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I quickly got rid of my pants and plunged back on the couch. Carmela removed her robe, standing in front of me in just her bra-top and panties. My aunt is a curvy matron, with the boobs of a cow and the hips of Venus. Big, fat bubbles of cellulite all over her legs and buttocks, softer than marshmallows. Yes, she is big, and she is proud of her very pronounced curves. She is a vision of lust and maternity, forbidden pleasure, and home at the same time.
Carmela slowly pulled down her panties, that kept getting buried into the giant pools of fat on her sides. “Tua zia à grassa come una vitella,” used to say my uncle, while caressing her all over. My uncle loved her a lot. I remember him often reaching over to squeeze her thighs and hug her all the time. She always laughed, letting him do whatever he wanted on her body, while often looking at me when his hands were full. To me they were an example of pure joy: one being, with a male and a (very) female part, living life to the fullest.
Her hips were extremely wide: if I stretched my arms as wide as possible, I would barely be able to reach around them. Some months earlier, fantasizing about her, I had estimated she was 110 inches around: fact is, since then she gained weight again! And now that I was seeing her curves in the naked, I know she was much more than that. As I said, she literally had to dig her panties out of her own flesh. Aveva due cosce inzuppate di lardo, tempestate di bolle di pura cellulite.
(photo (c) of jae.bigcuties.com)
“My hips are so fatty,” she added with content, justifying with some pride the effort she had to undertake in order to remove her slips. Even if the fabric was soft and stretchy, it just couldn’t help to fall into the creaminess of her wide hips. Or thighs, actually. Where did the hips end and thighs begin anyway? Her derriere must have been twenty five inches tall. Such a huge mountain of cellulite.
“Zia, do you have any muscles on your hips?” I asked her, taking all the courage I had left in me.
“Ohh, caro, ma cosa dici… e’ tutto grasso questo! It’s all pure, jiggly fat… look at how it jiggles when I walk!”
Carmela walked toward me. Her hips looked like a lake on top of a mountain, shaken by some kind of earthquake. There were waves splashing against each other. There were mounds of flesh shaking and moving in front of my very eyes. And the extreme fatness of her thighs — big, fat hams full of lardy dimples — looked so beautiful and graceful. She wasn’t doing anything beside walking an being herself, but everything up in there was beautiful and bouncing everywhere. She never looked so classy, divine actually. My Juno. Che donna, la mia Carmelona, davvero grassa come una vitella da carne.
When she came close enough so that she could step on the couch, she opened her legs wide, around my body. Then one knee after the other, she stepped on the couch, bending over quite a bit to balance herself against the wall.
The sumptuous fatness of her huge thighs splashed onto me. Like being under a waterfall of flesh. Soffice da morire. She was all over me, on my torso, thighs, hips, and penis. She was everywhere. The divine feeling of being submerged and surrounded by curves. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe my big fat aunt was gracing me with the softest sensation ever, just using the ample volumes of her rich body. Looking at her incredible curves, which were what? 90-70-120 inches maybe, how could one say that her body was not built for procreation? Those fat boobs and wide hips? The bulky dimples everywhere on her legs and buttocks? For some reason, I remembered that farmers always like to allow the fattest cow to choose her own mate. Was she choosing me?
She kept jiggling her meat, mainly her thighs and the lower part of her tummy, all over me. As if she wanted to wash me with her fat. Era tutta grasso, zia Carmela, she was all fat. The inner part of her thighs was incredibly buttery, even close to her knees, where one would expect to find some bones. Not on Carmela. She was so abundant it felt like being hit by warm, gentle waterfalls.
(photo (c) of http://bigbootyasshley.com/)
There was so much flesh, that in no time she had my cock enveloped by her many layers, all around its shaft. And I mean comfortably. I felt like I was entering some form of womb. I loved to be in there. It was warm. And lush, rich, soft and tight.
She massaged me, shaking her thighs, splashing her cellulite all around me. It was comforting to hear the booty meat clapping loudly in the back. She was a jacuzzi pool with bubbles everywhere.
She moved a little, getting herself comfortable, still towering me with the imposing length of her thighs. She was a long legged woman, with a relatively shorter torso, and all the junk on her hips and buttocks made her legs look even longer. As she moved, the cellulite of her thighs bounced up and down, left and right. It must have not been easy to maintain perfect balance standing on the couch like she was. And she had a lot of herself to move.
If her thighs were jiggling, her obese breasts and hips were swaying and splashing pretty loudly, also offsetting her balance, wave after wave. Such watery heaviness. It was like she had to counter the movement of all that softness in some way.
“Do you see how fatty my hips are now?”
I was unable to move, stuck in awe. Only my cock was twitching, pulsating with the dirtiest and most sincere lust. Waves of passion kept filling it up. I felt like my body was responding moving the part that was the most shameless, and nothing else.
She was moving her hips in a way that felt like she was inviting me to touch them. I’m sure she wanted me to touch them in their fattest point. Massive pillows of pure fat were protruding from her sides, like thick mountains of whipped cream — the heavy, full-fat kind, everywhere. Her booty was bubbly like a fluffy cloud, with big, soft bubbles everywhere. But warm. The warmth of an ocean of melted butter, as big and wide as the amazon forest.
(photo (c) of http://bigbootyasshley.com/)
I stared at her, salivating, but unable to move. If only she squeezed my cock a little bit more, I would have exploded.
