Chapter 3 - the next week part 2

He opened the ordinarily spacious pantry, and 2 bags of chips fell out. “She wasn’t kidding,” he mumbled to himself. He grabbed one of the bags of chips and walked it out to her. “Here. To tide you over while I’m in there.”

Back in the kitchen, he wrapped up the second tray and stopped in his tracks when he opened the fridge, the sound of the bag crinkling and chips crunching in the background. He set the tray back on the counter and went to rearranging the many packs of hot dogs, blocks of cheese, and cartons of dairy. There were about 3 dozen eggs, half a dozen boxes of butter and cream cheese, a couple of cartons of whole milk, a couple of bottles of buttermilk, and several quarts of heavy cream. It took a little work, but he was able to make room for the lasagna. Whereas he had more erotic reasons for wanting to see her finish the first tray, he didn’t know where it would fit if she didn’t.

With that done, he moved back to the pantry and worked out what might be a balanced snacking regiment. Having gone hard on the salty and figuring the rest of the lasagna was still in play, he settled for mostly sweets. A box of 10 Twinkies, a party size thing of Double Stuff Oreos, a 2-pound big bag of Twizzlers, 3 bottles of beer (one was for him), and he figured he would be set.

He set all of the snacks on the coffee table and went back to get the beers. He popped the top of 2 of em and headed back in.

She rolled closed the bag of chips; about a quarter was left. “‘Bout time,” she said in faux exasperation. Noticing the beer he was handed to her, “but, yay!” As she grabbed it and took a solid swig. He set the 3rd one on her side table, but before he could sit, she said, “Could I ask you to do me one last favor before you sit down?”

“Of course.”

“Could you grab me the tub of Haagen Dazs in the fridge door?”

“Sure. Fridge, not freezer?”

She nodded yes while taking another swig of beer. Sure enough, there was a 28oz tub in the fridge door. He assumed she wanted it melty. He took it out, took off the top, removed the plastic freshness seal for her, and replaced the lid. He walked back in and noticed that she had already gathered all of the snacks closer to her. The Twizzlers and Oreos on the side table and the Twinkies were opened and leaning against her thigh on the couch. He found space for the melted ice cream on the side table and then sat down.

She hit play, then grabbed the ice cream, took the lid off, sipped a little off of the top so it wouldn’t be full, and set it back down. While she was fully engrossed in the film, his attention was on her. Every couple of minutes, she would unwrap a Twinkie, dunk it into the ice cream for several seconds and then, holding the tub close to her face, eat half of the saturated Twinkie. She dropped the other half into the tub and rubbed her belly slightly while chewing. She would pause for a second after swallowing, paying attention to the movie, and then fish out the other half, shove it into her mouth, licking the ice cream off of her fingers as she pulled them out, set the carton back on the table and caressed her belly with both hands while she chewed. This went on for the next hour, with the occasional Twizzlers and sig of beer thrown in between until her hand hit the bottom of the empty Twinkie box. Without skipping a beat, she stuffed all of the wrappers into the empty box, threw it onto the ground, reached over to the side table, and peeled open the Oreos. She continued the dunking ritual with two Oreos at a time but having to tip the carton to reach what little of the ice cream remained. After about five minutes, she just drank the rest of the ice cream and set the empty carton on the table. Her shirt starting to ride up a little taught and straining against her developing girth and exposing a pale white strip of her lower belly bulge.

Her eyes still transfixed on the screen; she continued to munch like she were in a trance. Her breathing was growing heavier as she grew gradually more and more full. Every time he thought she was about to give up, she would take a deep breath and fill her mouth again.

The movie was almost over, and having finished the first, and she handed her second beer to him. He twisted off the top and handed it back, and she took a long swig, let out a long belch, took a deep breath, and laid back into her seat. Her attention seemed less later focused on the screen, her eyes slightly glazed over as the credits rolled. He reached over and started lightly caressing her thigh. She moaned softly. His hand moved up to her belly, pulling her shirt up as he moved his hand up to rub her bloated stomach lightly. She cooed at this with a smile spreading across her lips. His hand continued to rub around her swollen middle, moving from the taught, hard ball of her stomach down to the jiggly flesh bellow and to the sides. His hand gravitating lower and lower with each pass. Her eyes were closed, and her breath was quickening.

When his hand found its way between her soft thighs, her mouth fell open, her moans intensified. When his hand found its way under her clothing and caressed her, she stifled her moan by shoving a cookie into her mouth. He moved in closer and whispered into her ear, “Still not full, huh?” while slipping his middle finger into her.

She shoved two more Oreos into her mouth, arched her back, and shook her head no. She grabbed her lower belly, squeezing the soft flesh while she chewed, and he thrust steadily faster and faster. She caught her breath after swallowing, shoved two more into her mouth, and chewed while her body clenched in orgasm. He pulled his finger out and went back to caressing her belly.

She finished chewing, swallowed, and just lay there for a minute, catching her breath. She sat up a little straighter with open eyes, looking a little sleepy.

“I don’t remember them being that intense.”

“I think you were just letting yourself enjoy it more,” he retorted.

She gave him a mischievous eye and asked, “Anything I can do to return the favor?”

“Yes, rest and just enjoy yourself.”

He got up, gathered all of the trash, quickly ran it to the kitchen, and returned.

“So,” he started, “are you there yet? Are you uncomfortably full?”

A smile spread over her face. She rubbed her belly with both hands, looking down on it with pride, then looked up at him and said, “Not quite, but closer than I was.”

He sat back down next to her and started to rub her belly with her, then said, “well, no reason to be uncomfortable yet. I say we digest and rest for a while. You watch something while I tidy up a little, and then we can get back to your little pet project in an hour or so.”

She considered it for a minute, suspiciously looking him up and down. “Not a bad idea. I can find the merit in it.”

“Good.” He got up and handed her the remote.

While she was flipping through her options, he was grabbing all of the bits and pieces he missed in his first pass of cleaning. The empty bottle, the empty bag of chips, the partially depleted Twizzlers, and the ice cream lid. His hand went for the 3/4’s empty Oreos but was interrupted with a terse, “Leave it.” So he did and took the rest to the kitchen.

He dumped the trash and started loading the dishwasher with the many pans and utensils she used for the lasagna. He was surprised how tidy she kept the rest of the kitchen, given how involved lasagna can be. The sound of the television signaled that she had found something to watch. He finished up in the kitchen and went back out into the living room. He gave her a peck on the cheek and said, “I’m going to lay down for a couple of minutes. Still a little worn out from the day.”

She bit into the cookie that had apparently been in her mouth the whole time, chewed for a minute, swallowed, and said, “Okay, honey, but don’t take too long, or I’ll start without you.”

“Well, if it comes to that, just wake me up.”

He threw her a wink, she reciprocated, and he went to lay down for a while. He set the alarm on his phone for an hour and immediately passed out.