Male feeder x female feedee

Chapter 1 - you reap what you sow

Technically speaking, Mateo brought this on himself.


He knew that eventually, all the times he encouraged Ayane's late night snacking habits, stuffing his girlfriend until her belly grew round and taut would lead to a moment like this--a moment when Mateo realized that for once, HE was the one biting off more than he could chew.


Before she'd started packing on pounds (with Mateo's generous assistance of course), Mateo had always admired his girlfriend's long, slender fingers. They were the fingers of a skilled piano player; thin and calloused and strong, but capable of such a delicate touch.


Naturally, a couple things about Ayane had changed from a few dozen pounds ago. That happens when someone goes from eighty pounds soaking wet to teetering on the edge of three hundred over the course of a year. Now only the barest hint of her knuckles were visible, little dimples punctuating the rings of pudge that encircled the joint of each digit. She hadn't played the piano in quite a while. (Mateo vaguely recalled that the last time she had tried, those chubby hands of hers weighed her down and that ever-growing belly paunch got in the way.)


Those hungry fingers took their sweet time roaming all over Mateo's skin, stroking and groping and cupping his ass so tenderly it made him shudder with want.


And Ayane was more than happy to oblige.


Those fingers, those thick, heavy, luscious goddamned fingers gently pinched his thighs so suddenly it made him squeak. Instinctively, Mateo grabbed his girlfriend's shoulders, and Ayane's warm giggle made him blush.


Ayane drew her boyfriend up against her belly, proudly protruding out from her midsection despite its emptiness, and snuck a hand into Mateo's underwear.


And then without so much as a flick of her wrist, she wrapped those divine fingers around his cock.


The noise that escaped him was embarrassingly loud, and though he'd long since buried his face in her shirt, he could practically feel her smirking.


Mateo had gotten too used to being the one in control; after all, he was the one feeding Ayane until her belly stretched taut and tight against the confines of her clothes. And he was the one who spent hours exploring the soft pucker of Ayane's arms, teasing her for getting winded after climbing two flights of stairs.


Maybe that was hubris.


Mateo was starting to understand why whenever he coyly invited Ayane to use her hands in the bedroom, his girlfriend would flash him the sweetest smile and ask him to be patient--there was a very big difference between taking such a bony length and an index finger with the circumference of a kiwi fruit.


All Ayane needed to do in order to have him bucking helplessly against her hand was squeeze those deliciously fat fingers in a lazy legato rhythm. It felt like she was doing everything in her power to make him short of breath, as if to pay him back for teasing her so often.


Mateo couldn't deny it, he wouldn't mind getting used to this kind of revenge.