking beds, and decided to have a very large, very sturdy bed made to order so I would never have to think about it again. I wasn’t expecting to take a big lover to my bed, but it looks every more like a smart investment.” She winked.

He chuckled. “You saucy minx, you! Get up on the bed, and lie on your back. Where do you keep your scarves?”

“In the dressing room, in the closet along the far wall, on a rack behind the middle door.” She heard him open a door.

“Of course you have a huge selection. Why didn’t I know that already?” She heard a bit of rustling, and he returned with three long rich brown silk scarves that coordinated with the bedclothes. Without saying a word, he tied each of her arms to a bed post, then folded the last scarf lengthwise twice, tying it as a blindfold around her head.

Without fear, but full of curiousity, she said “What are we doing now?” He traced the side of his fingertip along the lower edge of the highest roll of fat under her arm, slowly, and then leaned over to her ear, without touching it, and whispered breathily, “You’ll see.”

He placed a finger on the beginning of each roll around her side underneath her, and moved them slowly, just lightly in the fold, accentuating the number, size, and thickness of the rolls along her side. Next, he took one love handle in each hand and slipped his hands, cup-shaped, down around her massive, thick, lower belly, lying there on her thighs. He leaned over, still avoiding contact, but close so she could feel his warm breath, saying “Can you doubt how sensuous this part of you is? You rarely stop touching it, so part of you must know… I have dreamed of kissing and nibbling it…”

His hands made the return journey up to the source of her love handles, then slid his hands down to her immense hips, which looked as if they had been inflated. He sat back on his heels, removed his hands, placing them on his thighs, contemplating her hips. But of course she couldn’t see, so when she couldn’t stand the quiet any more, she asked “Tonino, what are you doing? I’m a little frightened. Perhaps you don’t enjoy the rest of me?” He could hear the little hitch in her voice, and he felt terrible immediately. He had meant to make her wait, but not to make her feel rejected.

“No, no, ciccia, not at all. I was simply thinking that I have watched your hips for years now, and I always dreamt of feeling them in my hands, feeling them in the heat of passion, but now, I’m overwhelmed just by looking at them. Let me explain.”

He stood for a moment, and took his trousers off, letting them drop to the floor. He lay down next to her and took her hand. “As you know, I’m not skinny, and of course men’s hips are different than women’s. But allow me this temporary conceit: that my hips are perhaps a bit softer than average, but not substantially so. If I take your hand and you trace the curve along the side, and then again to the rear, you get a sense of a hip, yes?” She nodded in agreement, wondering if he was looking at her face. “Good. Now let’s do the same with yours.”

He took her hand, tracing the high upward arc from her waist, out and around the bubble of her hip. She bit her lip. He watched. And waited. After a while, he said “No comment?” Her expression was thoughtful. “Well,” she said, “on the one hand, I had no idea I had such huge bubbles of fat on my hips. That was a bit surprising.” She giggled. “But even more surprising was how good it felt, when I was pretending to be not me encountering my hip. I imagined wanting to hold on to it, to use it to pull myself into its owner.” “Esattamente! That’s just how I feel when I see your hips. Touching them makes that feeling much, much wilder.”

He took her hand and slowly traced it along the side and down onto her thigh. “And now, here’s another surprise.” He took her thumb and forefinger, shaped his over hers, and then traced the top, oh-so-pillowy roll of thigh fat that rolled over as their slow journey moved toward her inner thigh. The roll was pure, soft, fat, and she moaned as they jointly squeezed, very gently. He whispered hoarsely in her ear “I could spend days nibbling this…”

From there he continued down her inner thigh, over the biggest expanse, to the next fold. There he took her hand and they grasped the roll of fat over her knee. “This is one of those secrets young men are never told. A real woman has knee rolls; before then, she’s a mere girl.” He gave the roll a quick jiggle and asked her how it felt to have all of her seductive fat moving while she was still.

She thought for a moment, and asked him to do it again. Even blindfolded, she somehow looked intrigued, saying, “I would never have guessed it, but I love the feeling of my flesh wobbling and jiggling like that.” He chuckled, a low seductive sound, and said, “You can’t imagine how much that delights me.” He dragged his hand slowly over her kneecap, down her shin, palping her soft fat calves, and nibbling her small sausage toes before standing up again.

“I think that’s enough of a tour for one night, don’t you? I will be happy to introduce you the back side of your body another night, but for now, I think your dessert and the activities it might suggest await us. Does that meet with your approval, gioia? Is it time to eat?”

Her breath caught, and when she responded, there was just the slightest hint of growl in the timbre. “Oh, my, Tonio, you have no idea how ready I am to eat.”