Chapter 3 - the pleasure dome

I grabbed some extra fatty bacon with one hand and warm, thickly buttered biscuits with the other, as my wife slid the bed sheets down past my legs. Mmm, she made the biscuits just like I love them...more or less just carriers for the soft butter, and with a complementary flavor that I could just never quite get enough of each day. You couldn't eat just one...dozen that is!

Of course, I was rock hard and ready for sex. Hurry up wifey, I am ready for you to delight me! She eagerly lifted my underbelly with practiced technique. She kept it raised using our electric ceiling sling harness so she could see me and touch me more effectively. I could not lift the vast masses down there anyway even if I could reach them. Besides my own hands were quite busy stuffing my grateful and well-practiced mouth.

Her hands finally reached me...Ooh ooh ahh. Ahh, ahh, oo...I reacted to her grip and teases. Mmm, my tongue swimming in delicious sweet greases. Her blouse was off (not that I could see very much over the rolling hills of my gut) and her fingers rewarded me, in rhythm with me feeding myself my immense breakfast. She cooed at me and knew just what I like to hear and how I like to be touched. Heaven.

She was so beautiful and her sexy voice kept telling me to eat and eat and EAT. "Oh you love that bacon don't you?...God you're such a fat pig...your belly needs more food darling...that's right, grab that creme shake to wash it down...you *deserve* a nice gorge...eat baby eat oh yeah stuff it in you know you want it...I made extra today you blobby hunk..." She straddled one of my legs and moved her vagina against their warm, liquid softness, utterly devoid of any muscle tone. This was great and she was an experienced expert!

I couldn't talk much, obviously, but she let me know what a big, fat, hog I was and voiced her approval whenever I dug in faster. I grunted in agreement, happy that we both loved my gut and all the enjoyment and past gluttony it symbolized, memorialized and represented. Countless years of pleasure were stored therein.

My soft, compliant belly shook, rippled, and heaved as she jerked me off, working harder and harder to increase my pleasure. I ate and ate while she yanked and cranked. Plate after plate, bowl after bowl, glass after glass emptied as I greeted the new day without a care in the world. My only responsibility, my delight and comfort.

I loved seeing my flabby belly shuddering and moving freely like the ocean as Jane struggled while I lay there stuffing myself nearly in ecstatic overload. I eagerly chewed and swallowed my food offerings faster and faster. She got more and more vigorous and encouraging as I steadily shoveled in my favorite foods. Of course you know she timed this well. Her goal and mine, was for me to eat "just a little bit more".

She would finish me off in a Big Bang of enjoyment, like the icing on my many cakes. Not only did she want me to stuff myself with all of my familiar delights, she wanted me completely gorged and completely overloaded with food taste and fullness pleasures. Capped off with an explosive sexual release as my well-deserved reward and celebration for a job well done. My fork clattered against the last empty plate as I thunderously orgasmed and moaned with joy, my belly rolling and swaying freely, my face glowing with delight. Ahhhh...Ohhhh....Ohh, oh....mmmm, so nice.

Afterwards, she moved the now empty trays onto the cart while I relaxed in comfort as she slaved away busily. She cleaned me up and removed dishes, bowls, cups, cartons, boxes, and utensils. I laid back, no longer hungry for the moment, floating in a sexual and gluttonous afterglow. The bed-motor again whirred as it strained to lower me into a more comfortable resting position to aid my digestion and to encourage sleep.

Then she cuddled up next to me rubbing my belly and expressing her approval. So fluffy on the outside, so packed with delicious food on the inside. My gut was as flaccid as my now-happy manhood. "I'm so proud of you honey you really pigged out great today...good god you can eat...you are my great, big, man-o-lard." She really just could not get enough of my huge, flabby belly. It was our prized possession. And it was simply huge, pinning me to the bed in which I enjoy life.

Soon I found myself dozing off for a nap, after all I had just worked very hard quickly enjoying about 7-8000 calories to start the day off right. Plus the easy reward-sex always helps me relax and sleep while relieving any pent up stress. She whispered to me "don't worry, baby, I have a big lunch being delivered later on, I think you're gonna love it...and you can eat me then when you have a little more energy... Right now just rest and turn all of my food offerings into soft, warm, jelly fat. After all, we are slaves to the Pleasure Dome!!" I smiled and laid back, utterly relaxed with not a care in the world. What a lucky guy I am. I love being a mountain, I love being the pleasure dome.

I remembered when we'd first met, I'd been just a skinny little 400 pounder...and she had looked at me slyly even then...examining me and judging my potential, compliance and laziness. It was as if she already knew something I was only starting to suspect about myself. I'd caught her gazing at me from across the restaurant while I had been absentmindedly rubbing my stuffed belly like the wonderful prize it was and is. Even then I was secretly quite proud of it. I thought no one would ever understand my needs.

Occasionally I would interrupt my slow belly rub with a quick open-palm slap...and I'd feel the fat just shudder and flap around loosely. It was my gorge afterglow routine. This was after quickly eating 40 chicken wings slathered in ranch dressing as a comforting snack. As I kneaded and patted my soft, yielding fat, consoling, adoring and appreciating it, I thought about having a few slices of pie to cap off my meaty snack with some nice sweets. And maybe some ice cream.

She saw me and did not look away, in fact, she smiled at me and there was not a trace of horror or revulsion like most people exhibited. I realized that I had some ranch dressing on my first chin...however I did not use a napkin to wipe it off, instead, I quickly licked it off by extending my tongue towards the slop, using a finger to help out. She came closer...making eye contact, surveying my belly, making eye contact...was she being hypnotized by me, pulled in by my gravity? Me, the most out of shape round man in three counties?

Despite this public gluttony, there she was staring at me "that way". Huh? There was not even a hint of muscle tone in the slack, rounded mass I so adored and that kept drawing her eyes. I realized that she must have watched me quickly eat that juicy chicken too. Man I inhaled those wings, didn't I? Later she told me she knew then that she had found her kind of guy. And I know now that I found my kind of girl.

Maybe my surprise lunch delivery would be chicken wings today? Of course there'd better be a lot more than just 40 of them lol. 40 would never do. And maybe a stack of soft, juicy sweet-cakes to contrast with the delicious greasy chicken! And lots of beer to bring on a little buzz. I'll find out after my nap.