Plumber's Crack: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

We sat down in my small kitchenette and I could hear my cheap Ikea chair squeal beneath the weight of the mammoth plumber before me. He looked comically large next to my threadbare minimalist furniture, his large frame almost completely obscuring the chair from my view. The burgers were smaller than anticipated and we polished them off faster than I would’ve liked. I offered a second beer and was surprised he accepted. That was a good sign. 

We chatted about the management company who ran my building. He had plenty of amusing horror stories and the second beer went down quickly. By the time I offered a third we were both buzzed and I knew he’d accept. Things were working out in my favor and I was practically salivating to see this hulk of a man naked in my apartment. 

“Those jeans don’t look too comfortable,” Jimmy said as I walked to the fridge to grab us beers. 

“They’re not,” I laughed. “I don’t own comfortable jeans anymore,” I said and gave my gut a grab. 

“Let me guess,” he replied, “you’re wearing a hoodie in 80 degree weather because you don’t have a shirt that fits. 

I blushed and shrugged.

“Let’s see what’s under there,” he grinned. 

Drunkenly, I peeled off my hoodie and let my belly plop out on full display. My shirt had ridden up even more beneath the sweatshirt and I felt a rush of embarrassment. 

“That’s quite the beginner gut you got there,” he said gruffly. “Looks like you stacked on thirty or so pounds fairly recently huh?”

“You got me.”

“You like it though, I can tell. You like big guys don’t you?” he said while leaning back to expose a sliver of belly. 

Embarrassed, I shrugged once more. 

“You like me, huh?” He left a pregnant pause but I did not respond. “Come over here. I want you to grab my gut. See what a real fat guy feels like.”

I paused, before stepping toward him. I got close enough to smell his musk once again, but was too scared to go any further. He grabbed my hands and placed them on his belly, then directed them lower to his overhang. 

“Squeeze it. It feels great. Nothing feels better than this.” 

I did as I was told and squeezed his overhang. I continued to massage his fat, lift and drop it, knead it like a cat. He closed his eyes and tilted back his head to let out a moan. I took this as a cue to peel up his shirt even further. I was impressed at how protruding and bulbous his stomach was. It was well formed. Not too firm, not too soft. Perfectly supple beneath my fingers. 

He particularly reacted when I caressed his stretch marks; they were likely fresh and sensitive. I wondered how long he’d been a fatty. My cock was straining inside my too-tight jeans and I could see his was stiffening as well. As if by magic he unbuttoned my pants letting my belly and fat pad spill out to my great relief. 

“Fuck,” he said, “you’ve been chowing down. Growing boy, just what I like to see.”

I peeled off his pants to reveal his tighty whities stained by his dripping uncut cock. We began to make out for what felt like hours but was probably only fifteen minutes or so. I was intoxicated by the beer on his breath and his scratchy dense beard against my mouth. Without realizing I somehow perched myself atop his belly, my back arched and my ass out. He had each of my fattened cheeks in his hands, rolling my ass fat between his sausage fingers. Occasionally he’d give one a jiggle or let it bounce. 

“Fuck, you’re so juicy,” he muttered. “Can I fuck you?”

I nodded. We moved to the bed and he laid out on his back while I sat on top and grinded my ass against his cock while massaging his gelatinous gut. He ripped off my underwear with surprising ease and I about lost it. With a bit of spit he slipped his girthy cock fully inside me and I rode cowgirl style. After ten or so minutes he struggled to sit up, the weight of his gut pinning him down. Once he was successfully upright he pushed me onto my back and my legs in the air. His belly was far too large for him to successfully find my hole, so I pushed up his gut with one hand and led his cock inside me with the other. I let go of his stomach fat and let it spill forward onto me. As he slowly thrust into me his underbelly sandwiched my cock between his gut and mine, jerking it off with every thrust. I was almost too fat for missionary but we succeeded with slow sensuous thrusts. There was no way we had the stamina for anything else and we were already pouring sweat.

Even still, his pace did increase with time. He badgered my prostate for a solid thirty minutes before I was about to burst. I couldn’t take it any longer and began to convulse involuntarily. 

“Fuck yeah fat boy,” he purred, “fuck yeah jiggle for me while you come. Fuck.”

He bent forward as far as his belly would allow so that he could barely grab my tits and gut. He quickened for a few pumps before turning bright red with bellowing moans. I could feel his come filling up my ass and I completely lost it. Sandwiched between our bellies, hands free, my cock began erupting. I saw white for what seemed like an eternity before returning to reality. When I opened my eyes I saw his bloated face near mine, bright red, scruffy and still full of desire. 

“You are somethin’ else,” he said while pulling out of me.

I watched him struggle to get off the bed and walk to the kitchen to crack another beer. To my surprise he killed the whole thing in one gulp.

“Not long from now you’re gonna be a true lard ass like yours truly,” he said confidently, “and I wanna watch that happen.”

I grinned and sat up, my belly pushing down my still-hard cock.

“You free for dinner tomorrow night?”