I hugged her hips. Her big, comfy hips. They were wide, inasmuch as I could barely reach their ends. She had mounds of flesh bulging sideways and protruding in the back. I cupped some of that, a giant lump that was bigger than a football. Zia Carmela smiled. She knew nobody had curves like hers.
She was on top. In front of such opulence, I did what any man would do: I opened my hands as much as possible and smashed ’em on her big hips. I pushed her pillows of flesh one against each other. They felt like mountains of cream, and they were heavy despite their amazing softness. A ton of cream is still a ton of cream after all.
“You love Auntie’s big hips, dear, don’t you? All that flesh, so squishy, and fat…”
Those lumpy balloons of cellulite belonged to someone who lived life to the fullest, dedicated to pleasure without restraints. I could tap anywhere on her derriere and be sure to find a healthy layer of meat. It was impossible to feel her bones.
Perhaps, unbeknownst to her, the reason why she had hips so large was a gift from Mother Nature to allow her to select the best partner and make the mating more prosperous. Naturally the most passionate lovers would flock to her, their reproductive instinct stimulated by the overly opulent motherly figure. She was endowed with big breasts and wide hips. But to make things worse (or better, for her lovers), she was also given the gift of gluttony. And so instead of toned buns, Carmela developed bulging curves of cellulite, and she used them to attract her partners.
I loved that she didn’t seem to care how hard I was smacking her lard. It’s not that I was hitting her by any means, but I just couldn’t resist the urge to fondle her hips with passion. Their softness was sexual. “Let’s stay inside and cuddle, eat and mate,” you would think after seeing her curves. I could live inside those doughy mounds forever. Her hips were like comforting winter blankets.
“Cover me with your warmth, ziona…”
My movements followed the remembrance of a feeling I first experienced in my childhood: the sound of my hands splashing in the water. I always loved it. Dipping in, creating a delicate massage of waves all around my body. That’s how Carmela felt like. A giant lake. Squishy softness, everywhere I moved my hands. Big, fat breeding hips. Super-meaty buttocks. Cellulite for the whole winter.
(this image is (c) Southern Charms/Cajun Big Ez)
“Ecco, bravo, squeeze me some more. I got fatter… my hips and thighs especially, look at them, all that fat…. yeah, squeeze, indulge. Dig in. Palpa il mio lardo. Ti piace tutto ‘sto grasso? Bravo, stringi, palpa cocco della zia, palpa, sei proprio affamato, eh? Ecco, tieni, ho più di due metri e mezzo di fianchi, tutti di grasso. La Zia s’e’ ingrassata apposta, lo sai… I got this fat just for you, my dear… just for you. I wanna give you all my meat, all this for you. Il mio culone, le mie cosce, le coscione della zia. Squeeze my hips, do you like them this big? You know, I can feel that you do. How hard are you gonna get? You never felt that much meat around you, did you? Just take it, yeah, take it, like that….”
I squeezed her hips as if they were two giant pizza doughs . They felt like balloons full of buffalo mozzarellas. The whole milk kind, buttery, healthy. Butter, lard. Opulence.
She looked at me. She lifted her bust up a bit, my face still surrounded by her large saggy boobs. And from inside that pool of boobs I watched her. She bent over a bit more to reach a box which I think had been sitting next to the couch this whole time. It held cream doughnuts and danishes, stacked one on top of the other to fill the box to capacity. She leaned on one knee in order to reach the box, not without some effort because of her size. During this rather encumbered motion her buttocks and thighs bounced and jiggled like pudding. My cock was buried under her warmth, my hands were still engulfed inside her hips. I felt like I was holding this huge Cow Goddess by the fattest part of her body, fucking all the meat she had to offer. I couldn’t believe it. Mating with an obese Aphrodite. It was incredible. How could a woman get this fat? I squeezed her and humped her, as a way of thanking her.
“Grassona, grassona, cicciona, bellissima…”
She took a cream filled danish. I felt like she just wanted to answer my question.
“Here, do you want more hips? I’ll have one of these pastries. It looks so buttery, I think it will go straight there…”
I looked at her. She was salivating over the doughnut as it approached her mouth. That’s why I loved her so much. She was so hungry all the time.
(this photo is (c) Big Hot Bombshells)
Yes. Carmelona was getting fatter right on top of me.
“Mangia, zia, mangia… mangia tanto, ingrassati…”
She ate slowly, savoring every bite while I was fondling her hips and thighs. At the same time she was shaking the mountain of flesh on top of her booty. Her free hand was squeezing her own thigh.
