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

There's an emotional component to intercourse women have that men don't.  Women make love.  Men have sex.

You can see it in Tracy's addled eyes as you thrust inside her.  She's giving herself to you--body, mind, and soul--while you're merely planting your proprietary flag atop your latest acquisition.  "Sowing your oats," your father used to call it.  As a youth, you misunderstood the euphemism as "sewing your oats," and couldn't understand what food and mending clothes had to do with sex.  After popping a seam on Tracy's noose-tight jogging shorts while yanking them free from her burger-bloated belly you realize the malaprop makes sense in your case.

Sex with Tracy is pleasurable despite your proclivity for the plump.  Her orifice is virginal in its tightness, which you suspect has more to do with the family-sized feast packed inside her than it does chasteness.  Nevertheless, your well-lubed pole--made greasier by the digesting fare--slides effortlessly from tip to hilt.

The brunette is a fetching feather in your well-plumed conquest cap.  Too bad, unlike the countless socialites you paraded to charity banquets and galas, there's no paparazzi to champion her flawless olive skin, luminous chestnut eyes, and (ridiculously distended stomach aside) a body as sleek, powerful, and unblemished as the foreign sportscars in your collection.  You take solace in the fact that, much like the automobiles sequestered away in your garage, Tracy's beauty is now for your eyes only and you'll be her sole driver from this point onward.

Unlike your fleet of exotic vehicles, however, you won't be keeping her in pristine condition.  Tracy's ruination began tonight with the deep-fried feast you prepared.  As it digests, it will delicately coat her perky tits, firm ass, and sinewy limbs in a thin layer of lard.  It will be imperceptible, of course, but feasts like tonight's will establish the foundation upon which you will build in the weeks to come.  After a few months, the only thing you'll need to build is a wider corridor for Tracy to fit through.

It is that thought--even more than the muscular spasms of Tracy's warm pussy pulsating against your cock--that sends you exploding inside her.

NOTA BENE: Sorry, no choices in this chapter.  Rest assured you'll have some weighty decisions to make in the ones to come!