Chapter 4

Sam was CRANKY. It was nearly one o’clock and her stomach was screaming at her to eat something, but instead, she just kept sipping her cucumber-mint-and-lemon water to keep the pangs at bay. Brady was at work, and she was doing her usual Monday morning cleaning refresh of the home. She had a pounding headache and needed food, fast.
Sam doesn’t remember what happened when her fast ended. The timer on her phone told her she could eat, and she ripped open the pantry and scooped massive mountains of hummus onto crackers, and plunged Pringles into creamy party dips; at one point, she was picking off cheese from the leftover lasagna, until she just resigned to a big old “fuck-it” and fired up the oven to reheat a proper portion. It was supposed to be their dinner that night, but she knew she could just have a little to hold her over.
While she waited, she made herself a BradyShake (chocolate syrup in milk with a twist of rock salt) while she listened to the news. When the lasagna was ready, she picked at it with a fork straight from the tray. The anchor droned on about a political conflict, and before she knew it, she had eaten too much.
Her eyes widened and her heart sank when she realized she had ruined dinner plans. But she could fix it, there was still time!
“Hey babe,” she texted, “Doing a CostCo run – need anything?”
She bit her nails while she waited for his response; after a few moments, she opted to bite on the burnt cheese pieces of the lasagna instead. When she looked down at the large foil bake tray, she saw that it had gone too far and changed tactics.
“Tried to reheat the lasagna for some lunch and ended up burning it – fancy something else for dinner tonight? Whatever your heart desires…sorry xo”
She finished the tray and hid it in the garage from her husband and herself. Sam reeled as she explored this newfound appetite, this ravenous girl she had unlocked over the course of a few days with her husband.
“There’s no way I can keep going like this,” she breathed to herself as she dumped her healthy vegetable water down the kitchen sink. She stared at the bottle of wine on the counter, still open from the previous night. I mean…what else was she doing today? Surely a little cheeky Housewife glass of wine couldn’t hurt…?
No, Sam pushed the thought from her mind. It’s Monday, we have to reset.
When Brady answered, he wrote simply and sweetly. His request was what she thought it would be, a barbeque. Ribs, chicken, steak, corn. Sam snatched her keys and hit the shops. She had to make it up to him, and she would. She also rehearsed the story she would tell him about her stomach cramps and maybe just sticking to a salad with chicken tonight. Maybe she could even fake sick for the whole week?
But come dinner time, when Brady came home and cracked them both beers, that plan evaporated. She drank with him, and she ate with him, and she did her best to keep up. The beer and wine helped.
That night, when Brady slumped from the bathroom to their bed and climbed on top of her, all she could do was starfish on her back while he buried his furry face between her legs. She was so full she could barely move. The room spun as he went to work, and she did her best to power through the uncomfortable feeling pulsing from her stuffed and swollen midsection.
When she came and they switched, she fell to her knees and felt her heels on her plump posterior as they usually did, but she also noticed the lip of her tight round tummy kissing the top of her thigh as she took him in her mouth. As she sucked him off, she looked up at him, the pure ecstasy brimming in his eyes as he stared down at her with nothing short of adoration over his broad belly and pecs.
He would go on to *** three more times that evening, a new and astounding record. Sam did not know where he was getting all this energy and stamina from…
Her last thoughts that night would be of what she would make for dinner the next evening. Sam felt saliva against her tongue with this consideration.