Laura

Chapter One

I looked around the table at the two dozen people, a dozen couples, arranged in the classic boy-girl-boy-girl pattern around the table. It was my first time at Laura's Club, that was all she called it, The Club, with the capitalization obvious in the way she said it, and I was nervous.

But I was in love. I had proposed. And she said she wouldn't marry me until she saw how I handled her "Group," and the way she said "Group" made the capitalization clear on that as well.

So here we were, at the private room in the restaurant in the Holiday Inn in, well, let's just call it Smalltown.

"Okay," Arlene said after doing the dinging the glass with a spoon thing, "we have a new member," and she nodded at me, Laura said, "stand up, sugar," so I stood and around the table, they all said, "Welcome, David."

"So let me review the rules," Arlene went on. She was big and buxom and pretty in that mom-next-door way of a bottle blonde who spent quite a bit of time in the mirror to make the best of what she has. I liked looking at her and listening.

"We'll pass the hat and the men will draw out a key. Then there will be a 30-minute break for the men in the bar before you go to the room indicated by the key," she said, grinning around the room. "I know it's complicated. Is everybody with me?"

Around the table, we chuckled and said "yes."

"Any complaints from the women will be dealt with in the morning when we get together for 11:00 a.m. brunch," she went on, and the men around the table groaned while the women called variations on "that's right."

"Everybody clear?" she asked and the group replied with variations on "yes."

"Well then," she said and lifted the biggest cowboy hat I had ever seen, gave it a good shake, and handed it to the guy on her left. My memory said he was "Roger" although with all the people I had met at this gathering I'm not certain of that. He pulled out a key card and slipped it into his pocket without looking.

The hat was passed, hand to hand, around the table. The whole thing had the aura of ritual. No one spoke. It all seemed very serious to me and I had a weird urge to giggle.

When it got to me, I pulled a key card and put it into my pocket.

"Maybe you got me," Laura said, leaning close and a very soft whisper. Even so, she drew dirty looks.

When the hat got back to Arlene she put it on her head and said, "men, shoo."

I followed the rest and stood and headed for the bar.

We gathered at a large table in the bar and ordered. It was an interesting group, very eclectic. The oldest was another David and I guessed him in his 70s. The youngest was Aaron and if he was drinking that beer legally I was surprised. I was one of the smaller men there at my 5'9" and 130 pounds. Mitch was the biggest, probably 6'3" and easily 250, maybe pushing 300.

They asked me how I had met Laura and I told the story of the wedding, of my role as a groomsman, of her as the Matron of Honor, of her hitting on me and taking me back to her motel later, and how I had, much to my surprise, found myself in love with a woman twice my age and twice my size. They all laughed and told me I was a lucky guy but warned me to be careful.

"She can wear a man out pretty quickly," Fred, who some called Si, said.

I just grinned.

"Time's up," Charlie said from the head of the table, he seemed to be the unofficial patriarch of the group, "and we do NOT want to keep the ladies waiting."

We all stood and headed for the elevators. I looked at the key card envelope and punched 11 since the room number written on the envelope was 1114.

At the door, I hesitated and took a deep breath before pushing the card into the slot and watching the little LED turn green.

I was not a virgin, but this was completely new to me. It was like the Penthouse magazine that some of the guys in the barracks used to have, with their stories in the front of the magazine had suddenly come to life.

I opened the door and she stood there.

I had to run through my memory to come up with a name.

"Well hello Trudi," I said.

"You remembered," she said, smiling broadly, "and I get your cherry. This is my lucky day."

She was, I figured, the second oldest woman in the group. I guessed her in her middle 60s. She was one of those women whose face had settled into a mass of wrinkles. Her blue eyes were clear, her short hair was frizzy, and she was fat.

She was fat in that delightfully soft way of some women. She had about four chins that spread up to become a soft frame for her entire face. They wobbled a bit when she spoke.

She was in a sheer thing, I later found out it was called a peignoir, and obviously nothing else.

And I found her oddly attractive. There was something about the soft dimpled fat of her upper arms, the rolls of belly fat showing under the sheer garment, the fat thighs, and calves that tapered to almost delicate ankles, that I just couldn't look away from.

She smiled up at me.

"Ever been with a fat granny before?" she asked.

"No," I said simply.

She took the two steps to close the distance between us, put her arms around my neck, and pulled me down for a kiss.

It was a good kiss.

No, it was a God DAMN good kiss. Her lips were soft and hungry, her tongue was a wet, warm, darting thing, her arms were soft and heavy and irresistible. When I reached around, as far as I could, and felt the soft rolls of fat of her back she arched into me and I could feel her belly, big and soft, engulfing me.

An EXCELLENT kiss.

"Drink?" she asked, when she broke the kiss.

I was still unsure what the proper protocol would be so I said, "yes please."

She smiled. A good smile. "I have beer and some Jim Beam," she said

"Beer," I said.

She was oddly light on her feet as she went to the tiny refrigerator and got two beers.

"There's no hurry," she said, taking a drink and crawling up on the bed beside me, "we're not expected until the brunch."

She smiled, a wan sort of half-smile, and said, "I know what I look like, David," she said, "and if you're not interested it's okay. I won't give you a bad report."

I laughed at that, took a drink, and crawled up on the bed beside her.

"I'm just learning what you look like," I said, my fingers finding the tie at the neck of the peignoir and giving a little tug, undoing the bow at her throat, "and I want to learn more."