Noticing my stare, Carmela reassured me with the sweetest smile and voice. And she spoke softly, just a bit louder than a whisper.
“Look at my craters of cellulite, dip your fingers into them, touch them dear… touch me… there’s nothing wrong in hugging me, and my body. I love you. You should hug me whenever you want, squeeze me too: it’s all good. I know you want to hug me your own way… it’s all good, baby.”
I smiled, catching her eyes before going back to her thighs. She looked at me for a second or two.
She continued, “You know how I have always loved you… you were my baby, my favorite boy, always so sweet with your zia! And you still are… even if you’re a big, grown man, you still are my little baby. if I have gotten this fat it’s because of you, babylove.”
As soon as she said that, I stopped. I closed my eyes, realizing that I had never felt so elated. I felt her big nipple touching my lips. Was this beautiful woman really trying to tell me that she grew fatter just for me?
“D’you know that when you were 9, or maybe 8, you used to get excited as soon as a bit of my thigh showed from underneath my skirt? And listen to this. One year, when I gained a hundred pounds, you popped a button of your underwear as soon as you saw me. You were so young, I really didn’t expect it… I guess maybe my shelf butt and hips sped up your growth, uh. So I kept eating, and growing as well” she said, caressing her legs and chuckling in her own, unique way: a mixture of embarrassment, wholesomeness, and intense sexuality.
(photo (c) of www.briebrown.com)
“I grew a lot,” she said, lifting one leg. “Hundreds, and hundreds of pounds…”
Gesu’ bambino. I never thought that showing off the overly luxurious, sagging fat of her thigh, was going to be so sensual. Like a whore shows off her perky breasts, Carmela was displaying her meat, with the most angelic smile. That sweet smile, even more than her thunder thigh, is what made me love Carmela so much in the first place. That, together with the boob milk she fed me when I was little.
She reached for the bottom of her leg, where the fat sagged and hung like a warm water balloon, and started caressing it. I watched her hands sink in the rich texture. She grabbed a chunk of flesh, looking at me in the eyes. She kept squeezing, not saying a word.
As she was watching me licking my own lips, she stepped back a little and stood up again. She still kept one leg on the couch. And shyly smiled. The smile of a generous goddess.
“Guarda che cosce, caro, look… they’re so fat, dear, it’s all cellulite, lard, carne… My dear baby, I want to be here for you… look at my big thighs, dear, look… so much meat… lots and lots of it, all for you. You always loved my softness so much! You were so cute, and so innocent too! Look, look at auntie’s big thighs, guarda… dai, stringi la mia carne, stringi… Sono grassa come una mucca… ti piace? O ne vuoi di piu’? Mi ingrasso ancora, sai,” she said, bending over, exposing her giant milky boobs like I couldn’t see them already.
Her thighs were completely naked, shining with huge bubbles and craters of cellulite everywhere. So close to me I could reach over with my tongue, and lick her bubbly flesh. And so I did. My tongue sank into her cellulite. It was so soft I could dig deep into it. I pushed my tongue all the way into a giant bulge of cellulite and adored her with just my mouth.
Each thigh was so wide that she was twice as large as my torso. I stared at them in all their glory. Even if they were spread wide the abundance of meat was making them gracefully touch each other.
“Does your girlfriend has big thighs, dear?”
“Oh no ziona, she is so… small… very small. Really not like you, no…”
“Oh no no no, Edoardo, ma cosa dici? Your girl should have big ones! Thick, strong and very full of fat, especially if she is young! Otherwise how is she going to carry and nurture your child? Look at auntie: when I was 20 years old, my thighs were already 45 inches each. And now, look at them, they are Fat.” She must have been 55 inches each.
“Anyway, tell her to eat! If she gets anywhere close to 40 inches, she might have a chance to be like this, one day!” She slapped one of her own thighs, shaking and squeezing the overflowing fatness.
(photo (c) of www.juicyjacqulyn.com/)
I melted. I licked my lips, salivating with hunger. “Oh, come sei bella, zia, grassa, cicciona… fammi palpare, fammi palpare! Let me squeeze…”
“Aww dear, vieni qua… how sweet you are, cocco della zia, so kind, so hungry… come here,” she said, hugging me to her womb. “Stringi, stringi le coscione della zia!”
She grabbed me close to her, making me splash against her lifted leg. An ocean of meat. One of my arms landed deep into the inner side of her thigh, while the other tried to go around the leg. Each one of her thighs was so fat I had problems hugging the full girth of it. I put a hand on top of them, and felt the softness of her cellulite surround me. Her thighs were like a plushy winter comforter, the kind that you want to wrap all around yourself.
As she hugged me, she moved in a little snuggier and opened her legs some more. It was amazing to see how much lard she has stored in that gigantic bed of flesh. As she opened, it felt like more flesh was being poured on me. And so I leaned back and abandoned my self. I slid down a little and my cock landed right in the middle of that mountain of rich beauty.
Yes, she was a giant beautiful mountain, lush and wet like the amazon forest. She was the mother of life, luxurious like fertile earth. She was decadent like a cake, and imposing like the fattest Juno you can imagine. And she was going to give me everything.
— END Of CH. 7 —
(photo (c) of http://bigbootyasshley.com/)
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