Chapter 1

We don't want an imbalance of power, now do we?  We don't want the scale of pleasure to tip towards indulging only one of us if we do...

The want to please you burns through me. And truly I mean, burn. I can feel it as it creeps across my cheeks leaving a slight pink hue as it brushes its finger tips down my throat towards the pearlescent sheen of my breasts.

I let the towel fall, from around my body, stepping over it's bounds and stepping so confidently towards the bed that even in my naked form - still wet from the shower I feel as an empress may as she steps towards her throne. And as I settle down into the soft white sheets, I am pleased to see your eyes follow the water droplets which glitter across me. That I see your eyes marking the golden flow of my curls over my shoulders, down my back.
I gather my crown - really the auburn mass of my hair -  in my hands - careful to reach up more than i need to with my shoulders and arms so that you may see all of me beneath. And then,  I let the silken curtain flow once more veiling the curves before . Locks that a few minutes ago you were all but moaning my name into as I drove you closer to pleasure.

I can feel the heat a little more then in the flutter of my heart seeming to thrum just a little louder as I shift, and their heavy mass falls softly. Two mountains tipped with a growing, tender peak - a perfect trail for your tongue to explore, as my nipples harden still more in the cool nights air.  I can feel the letter beads of water, still. Or is it it the burning trace of where your hands clutched my waist as I felt your body throb and tense against me - that moment of pleasure that I knew meant you couldn't hold back any longer.

Lower. The warmth grows, so that I have to part my thighs to the feel of your kisses as you lie down beside me wrapping me to the heat of your body. The sweet words on your lips lost to the depth of my kisses. To the tongue, which I now let roam your mouth - wanting against to taste you. More.  And yet your hands remain firmly on my hips, seeming to enjoy the feel of me grinding against you - in want of you.

We have found ourselves in this position because less than an hour ago, I had brought you to such a mess where we had to shower to clean us up. But mostly you.

At first we hadn't even managed to make our way out from the kitchen, not caring it seemed, that we were in full view of the wall of glass that looked out over the mountains around us. If there had been anyone around to see, and on our hikes and trails we had not found another person yet, they would have found us quite the spectacle as I pushed you back step by step until your back was pressed right to the cold glass. My kisses exploring along your jaw, up to your ear where I could most effeftively place my little moan of pleasure.  And here you remained trapped - sandwiched between my Lythe, little body and the great expanse of pane - hot and cold - a plump, round hog ready for show. Not that anyone would have known it.

Here of course, you had still been fully clothed. In fact you were up until ths moment with a final creak that made me shudder, and caused my knees to wobble forcing me to cling further still to you, there was an audible "pop."  I'm not sure if your over full belly even managed to push down the zip, and roll outwards over the material of your waistband before I felt you throb. There was no hiding your arousal - no disgusting the way I felt your pleasure was palpable in the shudder of your cock,  even before I felt you seep out into my hand. Against my pelvis. Covering your protruding rounding belly. A true gluttonous guilt built from pleasure.

Although this current form, stretched tight on am another wise slim body was formed by bloat as opposed to a belly stretching feast. I do love it when you gorge for me, but there are times when I just need you to be big for me... and how you love to see your belly swell. I felt you grow as your gut did.

And all it took was my kisses. Those sweet, tempting words in your ear... and the pressure of almost 5 litres of liquid pressing down onto your pelvis - jutting between us. 

When we had made our way to the shower, and you stripped naked, I could see the way your skin was stretched for me. A shine given not only from your excitement but also yours. The curve of your belly... sitting so low and distended. Filling you up. There had barely been room for us both - interesting as only the day before you had pressed me to those tiles with such ease and my thighs had locked around your waist.  Strong arms had supported me, cupping my ass - keeping me safe as you roamed my body. And now space was at a premium with this little pot belly. And those strong arms were needed to hold you up. From raising me up, to making me kneel for you. The want, the liquid molten excitement that had filled me as I had drank your naked form in.

My breasts pebbled at the thought, and I am suddenly aware now more of my body is in contact with you than it is the bed. You are holding me tight, maneuvering me so that you can play, and kiss and bite and excite me. So that you may feast on the sight of my enjoyment. But still, i feel my hand working it's way towards my own growing wetness but you catch my wrist as you murmur my name. A weak spot. To hear you beg and play with me.