“I know, you always liked my legs, ever since you were a little boy and we took baths together. Do you remember? You’d reach over to pat my thighs, and suddenly you’d get… well, excited, and very much so, even at that young age. You didn’t even know why! You were so cute…”
Fond memories of Carmela passed though my eyes, the comforting curves of her body being the connecting line.
“I always wanted to have you between my thighs. It feels so good to open my legs and take you, finally… and give you everything I have. Because I have a lot to offer, my dear…”
As I was tapping the balloons of flesh on her butt shelf, she pet my head and volunteered her breast. I rubbed my lips on her areola, squeezing some of her boob flesh into my mouth. With her nipple in me, I suckled, while my face was getting covered by her abundant breast meat. Warm, creamy milk gushed onto my lips.
I was milking, feeding and mating with the fattest mucca around, the Goddess of Prosperity and Abundance.
Once she was done with one pastry, she immediately proceeded toward the next one.
“Bella grassona, mangia, mangia che ti mungo….”
“How about this one?” It was a long danish with overflowing whipped cream in the middle.
It was probably one of the richest danishes of the lot. I sucked harder on her boob, filled with sheer joy. I was happy she wanted to eat that one.
“Sì, ingrassati, ingrassati bella cicciona, ingrassati…”
She smiled, but after looking at the pastry, she shouted, “Hey! Why were they so skimpy with the cream! This used to be fuller!”
I could not believe Zia Carmela was complaining about not having enough cream in her pastry. Most women would try to remove some of the cream. Not Carmela. Almost spiteful, she ate it in three seconds and licked her lips twice to make sure to get every grain of sugar. Then she leaned over to kiss me, suffocating me with her boobs, and quickly resumed eating.
“Oh well. I guess I’ll need a couple more of these!”
Luckily the box had two more cream puff danishes, to Carmelona’s delight. She jumped a bit on me to adjust herself in order to reach them, making her balloon hips bounce on top of me. Once she got the danishes she gorged on them, inhaling one after the other. I kept thinking, all of that cream is going to go right here, on these big hips. The same fat hips I was holding in my hands. I shook them some more: god, she was fat. I loved the weight of all that cellulite. It moved slowly and imperiously.
Zia Carmela stared at me as I was playing with her fat. “Ti piace la carne, eh? Sono molto materna, io…” She was soft like velvet. I lifted a chunk of fat and dropped it down. I wanted to make it splash everywhere. And boy, did it splash!
“Yes, my hips… here, let me do that for you,” she amiably intervened. She grabbed both her hips, slowly pulled them up and inward — not without some effort — and then blam! She let them go, releasing all her junk in a giant flesh-quake.
My first fat massage. Tons of lard bounced on my own body so softly that I felt like swimming inside her; her thighs bounced back, her belly caressed my torso, her boobs jiggled on my face. She even caught my head in her arms and held it against herself, almost lulling me into her. She wanted all of me. And before disappearing into her boobs again, I got a glimpse of her radiant smile, while she was still chewing away with passion.
She wasn’t done with the pastries though. She kept taking another one, and then another, and another.
“Hmmmm, this one is more buttery! Where do you think it will go?” She looked at me as I smiled, unable to conceal my lust.
“Right here!” I said, slapping her legs, “sulle coscione, bella cicciona da ingrasso…. more lard on your thighs!”
“Yes, more thighs… piu’ grasso sulle coscione della zia… after all, I can’t avoid it, I love these pastries so much… I just can’t stop!” The box was really getting empty now.
Where did her legs stop and where did her ass begin? She was like a wedding cake, the cream on top and a large juicy base at the bottom.
“While I eat, coccone affamato,” she said with that innocent, lusty voice, “why don’t you put your hands on top of my booty…”
“On the shelf?” I asked innocently, tapping on her protruding buttocks.
“Yes, on the shelf,” she laughed. “Ok, stay right there.”
Slowly, she started shaking her ass, while she was finishing the last pastry.
A Roman matron. An African queen. The Goddess of Abundance. Giunone. She was that and more. Everything jiggled under the palm of my hands. I squeezed gently and my fingers sank into that ocean of flesh as if it was water. I moved my hands around, over her immense girth. Her butt was a mountain, wide and deep like nothing I had ever imagined. I grabbed her meat with ease, so soft it was melting in my hands. I always loved the meat market.
“Bella, bellissima, sei tanta, Ziona, sei tantissima… Sei proprio una grassona…”
She kissed me. What most women would find insulting, Carmela understood was the ultimate praise. I was elated. Her incredible curves made me think verses I never imagined. I sang them with my lips around her nipple and my fingers sunk in her Willendorfian derrière.
