Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, First, Pregnancy, Slow, School,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - George is the new boy in class. He's rich, smart, good looking and lives alone with his doctor-father in the grandest house in town. He could date any of the cool girls in senior year. How come, then, that he only wants to be with the fat girl from the run down part of town?
Walking down the streets of our middle sized town with my large family, I still get a buzz from seeing numerous males - and quite a few females too! - turning their heads after my gorgeous wife. Fran - short for Frances - is, simply put, stunning. At 24 she is slim except where women do not want to be slim - she has a killer ass and her perfect D breasts sit high and proud over a flat tummy despite the fact that she is the mother of four and all our kids have been breast fed for at least a year. Our youngest is only 4 months old, but Fran easily fits into her pre-pregnancy jeans. She is happy and confident. But it wasn't always so.
Perhaps I should introduce myself. I'm George. I'm also 24, though a bit closer to 25 than Fran and I am an engineer. I have only lived here for about 7 years. I came here with my dad during the summer holidays between my junior and senior year of high school. Dad is a doctor and there were only the two of us, my mom having died when I was so small that I can barely remember her at all.
I grew up in New England and we moved around a lot. When Mom died, Dad had problems finding jobs that were compatible with looking after a small kid. Young doctors are supposed to work themselves to the ground and leave the rearing of children to wives. Dad frequently slammed the door on hospitals that couldn't accommodate his 'strange' desire to look after his own child.
One hospital director had the nerve to exclaim "There must be 300 nurses at this hospital happy to bag a doctor. Pick one of them, knock her up and get her to look after your other brat too so you can get on with your work!"
He got a split lip and a chipped tooth for that effort - Dad having been an excellent boxer in his student days. Dad only escaped an assault charge because a brilliant lawyer and very good friend of his threatened the bastard with a massive harassment suit. It helped a lot that Dad had 'accidentally' switched on his Dictaphone before the conversation and the hospital board was keen not to have that tape played in public.
Despite moving so much and thus changing schools frequently, my education didn't suffer. I suppose I am a bit of a 'brain' though not exactly a nerd. I am certainly not a jock either being of average height and build, but I can hold my own in athletics and for a while in late middle school and the first years of high school I was quite a good Soccer player.
That came to a crashing halt when Dad, who had specialized in nutrition and diet, accepted an offer to move to a remarkably enlightened hospital district in the mid-west eager to focus on preventative medicine. That hospital was associated with a university with a young, but up-and-coming medical school, and Dad was offered a position as professor and head of a vibrant department. It sounded too good to pass up, and in fact he has never regretted it. So we left New England for good as soon as my school year ended and spent the summer finding a place to live and getting Dad settled in at work.
I forgot to mention that both my sets of grandparents (whom I never really knew) had been exceedingly wealthy and with Mom and Dad both only children, the combined pile came to Dad. That meant we could easily afford 'The Cedars', a huge mansion like house in 'The Hills' - the decidedly up market part of town.
It wasn't that we were snobs or needed so much space at all - indeed we left a whole wing of the house unused, but Dad was keen to get a garden and fell for the extensive grounds immediately. I on the other hand was more attracted to the huge swimming pool - and the gym and private tennis courts were also quite a buzz. And so I found myself starting Senior High in my tenth, and hopefully last, school once again knowing nobody and wondering what sort of people I would be graduating with.
A mixed bag, as it turned out. Primarily because the school district not only incorporated 'The Hills' but also a very poor area around the railway line, imaginatively nicknamed 'The Tracks' - in addition to ordinary middle class neighborhoods. It was apparent already from the first day that the social divisions in my class were sharp and, not for the first time in my life, I felt decidedly uneasy about my material wealth and had decided to do my best to keep a low profile. Well, that was the intention. But fate - and Fran - changed all that.
In fact, it started on the very first day. Being new and having spent too little time to prepare myself, I was running late and finally found the right room a minute or so after the teacher had arrived. I quietly entered and sat down on the nearest vacant chair next to a rather massive girl. "I'm George," I whispered.
Startled she looked at me. Despite the excess weight, her face was pretty. She had a mane of wavy dark-red hair - somewhat unkempt and greasy, but nevertheless impressive and her pale skin was freckled across a cute nose, though that was partly obscured by some fairly thick glasses in an ugly frame that didn't suit her. But what really caught me were her eyes. They were clearest blue I have ever seen. She looked apprehensive and didn't say anything.
" ... and we have a new student this year called George Monroe," the teacher said. "I think it must be George who just sat down next to Frances". 'Poor him' someone muttered and there was a general round of not very pleasant sounding sniggering.
