Chapter 1

I noticed her large shape from behind when I walked into the hot dog stand, but I paid little enough attention at first. A broad butt in a pair of jeans is hardly an unusual sight, and often heralds a middle-aged owner of little appeal even to one who knows the fun of rolling around in bed with a big girl, the skin-to-skin delights of a female who bounces and jiggles in all directions at once, the different sexual dynamic that takes place when the woman not only outweighs the man-- but can wrestle and pin him to the floor with her bountiful naked self. I studied the board, and it wasn't until she asked me "Can I take your order?" that I saw the olive skin, the dark eyes and hair, the shy, introverted expression of the round-faced 20-year-old in front of me.

The eyes caught me-- fetching but sad, I suspected, laughed at for her size and vaguely aware that working in a greasepit like this one wasn't exactly going to help matters. Now I looked her up and down, and melted. A perfectly firm, perfectly round, plump little morsel of overfed young femininity. Everything filled out, nothing sagging-- not the round globes under her apron, a little smaller than bowling balls, knocking about just as heavily; not the rolls of fat which spilled in T-shirt cotton over the jeans; not the trunk-like thighs. Oh, if only it were summer instead of winter, and those thighs were in shorts, while the breasts jiggled more loosely and I could sneak a glimpse of the spongy flesh around them up an armpit hole in the T-shirt when she passed a basket to a customer.

I ordered quickly, and stood there, nothing else to do, watching her as she dropped a basket of fries, then handled the hot dog I ordered, spreading the bun with her plump short fingers, slipping it in and slathering a stripe of juicy wet mustard up its side-- no, better not watch that quite so closely. I glanced at a newspaper headline as she finished, but smiled as pleasantly as I could when I took my food from her. She looked slightly perturbed-- how sad, if my appreciativeness struck her as odd, even unsettling. If it was so unfamiliar to her.

I told myself when I went back the next day that it was just for convenience, the place was close to the house, but I wasn't sorry when she was there again. I spoke to her this time, for a brief moment, though she was still shy.

This went on for a few weeks, and slowly I learned a little about her and she smiled a little more each time I came in. Her name was Ramona, she lived with an older sister, she'd gone to the high school near here... and no, she didn't have a boyfriend, she replied, as if it were a stupid question. I wanted to demonstrate why I didn't think so then and there, but I continued to hold off, and simply fantasized about holding her, rolling around with her, burying myself in the rolls of her flesh.

It was a night around Christmas that I struck up a conversation with her near closing time. It was already dark by the time they closed at seven, and since she'd already mentioned the street she lived on, I offered her a ride. She accepted casually, as if there couldn't be any ulterior motive. Along the way I suggested a local pub, and she agreed instantly-- now I began to think that she knew what I wanted, and might be willing.

We talked some more over a beer, and then I offered again to take her home, or... Ramona agreed that she should be getting home, and we got in my car, parked on a side street. She looked at me, I looked at her-- now or never. I leaned forward to kiss her and she grabbed my head, hungrily, our tongues sliding around each other, nuzzling her soft chubby double chin. Okay, so she'd figured out what I had in mind after all, and despite the no-boyfriend talk, she'd obviously done this before with somebody.

I reached around her for the first feel of that large tummy and backside, snuggling my front against those soft, squeezable melons. No protest, in fact a moan of delight, so I slipped a hand in under her sweatshirt and felt her sticky flesh for the first time. I ran a hand up to her bra, investigate what kind it was and how easily it would come off-- and then suddenly I was startled by something. A hand was grabbing my cock under my jeans, squeezing it, hunting for the zipper. Before I could say anything she zipped my zipper down, reached in and wrenched it out of its tight confinement-- then her head dropped down and her warm mouth slipped over the bulb, sucking my swollen cock for all it was worth.

I let her go for a minute-- my god, I wasn't going to stop this!-- and grabbed at whatever I could feel, one of those heavy melons straining at its bra. But this was going to be over too fast, and it wasn't what I wanted-- well, not in this order, anyway. Reluctantly, I stopped her.

"What?" Ramona asked. "I'm not doing it right?"

Well, you've clearly had practice somewhere, I wanted to say. "No, God, it's wonderful," I said, "but a little ahead-- um, I don't want to, you know, yet."

"What do you want to do?" she said, suddenly suspicious again.

"I don't just want to come real quick in my car. I want to make love to you, you know, everything," I said. To demonstrate what I meant, I kissed her again, slowly, while rubbing one of her mighty tits in a gentle circle.

"Usually guys just want to get off, and then they don't wanna be seen with me," she said. "Well, most guys are idiots," I said.

"I think you're incredibly sexy, Ramona, I've thought so the first time you looked at me in the hot dog place."

"Yeah, I could tell you were kinda starin' at me," she said.

"That isn't all I've been doing," I said, and pulled her toward me again.

We decided we could go back to her place-- her sister had had enough boyfriends, she said, she was entitled to one. If it made her happy to show me off, too, I was happy to oblige. Fortunately her sister wasn't there at the time, so the instant we were inside the door she was on me again, sucking my tongue and undoing my pants.

We went into her bedroom. Now she was smiling, sweetly and mysteriously, and it blew me away. She pulled up her sweatshirt, revealing that vast expanse of belly and the balloons fighting to escape from her bra. I took off my shirt and felt her belly surround mine, then grabbed her heavy tits under the fabric and moved them around. She moaned and I undid the bra, which practically fired off of her straining chest like a rubber band. As soon as it was out of the way I buried my face between her bulging breasts, squeezing those heavy balloons around my face, then slathering each cork-sized nipple with a generous slurp of my tongue. Her head jerked back in delight—they might have been felt up before, but I was sure no one had ever worshiped those bouncing jelly-mounds the way I was.

Next I pressed my face into her soft belly, rooting downward to the snap of her jeans. I reached to unsnap them and she practically tore them off. Grabbing a full handful of her round rump in each hand, I nuzzled the scratchy hair under her panties, then slipped them off as I got a musky whiff of the hot, wet place inside them. She stood only in her white cotton socks, a fetching sight, such a bountiful display of womanhood in such a little tomboyish article of clothing. But I couldn't leave them on-- not when there were little piggy-toes to kiss at the end of her thick trunk legs.

She lay down at last on the futon cushion, only inches off the floor. Her legs spread slightly to reveal a thin stripe of slick pink in between, and I quickly yanked off my clothes, then started at the bottom-- kissing and licking the toes, then running my cheek along sturdy calves big enough to reach both hands around. Her legs were freshly shaved-- had she had a premonition to keep them that way for me? Then I licked up the thighs, their softly undulating flab, and as I did I saw her finger creep toward her clit, revealing itself in pink in its garden of black grass. Allow me, I thought, and I flicked my tongue along the very edge of her lip-folds.