I was still sitting down on the couch, my lap covered in a lake of Carmela’s healthy waters as well as my own semen. In front of me, the bottom-heavy hourglass of my aunt’s body.
She stepped back a bit after mating with me. Step after step, the squishy fat on her thighs and hips jiggled all over. The movements of her cellulite looked slower and deeper than before, as if mating with me made her meat softer. It was like waves in a sea of butter. Desiderio, voglia di succhiare. Her large breasts were still oozing milk.
I couldn’t stop looking at her legs. As I reached over to touch myself, she moved closer. She offered her thighs, one more time.
“Stringimele,” she said.
I loved to grab her fat. I loved to fill my hands with it. She had so much of it.
She just stood there, as I fondled her as I wanted. She loved to see me so aroused, I think. She indulged on another pastry. She was insatiable, that big piggy.
She lifted a leg and put her foot on the couch. The giant mass of her thigh was now right in front of me. It’s as if she said, “Here, take all of it!”
As she kept eating, I kept indulging on her flesh. The inside of her thigh was something unbelievably soft. It was going to melt in my hands, like the fattest mortadella.
“Do you like to touch my fat?”
I answered by squeezing her some more. My hands disappeared into her opulence.
“Ora succhialo,” Carmela said.