Cindy’s Downfall

Chapter 1 - Discovery

“Ugh”. I grunted as I felt Tom’s hand give my ass a spank. I was on all fours with him balls deep in me, thrusting back and forth and bringing me ever so much closer to a well deserved orgasm. Tom’s other hand had the bulk of what would be a ponytail in it, he was gently pulled my head so I could enjoy the view of our lovemaking in the mirror. Tom looked so macho (even though I generally don’t go for that, but in bed it works for me!) and at present he was dominating my lithe runner’s body masterfully.

We had a divine long session of foreplay where two of his fingers were inside me, turning upwards and rubbing the front wall of my sopping womanhood. So I was primed to hopefully finish before Tom so that he could let loose and empty his balls inside me. I felt another smack, somewhat harder, from him and he increased his pace. As he thrusted faster I could feel the crest of the wave begin to crash over me. I tried to drop my head in ecstasy, but Tom kept a firm grip on the base on my hair and I grunted again and I was getting sooooooo close!

Another smack on the ass, another grunt from me and the deepest, hardest thrust yet and the wave consumed me. The energy rippled through my body, starting from my center. My pussy tightened around Tom’s hardness as I came and his dick began to tense as a prelude to beginning to spasm. I moaned and rolled my eyes back as I began to feel his finish deep inside me.

“Sin! It feels so good!” He grunted with some heavy breathing mixed in. He slammed into me one final time and released his seed. Our sweaty, overheated bodies together as one as he got as deep as he could, bottoming out while his manhood clenched and retracted, spasming until he was empty. He finally let go of my hair, slumped a bit and began to uncouple from me. Once he was free of my girl cave (Sorry! That’s what he likes to call it!), he gave me a playful smack on my left ass cheek.

“You are a hell of a lay Cindy”. He said. Sin is his pet nickname for me. It’s not the one I would have picked, but it’s fine. Of course, that is what every girl wants to hear after being taken like that, so I playfully made my displeasure known.

“You are such a sweet talker. You know you still have to work at it to get me in the sack. Just because we’re married, I’m not rolling over and spreading my legs at the drop of a hat.” I tried my best to project a look of refinement and class. That was difficult when my hair and make-up was a mess, I was a post-sex pile of sweat and, oh yeah, his cum was already leaking out of me and onto our very, very soiled (and wet) sheets.

True to form, it didn’t work. “You’re easy to get in the sack Sin. I just need to take off my shirt and you are more than willing to get all warmed up.” He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Turns out he’s right (damn it!). Tom has a very nice chest, hairy but not a sweater. He’s got nice pecs from his time at the gym and is in very good shape. He’s 29, I’m 27 and we are both pre-kids. Married 2 years and still very much in love (and lust!).

“Nice try Romeo! You’re decent I’ll give you that.” I wrinkled my nose at him. “However if I took my shirt off and flashed you, you’d be on your knees so fast begging me for sex, it’d be pathetic.” That was a little harsh, but hey it’s the battle of the sexes. I want to win!

“Ok. Ok. It’s not a contest, I’m just having fun!” He laughed and then I laughed. Then I felt more of him come (cum) out of me.

“I need to go cleanup. Be back in a minute.” I said. I went into the bathroom, closed the door and then peed and wiped away what I could. I heard him thru the door that I could help clean him up too. He then added with my mouth. Ha! I wetted a washcloth with some water and opened the door and threw it at him. To be honest I wouldn’t mind, I’ve done it before. But I do have some standards and tasting myself like that on him is more for me to offer than for him to ask. At least that’s my rules.

Deciding to push my shower to the morning, I gave myself a quick rubdown with another washcloth and then donned a rather yummy pink babydoll nightie. I normally sleep in the nude, but it wasn’t quite bedtime yet and I wanted to chill and catch up on social media. I grabbed my phone and headed downstairs to see what was happening in the world and flopped on the sofa.

After ninety minutes of emoji, comments and mild arguments on the socials I decided to go to bed. I stopped by the spare room we set up as a bar to check on Tom and found him asleep in his favorite chair. I started to walk across the room to see if he wanted to go to bed when I noticed his phone was unlocked and the screen on was. Curious I stopped and looked at his screen and was more than mildly shocked when I saw what was on there. It was a website called Fantasy Feeder and there was what looked like a chat with someone on the screen. I quietly picked up the phone and scrolled back as far as it would allow me.

The username logged in was “FeedUObese34” so I assumed that that was Tom in the chat. The earliest sentence I could read from him stated “It would be nice if my sow would grow some meat on her bones and get nice and obese”. I don’t know why the first thing that popped into my head was that a sow was a female pig who was post pregnancy, so he was down a point already for that! Wondering whether he meant me or not was confirmed by the next few sentences where the other user (IWannaGetHuge) and Tom went back and forth on whether or not he should be honest with his wife about his feelings.

