The Point of Perdition,
How Passion sailed from a Valley of Lard, to a Port of Sin, safely
Zia Carmela had a very sweet way of reading and acknowledging feelings from people. It was almost as if she was able to read their minds. I’d love to give you an example. My friend Gianni, a really smart computer geek, always had a thing for Japanese culture and tiny cutesy Asian girls. Somehow Carmela seemed to know that, as the first time he came over to visit us, she wore a kimono and made him sushi, without asking him anything. By the end of the meal he was completely lost in love with her, and he had an embarrassing boner. I’m sure the many smiles she gave him made him happy, as well as the deep cleavage she was conceding when pouring him wine. Plus, I’ve never seen Gianni so relaxed before. And I had never seen him so interested in women’s legs before. He has always been a boob guy, but he just couldn’t stop staring at my aunt’s big thighs, any moment he had a chance. It goes without saying he was also drooling over her breasts, otaku-style.
Gianni was not the only one. With Rosario, a great guy I met in Naples who happens to also be an excellent cook, Carmela had him do all the cooking. She just sat at the table eating everything he presented her. Rosario was elated to cook for a woman who was enjoying his food so much. He kept looking at her voluminous hips. When it was time to leave, she gave him a big kiss, almost on his lips, and she put his hands on her hips.
“Stringimi,” she said. “Come on, squeeze me tight, dear…”
She knew he loved her soft hips.
“Can you feel it? You made my hips bigger with all your delicious dishes! Feel me up, I’m not kidding!” she said with a smile, slapping her own curves as he was digging in.
In the same way, Carmela caressed my hand, inviting me to squeeze more of her. We just had dinner and while I was sitting on the couch, she had started to let me play with her curves. My hand ended up deep into her thigh. I loved to fondle those big fat silos of carnitas for what they were: beautiful, large, soft pillows of cellulite.
While I was enjoying myself she withdrew her leg. She stomped it on the floor, maybe not so involuntarily — she was such a tease! She started to smile, only to change expression quickly, as in a sign of surprise. She looked at me in a questioning way.
“Did my hips always used to be this jiggly?” She asked the question calmly, in a warm, soothing voice.
It almost felt like a rhetorical question, but she contemplated herself as if she was really assessing the exact fullness of her womanliness. I ogled her like a big, juicy pear. I kept licking my lips, before she interrupted my train of dirty thoughts, snapping back from her own narcissism at the same time. She definitely noticed my stare, but proceeded to express an idea for the night.
“Ok, how about this,” she proposed. “I’ll sit here next to you, and we watch a movie together. You let me spupazzarti and we stay cozy close to each other, just me and you… It’s going to get chillier tonight, but I don’t think we need a lot of clothing to stay warm, I can keep you very warm with this big body of mine… I’m very maternal, you know.”
She smiled at me. She was so sexy. I wanted to suck on her nipples just for that. “What do you say? It’s gonna be fun! Maybe, you can still tap my coscione while we watch the movie, for old times sake.”
I gleefully agreed. She grabbed a giant piece of cheesecake and came over to sit next to me. While she was walking, I could hear her buckets of cellulite carelessly splashing against each other, in a music of infinite sensuality, until she finally sat down next to me on my right.
Her figure was so wide that a chunk of her thigh ended up on top of my own leg. Her hips pressed snugly against mine. They felt like the softest pillow ever. A giant globe of fat. My erection jolted, right in front of her.
As we watched the movie, every time she laughed I stared at her chest. It would become all jiggly like an ocean after a whale swam through it. Her voluminous udders looked full of milk, with big waves of watery flesh everywhere. Yes, like a cow ready to be milked. Zia Carmela had so much milk to nourish me for years.
Below the big milk dispensers there were even bigger mountains of flesh. Her thighs in particular. While resting on the couch, her thighs formed two tall, gentle leveled heaps. One could refer to them as a vast sea. They looked soft and bubbly, dipped into a bath of the richest butter. They were soaked in fat, with puffy bubbles of cream.