"I am sorry sir," I said. "I had a little trouble finding my way around."
"Not to worry," the teacher replied. "I am sure you will work it out in a few days. Anyway George, by means of introduction - can you tell us a little about yourself? Your father is a doctor and a professor at the university hospital I believe?"
A few of the well-groomed kids, girls especially, looked my way with interest. This was hardly the best way to lie low - I groaned inwardly, but launched into a brief and deliberately dull version of my life to date.
"And have you settled in at 'The Cedars' yet?" the teacher asked.
That had even more people staring at me. 'Someone shoot me' I thought, but again I made a polite reply. Fran's body language was very noticeable. She tried to shrink away from me - a difficult task since she was so large and the tables rather small - as if she was somehow intruding on my space. I flashed her a smile and got a very confused visage in return. God, this kid had confidence issues!
The teacher handed out text books and went on with a boring run-down on the immediate plans for the history class and ended up announcing some project work. "I want you to partner off two and two and work on the questions at the end of the first chapter. You can work with whoever you're sitting next to. Is that OK?"
There was a general murmur of consent. Fran looked positively scared, but I loudly exclaimed "That's fine!"
She looked at me in disbelief. "You don't have to work with me, you know" she started.
"Why on earth wouldn't I?" I replied in genuine surprise.
"Oh, it's just" she faltered. "It's just you're a 'Hill boy' and a doctor's son and all that and I live down at 'The Tracks' and..." she trailed off again.
She was now looking like a whipped dog. This was pretty awful, and I debated with myself how to handle this. I choose a brisk approach. "I positively couldn't care less. You're my partner - so let's get on with it!"
She sighed and we launched into the assignment. She was actually quite smart and knew a lot of history - more than I did and I'm not half bad, so we solved the set tasks pretty quickly. That gave me a chance to grill her a little. She wasn't exactly forthcoming with information, but by and by I worked out that she was an only child living with a single parent, just like me. We also discovered we were going to have a fair number of classes together, including all the science subjects and one or two other electives, and by chance we would be together for nearly every class this first day. "Super!" I said brightly. "Then you can show me where everything is."
I once more got a startled look which looked especially bizarre through her glasses. I giggled and she asked "What?"
"Oh nothing," I replied. "It's just that every time I talk to you, you look like I was the big bad wolf or something."
That - finally - landed me a megawatt smile. She had nice and very even teeth - the evenness presumably brought on by braces which to me looked like they were soon to come off. (I knew one or two things about orthodontics having had braces for years myself and only just gotten rid of them.)
"It's OK," she said. "I'm just not used to talking to you kids from 'The Hill'."
"Count me out of 'you kids' please" I shot back. "I don't select my friends on the basis of their addresses."
"Most people around here do," she said in a sad voice, the smile gone.
"Including you?" I inquired, mainly to tease.
That was a bad move. I noticed tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't have any friends," she said miserably. "Everyone can agree on putting down fat girls."
"You are wrong on both counts," I said as gently as I could. "You have one friend - me - if you want one. And I don't put down people. Especially not over anything as irrelevant as their BMI."
"BMI?" she snuffled.
"Body Mass Index," I replied. "A measure of your weight-to-height-squared ratio. Sorry about that. My Dad's an expert on nutrition and diet and all those kinds of things."
"I guess my BMI is pretty bad," she said, hell bent on putting herself down.
"No doubt it is much too high," I replied, "but that can be changed, you know."
"How?" she asked hopelessly. "I have tried diet after diet and they never seem to work."
"Of course they don't," I said. "Fad diets never do. There is only one thing that works. Eating less and exercising more. And you must be prepared to have patience. It took time putting on those extra pounds and it will take time getting rid of them again, but it can be done."
"You make it sound so easy," she said, "but it isn't really, is it?"
"It is anything but," I agreed. "Main problem is you get so goddam hungry."
"And how!" she giggled, her mood improving.
At that point the class ended. We handed in our joint reply to the teacher and I started to gather my things. "What's next?" I asked.
"English and it's in this same room," Fran replied.
"Excellent. I'll just leave my stuff here. Are you coming outside for fresh air?" I inquired.
"Ah, 'em, I don't think..." she started.
"Do come. Stretch your legs and get some air or you will doze of during the next class," I said.
"I think I may anyway. Miss Johnson is deadly boring. But I don't want to, like, monopolize you," she said - actually blushing.
I slanted my head slightly and looked inquisitively at her. "Are you fed up with me already?" I sighed theatrically.
"NO!" she exclaimed, blushed profusely and waffled on, "I mean, I, it's just..."
"I liked your first answer better," I smiled "Let's go outside shall we?" and she finally agreed.