'I think I'm still hungry" you add, and lift your hips before letting them fall. Making you wobble even in your bloated state. Your probably right - now that the pressure has receded a little from the bloat... just how big will you need to get for me before we are satisfied? Since when was 5 litres not enough to fill you up? My hog. You need calories now; the lasting expanse of a belly formed by our passion.  I begin to tease but you steal my sweet murmurings with kisses, purring, "I want my sweetest treat first. I need to taste you."  Your breath warms my bare breasts and I find that my own is catching in my throat as you bow your head. Lips gently bumping the peak of my nipples, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

I feel myself rock even although I don't want to acknowledge the hold on me you have - the only acknowledgment the groan of desire I let loose as you take my hands and gently trace them over your expanse. Devouring the roundness between us. There is no hiding this belly now. Our bodies wrapped together. 

I know you want let me play; you want my climax in your control just as I wanted yours as I slid my tongue along your length, hands on your belly. You know when your full like this - and I look up for Kneeling... I can see less of you. I feel your gut against my forgwad as I take you into my throat, of course, but it's more than that. As I firmly grip you, one hand still reachong up to carress your belly as the other strokes gently, matching the rhythm of my tongue - teasing your length deeper still... your stuffing truly is going to overshadow me if you keep going. How will you see when my big blue eyes look ip at you?  As more and more of your length  disappears behind bekky.

One hand sliding up a muscled thigh, only this girth of greed sits between our nakedness. The question is how will you please me?

We can't have this imbalance, my sweet stuffed lover.  We match one another's desire - delving deeper and deeper until we are in an abyss of hedonism where we are glutted on desire of one another.  Where we please, and pleasure and switch... until in unity... I feel the heavy weight of my hog settling onto me.

How many times can you please me? Just how greedy can you be?

Your tongue is working its way down my ribcage now; and you take long, leisurely licks and kisses across my stomach as I tip my head back lifting my hips so that I can reach beneath myself towards you... so I can sit against your gut.

A hedonism of my greedy, hog. You see stuffing, bloating, belly play- pushing the limits of expanding your belly bigger and bigger -  is not just about the calories you consume. It isn't about the inches you grow.  It is the most intimate  experience a partner can share- a trust seeing their body so vulnerable, and heavy for my love.

When we stuff, and I truly do mean we although I won't be eating myself as gluttony is reserved for you, it is such an intense intimacy.

You hold in this heavy globe of a belly, all of my wildest fantasies.

So if you eat for me, please know that your secondary gluttony will be me. A feeders feast as I rub and care for you... the pleasure I take from touching your straining skin.  Feeders push limits, yes. But this feeder. This feeder loves your full, fat belly... and knowing you have such hold over me that even in your loss of control where we glut you on gallons or days of calories in one stuffing...  there is power.

You have power. And it does not end when calories can no longer fit; when we have seen how big your belly can grow in a few hours.  I will rub, and hold and care for you. And love it all the more.
You see. I don't need to show you off to please me. I can think that I am in the mood to feed you until you physically can not move from the chair, pinned beneath a painfully full tummy. I can have my way with you - a fattened pig with the sexiest of stuffed tummies.

I can tell you over and over how big that I am going to make you. But, it is moments like these. The unprompted result of stretching your capcity... well, it shows me how much of a glutton we have become.

Is it so that we will always want more? Is it so that this isn't enough for you? For me? .... will you really leave yourself panting and moaning, knowing that each inch you swell edges me closer... closer... towards that point where we feel as if we may both be on the verge of bursting.

You see... I don't just want you greedy. Its not enough that you simply eat. I don't want you to pour, and fill empty calories to you.

I want to measure how you swell. I want to feel you grow. To own each inch... its not enough you are a growing glutton. I want you to be glutton...

my glutton gasping for air. I need you there.

So, I'll ask you nicely. Lose control with me? Give me command of your calories. We both know you are greedy.

Let me set the limits for the adventure that awaits.

You just can't help yourself. And neither can I. Although, I will help you. When you are incapacited by your own greed. Too full for love. All on display... no hiding your greed, even if it does hide your excitement.

You see, what I have just described is almost a preceeding teasing to the things which really, truly excite me. It is not the eating which excites. It is not simply the act of growing you hugely. It isn't even you being fat. Perhaps that means I am not a good feeder. Perhaps that means I shouldn't categories myself as such.

I am the adorer of stuffed, overfed bellies. Bloated guts. Your belly to be exact. Laid back, the weight of your bloated middle sitting heavily - slow breathing as the food seems to sit heavily onto your lungs. Skin unable to stretch further, belly grossly over excess. I am a lover of the round.

I am... shamelessly able to match my own moans to yours of discomfort. I can get off, from climbing astride you, but not in the way others might.

I am excited by your greed. Yes. It feels so good to stretch your gut our further. Fatter. So big and full thar you can barely even stand. Why is it that when I see your hands tenderly cup your swollen, side I feel myself quiver? Why is my arousal peaked by seeing you sprawled gorged beneath me?

But I am pleased by you. I am a feeder. But I am first of all... yours. As you are mine.