Steve and Ashley
by Ashblonde


Steve and Ashley was my first BHM-FFA story. I started writing this back in high school and now it seems a little trite to me in parts, but what can you expect from a teenager? I also find it amusing because my experience with fat guys was pretty limited at that time. Good imagination, I guess.

How it came about... My older cousin, whom I totally idolized, was in town for her 10 year reunion and while she was home, she visited with my family and spent some time with me. Back in high school she was kind of a geek, but a smart and cute geek. She did very well for herself after college and had a sweet gig at a major software company in the Bay area.

Anyhow, she told me about how some of the guys who were dorks had become really hot, and that the jocks had gotten fat. And to me, that was the greatest news in the world. These "cool" guys in my class are going to get fat too? WOW! So my wheels turned and I began to write it, channeling a bit of her life but orienting it around my own desires.

Part One - The Reintroduction

Steve Lapointe was one of those lucky guys born with it all. He was good at everything and looked good doing it; all-state wide receiver, record-breaking home-run hitter and lettered in all sports in between. He was tall, with ice blue eyes and jet-black hair; a high school superman and he seemed to always look like he knew it. There wasn't a girl in school who wouldn't melt if he said "hello" to her with his beautiful smile. Of course, I was one of those girls, but I figured he probably had no idea who Ashley Hazelton was.

Well, Ashley Hazelton is me. In high school I was book smart but completely clueless about the fact that I was becoming an adult and the social life my peers engaged in. I always felt behind everyone else; I guess they call that a "late bloomer." My looks weren't horrible; well at the time I thought they were. I wasn't skinny or graceful like I felt was expected of my gender. In fact I thought I was fat, though I never wore more than a junior size. I just basically had the body of an awkward thirteen-year old until I was nineteen. To this day I'm often guessed to be more than five years younger than I am.

When I started college, I left my old self behind. I felt I was escaping a small town attitude for the big city in the form of a prominent university in downtown Chicago. It's amazing what exercise, blonde highlights, subtle makeup and a chic, form-fitting wardrobe will do for a girl. Eventually my social skills caught up with my academic skills and suddenly I felt men beginning to take notice of me.

After my graduate work I moved into a demanding job in high tech public relations in San Francisco. Men moved selectively in and out of my life and I had no cares. I was living the quintessential hip lifestyle, haunting ultra-hip clubs and mixing in the "then prosperous" tech scene. But my outlook changed when a close relative became ill. I realized I was becoming homesick so I switched jobs to be within driving distance of my family. Thankfully I avoided becoming a casualty of the "dot-bomb" collective I had been working for.

Shortly after I arrived back home I called Nicole, one of the few high school friends I stayed in touch with. She caught me completely by surprise when she asked me if I had received an invitation to the ten-year reunion coming up in a few weeks. I had lost track of time and could not believe it had been ten years since I raced out of town as fast as I could. She insisted I attend with her since we were both single; I reluctantly agreed.


Wanting to stun those who did not treat me as an equal in high school was a motivating factor, I must admit. I might have gone a little overboard in preparation. I spent those few weeks immersed in workouts, sunning and shopping for the most flattering dress I could find. I found a tasteful black sheath. It was a simple yet sexy number I matched with spicy strappy heels. When the day of the reunion finally came, I was not ashamed to admit that I looked good.

No matter my confidence in the mirror at home, because as we walked into the hotel ballroom the butterflies had me in a near state of nausea. I went from a confident well-earning career woman to a timid adolescent girl in three seconds flat. Thankfully some old friends rushed up immediately to tell me how fabulous I looked and how happy they were to see me. The shakes subsided just a bit.

I chatted with several people when I heard someone mention a name that I hadn't heard in years: Steve Lapointe. But instead of the enviousness that I associated with his name, the comments had an insulting tone. My ears focused in when I heard the words "fat" and "tubby." Those are words that always made me listen. Of all the men that came and went in my life, it was always the good-looking chubby guys that could get me feeling impulsive.

I dated one of those men for nearly a year. Not long after I moved to the Bay Area, I went to a gallery party given for yet another IPO that was going on across the street from my office. There was a wonderful spread of food and I zoned in on a sexy man grazing his way down the buffet table. I was drawn to his tall stocky frame and handsome face. Everyone who knew him agreed he looked like a thick Val Kilmer.

