It's a tough story to tell, but I can try. I remember when things had just started to get out of hand.
Before I lost total control of the situation.
It was at Mable's birthday party. Not the party with her friends that followed-- the one earlier, at her parent's house.
Mable had just turned 20. She wasn't even old enough to drink yet, but we had been living together for the last few weeks in an apartment. I was the same age. We'd been together for a year.
We met on a blind date that her friends set up. Actually, mutual friends from both sides encouraged us to meet. And we did. And we hit it off.
Mable was sweet, feisty, and a curvy cutie to boot. She had that pixie-girl look, like a chubby Ramona Flowers. If you know, you know.
Cut to a year later. We'd recently moved in together. It was her birthday, and we'd stopped at her parents house before our own plans with the gang later.
I was talking with Mable, and being introduced to several elderly relatives of hers.
"They just like you is all," she said, sipping a Sprite.
"I don't mind," I said. "Your family is cool."
"Mom's a lot," she said looking around the backyard barbecue party that her mom had thrown.
Her mom, Vera, was indeed "a lot". She was loud, overly confident of herself, and pretty heavy. She reminded me of Aunt Fanny from that Robots movie. I watch a lot of cartoons-- sue me.
Anyways, Mable was holding my hand, looking at me. Looking cute as hell in a pair of jeans and a striped black and white hoodie.
"Can you grab me one more?" she asked, holding out an empty can.
"Another diabetes drink, gotcha."
I left for the house, twiddling my fingers in a wave goodbye. Mable blew me a kiss.
I wandered into the kitchen, and checked the fridge. No pop.
I went down the dark hall to the pantry room, and grabbed some drinks from the shelf. I went to turn around and somebody bumped into me.
I blinked, looking at Mable's mom Vera, standing in the doorway.
"Hey," she said, "it's you."
She was wearing high-waisted mom jeans. A blouse that showed a little too much cleavage. Her belly pushed out. Her ass REALLY pushed out.
"Hello," I said with a smile. "Just stealing some pop."
"Mable's guy. You're such a stud, all the family says so." Her breath smelled boozy. She leaned in.
"My daughter is a lucky girl," she said, winking. Vera was friendly. She was also a little flirtatious at times. Usually after drinks. Mostly, it wasn't that awkward. Mostly.
She backed up to allow me to be on my merry way. I sidestepped beside her, and she turned, pivoting her hips towards me. She bumped into my groin for a second.
"Sorry," I said, stepping back. Not that it was my fault in the slightest. My heart started beating quickly.
"Can't wait to get away?" she inquired, pouting her full, raspberry lips. She always had a faint aura of cigarette smoke, but I'd never seen her puff on one.
"I just-- no, definitely not running away," I said nervously. She was fairly forward, given there were potential witnesses that could come around the corner at any moment.
"Sure," she said, feigning a wounded tone. Jealousy maybe? "I'm just playing around. You should get back to her."
"I'll catch you later, Vera," I said, doing my best impression of someone who didn't feel awkward as fuck.
As I went to shimmy by her, she spun again, pinning me roughly against the hallway wall with her ass alone. Her meaty backside was preventing me from escaping.
"You can try," she said.
I was awash with a strange concoction of shame, panic, and arousal.
I liked that Mable was chubby, but I was alarmed at how Vera's larger body was even more appealing to me.
But I was with Mable. And Vera was drunk, so it was basically my fault for not leaving sooner. I placed one hand on her hip to pry myself free from her cushioned grip on me, pleasant as it was.
I stumbled backwards, free at last. I couldn't help myself from apologizing to her again.
"Sorry, gotta...gotta go." I turned, and walked back the way I had come from. I didn't look back, and was reunited with Mable shortly after.
"Here," I said, handing her the can.
"Room temp?" she pouted, looking like a younger, smaller version of her mom.
"All you had," I said, somehow able to act like the last few minutes hadn't happened.
We talked, drinking our non-alcoholic beverages, and eventually excused ourselves from the party. I didn't see Vera again that night. Then we were off to our friend's house for a real party.
Or at least, a party we could drink at, without her parents supervision. I drank too much to remember the rest of the night. I only recall kissing Mable in the backyard, drunkenly laughing at the fog-covered moon, madly in love. It was a pretty good night.
A couple of months passed by. I saw Vera at the house a few times, and she never once brought up our antics in the hallway. However, she didn't ease up on the occasional flirtatious comments, which Mable just chalked up to her mom being a weirdo. I wasn't as convinced.
Then, during an early Christmas gathering at her parents place, things got weirder between Vera and I.
Mable and I were still sailing through the honeymoon phase. We could barely go a few days without getting up to some kind of sexy hijinks.
We were making out in her old room, with the dual purpose of hiding from her extended family's gaze, as well as getting frisky. Mable had put on a little weight, and she felt pretty self-conscious about it. I didn't mind one bit. I liked it. But telling her that wasn't enough to change her mind.
Fortunately, she didn't want to talk about her feelings, she wanted to make out. She was getting pretty aggressive with her kissing, and had pinned me underneath her on the bed. I could totally tell the difference in her weight.
"Least you still like me," she said into my ear as she grinded against me with her jean-clad hips.
"I do," I said in a whisper. Things were getting pretty steamy. I was worried about someone hearing us, thus blowing our hideout.
"You'd probably even like me if I was at big as my mom." She laughed, and I followed suit. I worried that my laugh sounded strange.
"I like you however you are," I said, avoiding her accusation.
"Good answer," she giggled.
She rolled off before things could get too rambunctious.
"Let's go tell my dad to start the secret Santa thing. I wanna go home soon."
I could tell she wanted sex, but she played things cool. Maybe most women just downplayed their own needs. In any case, I was happy to skip to the part when we could be boning at home.
We were stopped on our way downstairs by Vera. She was drunk.
"Hey lovebirds," she said with a wide grin.
