Flawed Red Sil

Half the Woman

The Valentine present from Christopher Jones was far too large. He must have remembered Sophia from the days shortly after our marriage. She was large. Actually she was more than large, she was obese. She had been eating badly for years.

Five years later it was a joke between us. I complained that she was only half the woman I’d married. Then she was twice my weight. Now she’s lighter than me, and I admit it, more attractive than she was as my bride. Even all the wiles of the dressmaker couldn’t make her appear much slimmer than her vast size.

I married Sophia the woman, not Sophia the fat lady. I liked her long before we fell in love. Once married and settled into a domestic routine she started losing pounds a week. I went on the diet as well. Even I lost several kilos. Within two years Sophia had stopped wearing tent-like dresses. After three years she reached her ideal weight and has stayed there ever since.

There had been nothing fundamentally wrong with Sophia’s metabolism. She had lost her mother and stopped smoking in the same month but compensated by comfort eating. Once she had settled into our marriage she started eating sensibly. OK, I helped. I encouraged her without nagging, I supported her through the bad times when things went wrong at work or she had a disappointment. We replaced comfort eating with comfort lovemaking, which helped to burn off the calories. I let her do the work of making love even when I was flattened like a pancake under her heavy body.

As she shed her weight we started walking for exercise. She became fitter and the walks got longer. We started riding our bicycles around a couple of blocks, then a few miles until we rode twenty miles every evening around a network of cycle paths near our house.

Now we don’t need to do as much exercise but we still keep reasonably fit.

When the parcel arrived it was addressed to me. I opened it in our office. I was delighted with the workmanship on the red silk French knickers but disappointed when I opened them out. They would have fitted the Sophia I married but would fall off her now.

“What have you got there, Ken?” Sophia asked. “A present from a large lover? Are you missing the larger sized woman?”

“No, Sophia, you know there is only one woman in my life and she is you. This is a Valentine’s Day present from Christopher Jones of Silk Designs whatever. I think I am supposed to give them to you on the fourteenth of February but they don’t fit the slimline Sophia.”

“Toss them over here. Let me have a look, please.”

I threw them across to her desk. They ballooned out in the air covering both her hands as she caught them. She felt them reverently passing her hands around them.

“These are wonderful, Ken. If they were the right size I would be very pleased to get them on Valentine’s Day. They look and feel expensive.”

An odd look came over her face. My heart sank. That look usually means trouble for me. Sophia has some weird ideas from time to time.

“Take them back, Ken,” she said, rolling them into a ball and throwing them at me. They opened out again and ended their trajectory spread across my face to Sophia’s giggling delight.

“Suits you, Ken. Seriously, will you give them to me on Valentine’s Day? I would like to have them.”

“If you say so. You shall have them on Valentine’s Day with my love.”

“Thank you, Ken.” She walked across to me and gave me a lingering kiss.

“I had intended to take you out to dinner that evening. Do you want your present before or after dinner?”

“Afterwards, Ken, when we get home. Don’t eat or drink too much. You will need some energy for the late night entertainment.”

That thrilled me. An evening out with my wife who I still loved madly and needing energy afterwards seemed an ideal way to spend Valentine’s Day. It was a shame that we had to work during the day, but we did have a company to run. We had to live.

That was a few weeks ago. Now we were on the way back from the restaurant after our evening meal. It hadn’t been as great as we’d expected because too many other couples had the same idea. The restaurant had been crowded and the service staff were overwhelmed by the workload. It would have been better on any other evening. I made a mental note to take Sophia out for another meal in about a fortnight’s time when the restaurants would be less busy.

Even so we had enjoyed the break. We walked back to our house through the frost glistening park holding hands. It was too cold for most people to be out. Inside the front door we appreciated the central heating as we stripped off the layers of outer clothing.

I opened a drawer and took out the neatly wrapped parcel.

“This is my Valentine’s Day present to you, Sophia.”

She passed me her present. While she was struggling with her present I had opened mine to find a pair of cufflinks. I knew that they had been made by a local artist and were unique. I kissed her and said thank you. She was finding her parcel difficult. I had asked the packing room staff to make a good job of it. I passed her a pair of scissors.

“I didn’t expect to have to play ‘pass the parcel’,” she complained.