Upon overhearing his sexy British accent I detected a northern cadence and struck up conversation with him about my time studying in the Yorkshire region for a semester of college. Remarkably, he was originally from York proper and we had plenty to talk about. We started spending a lot of time together. We joined forces collaborating on a few professional projects. He was a brilliant guy and very good for my career.

And he was very good for my love life. Tim gained quite a bit of weight over that year. We spent some very indulgent weekends in the Monterey area, south of the Bay. About midway through the relationship he told me he put on about 30 pounds due to my "terrible influence." I did have a relentless fascination with his weight. Each new morsel of fat on his body made me eager for more. Several pounds and multiple reassurances after that, his self-consciousness wore away and I experienced with him an enthralling passion I hadn't felt before.

One night stood out among the many. To celebrate his job promotion I took him to an upscale restaurant where I treated him to a massively rich and fattening dinner. He devoured so much that he told me he could hear his buttons straining. Back at my place, after a few drinks I persuaded him to let me put him on the scale. I'll never forget my digital scale reading 288. That number seemed so big and breathtaking. He made love to me so intensely as not to be articulated with words.

Not long after the momentous night the scale read 302, he was offered a job in North Carolina and the distance was far too great for either of us to commit to something permanent. We both knew our relationship hinged on physical proximity and professional association. Nonetheless, my experience with Tim left me knowing what I wanted in a man.

We have kept in touch with occasional email correspondence and several months ago he broke it to me that he had gradually lost a full 4 stone since I was no longer "inspiring" his eating habits. I was saddened until a more recent email mentioned that his new girlfriend seems to be encouraging him to eat fattening meals at good restaurants. I let him know that I commended her taste and efforts, and I would be happy to share tips with her.

I was jolted back from my reminiscence of Tim upon hearing the statement, "Lapointe is huge. He's put on a lot of poundage." Just the idea of that Adonis with a considerable mid-section gave me a quiver. I quickly searched the room but did not see him. The conversation quickly changed from Steve to the catty ravaging of a former cheerleader. But I couldn't get Steve Lapointe out of my mind. I excused myself to get a drink hoping to calm my anxiety. When the bartender set my vodka tonic down on the bar, I felt a man of substantial size standing next to me. I looked up and it was Steve!

He was even better looking than I remembered with his stunning face and perfect skin. He looked down at me and his baby-blues brightened up. His face had become softer and fuller with a little double chin rounding him out, but he still had those same high-set cheekbones. "Hi Ashley! I heard you were living on the West Coast, but here you are!"

It was true. He had gained quite a bit of weight. His fuller abdomen pressed against his sport coat buttons almost demanding to be released. But I did not stare. I learned from previous faux pas on my part that large men often don't like their corpulence inspected despite the yearning sparkle in my eyes. Yet with his stature and increased dimensions, I could only imagine how large the number would be if he were standing on my scale right then and there.

"Wow, Steve… you remember me?"

"Well, sure, I remember you. We were in Poli-Sci together. You really knew your stuff." I think that was the only class I ever spoke up in. Even then, despite my shyness I was definitely destined for work that required persuasive speech.

"Well thank you for remembering," my face felt hot.

"You look fantastic," he gushed and I was in heaven. Steve Lapointe thought 'little old me' looked fantastic.

"So do you, but then you always did…" I blurted.

"Naw… After I tore my ACL playing for the Huskies I had to quit sports; and now its showing," he laughed and patted his middle. Very nicely showing, I thought. I had casually followed his college football career in the local papers my mom sent to me at school, but only now I realized how fitting it was that this big boy next to me played for a team nicknamed, "The Huskies."

"Like I said, you look terrific," I reasserted. He smiled that perfect smile of his. "So tell me what you're up to these days?"

"Well," he said, "I work at Libertyville High School. I got my Bachelors in both Kinesiology and Education, you know, basically to do personal training or teach Phy Ed. But when I did some student teaching with kids who were developmentally disabled and I really enjoyed it so I now I'm working on my Masters in Exceptional Ed."

"Wow, Steve that's fabulous. How wonderful!" I was so excited. Not only perfect to look at, but intelligent and compassionate as well. I surmised that he needed that big body for his big heart.

"Yeah, it's been a lot of work. I haven't had much social life over the past couple of years, but I really love it. So what about you?"

