Lorna was a friend of a friend; I first met her through my attraction to Jenny. Jenny was embarrassed about her weight and never had a boyfriend, but she was the first fat girl I summoned the courage to tell about my attraction to fat women. One night the two of them came to a nightclub where my band was playing. As soon as I saw Lorna, she captivated me with her face and full figure–about 40 pounds heavier than Jenny. We made furtive eye contact, but I played it shy, not wanting to hurt Jenny's feelings, because she thought I was interested in her. Lorna was about 250 at the time and the mental image of her hoisting her big butt onto a small barstool had already been burned in my mind for eternity. Her belly bulged out despite the fluffy blouse and her healthy breasts rested upon it helplessly, having nowhere else to go and nowhere to hide. We struck up an innocent conversation a week later as I saw her dance for the first time, but again, I kept it very casual so as not to hurt Jenny's feelings. I didn't see or speak to Lorna for many years after that.
Ultimately, I couldn't hide my interest in Lorna from Jenny. I was traveling constantly during the next year, and called Jenny a few times to chit-chat, talk about fat, and see if she had gained any weight. I always asked if Lorna had gained as well. During one call, Jenny informed me with embarrassment that she had eaten her way to 300 pounds, and my reaction over the phone left no question in her mind that I was incredibly aroused. She giggled, then said "Lorna has gained weight, too." She then teased me by making me guess how much. After several incorrect answers of increasing magnitude, I finally elicited the admission that Lorna was over 400 pounds. I was flabbergasted, and Jenny could tell by how I sounded on the phone. I knew she was hurt by my persistent curiosity about Lorna, and now she knew that I was more than curious; I was infatuated. For months after that conversation my mind would spin as I tried to visualize these two women growing fatter in my absence. To Jenny's credit, she selflessly indulged me by enabling a fateful meeting with Lorna a few months later.
Jenny must have told Lorna how I reacted to the "400" revelation. One night I was playing a club date in a town 2 hours away. I was in the middle of the next-to-last set when I saw a large woman enter the room and take a seat near the back at a table by herself. She was more than large, she was huge. Though I only caught a glimpse of her while I was performing, I instantly knew it was Lorna, because I had told Jenny where I'd be playing and put two and two together in a millisecond. I'd only met Lorna twice and hadn't seen her for about 5 years. I could barely keep my mind on playing. During the next break I made my way through the crowd to the restroom, then got caught up in several conversations with patrons and fellow band members while I got some water. The break was soon over and I had to take to the stage again for the last 45 minutes. All I could think about was how to approach this woman. I didn't have to ponder long. The last set ended, we were turning off our gear for the night, the room was clearing out, and she took that as her cue. She caught my eye, beckoned me with her finger, and, hypnotized, I had no choice but to comply.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Of course, Lorna. I remember you!" We talked at her table for a while, where I learned that Jenny had indeed told her where I was. We decided to go to the 24-hr restaurant down the hill from the hotel and talk more. Any time prior to this I would have been hesitant to be seen in public escorting such an obese woman, but this was an historic moment. The restaurant was filled with strangers, but even if it were full of my friends, I wouldn't care. This was my baptism to the world of truly fat women.
"Let's get something sinfully fattening," she said with a coy smile, and a few minutes later a dessert cake called Death By Chocolate arrived with ice cream for her and a coffee for me. We had a strictly platonic conversation, although we both knew why we were suddenly sharing a table after all this time. When we finished, she said she knew I was probably tired from performing all evening. But instead of saying goodbye, we sat in her car and talked for what seemed like hours. In the privacy of the parking lot, I spilled my guts to her. I confessed that I had always had an irresistible attraction to fat women in general and her in particular; I had first approached Jenny but couldn't help myself from wanting Lorna more.
"Can I use that word—fat?" I ventured.
"Of course you can. It's a beautiful word!" was her reply. We marveled at the fact that in the years since we first met, she had gained over 150 pounds. Then I asked if I could do something I'd never done before. I wanted to touch a fat woman's belly, and hers barely fit behind the steering wheel. She allowed me, so I did—cautiously and only with light strokes on the surface of her clothing. As we talked more, my caresses became more pronounced; I used my full open palm and gently pressed her belly to feel its heavenly resilience. I must have done that for another hour as we talked about how she loved being fat and how I loved that. I didn't venture inside her blouse, but gauged her belly's panoramic expanse across her wide hips, its outward protrusion, softness, and its incredible bouncy mass as we talked about everything and nothing at all. She admitted to being a little over 400 pounds; maybe 415 or 425, she wasn't sure because most scales didn't go that high. But she declared she would never diet.
I was already trembling, and the mention of those numbers sent the blood pressure in my groin throbbing. I was trying to be a gentleman, engaging in friendly conversation that would pave the way for a second and hopefully more intimate meeting. I knew I had a rehearsal the next afternoon that I should have been preparing for, but I did not want to miss this opportunity to be so close to the woman who was the object of my masturbation fantasies for so many years. It was getting very late; I politely thanked her for coming to see me, then professed my dedication to my music and told her I should probably say goodnight since she had a long drive home. I gave her a kiss as I prepared to leave her car, whose windows by now were very fogged up. My right arm was around her waist as I leaned over from the passenger seat, and as we kissed, she opened her mouth! Our tongues danced. I reflexively squeezed her left breast and we kissed even more passionately. When we finally came up for air, she said she had gotten a room in a nearby motel for the night since she planned to visit some friends in town the next day. She suggested I could still come over and we could talk more or "just cuddle."
"Are you sure you don't want to come to my room?" she asked as I tried to be a gentleman and hide my true desires, still trembling and short of breath. The answer was obvious; I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I sheepishly agreed. I compartmentalized my lust, went to my hotel room and quickly breezed through a few new songs for the next day's rehearsal, then hopped in my car and drove to her motel.