“I thought your present should be properly protected,” I lied. “Be careful, please. Some of the contents are fragile."”

That made her pause. She had been expecting only the French Knickers. She looked at me, one of those looks, before carefully cutting the parcel tape. Inside was a decorated cardboard box. She lifted off the lid. She touched the panties and felt the other present that I had put inside them. She unwrapped the panties and pulled out a large bottle of her favourite French perfume. It had cost me more money than I had thought reasonable even in the duty-free shop at the airport. The perfume seemed to be acceptable. She flung herself on me, kissing me fiercely. I soon forgot the price of the perfume.

She didn’t say thank you. Her kisses and cuddles were thanks enough. I couldn’t think of anything but her as her body squirmed delightedly against mine. She ended by sitting on my lap with my head buried in the hair trailing across her shoulder. I turned to kiss the half-hidden ear but met her lips again.

“I didn’t expect the perfume,” she said. “I had and have plans for the knickers but the perfume is a bonus. I had only a few drops left. That amount will keep me sweet-smelling for at least a year.”

“What about the knickers?” I was curious. They were far too large for the current Sophia.

“Wait until later. You’ll see.”

Sophia sat on my lap again as we drank coffee, which was unusual for that late in the evening. Sophia was talking about how much better she felt at her present weight. She wanted to know what I had seen in the larger version. At the time most people identified her by her size. From our first meeting I had treated her as a person. Why?

I explained about my great-aunt Lucy. She had been wheelchair-bound and massive but as a small child I had been able to talk to her for hours. She had been intelligent and funny. As I became older she had been a sounding board for all my teenage worries. She had never underestimated or dismissed my fleeting problems but had always listened carefully and given me advice that I could follow.

She had taught me that it is futile to judge people by appearance. Genetics, accident or illness, not personality could have caused someone’s build or face. Once she showed me before and after pictures of Battle of Britain pilots who had been burned. The contrast between the confident young men and the scarred masks that were left of their faces was horrific. Even after extensive plastic surgery their faces were still difficult to understand. Later on I actually met such a man. Underneath the scars he was full of life and humour yet people turned away from him, unable to bear the sight of his face. That hurt him even while he understood.

By the time I had met Sophia, great-aunt Lucy’s lesson had been well learned. I never judged by appearance so I listened to Sophia, talked to her, and fell in love with the person she is, not the ‘fat girl’ she appeared to be. Then my ‘fat girl’ turned from an ugly duckling into a swan. I had married the person and I ended up with the person in a shape that she was happy to be in. What more could I want?

This explanation took a long time because Sophia kept stopping my mouth with kisses.

“Now, Ken,” Sophia interrupted, “I want you to think back to our Wedding Day. What was I wearing?”

“Is this an inquisition? You know that men don’t remember clothes as well as women.”

“No, it’s not an inquisition. I’ll remind you if you can’t remember. Can you remember?”

“You were wearing a straight ivory silk sheath with a train. The neckline was scooped fairly low in front,” I pointed to her torso, “down to there, with wide shoulder straps ending in capped sleeves. You had a veil that came down to your waist in front but was slightly longer than your train behind you. The dress zipped up to just below the nape of your neck behind.”

I stopped and thought further.

“You were wearing white low-heeled shoes, and white tights. That’s about it, I think.”

“For a man that’s amazing. Let’s make it more difficult. What was I wearing as underwear? You took it off. You should know.”

“Immediately under the dress you had a full length slip with wide shoulder straps looped to the shoulder straps of your dress and a stiff waist slip that gave some body to the skirt. You had a foundation garment that held you together…”

“That’s hardly a gallant way of putting it!” Sophia protested.

“Sorry. It was moulding your figure, if you like that better. It zipped up at the front and had short legs under your tights. I remember that it was difficult for me to peel off you. Underneath that you had a small pair of white cotton panties.”

“That’s brilliant. No wonder you’re in the rag trade. Only one thing wrong. The small pair of white cotton panties were the largest size available.”

“Why this discussion of what you were wearing?” I asked.

“Because we are going to have a romantic dressing-up session and these,” Sophia waved the red silk knickers, “will play their part.”

I couldn’t follow that. The knickers were far too large.

Sophia dragged me off upstairs.