I told him about my career as a Silicon Valley "PR Wonk" and my triumphant return home for similar work with an entertainment management firm. I think I impressed him a little with some of the celebrities I've brushed with since taking the job. But I was curious about something… "So, How did you know I had been living in the Bay Area?" I playfully prodded.

"Well, when I saw you, I remembered that… well, you know Brent Stemke?"

"Yes, I ran into him when I was home for Christmas…gosh, was that a year and a half ago already?"

"I ran into him too and he told me he saw you out and you told him you were living in California. He also mentioned that you looked good and I can see he wasn't lying." I'm fairly certain that at this point, I was literally beaming.

We made light conversation for a few minutes until one of his old jock buddies, Jeff Donovan, came up and acted rather obnoxiously. He was already drunk and started in on Steve's weight gain. "So Lapointe, when are ya due?" tapping on Steve's burgeoning frontage. Then, His Royal Scum-ness shifted to a boorish proposition of me. "Hey… Hazleton… maybe we could have a little post-party fun in my room later?"

I always despised Jeff, given that he had ridiculed me for my own junior high chunkiness. He had once again upset me as he had done years before. But I had become far too wise to endure his trash ever again. I excused myself for the ladies room to get away from the uncomfortable situation. As I walked away I could hear Steve saying, "You know Donovan, you always were an asshole."

When I came out of the ladies room I saw Steve standing at the door of the ballroom. As I walked back toward the party he walked out toward me and asked me if I'd like to get away from the idiots and have a drink in the hotel bar. I happily agreed. As we sat down at a quiet table in the corner, he unbuttoned his coat to reveal his expansive new size in better detail. His belt barely supported the spread of a tummy requiring more space, ever so slightly giving way to gravity.

We talked for nearly an hour about everything: careers, travel, school and family. I always thought I had him pigeonholed: good-looking, one-dimensional, popular jock. But it turned out that he was far deeper, funnier and sweeter than I had ever imagined him to be. He told me his fears of coming to the reunion tonight and being seen as a fat ex-jock past his prime. I told him my fears of being judged the same insecure wallflower I was in school.

And I could tell he was pleasantly surprised that I was into sports too. We're both avid inline skaters and recreational cyclists. We talked about football, a topic near and dear to his heart. I was raised in a sports-fan family so I believe I impressed him with my knowledge of the game. I admitted that I followed his career in the local papers and always was in awe of his ability. He blushed.

"Ashley, you were always a cute girl, maybe just too shy for your own good. I'm kicking myself for not knowing you better back then." My heart stopped for a moment. I could never have imagined he would say those words to me.

"Well I'm glad to have remade your acquaintance," I laughed and shook his hand, which dwarfed my own.

"So, Ashley," he soberly stopped laughing, "do you think you'd like to go out with me sometime?"

Part Two - The Build Up

The next day Steve called me to thank me for my company at the reunion. I told him that I'd like to take him up on his offer to see him again by making him dinner at my place the following Friday. I might have made that offer too quickly as the entire week I was in a state. What do I make? What will he like? What should I wear? How will I have time to accomplish it all amidst a particularly hectic work project with a Friday deadline?

But I knew that Steve was special and I wanted to impress him. So I cheated. I hired a cleaning service for my condo, splurged on a manicure and a delicate new fragrance. Though my coup d'etat was having a very good friend and chef extraordinaire, Bobby, cook us a special meal for the occasion.

I knew Bobby through my friend Jenna whom he dated during our senior year in high school. Jenna was a big beautiful girl with long red hair and a thick hourglass figure. In the last email from her she announced she was moving to Italy to be with her lover in Milan. Then, through pure coincidence, I ran into Bobby while I was working in San Francisco. He was doing an apprenticeship at a trendy French-Californian fusion restaurant in the Castro area.

I ascertained by his references to gay life that he was no longer living in the closet. Still, we had never discussed the details of his personal life since I respected his general silence on the topic. Until one night, we met for drinks and got into deep conversation about our romantic histories. Finally I asked him why he chose to date Jenna if he knew he was gay. In a state of lowered inhibitions, he admitted he was not interested in traditional sex with her but was mesmerized by her exceedingly plump body.

