The Harem on the Hill (Part XXIII) (Patreon)

Tina holds her belly like a beach ball ready to be tossed.  Swollen and pink from the evening's abuse, it actually looks like one wobbling above her comparatively svelte form.  Although a game of catch is impossible (both the ball and its fatty contents have found their forever home) you can't resist playing with it.

"My God," you say, patting its protuberance.  "What have you done?"

Tina writhes with the weight of your dribble.  "Fuck me," she groans.  Her painful expression suggests a lament rather than a request, but that's not how you take it.

"Gladly," you say, moving to the foot of the bed and unbuttoning your pants.

Tina peers over the crest of her stomach.  "Now?!?" 

"A prized hog should be stuffed and mounted."  You step from your pants and pull your shirt over your head.  "We've done one, now it's time for the other."

You crawl onto the bed as Tina parts her legs.  Beyond their fleshy gateway, her balloon of a belly wobbles to and fro with the mattress' movement and your not-so-tender touch. 

"Think a prick will pop this thing?" you ask, tapping its drum-like surface.   

"Jesus," Tina groans.  "Let me flip over."  

Tina capsizes to one side and slowly props herself onto all fours.  She moves like a matron, with no sign of the grace and fluidity that marked her months ago.  

From behind, she still looks relatively svelte, but it's a mirage.  The burden of her belly pulls the skin taut across her waist and torso, forming an artificially sleek silhouette, while her ass-up position keeps her posterior perky.  Ironically, it's her disappearing thigh gap that most betrays the illusion, as the gelatinous flab that fills it shows none of the youthful resiliency found elsewhere on Tina's body.  A few more pounds and you suspect the backs of her legs will be dimply, pock-marked messes.      

Your stiffening manhood pokes beneath the ivory orbs of Tina's ass until it finds its mark.  She gasps as you plunge inside.  Whether from inexperience or the thousands of calories packed around it, her orifice is tantalizingly tight.  Deeper and deeper you thrust, until each pounding probe is punctuated by a satisfying 'slap' against Tina's jowly cheeks.  

Once in a rhythm, you reach around and caress Tina's tummy.  "Soon this will reach the mattress," you whisper.      

"Mmmmm."

Your hands slide up the sweaty slope of her stomach until they're stopped by her flapping funbags.   "And these will never be perky again."

"Oh, God!"

You knead Tina's tits like dough, rolling them against your hands.  You can almost feel them fattening between your fingers.  In fact, her belly gradually deflates (almost as if your penile penetration caused a leak) as digestion spreads the caloric wealth throughout her figure.  

"Keep eating like this and no guy will want to fuck you," you chide.  

As you enter the home stretch, you lean into Tina like a jockey, pressing your face behind her ear.  Her floral fragrance, which you once enjoyed in the courtyard, is gone, replaced by an aroma of fear and oily perspiration.  Clutching the shallow between Tina's bounding belly and bobbing breasts, you work her like a giant piston.  Up.  Down.  In.  Out.  

And as you finish you add a final whisper: 

"Not even me."   


Author's note: I wanted to end on a climax (ha! ha!) so no choices this week.  Still, I worked hard on this chapter (literally!) so please shoot me a 'like' if you do.

Have a good weekend!

Maverick