Chapter 4 - getting some

We fill up our plates with eggrolls and delicious noodle dishes from the buffet. The conversation flows easily. We go back for second helpings, then thirds. I'm getting very full by this time.
"Giving up, are you?" Magus says teasingly, as I put down my fork.
"No way!" I say. "I can keep up with you."
"Is that a challenge?" he asks.
"Absolutely," I crow.
"You're on," he says.
I make my way valiantly through my third plate but it's no use, Magnus has already polished off a fourth helping and is picking at his fifth.
"I guess I am no match for you," I admit, rubbing my distended belly.
Outside on the sidewalk, Magnus suggests stopping for an ice cream. I follow him into the cafe, wondering where I am going to find room. He orders a triple scoop sundae for himself. I get the peanut butter fudge sundae, and it's so good, I eat every bite. I can't take my eyes off Magnus as he lumbers up to the counter to order the specialty of the place, a salted caramel sundae. He comes back with two spoons and hands one to me.
"Help me finish this," he says, eyes sparkling.
So I do.
Magnus drives me home. We kiss in the car. There's definite chemistry there.
"May I see you again?" he asks.
"You'd better," I say. "What are you doing tomorrow night? I know this great Italian place out by the lake."
And so begins a whirlwind series of dates with Magnus. We go out for supper, we meet for lunch. Sometimes we just go for a stroll and grab an ice cream cone while we walk. I really like him, but it's been weeks and he isn't making a move.
Finally, one night, after stuffing ourselves with burritos, he invites me back to his place. His walls are adorned with photos he's taken, of scenery, animals, his friends and family. His little room is too small for a couch so we sit on his bed and talk. We look into each other's eyes and then I put my hand on his waist and pull him to me. Soon we're rolling around, wild, as we come together at last.
Afterwards, I rub one hand gently along his belly. He is soft and squishy, very pleasing. He must weigh close to 300 pounds. His chest is mounded with manboobs. He pulls away as I touch him.
"What? What is it?" I ask.
"It's just... this," he says, indicating his flabby body.
"I like this a lot," I say, grabbing a handful of his belly chub. "Didn't I just demonstrate that?"
"Really?" he says. "Other girls don't."
"Are you sleeping with other girls?" I demand.
"No."
"Then why care what they think? I think you're the most delectable, sexiest man I've ever met."
And I show him so, again.