My own conversational inhibitions were decimated at that point. I admitted to him that I had similar tendencies with my attraction to bulky boys. He countered one better, loudly proclaiming, "I'm a chaser too!" Several men sitting nearby us laughed out loud, knowing the terminology of the fat admiration sub-culture all too well. It turned out that his deep-rooted excitement over excess body flesh inspired him from childhood to become a great chef. He told me his lifelong goal would be to fatten up the world, one hungry customer at a time.

We would walk around town pointing out fat guys, dividing the straight and gay up between us. Sometimes on a slow weekend we would watch football games together drooling over the paunchy linemen in their shiny tight uniforms. I'll never forget one of our conversations about our mutual dream to be the team trainer with the splendid task of taking heights, weights, comprehensive body measurements and body fat tests.

"Wow, you've really packed on a lot of weight in the off-season," poking a bare belly in a half shirt. "You'll need a special uniform made to accommodate this chubby belly," extending the tape measure slowly and carefully around his middle, scolding, "stop sucking it in…" Then gently pinching an abundant roll of side fat with affectionate fingers. "But you know, you really could stand to put on some more weight…"

Lured by a head chef position at a fabulous French restaurant downtown Chicago, Bobby moved back to our mid-western enclave a year before I did. Knowing his kinship with me in such matters, I immediately called him and shared the news of my new hot and heavy love interest. I stopped by his restaurant to show him a picture of Steve in my high school yearbook and told him to imagine that beautiful boy plus probably over 100 pounds. Bobby gushingly admitted his pure green jealousy. However, in the spirit of his dedication to making the world a fatter place, he was easily recruited in my efforts to properly sate a man with voracious potential.

Bobby concocted an incredible feast. The gastronomic pleasure spread included an asparagus salad with kasseri cheese and champagne vinaigrette; a delicate appetizer of pesto ravioli de chevre with a velvety sun-dried tomato sauce; a mountain of shrimp and scallop saffron risotto; creamy garlic mashed potatoes; and to top it off, my absolute favorite, a chilled tiramisu torte. Bobby excitedly told me that he couldn't remember using that much butter and heavy cream in one meal. I picked it up right after work, warming the hot stuff in the oven and popping the cool stuff in the fridge.


Steve arrived right on time, just as I was lighting a few mood candles. I answered the door and he gave me a big hug. I felt his girth press into my body and that familiar rush came flooding back. It was hard to release him from the embrace.

He was wearing a tidy black button down shirt tucked into his khaki pants and the look really highlighted his size. I took note of the fit of his shirt. It was not excessively tight but it draped nicely down his round middle. Walking behind him into the living room and watching his gate shift his pronounced love handles and soft rear end was almost more than I could bear.

I chose an unusually tarty California Riesling that I had brought back from one of my trips to Sonoma and poured him a glass. We sat down in the living room to catch up on our respective weeks of work. I heard every word he said but I was having a difficult time not losing myself while drinking in his fabulous body.

I did confess that I hadn't cooked dinner myself since my work deadlines during the week didn't afford me the time to plan a meal adequate for the occasion. But I reassured him that he was about to eat the cooking of a preeminent chef from the city. He admitted he did have an appreciation for fine foods and seemed eager to enjoy it. I served dinner, course by course, fascinated with every forkful entering his luscious lips. His eating was quick but measured; every bite enjoyed yet never quite enough.

We talked at length about fine foods. He told me he liked to cook and try new things and every sentence relating to his love of food made me all the more delighted. For a moment I escaped in a mini-fantasy of touring Europe's finest restaurants with him attempting to quench his grand appetite; lavish and creamy Parisian nights; deep-fried anything and everything in a dim London pub; mounds of pasta in Palermo; zesty paella in Barcelona and velvety chocolate treats in Belgium. Feeding him every luscious bite until he was so full he would demand to expend just a fraction of those tens of thousands of calories by making mad passionate love to me.

In the discussion of his favorite culinary delights, he brought up his increased weight. "I love to eat all the things that are bad for me. I always did. My mother was always astounded at how high her grocery bills were trying to feed my little brother and me. She always asked us where we put it all. We told her we left it all on the football field, running track, basketball court…" he laughed.

"In college I filled out more. My coaches encouraged me since they felt I would make a better tight end than wide receiver, as I was naturally becoming bigger. I think I weighed about 40 pounds more just a year after high school, mostly muscle, but I was eating even more too."

"Wow" I said. "It must have been the right thing… You were a great tight end!"

