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“I know it’s hard not to notice.” We both know what you’re r..
🕑 Added 2023-01-27 02:06:19 +0000 UTC “I know it’s hard not to notice.” We both know what you’re referring to, and I try to maintain eye contact, I really do, but my eyes eventually fall back on your stuffed belly. A little bit pokes out of your sweatshirt at the bottom and it rests on your thick, tree-trunk thighs that spill out of your shorts. I can see every roll and crevice from how tight your clothes are. You watch my eyes roam your body freely and your chest heats up. This new shift in tone is definitely a readjustment for us. You break the tension for a moment by asking me if I can grab you another beer. “You can’t get up and get one?” I taunt, knowing what the answer already is. It’s worth it; seeing you tongue tied and flustered. You play your cards and slowly run your hand down the slope of your mountainous gut. “I think you know the answer to that,” you smirk. The tension finally seems to cease and we both realize that, yes, the feelings between us are mutual. This is really happening. I grab us a few more beers and drink mine in four gulps. “Slow down there, Nico. It ain’t gonna run away from you and there’s more where it came from.” I hesitate on my next words, not wanting to cross a line that may not exist. I won’t know until I try. “I could say the same thing to you about that borscht.” I nearly whisper it and you chuckle at my brave comment being said with such uncertainty. You thinks it’s cute when I get nervous; cheeks flushed and eyes averted toward the floor. “It’s not as good cold.” You shrug. “And anyways, it’s not like I got this way from restricting myself, right?” You tease, gesturing down to your taut belly. I am resisting every urge in my body telling me to reach over and touch your fat gut. I want to kiss your soft lips and bite your warm neck while my hands roam around your plentiful body. “I’m glad you’re not,” I pause as my voice catches in my throat, “restricting yourself.” You smirk in response and can’t help but rile me up even more by shifting heavily to scoot next to me. We’re now sitting with our shoulders touching and I turn so that I’m completely facing you, still slumped back and trying to breathe. I notice how soft you’re getting as we’re pressed together. “Do you eat like this every night?” I tease the question, and the it seems to be a checkmate as your cheeks turn red. “Yeah,” you says rather breathlessly, “most of the time I sleep here on the couch because I can barely get up.” I open my mouth to respond, but I snaps it shut and reach forward to hand you your beer. You take it with a sly smile and I decide that I would like a bit more alcohol in my system at this rate. “Could you grab me a another?” You ask, rubbing your bloated gut as I finish mine. I get up and take the beer to the trash. “And some of that ice cream in the freezer?” I freeze and wait to catch my breath before grabbing a pint of chocolate ice cream. I brings it to you, and you thank me and open it. You knows you’re not hungry, but you want to push himself beyond anything you’ve done before now that I’m watching. You start to go in on the ice cream and you can already feel your angry stomach protesting, but your self control seems to be controlled by your own desire. I don’t know what to say and I act as if I don’t notice, sipping my beer. I have a one track mind, though, and the only thing on it is you. You move so that you’re leaning against the arm of the couch, stretching out to give your massive gut room. By the time you’re finished adjusting, you’re already panting and out of breath. I’m starting to go insane pretending to watch the television as you put on a show next to me. I’m not sure if you want me to look or if you’re just inebriated. Regardless, I can’t help but turn my head and suddenly the two of us are making direct eye contact. The tension is palpable. You stop eating for a moment and pant. I bravely ask you, “Are you going to finish that?” You pause thoughtfully. “Should I?” I, growing almost impatient, do my best to remain calm and collected. “Do what you want. You clearly like eating.” I say, my voice low and seductive, and your breath catches in your throat. You make eye contact with me for a moment and shovel more ice cream into your mouth to distract from the sexual tension. Each bite hurts and you know you’ve never been this full in your life. Your belly is swollen and you’re overcome with the desire to stop and touch yourself everywhere to alleviate the pressure. I notice this and remark, “You don’t have to eat it all. It’ll be there tomorrow.” You look at me and see the challenge in my eyes. “I can finish it.” You pant out. You take another bite and my eyes catch the underside of your belly. It’s sticking out of your shirt and it looks soft. I have never wanted to grab something more. I am truly shocked by your level of gluttony and I can’t help but imagine how far you could take it. “I’m sure you can finish it.” I tempt you, and you do just that. You lift the carton to your mouth and drink the rest of the ice cream, whimpering softly as your belly swells. You finish and go to put away the carton, but realize how heavy you are. You know for a fact you can’t reach the living room table, but you decide for whatever inebriated reason to try. You scoot forward and let out an “oh fuck” that resembles that of a soft moan. You can’t even sit up far enough to move yourself off of the couch. “Finally full now or are we gonna eat the rest of the fridge?” I ask breathlessly. “Maybe another night I’ll clean it out, but not tonight. I’m stuffed.” You pat the side of your gut and I watch it jiggle. Considering how full and packed tight you are, I’m surprised you’re still so soft. You are so turned on by your big, bloated gut that you can’t even bother to restrain yourself. You close your eyes and begin rubbing your hands around your tummy like second nature. I watch with jealousy. You sigh into the touch and massages the rolls at your side while I watch wide-eyed, biting my lip slightly. “Wanna give me a hand, Nic?” You invite, and this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I don’t hesitate, instead shifting between your legs and putting my hands on your soft body. You immediately push back into the touch and a gasp leaves your lips. You let your eyes roll back as I press into your full belly with my fingertips and trace circles onto it. “Feels good.” You mutter, hand gripping onto the arm of the couch tightly from the pleasure that has sent a rush through your whole body. “You feel good.” I whisper, unable to speak properly. “So soft.” I get into it, roaming your belly desperately. I place my hands on both sides of your gut and give it a shake, in turn making you let out an unintentional moan. “You like that, piggy?” I deeply hush, and you whimper with a desperate nod in response. “Your hands feel so…” you trail off when I reach for the hem of your sweatshirt and lift it up, exposing your big belly and perky tits. I can’t help but grab one of them, swiping my thumb over your sensitive nipple and making you squirm. You’re whimpering beneath me and you gasp when I take one of your nipples into my mouth and start sucking on it. “Nico, oh shit.” Your hands make their way to my hair and you pull back, and I’m scared I’ve gone too far. But when I looks at you, I notice the way your eyes flicker down toward my lips. I make the move to lean in and kiss you. It’s hot and heavy and my hands roam your plentiful body restlessly. “Fuck, you’ve gotten huge. You’re so big, babe.” I moan into your mouth, running my hand down the slope of your exposed belly. I untie your sweatpants string for you, giving way for your belly to spill forward. You sigh in relief and I attempt to pull your tight sweatshirt back down over your mountainous gut, but it gets stuck between two rolls of fat at your side. I can’t seem to get it to go past your belly button; deep and sensitive. “Can’t even get your shirt back on.” I tease while pinching your navel, and you look down to confirm this. “Ate a lot.” You breathe out. “Gained a little weight.” I suck on one of your nipples and you mutters a mantra of, “Oh, Nico.” I suck on your swollen chest and begin making my way down to your belly. I suck a hickey into your swollen belly and your eyes roll back in pleasure. You move so that my hands are between your thighs. “A little weight?” I smirk, shaking the soft, jiggly bottom of your gut. “Does this look like a little weight to you?” I rub my hands over your gut and grab the two massive rolls at your side as you rut into me. I grind my hips against yours and you throw your head back in pleasure.