“Palpa, palpa ancora, squeeze my flesh…”
I felt like a king. A bull fucking the fattest cow. A man, and a giantess on top of him.
“Mmmh Mucca, Mucca….” I called her.
“Yes, I’m here… la ziona è qui, sono qui, with my fat, my thighs, all my cellulite… squeeze me, squeeze my flesh some more,” she told me, staring into my eyes. She pressed my hands deeper into her lard.
I was free to love and be loved, like Dionysus in front of Juno, the primordial Giver of Life encouraging a careless abandon.
“Cocco della zia, you’re so handsome… D’you know how auntie got this fat, sweety?”
I grabbed a chunk of meat from her buttocks. “How, Ziona, how?”.
“I love food, sweetie, it’s simple,” she winked, “and you want in on a secret? I still want fatter thighs.”
I squeezed her and humped her harder. I couldn’t really answer in any other way. “Ziona, your thighs already feel like pillows… they are bigger than a prosciutto.”
“Really?” Her tone changed. “I want to be able to wear miniskirts, but I think I’m too thin… you know, when I wear a skirt all the men look. Maybe they look because I don’t have enough cellulite… so maybe I should fatten up a little. Vuoi che m’ingrasso le cosce, caro??”
Oh the innocence in that voice!
“How about ten more pounds on my thighs… what do you think?”
“Oh ziona, sì, I beg you, more, anche se sei già grassa, sei una maialona da mattanza… those hips of yours need more…”
(this photo is (c) RedhotPhatGirlz)
She grabbed a big chunk of lard on her left hip, she squeezed it and jiggled it in her hand.
I humped that big fat ass some more. Grabbing those glorious hips, fattened by a life of pleasure, was irresistible.
“Bravo, tesoro, bravo…”
“Sei grassa ziona, cicciona,… bella grassa come una mucca”
“E alle mucche secondo te cosa bisogna fare? Non si devono mungere? Mungimi ancora, dai… ecco, succhia tutto, ne ho tanto di latte sai…”
She hugged me close to her, force-feeding me her breast. I squeezed her toward me in response, as if I wanted to make her mine.
And then she started her booty dance again. But this time more vigorously. I felt her heavy buttocks splashing down on me. Her thighs opened and the pounds of meat splashing on me took me in a bit more at every bounce.
As I suckled her fat breast, I felt a wave of blood going down and engulfing my whole body, which became so impossibly rigid that it gulped and erupted my seed with violence, in several peaks of pleasure. My whole body jolted and shook in the most intense orgasm, fully enveloped inside my aunt’s curvy, gigantic body. I grabbed two chunks of lard from her thighs and hung onto her during my spasms of pleasure, shaken by that oceanic body. She, on the other hand, hugged me tighter as if she wanted me inside her womb.
(this photo is (c) JuicyJackie.com)
“Strizza il lardo delle mie cosce, squeeze my thighs, squeeze…”
“Cicciona, grassona, prendimi, ingrassati, ti voglio ingrassare, mucca, bella cosciona da carne, prosciuttona obesa, carne, lardo, ciccia…” I really had no more restraints. It was just pure, dionysian lust.
“Yeah, vieni dalla ziona, come here deeper into my belly.” She opened her legs as wide as she could, shaking her mountainous booty and lowering herself down. Then, while she waited for another thrust, she closed me in between the creamy meat of her inner thighs. The muscles of her vagina massaged me like only an expert meretrix would be capable of doing. At the same time she put my whole head amidst her boobs, hugging me tight. My fists sank fully into the heaps of lard on her thighs. Grassa. Obesa. Gorda. She caressed my head as she hugged me. She was immense. My second orgasm came strong and I abandoned myself to it entirely. My whole body literally jolted, and the more it jolted the better it felt, bouncing on her beefy curves. It was infinite.
“Ecco, there you go, such a good boy… you like aunties’ big thighs, there’s nothing wrong with that…”
She kept holding me tight, close to herself, as I kept coming and coming uncontrollably. It was almost like she was milking me, by just squeezing me against her ultra-curvy body and enveloping my spasms with her generous curves.
Then she stood up and turned around, flaunting her enormous booty. With no effort oceans of cellulite bounced, splashed and jiggled everywhere.
“I’m not done with you.”
(this photo is (c) Big Hot Bombshells)
END OF CHAPTER NINE
Tags: abundant aunt Carmela, belle coscione lardose, Carmela, cosce increspate di grasso, culona grassa, fianchi gonfi di lardo, increspature di cellulite, maialona da carne, mountains of cellulite, opulence, opulenza divina, opulenzia, piena di carne, very fat hips, very fat thighs, zia Carmela