"Yeah, except after the injury. My rehab lasted a long time. I gained a lot… about 80 pounds during my senior year." As I was salivating, wishing I had been his girlfriend during that time, he brought her up. "My ex hated it. She was thrilled to be the girlfriend of a big time athlete, but when the chips were down her true colors came through."

"What did she do?" I wanted to strangle her and I didn't even know her name.

"She always ridiculed me about my weight, my eating… she would tell my friends that I was a lazy slob. Not even my education major was good enough. I was kind of depressed already since I knew my pro career hopes were over so I guess just I put up with it. Finally, I tried to make her happy by losing almost 50 pounds my last semester; swimming, biking… anything that wouldn't affect my knee too badly. Beth still wasn't satisfied."

Beth, hmm… sounds like a total bitch to me, I jealously thought.

"Then I realized it wasn't really about my weight… just she would never be happy since I wasn't going to be a pro football star any more. I think all she wanted was the glory that I could no longer give her. And teaching was not going to make me a rich and famous man either."

"So you dumped her?" I hoped.

"Yeah, I regret it took me so long, but it felt good when I finally did," he smiled. I smiled back.

"So…" he continued, "I think I was so thrilled to be done with her, I kind of went on an eating rampage. Over the last couple of years I've... well… I'm a pretty big guy now, huh?"

"You've improved with age, Steve."

He blushed and shook his head, "You're really sweet Ashley. But I do need to lose some of this weight."

"I don't think you need to do anything. And I'm not just trying to be nice. You really are a great looking guy. You can think what you will, but some men are not meant to be thin."

He paused for a moment, looking at me like I had just told him that the moon was made of cheese. Then suddenly, his face changed to subtle agreement. "You know," he said. "I think women should look more like Marilyn Monroe than Ally McBeal!" warmly eyeing my body.

I smiled, thinking fondly about that glazed pastry I tried not to eat at work today, failing in my resolve. What a relief to hear I wouldn't have to obsess about my weight with him. In fact, at my current curvy size ten, I may have to indulge myself just a little myself to get to Marilyn's more curvy fourteen, I happily thought.

It was a beautiful warm late summer evening. "Do you want to go out on the deck?"


Despite the high cost of living in the Bay Area, I had a nice set of tech stocks I cashed out in the nick of time when I returned home. I bought a great condo with a secluded back yard patio. I also invested in comfy deck furniture and a big gas grill for optimal entertainment opportunities. Leading Steve outside, I realized I bought my lawn furniture with a large man in mind. In fact, all the furniture in my home fits a person much bigger than me. I have an expensive digital scale I never stand on. I have kitchen appliances I only use when entertaining others. I even bought a king-size bed that I feel lost in alone.

Steve sat down on the outdoor divan and reclined a bit. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but his belly seemed slightly more extended since dinner. As he leaned back I noticed a little jiggle and practically bit my tongue, holding back from telling him how sexy his big squishy body looked. He left a little place for me to cozy up next to him.

I handed him a glass of Port and sat down. I had another treat for him to try. He protested that he was too stuffed but I insisted he would love it. I asked him to close his eyes and open his mouth. I popped a small piece of gourmet dark chocolate in his mouth and he slowly chewed and smiled. Then I directed him to drink a bit of the Port and enjoy the mix of flavors. He sipped, swallowed and his eyes grew big toward me. "Mmmmm, Ashley, that's amazing!"

"Yes, a tasty combination don't you think?"

"You are good," his eyes engaged with mine.

I simply wasn't going to hold back anymore so I leaned over and pressed my lips lightly to his, giving him a quick soft chocolate flavored smooch. I looked up at him and his cobalt eyes pierced through my every fiber. I smiled softly and looked down. I was still a shy girl at heart.

I handed him a few more chocolates and enjoyed a couple myself. Our "mmmms" and "ahhhs" over the sweet chocolate Port bliss hinted at something much more indulgent we both desired.

Our eyes engaged again and as soon as I looked down he put his hand under my chin and lifted my lips to his. As we kissed more his fingers brushed along my waist and I put my arm around him. My hand traveled from his shoulder along his back and found that wonderful extra bulging roll of fat that forms on a chubby man's side when he sits. Heavenly.

"I don't want to be too aggressive with your time Ashley, but I'd like to see you again… soon."

"I'd like that Steve," I whispered, "very much."

