chapter 2

'You still look so fat' i said, even the words turned me on, '...overweight, really chubby, pudgy, plump...' we started to laugh. 'Portly, corpulent...' he chimed in, 'obese, rotund, adipose...' 'Oh i love that' i said, 'adipose, ha!

And rotund... it sounds so big and rounds... yum. And obese always sounds so naughty and off limits - like something you shouldn't want but you do, love it!'

He rolled on top of me then, pinning me under him, captive, squashing me [which he knows i love]. I pretended to try and wriggle out from under his massive body ... 'get off me fat man,' i laughed and wrapped my arms and legs as far as they would go around him, hugging him even closer.

The sensation of his underbelly pushing against my clitoris was so stimulating that I came hard, again and again, almost passing out, the pressure relentless as his fat belly relaxed and sunk into me even more, engulfing me, the weight suffocating ... and so erotic. I buried my face in his chest, nestling it in amongst the rolls of flesh accentuated by the magic of gravity. I was in heaven.

He had me where he wanted me, loving the spasming of my small body trapped beneath his huge bulk as I peaked over and over, my small soft cries of pleasure as he found my center and concentrated his weight on that one magic spot.

Pushing my thighs apart with his belly he forced his way onto me, enveloping my center in his soft underbelly fat, feeling my warm slickness lubricate his fat lower belly flesh against my trim firmness.

It was something I know we both enjoyed, my proof of approval from my cries and near epileptic spasms, his from the simple feel of me as he pleasured me, his eyes closed as he felt every detail of my womanhood, my pubic bone, the inner warmth of my thighs as he unsuccessfully tried to squeeze his bulk between them.

My only regret was that he wasn't bigger, wasn't as big and fat as I knew he wanted to be...as fat as he once was long ago. He knew and accepted that i looked at other men, much rounder and much fatter than he was, was aroused by them, but any jealousy was in the past...he had made a decision for all the right reasons and had accepted it with no hint of regret.

A small consolation was that he was still plenty fat, still technically morbidly obese, though I like to think healthily chunky...OK, chubby...alright yes, fat. But for his acceptance of the status quo I loved him dearly and knew he would do anything for me.

Including his trip here. I knew he hated flying, before especially because of his size, but even now long extended flights were uncomfortable to his 3X body so he avoided them where possible. But I am impossible to resist...my almost aching desire for him, the gentle way I treat him, babying him, feeding him often to the point of discomfort which I confess pleasures us both.

Rising above me on hands and knees he smiled down at me, enjoying encapsulating my slimness, knowing I liked that view of him, his rounded belly and still full-ish breasts succumbing to his one time foe and old accomplice, gravity. Because of it he was stronger now, his arms and thighs still muscular from supporting a 100lb plus belly, much stronger now that some of his weight had been painfully and regretfully shed. It was a position we both loved, my hands moving over his smooth curving flesh, pulling on him, cupping his breasts, gently squeezing that still substantial ring of flesh around his sides, tracing its underside with my fingertips until they met in the still deep warm fold between belly and pubis.

"Stop, that tickles," he playfully complained as I grabbed handfuls and shook, causing his entire torso to quiver like soft bags of melted butter. "And you got me sticky." Ignoring him I reached over to the cheese tray and popped another of exquisite delicacies into his mouth. He groaned as the rich flavors filled his mouth again. I slowed a bit, knowing he would gorge until he split open.

Feeling his belly swell and grow and expand again, I felt his taut fullness, and found myself becoming intensely aroused, a tearing, terrifying dilemma that was difficult to control. I knew I was weak as he was, and I knew that deep down this deliciously fat man over me would gladly accept succumbing to the weakness we both shared.

"You're going to make me fat if you keep that up," he teased, both of us understanding the realities involved.

With a grunt he kneeled, pushing my slender thighs apart and looked down at me, his eyes flowing over me from my tousled head, elf-like face, and small shapely body with my legs still spread exposing my center, still warmly glistening from our lovemaking.

"I'm going to waddle off to the shower and as much as I enjoy wearing it, wash off some of this love juice. Then maybe dress up and go out for a fancy dinner, my treat. I have a feeling that by the time this trip is over, none of the clothes I brought are going to fit."

So we dressed up, him in an expensive 3 piece suit I bought him less than 2 weeks ago. I loved the way his still big belly was barely covered by the tight vest.

I wore short, silver dress and high heels, holding onto him for balance, one around him under the jacket so I could feel the thick roll of fat ballooning out from under his arm to the top of his pants- the waist feeling tight, restrictive. My other hand pressed against his round belly, hard under the straining vest, rubbing it lovingly, slipping underneath the mass of flesh to feel its impressive weight. We laughed as we walked along the cobbled streets to the cafe; those thin and stylish French staring at the fat American tourist and an elegant woman less than half his size. I loved it.