A new religion

Chapter 1 - the gospel of gluttony

(NOTE: This is inspired by a roleplay with someone very special. You know who you are now and how I feel about you. She is my priestess, and I am ready to join her cult of culinary and sensual delights.)

This is a new religion.

Me spraddled out on a wide-seated recliner, in the midst of a hedonistic binge of food and sex.

You, atop me, you start by sitting on my lap and feeding me, stuffing me actually, until you make me recline a bit, and you climb up on my body, straddling my wide hips with your long legs.

We began fully clothed, but somehow, you have managed to undress us both. I know I didn't have anything to do with that except perhaps shifting my weighty body, so you could slip off my too-tight pants and pull my shirt over my head between bites of your luscious food, between kisses of your luscious mouth.

You eat also, but not nearly as much -- perhaps one small bite to every large mouthful you stuff into me. Between bites, I spout my adoration of you and what you are doing to me, how you have made me into a fat sensual plaything.

Your touch anywhere upon me, because I am growing softer everywhere, is so fine, so shiver-producing, so damned arousing. I am nearly faint from my stuffing and your tempting sexuality. I cannot stop, nay, you won't allow me to stop!

I buck my hips gently beneath you, my flabby moobs shaking right in front of you as you reach for my love handles and caress them. I swallow another mouthful of pleasure, and in return, up comes a gasp and a verse of poetry for you -- words extolling the wonders of what our love means to each other!

You play with my love handles as my words flow out of me, like my tongue is on fire for you, like a Christian or Muslim or Buddhist fanatic, in the throes of some religious awakening. If I were a dervish, I would swirl, but I am too stuffed for that. All I can do is speak in tongues between bites of delicious fattening food you stuff into me.

Indeed, this is spiritual. I gaze into your eyes, and I see the goddess within you, the goddess of hedonism and joy! "There may be no tomorrow," your gospel of gluttony says, "so let us be ourselves, free ourselves today!"

And indeed, you have freed me of my clothes, my inhibitions, my ability to even stand up at the moment. I am like a worshiper at the altar of decadence, ready to partake in a holy communion of donuts, or lasagna, or your latest treat made and baked by the very hands which feed me and are now grabbing my love handles and squeezing them as I shift beneath you, shaking and shivering, my fat quivering like jelly melting on a plate.

"There, there, big boy," you implore me as you sit straight up atop my belly, I feel your juices now starting to flow between your legs, oh, those fine sensual juices! I thirst for them! And I hunger for you and for all that you serve to me! You lean forward now, and I feel your soft little belly pressing against my manifest gut.

You have seen the joy that this binging in happiness has brought to me. Now, you have come to the sacred table of riotous gluttony as well. Your thin body is still so tiny compared to mine, and yet, you've gained a bit of weight just from seeing how joyful it is to just let go and not worry about what society or family or anyone thinks about it! To let go, and enjoy tasty food, delicious sex and the subsequent growth of both love and love handles, the growth of emotions and the growth of your body.

Let go of all hardness of spirit and mind and body. Let it all soften and turn to mush beneath an endless parade of sensual pleasures. You see, in my quivering eyelids, just how fantastic this all is, and you cannot hold back from feeling these same pleasures which now force me to lift my hips and drop them repeatedly beneath you, my body's motion like the sea waves, rolling in and out.

Soon, I tire, my muscles no longer as strong as them once were. I have grown too flabby and lazy to endure for long. All I can manage now in the way of movement is the movement of my lips and the gasping for breath as I try to talk to you of the ecstasy awaiting us, of the joy we are both feeling at this moment. I try to speak, but all that comes out is moaning and a sputtering of words.

But words cannot capture this feeling we share, this strange desire we share. Some may call it a fetish, but we know it is nothing more than our primitive desires let loose upon each other, nothing more than ancient appetites which have been repressed for centuries, and now, we allow them to take over our bodies, to roam free upon our bellies, upon our tastebuds, in the tingling, no, not just tingling, in the strong pull and the very ache we have between our legs and between our lips.

You lean into me and stuff even more food into my moaning mouth, and you watch my chubby cheeks filled to bursting as my face shakes side to side, my double chin jiggling as I roll my weight a bit side to side beneath you. My eyes roll back into my head, and my eyelids flutter in ecstasy of the moment. Still, I see you as you grab a handful of cake and push it into your mouth. Those lips frosting covered, I want nothing more than to kiss them.

The taste of chocolate and sweet sugar and fattening butter cream hit you like a shaking, swirling tongue hitting your innermost sensual places. You lean back and smile, then lean fully forward, our bellies once again meeting, mine round, huge and hard from all the food that has been stuffed into it, your belly smaller, a little girly gut.

Soft and new with fat, it smushes against my hardened belly and pushes against it like a soft bit of dough against the baker's kneading board. It spreads its little softness against me, you feel it, and your eyes light up with a heavenly revelation.

(more to come)
3 chapters, created StoryListingCard.php 7 years , updated 2 years
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Comments

Built4com4t 7 years
good job...you're zeroing in on the magic
Pd500 7 years
Love this!
GrowingLoveH... 7 years
Sorry, Rustina, that you don't like this. At least one person does like it, and I have immensely enjoyed writing this -- the words spilling out as if heaven-sent (or hell-sent).