We enjoyed a few more kisses before I felt a chill in the air. We decided to go inside and watch a movie. We kissed a little more, held hands and enjoyed each other's company. As much as I wanted to invite him into my bedroom and test my new bed springs, I did not want him to think me a sleazy girl. A mutual yawn signaled the evening was winding down and I walked him to the door. We shared one last kiss before I watched him saunter to his car and drive away.


He called me the next day leaving a message on my voice mail thanking me for dinner and asking me if I wanted to go to the baseball game with him on the following Saturday. It was the last home game of the season. I called him back and gave him an enthusiastic yes.

He picked me up in his SUV, which was perfect for our little pre-game tailgate picnic. In fact it is a perfect vehicle for a big boy like him. An SUV can give a bumpier ride and with his eyes on the road I was able to spot some lovely scenery jiggling underneath his loose fitting shirt.

We grilled cheeseburgers accompanied by chips, pasta salad, veggies with dip, watermelon and homemade brownies. It was enough to have me quite stuffed by the time we entered the stadium. He bought roomy seats in the pricey section so we were able to get comfortable during the game.

During the sixth inning I saw him eyeing the hot dog vendor, then the nachos vendor, and then I heard a faint stomach grumble. That was my hint to buy him some ballpark munchies. I told him I was going to get a soda and offered to buy him the same. I came back with more than that: a bratwurst, fries, and ice cream for dessert. His eyes got big. "Is that all for you?" he asked.

"No, goofball, for you!"

He smiled, "you must have read my mind, I'm getting a little hungry again."

He ate the brat what seemed like in less than a minute. I fed him the fries, stealing a couple for myself. Any style of fried potatoes has always been a weakness for me. He finished off the ice cream, also sharing a few spoonfuls with me. I was so lost in our little feeding session that the cheering crowd startled me. It seems we hit a home run and even Steve, Mr. Sports Nut himself, was too busy eating to realize our team was having a successful final game. We enjoyed the rest of the afternoon at the stadium and then cruised down to a lakefront park for some quiet time.

We got out of the car and walked to the pier. There were no other people around us so we felt free to play kissy face again. My hands massaged his sizeable soft but very muscular arms. His big hands roamed my body, unfastening enough buttons to reach into my shirt and caress my bra-covered breasts. His strong wide hands were so gentle with my body that I couldn't ignore the sensation between my legs. I started to lose sense of where I was. I reached under his untucked shirt to glide my hand across his soft swollen tummy.

He flinched a little and laughed. He whispered to me that he was ticklish. I continued my hand's accent up his chest and felt his broad shoulders. The motion of my hand upward lifted his shirt and I was able to catch a glance of his bare belly, faintly hairy and beautifully round. I once again began pawing at his stunning bulk, but he tugged his shirt down.

Drawing back he said, "Ashley, I have to admit I'm not used to a woman's touch, especially since I broke it off with Beth. I mean I had enough girlfriends before her, but she was my last long term relationship and… she wouldn't even touch me… you know, when I started getting big…"

"Don't even think about that," I protested. "You are an incredibly sexy man. I mean… well, when I say this I don't want to sound cheap," I nervously smiled, "but with you, I just know what I want. You really turn me on..." I couldn't believe I was getting this forward, it usually wasn't my style. But I guess his level of honesty prompted me.

"What, you want a big fat guy?" he joked.

"Steve…" I smiled back, "I am very turned on by your body. You have amazing broad shoulders and big strong arms… sexy powerful legs…. It's not just physical; I am attracted to your amazing personality and charm. And you have stunning eyes," I giggled. "But I can't deny that you’re…" I was trying to find the right words, "size makes you even more appealing to me."

"Wow, that concept is new to me," he blushed. "So is that why you keep feeding me so much food?"

I laughed, but nervously. How do I explain my way out of this one? Could I if I tried? "Hmmm, well, I don't know. I mean I really like you and I want to make you happy, I guess. And you said you liked food…"

He laughed, "I suppose with this body it's pretty obvious anyway."


"Well, it's true."

"And I love the hungry look in your when you kiss me," I smiled. His eyes looked hungrier than ever.

Part Three - The Consummation

A couple of weeks and a few dates later Steve invited me to go to a wedding. One of his teammates was tying the knot a few hours drive away at an old mansion turned historical museum. Given the distance, we decided to make a weekend of it. We had done a lot of interesting things but had not yet consummated the relationship. Sharing the same bed for a weekend sounded promising.