I tried to zone out for a little and focus on the movie and its stupidity. But when you have a pair of very healthy legs touching yours, it’s really hard to think about anything else. Especially if they’re naked. So, in a very natural way I slid a hand right in the middle of her thigh. The fact that she was kind of facing away from me to look at the TV screen made it easier, since she couldn’t directly spot me. I really needed to feel how fat she was. Well she was so fat that when I let my hand go, it sank into her blubber. It was like an ocean of cottage cheese. A bucket of custard cream. Or maybe just deep water, and all the life within.
I gave her squishy pillows many tiny squeezes, savoring every ounce of cellulite on my fingertips. Soon after, Carmela gently took my hand and made the gesture to move it. I thought she was going to slap me for my pervertedness. But that was not the case.
She is Mother, before being Lover, and Hatred does not live in Her.
She leaned toward me and while moving my hand up a bit, she whispered, “Put it here, where it’s softer… there’s more cellulite up here… more fat.”
Bella cosciona grassa, quanto sei buona, cicciona, sei tanta come una mucca da carne
If a moment ago I was on a vast jiggly pudding, now I was inside a home-made cushion of warm, extra-soft cream. It felt like a pool full of cottage cheese. It was so squishy — and damp I dare to say, even if it wasn’t wet at all — that I almost felt like I could squeeze some juice out. She pushed my hand down, drowning it completely. She observed my cock jump up and jerk naturally as she was pushing my hand into her thigh. As soon as I started squeezing again, my cock stiffened up to the point of bursting, glowing with love. She moved a arm around my back to hug me closer, letting my head rest on her shoulder. My arm sank into her waist, resting on her hips, into a bucket of tepid liquid warmth.
Bella, buona, tanta, bella grassona rigonfia di cellulite, inzuppata di lardo
I looked at her breasts, laying down before me as giant waterfalls. It was butter and cream all over again. What a vision. She had beautiful fatty dimples even on her boobs.
“I never saw breasts so fluffy,” I let out, drooling, hinting to dive into them.
Carmelona purred. She hugged me from the side, actually making me fall into her fat boobs.
Fatti mungere, tettona… let me milk you
“Oh Tesoro…” she chuckled, slightly embarrassed. “Do you still like Serena Grandi, and Debora Caprioglio… I remember, you know… I saw the movies you recorded and I was wondering, hmmm what does he like in these movies?”
Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. Carmela pressed a few buttons on the remote and started the VCR. The cheesy, familiar music of Paprika filled the room.
We watched the movie together, with me laying on her boob and my hard penis pressed against her fat thighs. Every time Deborah Caprioglio showed her breasts, I would suckle Carmela’s boob flesh like a baby. She caressed me, sweetly, adjusting her squishy pillow underneath my head. She was inviting me me deeper into her breast ocean.
“Do you like women with big, opulent breasts?”
She caressed me like a baby, literally drowning me into her boob. The reassuring tone of her voice induced me in letting everything go. There was no point in hiding the truth anymore: I desired her, I wanted all that flesh.
“Have you ever seen so much flesh on a woman?”
“No… never, zia. All my girlfriends are so skinny…” I loved that she was so open.
“Really? Noone has thighs like mine? Do they starve themselves, or maybe they don’t eat? It is so interesting. Isn’t it weird that today women want to stay thin, but everybody loves softness too?”
“It is, zia, it is… you are so fat… can I say that? And so much softer,” I asked with some boldness and embarrassment. “I love softness.”
“Of course you can say that, dear,” she chuckled, in her own unique way, like boldness with a hint of shyness. I always found that smile of her so erotic.
“Tell me, have you always liked voluptuous women?”
“Sì zia… always…”
“I bet you like Debora Caprioglio’s boobies, don’t you? They look warm” she said, bending over to expose her gargantuan breasts. I was speechless.
Carmela looked like a healthy, beautiful Mother. Ripe, pendulous teats full of milk. Considerably large hips. Obese thighs. The sweetness of the sweetest smile. Everything she was, was inviting.
And then she added, “I want to keep you warm.”
END OF CHAPTER 6
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