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It was mid afternoon. She was already in bed reading a book when I stepped into the bedroom. I took off my pants, socks and shirt and slipped under the sheets with a smile on my face. She was wearing nothing on top. She purred toward me, turning on her side, while one of her boob rolled gently on top of each other.
It was saturday, and about the perfect time for our nap. We often do this on the weekends. It’s so relaxing. I love the feeling of freedom and laziness that makes your mind wander and expand, like if it was on a cool cloud. It’s very nice.
We chatted and kissed softly, talking about what we should do for dinner, or just how nice the fresh sheets felt on our skin. Oh, sweet nothings. And well, being the football (that’s what the Americans incorrectly call soccer) fan that I am, I also told her my “anxiety” for tomorrow’s game between my dearest Italy versus Brazil. I kind of love to give her a chance to mock my craziness and laugh about it together.
At same time I was making a conscious effort not to touch her too much. My problem is that I can’t control myself. I love the feeling of her soft body on my skin so much that my first — one could say primal — instinct is to attack her like a vicious animal, and adore her for what she is: the love of my life, with big boobs and very large hips. Plus, I thought she gained some luscious weight in the last week and I had been dying to check her out for longer than a week.
Once I start touching her, and kissing her, and adoring her, it’s all over. I have been trying to be “stronger”, though. More respectful of her person, like a real gentleman, and my hope is that she will one day notice this and congratulate me. So far, though, I have not received any acknowledgments of improvements from her side. But I am a determined one.
We were laying next to each other, face up, staring to the ceiling and enjoying our time together. It was really nice and I was quite proud of myself for keeping my cool and just lay there. The problem is that I happened to make her laugh a couple times, and when I did that she moved her left, naked, leg on top of mine, and proceeded to rub it softly against myself. Damn. What was I supposed to do? How am I not supposed to get aroused when she is endowed with such huge bubbly thighs? I immediately felt the creamy texture of her big thigh, and while I slightly moved my leg in response, I instantaneously felt my knee pushing against some bulging heaps of cellulite rubbing on my skin.
At that time, I could literally feel hot blood inundating my penis against my will, raising it from its undesired self-control. I resisted for a while, until she turned toward me one more time. I could not help myself from looking at those milk bags splashing one on top of each other. They even made a liquid, yummy noise, that forced me reflect on how fat her boobs had became in the last year or so. I stared at them, suddenly feeling the need to salivate. They were so bubbly yummy fat. First of all I noticed their beautiful largeness. So wide and long, they looked like a lake of milk. As she was laughing, tiny ripples of beauty crossed the large expanse, from top to bottom. Then I noticed her boob stretch marks. Oh, God, why are you so cruel.
I felt the need to kiss her, at least to dissimulate my arousal with something more noble. Well, it turned actual that it was and it is more noble. I love her to death, and I just realized once more how lucky I am to be with her. I kissed her passionately, totally forgetting about all that crazy self-control crap.
I kissed her like there was no life except for her, and my life was only with her. And I just followed my heart in every way. I let my hard penis rub against the pillows of cellulite that lie on her thighs, always warm like an ocean of warm, liquid butter. I let my hand run on the side of her leg, from the tip of her foot up to the bended knee, then deeper into the Fat Ocean of her thigh and up again in the prosperous Gulf of Hips. Across the Valley of Milk Softness I held her head while I kissed her, noticing just then that she had uncovered her leg, introducing my full body caress.
We rolled on each other kissing and smiling, while squeezing beauty and offering richer, more abundant gifts. I reached for her panties and tried to lower them. I pulled down on them gently, but they got stuck between the bulging fat, first between her thighs, and then around her hips. I watched her slips sink into the soft heaps of fat on top of her hips. That was my first realization that she had indeed gotten fatter. They always sank in, but not so easily. Not so deeply. It looked like not only they got bigger, but they also got softer. More liquid. My cock stretched between her thighs, throbbing with the passion of a lover burning with lust. “She got fatter,” I thought, “a lot fatter.”
She put one of her pendulous boobs in my mouth, and while I was sucking, licking and bouncing from one boob to the other, she lowered her slips. Not without some difficulties. She was lifting the right leg, to finally remove the slips from under herself, when suddenly she lost her balance, falling back down on the right knee, with her leg fully opened. She fell right on me.
Her fat boobs splashed all over my head first, drowning me in a pool of milk. Then I felt the pressure of her belly. Then I felt the liquid buttery feeling of a big fat mound of cellulite on top of my penis, who jolted extra hard toward the center splashing right in the middle of the large, prosperous Gulf of Hips. And what a splash it was. I got all of her weight on my She bounced a few times on me, making my being-a-man rub hard against her vagina. I cupped a bowl of her fat ass in one hand, and one in the other, and shook her copious lard. The splash noises that I heard just made me more aroused and willing to impregnate her. cock. What a big mountain of flesh I was mating with.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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