A couple of days before we left, I asked Steve about his college friends, and it came up that his ex-girlfriend Beth would most likely be there with a friend named Dave whom she latched onto after their relationship's demise. I was a little anxious about this. I really wanted to look good for him. She was so mean to him over such shallow matters. I didn't want to drag myself to her superficial level but I cannot deny I wanted to outshine her. If that made me a terrible person, well then so be it.

I pulled a dress out of my closet that I had spent too much money on when I was living in San Francisco. A slinky navy blue lycra blend number with a backless halter that showed off my summer color. I bought it a little large so it skimmed loosely along my figure in flattering places. I did my hair up with wispy blonde tendrils and shelled out for a French manicure at the hotel spa. When I came out of the bedroom in our hotel suite, Steve's eyes practically popped out of his head. I wanted to make him happy in every way.

He looked wonderful too. We had gone shopping together for a new suit for him and had it specially tailored to fit him perfectly. He got a fresh, cool haircut and with his eyes and smile he looked to me like a million-dollar movie star. I was thrilled to be his date. As we walked into the reception I took a long look at Steve; top to bottom. I felt so happy to be with such an amazing, intelligent, funny, warm and good-looking man.

Right away he saw some of his old teammates and introduced me to them. They were a genuinely fun group of guys and Steve seemed to blend right back into the easy flow of jokes and camaraderie he must have experienced in college. It was fun to see him with "the guys," just being his usual silly self. Even when one of his buddies mentioned that Dave was already there with Beth, he didn't seem to flinch a bit. A minute later one of the guys yelled crassly across the room, "Hey Dave!" The couple walked over toward us and my eyes met Beth's.

So she was the one, the evil trollop who wounded my sweet wonderful boy. In assessing her physical appearance, I tried hard not to be biased. But she wasn't very special. Honestly, she was not ugly, by any means. She simply looked like someone who might have had better years at a younger age; sort of a victim of a time warp with funky bangs and big shoulder pads. Even Steve must have been feeling vindicated when he subtly whispered in my ear, "can you say 'downhill?'"

Steve introduced me to Dave and Beth. Dave seemed like a nice and genuine person. However, Beth was a little less gracious. "So you're Steve's new thing, huh?" Her sarcasm and insincerity were just a bit too obvious.

Thing. I bit my tongue, holding back my sharpest eye darts. Everyone was looking at me for my response. "Ah…yeah, I guess you could call it a thing," I laughed looking at Steve, trying to keep the situation light for everyone.

We were called to dinner and thankfully the happy couple had the foresight not to place Steve at the same table as Beth. The group at our table was rather boisterous but really fun. The food was wonderful and as was usual, Steve ate everything on his plate, plus much of mine. In fact, all of the men seemed to be eating their girlfriends' and wives' meals. Of course I did not mind watching the, "honey are you going to eat that?" ritual. But Steve never had to ask. I always volunteer my unfinished meal to a good appetite.

After dinner I went to the ladies room to freshen up. As I was applying lipstick, Beth walked in and tried to force a little 'casual' conversation with me. "So, are you and Steve very serious?"

"Well," I smiled, remaining coy.

"You know, we dated all through college," she interrupted.

I played dumb, with an emotionless "Oh." I didn't want to get into it with her.

"Yeah, at one point we were almost engaged," she sounded almost triumphant. I just nodded. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of any reaction from me whatsoever. I could see right through her.

Predictably, she kept trying to get under my skin. "I just can't believe how fat he's gotten again." I almost lost my temper and countered her nastiness with my own, but I smiled through my clenched teeth.

"Yeah…" I sighed dreamily, "he's such a stunning guy and so fantastic on the inside too. I feel really lucky to have him." Beth seemed a little speechless over my implied desire for his increased size. Just then I heard a slow song. "Oh, I made Steve promise he would slow dance with me tonight so I better get out there. See you later!" I hurried out.

I got him out on the floor for that slow dance. And another. I loved trying to get my arms around his large middle. We did a little stargazing into each other's eyes and shared a couple of quick kisses. I was never into obnoxious displays of public affection but I guess I just got a little lost in his body. I realized as we were leaving the dance floor a number of people looking at us. And I did catch Beth watching us too. I really hoped she regretted the way she treated Steve and felt ashamed for it.

