She was huge: six foot tall, short hair, a roll of fat bulged over her shoulder and there were so many folds on her torso she looked like a naked Zoidberg. It was in a Popeye’s that they met. She actually approached him. Although, she was morbidly obese, her personality did not reflect her dumpy body.
“Hi there! Never seen you here before. You new?” she said to Calvin.
“Just stopping by for some jambalaya and spicy fried chicken. This is the only Popeye’s in the county,” said Calvin.
“I know, I’m here all the time,” she said.
Calvin looked at the workers’ face and can tell that they didn’t like her there. They looked at her with disgust.
“Would you want to share a bucket of chicken with me?” asked Calvin.
She was abashed. He wanted me to have dinner with him? she thought. How sweet is that. She’s been abstinent all her life and not by choice. The only euphoric arousal she received was from her mastication of fast-food. Processed food that was rich in sugar, MSG, and sodium. All the chemicals to make your taste buds explode in ecstasy; that was what she dine on every night. Every Friday night, she hoped, like when a poor government drone hoped when he bought a lotto ticket, that she would get lucky and hit the jackpot. She felt the jackpot coming when Calvin asked her to join him in finishing his eight piece bucket.
Surely this must be a gift, a divine gift. Calvin was wearing a cord sweater, but his firm muscles bulged from beneath. His physique did not resemble those who frequented Popeye’s. At least not in that county. She wondered how it would taste to put her greasy lips over those pectorals. She felt herself moist and warm. He stimulated her in ways no big mac or three orders of chicken nuggets ever did. They finally sat down in a table for two, right next to the window. It was dusk and tiny headlights sped through the desert as the sun started its descent in the horizon. It wasn’t a sunset over the ocean, but it would do, she thought. She had never been to the ocean. Her entire life was spent on the harsh Texas desert, inside her air-conditioned home, attending her air-conditioned school, work in her air-conditioned work place and the air-conditioned fast food eatery that she spent all her free time. The desert builds character she remembered reading. I grew up in the heart of the desert, I’m a real woman. I can take on anything, she thought. I will eat him up and swallow him whole. She watched him carefully mixing the ketchup with the hot sauce.
“Why mix the hot sauce?” she asked.
“I like to dip the meat in it,” he said.
“I just do it like this,” she said and proceeded to squirt the ketchup packets all over the drumstick, then continued with a hot sauce packet and squirted that all over the drumstick. She picked up the chicken leg with fingers dripping in sauces, and finished the chicken leg to the bone in 3 bites. Bits of batter dotted the corner of her lips as she beamed him a wide smile.
He tore a sliver of flesh from the chicken breast, dipped it the crimson concoction, then feed it to her. They ate the rest of the chicken finishing it completely. Calvin also had a bowl of Popeye’s Jambalaya. It was mushy rice in a red sauce with shredded five days old chicken. He knew what went on at Popeye’s, he worked there for a year and a half. That happened after he had graduated from college with a bachelor’s of art. It was a humbling experience.
She asked him to go somewhere alone with her. She had to be drunk on fried chicken to work up the courage. But he made it easier for her. There was something familiar about him. She felt an ease in talking to him. It could be the relaxation due to his offering of food, but he calmed her usual anxiety. She felt so relaxed that she got up, sat beside him and with one chubby hand on his thigh, and the other on his shoulder, she whispered in his ears words that her virgin lips never uttered in the same sequence: “I want to suck on you.”
She slid her hand between his leg and rubbed between his legs. He grabbed her hands from his crotch and unzipped himself in public. He pulled out his member and she lean down on him. The first penis in her mouth tasted a bit salty. Must be the sweat she thought. She gryrated her head on his cock coming up every so often to breath. A trail of saliva connected his lips to his shaft. She’d dive in again, encapsulating all of him. After a couple of minutes he pulled her head up and said “we should find a place to do this properly.” She told him she lived not too far away in a studio apartment.
“You live alone?” he asked her.
“No, not alone. I have a roommate. Mr. Whiskers,” she replied.
They exited Popeye’s and drove off in his Z4. She miraculously fitted. This meeting had been unplanned. Had it been premeditated, he would have brought the pick up truck. She navigated him throughout the streets and they reached the apartment complex shortly. Once he shut off the engine, her fingers, hands, the rolls on her arms, all flung towards him. It was a barrage of limp lipid appendages. He managed to wave her off to exit the car.
As they walked to the apartment, her hands were busy fondling him, re-enacting every chick flick she remembered watching. Her heart felt very airy, but in her belly, she held a weight, like an anvil and with every touch the weight grew and rushed into her tender spot.