On our bed I was surprised to see her wedding dress. I thought it had gone years ago when she lost so much weight but there it was splayed across the bed. All the clothing I’d just described was there too.

“Now we strip,” Sophia announced.

We stripped. She turned off the overhead light leaving the dim light from two small lamps by the curtained window.

Now what? I thought to myself. What is she going to do?

She pulled the red silk knickers up to her knees and stopped.

“Come here, Ken.”

I came to her.

“Put your legs into the knickers, facing me.”

“What!”

“You heard. Do it, please.”

I obeyed. She pulled the knickers up and settled them around us. We were pulled together. My tool began to take an interest in the proceedings.

Sophia picked up the white tights. Surely we couldn’t put those on?

We could. She had cut them off at the ankles. It was an undignified struggle which aroused me even more but she pulled the tights up over the French Knickers. I am sure the knickers should have been over the tights but I wasn’t complaining. The silk felt very smooth and sensuous against my skin.

She reached for the foundation garment, corselette, whatever it was that I had said held her together. That was a real struggle to put on. I felt like a contortionist when we had finished. She had asked me to pull up the legs from the inside. I should have known there was an ulterior motive. I couldn’t pull my hands out once she had settled the shoulder straps and swiftly zipped up the front that was now hugging my back.

I still wasn’t objecting. I was now fully erect and sheathed inside her pussy. This foundation garment was pulling me deep inside her. She wriggled her shoulders and tightened the shoulder straps. Now I was fixed to her and fixed in her. Her naked breasts were pressing into my chest and her erect nipples were digging holes in my skin.

She pulled the long slip down over us. My arms were tightly held by the corselette. The slip brushed against my calves with a cool slither that made me jump.

The waist petticoat came down from above. She tied it around our waists. Even though she tied the drawstring tight it didn’t make much difference because we were held firmly already.

The wedding dress followed. She zipped up the back. My head was forced beside hers. The long veil covered her head and mine.

“There!” Sophia said triumphantly. I knew I was half the woman I was when you married me. Here we are bride and groom both in the wedding dress. That’s how much weight I have lost.”

She pulled her head back and looked into my eyes.

“How do you feel?” Her muscles contracted around my full erection.

“I feel closer to you and further inside you than I have ever been. I’m not sure how long I can hold back.”

“Keep holding. We have to move.”

She shuffled us towards the bed and lowered herself on to it. I had to follow. We rolled on the bed until I was underneath, the train wrapping around our legs. She pulled my face in front of hers and lowered her lips to mine. Her tongue slid between my lips. Slowly she started humping her hips. On each of her down strokes I was thrust deeper into her. As she raised up I had to follow firmly gripped by the clinging corselette.

I was hanging on as hard as I could. I was trying to hold back the eruption that was almost there. I was trying to move with her, to reduce the tremendous strain as she lifted both of our bodies.

She started groaning into my mouth. I felt her body flush against mine and her legs tense inside the tights. Her tongue lashed around as she panted against my mouth. I would have gritted my teeth except that her tongue was between them forcing my tongue back.

She sighed and relaxed. I relaxed too, too soon. My tool shot everything deep into her.

“Mmm, Ken, that was nice,” she said.

Nice? I thought, it was more than nice, it was fantastic.

“I think I’ll lie here for a while and enjoy myself. You aren’t going anywhere, are you Ken?”

“No, Sophia, I’m not going anywhere.”

I couldn’t. I was held as close to her as if we were stuck together with glue. Her arms were free. Mine weren’t. Even at her present weight she was holding me down.

We lay together for a while enjoying the contact of skin to skin. It didn’t take long for my erection to return. This second time I could hold back until she had reached a peak over and over again. She finally caused me to come into her by squeezing hard on each downstroke.

We spent the whole night wrapped inside her wedding gown waking in the morning for one last mutual orgasm.

Getting out of the dress and that corselette was nearly as hard as getting in. The red silk knickers were soaked with our efforts and peeled off like cling-film.

“I think these knickers are the right size for us, Ken. They made a Valentine’s night to remember for your bride who is half the woman you married. What do you think?”

“I think that half the woman has become twice as sexy.”

That earned me a kiss. I’m very happy with half the woman.

NaNoWriMo 2003