To his credit Tom did say that he loved me as I was and it would be fulfilling a fantasy for me to get huge. Now let me tell you a little about myself. I was a thin kid growing up, but when I hit college the freshman 15 turned into the sophomore 35. I’m tall, but my height couldn’t cover than much extra weight and at 5’11” I clocked in at 185 pounds by the time my sophomore year ended. I was dating a rather heavy guy that year and let me tell you, the sex was great! The fat on both of our bodies slapped around nicely in bed and honestly getting hot, sweaty and kinky under the sheets with all that extra fat is still among some of my best sexual encounters.

Once we broke up I had eyes on a muscular guy in my Math classes so I hit the gym myself and discovered what became a passion for fitness and working out. I primarily run, and I have a nice runners body. Slender and lithe, my thighs are tight and muscular while some weights and keep me toned up top. Overall I have an athletic build but I am graced with a nice pair of 38C breasts, which can be attributed to the women in my family (mother’s side) who are all generously endowed.

However Tom was not chatting with someone about me being 185 pounds and chubby, nor 150 and slim. Quoting something most of the way through the conversation when asked how big he wanted his wife, his reply was “Maybe 350-400 pounds. Obese all over with fat tits and a huge ass and big enough to justify eating from a trough.”

Oof. What did I stumble onto? Seems like my husband liked fat women, very fat. In fact he liked them hugely obese. I was 200 pounds, of what would be almost pure fat, away from what he wanted! In the moment I was very shocked. I mean there are certain things that I would like Tom to look like (extreme bodybuilder!) but I feel like it was twisted that he liked something that quite frankly I would be disgusted to be. I liked my fit body and enjoyed running and the gym. I wasn’t going to change that. Was I?

The rest of the conversation was mostly tame, with an occasional remark about how much hotter I would look if certain parts of my were bigger. I kind of felt insulted when Tom agreed with his chat buddy that I would look better with huge, floppy balls of fat for tits that rested atop a huge belly. I’ll give him credit for saying that he liked my breasts now, and called them perky. But, like most guys, tits can never be too big and he wanted mine to be “huge fun bags”.

I made sure to scroll back down to where the phone was when I first came in and then tiptoed out of the room. I needed to process this. I was in shock, but did realize that Tom wasn’t being insulting or rude. He was expressing his preferences and asking someone for advice on telling me. I was mad he kept this part of himself from me. It wasn’t like I was going to get fat, but I wish I had known.

I went upstairs and was thinking before I went to sleep. I thought mainly about two things. Was I mad at Tom. Well, like I said earlier, I was mad he kept this from me and I didn’t like the way I was talked about. However I did tell some of my girl friends some pretty intimate details about our sex life, even the details of dick size and staying power to my bestie, so thinking back I didn’t see anything derogatory that I should be mad about. I guess he would have been mad if he overheard some of the things I said.

The second thing was his preferences themselves. Clearly he’d be happier with an obese wife and I couldn’t understand why. I tried to imagine how big I’d be at 350 pounds and it seemed like it would be so overwhelming. I’d be more fat than anything else and moving around would be tough. I’d sweat a lot, maybe waddle and lumber around. I’d certainly have a lot of challenges, be severely out of shape and get winded a lot. Even sex might be a challenge. Would I have to lift my belly to give him access to get inside me? Would I be too fat to do what we just did this evening, doggy-style?

And then the thought hit me. The one that was the start of what would happen to me. I imagined the same sexual encounter Tom and I had tonight, except I was 350+ pounds and obese. I imagined him having trouble finding my sex, working himself in and also whether I’d be as attractive at that weight. I would be very sweaty and I might smell. Would I have the stamina to stay on all fours? Or even, would I just collapse on my front and not move letting him enter me and then how much would my bloated body jiggle and move? I’d probably ripple like a bowl of jello!

I imagined myself laying there, my bloated body flopped on the bed too tired to move. My husband treating me like a fat blow-up doll because I am not moving, enters me. The only movement is his thrusting and my obese form jiggles in response. I imagined myself moaning with pleasure as he plows me and my body is in constant motion. Finally I tried to think how fat I would be and how much of my fat and ass fat he could grab and knead with his hands while he was thrusting in me.

I think I remembered the sex with my college boyfriend and how our extra pounds felt. Somehow I translated that to my husband’s desire to see me obscenely fat and I realized I was wet. Not soaked, but I was definitely wet between my legs and that both surprised and shocked me.

If I wasn’t so tired, I probably would have rubbed one out to that scene. Maybe there was something to this after all. Tomorrow I would have to do some research!