Was it love? she wondered. She used that word so flippantly, but that was her only conclusion. This was love. The last time anyone was remotely close to her was at the last school dance when she was an eighth grader. She wasn’t plump then. She was tall and voluptuous in all the areas prepubescent boys were attracted to. She was the sexual fantasy for the boys and the jealous envy of all the girls. Tommy had the courage to asked her to the dance. They spent that hour and a half in each other arms. She felt a slight hard protruding limb probing from between his leg. But she didn’t feel that same as he did. Tommy did not make her feel the way Calvin did. She really believed it was love. But if it wasn’t, it was something special.
Her studio was quaint but homely. A pink second hand seat sat in the middle of her living room. The dining room and the kitchen was large, enough to accompany even her. The counter top was granite which was unusual for an apartment in the seedy side of town. One wall of her kitchen were packed with tubby. He pulled opened one and they were filled with with ketchup packets, Taco Bell hot sauce packets, and all other sorts of fast food sauces that Calvin has never heard of.
“I keep my supplied in check,” she said and then deposited the Popeye’s ketchup packet and hot sauce into its designated tubby.
Calvin sat on the love seat and his bottom sank in like a deflated balloon. She sat next to him and placed her hand on his thigh, gently squeezing it.
“So, what shall we do now?” she asked.
He looked around and noticed that her only window was closed by thick curtains. No one had seen them come in together. It would be easy he thought to himself, to end her life. He could even use her spacious kitchen to prepare her. Then, his eyes turned to a photo of a young, buxom woman in profile. Her hair tied tightly in a pony tail with with the end grazing her firm buttocks. She was wearing a school T-shirt, and some fitted blue shorts. Both were much too small on her.
“Who’s this?” asked Calvin.
She hesitated, her eyes averted his question and she withdraw her and hand from his thigh and clasped it on her bosom.
“That was me,” she said as if he was confessing to a heinous crime, full of guilt.
He didn’t pry her with additional questions. Instead, he reached around her, and held her. She rested her head, on his chest, streams of tears flowed and soaked Calvin’s shirt. He patted her back and stroked her hair. He culled her, like an injured animal. They stay there on the love seat for many hours, one receiving the other. Calvin couldn’t see her face, he thought she might have fallen asleep, but she wasn’t. She was reminiscing her years in high school. Finally she calmed down enough to talk.
“I wasn’t always this big. I guess you can say I was pretty attractive in high school. But after high school, I gained a lot of weight. My high school boyfriend, teased me at first. But then, the words became cruel; hurtful. I didn’t have sex with him in high school. He always wanted to but it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel that way for him. But after high school, I really wanted to make love with him. I was ready. But he wasn’t interested anymore. He called me a manatee,” she said.
“And you’ve been single since?” asked Calvin.
“Yes. I’ve also gotten bigger,” she said. “Do you love me?” she asked Calvin.
“I am in love with you apetite,” he replied.
“Why bother with a someone like me? Is this some kinda of dare?” she asked him.
No, it was not a dare. He wanted to use her fatty flesh, he wanted to consumed her with sprigs of thyme. He wanted to make sausages from her rolls. She was beautiful to him. The same way a Big Mac was beautiful to a fat kid; the way a piglet was to chef preparing roasted sow.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her. “Back then and now.”
Her hands started to unzip his pants. He stopped her, and lifted her face to his. He kissed her.
They did not make love that night. They only embraced and slept in each other arms.
Calvin awoke many times throughout the night. He would look into her face. It was a bit pasty and pudgy. Her lips formed a tiny smile. She looked as if she was in a wonderful dream. Maybe one filled with cream puffs and cakes. I can do it right now he thought. It wouldn’t be hard. It might even be a good deed. I mean how will she live the rest of her life. But there was the trouble of not having his tools, and not having a way to transport her out the studio. He would need to dismember her and he was not in the mood to put in all that work right now. Perhaps I will return later he thought.
He left the next morning after making her a breakfast of eggs over easy and fried bacon. That was all that was available in her refrigerator. She slept the whole time he cooked, not even budging, smile on her face the entire time. Watching her lost in her dreams reminded him of a meme he read while in college: “Eat cake, a fat woman is harder to kidnapped.” He looked at the enormity on the bed and compared her to her younger image in high school. Would he want to consume that younger self? Probably not, she was much too fine a specimen and besides, he was in need of a large proportion of fat for his hot links. Her current self now was perfect for his dish.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/6yhwry/fried_chicken_girl_bbw_oral