At one point I went to the bar to get Steve a beer. One of his other teammates, Mark, who was quite a big guy himself, started up a little conversation there. "You know, I haven't seen Steve this happy in a while. I think you guys make a good couple."

"Well, thank you, that's so nice to hear, Mark. He's good for me too," I blushingly admitted.

"Beth was harsh on him," he grimaced. It appeared that a few drinks had loosened up his desire to spill the dirt. "She would make comments about his weight problem in front of everyone just to humiliate him. He put up with her crap way too long."

"Funny, I don't think he has a problem. In fact," I joked, "I'm still trying to figure out if he has any faults at all!"

Mark laughed, "You're a cool chick Ashley."

After a few more laughs back at our table, things started to wind down a bit and I felt like I had already waited long enough for what I wanted. I caught Steve's eye and gave him a raised eyebrow. He gave me that same raised eyebrow right back and silently took my hand, leading me away from our table. We said our good byes and drove back to the hotel.


I emerged from the bathroom in a tantalizing emerald silk lingerie set that I had bought specifically for that night. Steve was still wearing his suit but began loosening his collar and tie when he saw me. I walked up to him and planted a big smooch on his lips and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. "Steve," I murmured, "I'm so completely yours."

I took his hand and led him to sit down on the edge of the bed. He pulled me close, facing him and massaged my behind while I ran my fingers through his beautiful hair. I climbed on the bed, kneeling behind him. I removed his jacket and kneaded his shoulders with the full strength I could muster. His soft thick tan neck looked delicious and I spent some time kissing and licking the back of it.

My hands eased around him as I unbuttoned his shirt and caressed his chest and pressing my breasts against his back. My hands then extended down his tummy, tracing down the delectable roundness nearly reaching between his legs. No longer able to resist, I reached around his waist, gently pressing my nails into his soft, ample belly. He smiled and let me spend some time on his midsection.

I stood up and faced him, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and removing his under shirt. Lost in his sexy full body I pressed my face into his middle kissing every inch. "Oh Steve, I love your tummy," I whispered, my tongue tracing along his tiny, faint stretch marks that revealed his earlier indulgences. My hands roamed his crotch, fondling his growing excitement.

He grabbed me around the waist and effortlessly lifted me up on his lap for some more passionate kissing. I wrapped my legs around his love handles and kissed his neck and lips. He raised my arms, took off my camisole and hungrily eyed my breasts. His exquisite mouth warmly tongued their entirety. My desire heightened with every wet moment of his tongue on my body.

He pulled me into the bed on top of him and I worked on removing his long belt. His belly jiggled with the satisfaction of being released from it. I slowly unbuttoned his pants, unzipped and gently slid my hand inside. Those pants were still far too in the way so I pulled them down to his ankles. He kicked them off and the only thing between our naked bodies was the silk of his boxers and my delicate panties.

I kissed every part of his body from his forehead to his navel, and worked my way down from there. I ripped his boxers off and showed him my own hunger for his manhood, licking and kissing every inch. His growing excitement and near climactic moans signaled something coming so he pulled me up to him and lay me on my back. As he kissed me hard with his tongue, he slipped his thumb underneath the elastic hip string of my panties and slid them quickly down my legs. I felt so exquisitely vulnerable under the weight and power of his heavy body.

He leaned his considerable belly into mine and I could feel the contrast of his soft body and hard penis against my waist. His fingers massaged my vagina so fantastically that my legs started to tremble. I guided him fully on top of me so I could feel his full weight during the pleasure. He whispered, "I don't want to hurt you…"

"Ooh, Steve, you could never hurt me," I whispered. "I like the way you feel on top of me. I like the weight…"

I could feel the pressure build inside me and suggested he flip me over. I climbed on top of him so I could feel him inside me. He moved very well, anticipating my own rhythms with his. My thrusting accompanied his blissful moans and jiggling belly. His rolling flesh and the increasing intensity brought me to orgasm seconds before his own. A rush of ecstasy came over my entire body as he filled me with his love and covered me with his sweat.

As we embraced in a post-coital spoon, my senses were full with the feeling of his roundness against my back, the smell of his musky skin, the view of his beefy arms and hands dwarfing my own, the sound of our measured breathing and the aftertaste of his salty skin.


© 2015 Ashblonde / Ashley B