I pushed the sheer material back and looked, smiling when she actually blushed a little.

She was quite flat-chested, her breasts were just big, dark nipples on another roll of fat.

I liked it, and I liked the way her breath caught when I bent and took that big nipple into my mouth and began sucking.

She stroked my hair and said, softly, "mommy issues?"

I chuckled and released her nipple and smiled up at her.

"No, Trudi," I said, "I just like tits."

She laughed at that, a booming belly laugh, and any tension between us was erased.

"So," she said, sitting up with an odd grace and shrugging out of the peignoir, "ever been with a fat granny before?"

I grinned, my BEST boyish grin, the one I practiced in the mirror, and rolled out of bed.

"No," I said, starting to unbutton my shirt, "but I'm fixing to be."

"Wait," she said and reached for the little clock radio. She turned it on and fiddled with the station selector until she found a soft station. Peggy Lee was doing the definitive version of "Fever" and Trudi grabbed the other two pillows, sat up, adjusted the pillows behind her, reclined, and said, "now baby, take it off."

I grinned, just a plain grin of happiness this time, rolled out of the bed, and stood for a moment, catching the rhythm of the snapping fingers. I spread my feet apart a bit, got my hips moving in time with the beat, and started unbuttoning again, making it a striptease for her.

She whistled softly and said, "yeah baby."

She let out a little squeal of delight when I flashed a nipple and applauded when I turned my back and slowly eased the shirt off.

I kept my hips moving through another slow turn while Peggy did the outro - "what a lovely way to burn, what a lovely way to burn."

Billie Holliday came on next, "Stormy Weather" if it matters, and I picked up my striptease again, at a much slower tempo with the new music.

She was clapping and whistling, loud enough I wondered about someone staying in the adjacent room.

Finally naked I danced to her as Julie Andrews started in with "Cry Me A River."

She held her arms out and it struck me just how god DAMN sexy that big soft bag hanging from the bottom of her upper arm was. I grabbed a handful and squeezed and she giggled.

She was smiling at me.

"You like your fat granny?" she asked.

"I'm not sure how to, well, how to talk about it," I said. And I wasn't. I didn't want to insult her but there was certainly no way to ignore her size.

She giggled, an oddly high-pitched girlish giggle.

"Okay honey," she said, "I'll start."

"I was always the fat girl," she started. "I came to puberty years before anyone else in my class, had my first period at 10, was a C cup in the 6th grade, and sat home on prom night with a gallon of Rocky Road and a Twilight Zone rerun marathon."

She stopped and patted the bed.

"Lay down, honey," she said, "I won't bite," and then she giggled again and added, "unless it turns out you like that."

So I laid down, propped my chin on my palm, and listened as she went on.

"I married young," she said but then started over.

"I got knocked up young," she said, smiling a wistful smile, "my first boyfriend actually my Junior year in college. We married, which lasted about six months. He was constantly bitching about my size and so I just told him to get the fuck out."

She took a drink from her beer and went on.

"So I spent my 20s and 30s being the good stay-at-home single mom, raising my son and getting him off to college," she went on, "and then I figured I was pretty much done with life."

She took a drink of her beer again and continued.

"And then I met Stanley at, of all things, a family reunion thing," she said. "He was looking at me and I got mad and stormed over and yelled at him about being some sort of chubby chaser or fatty fucker and he just took it. When I finally wound down, and he was so damn patient I'm still amazed, he smiled and said, 'sorry, I just enjoy looking at the prettiest girl in the room'."

I was watching her face and could tell that reliving that special event was getting to her. She was flushed and her eyes were shiny when she took another drink and another deep breath before going on.

"He's a feeder, David," she said, "when he's not feeding me he's in the gym. When you see us together you'll know what I mean. There's me," and she reached down, took a double handful of belly fat and shook it making a ripple that ran down to her toes and then back up like a ripple in a pond, "and there's him, all 155 pounds and four ounces of body fat of him."

"So you can talk about my fat," she said and she captured my hand and took it to her belly where she buried it in one of the rolls of fat there, "or play with it or whatever you want. I know what I am and I'm not one little bit ashamed."

I kissed her then, another one of those absolutely GREAT kisses she was good at.

"No," I said, my hand finding the lowest roll of her belly fat, her belly apron, a fat girl's natural modesty. I lifted it, amazed at the weight of the fat in that big bag of skin, and gave it a shake.

"I've never been with a fat granny," I went on, "but for what it's worth, I think you're beautiful and I look forward to exploring you.

Which wasn't precisely true. Oh, she was attractive enough, but several magnitudes short of "beautiful."

I rolled up to my knees and started using my hand to, well, to explore her.

"Here honey," she said, stretching over to get a little bag she had on the bedside table.

She dug into the bag and came out with what looked like a toothpaste tube. I looked, and read "DESITIN" on the blue and white graphics.

"While you're inspecting me," she said with a giggle and a big smile, "if you find signs of a rash at the bottom of a roll put some of this on it or I'll be too itchy to be much good for you."

I raised my eyebrows but she smiled and said, "yes, baby, I'm serious."

I lifted the roll that was her breast, chuckling a little as her nipple hardened almost instantly against my hand, and pushed it up so I could see all the way to the bottom of the crease I had spread open. There was no redness in evidence but I couldn't resist using both hands to squeeze, forcing fat and breast tissue forward until her nipple was distended before I took it into my mouth and sucked.

"That's nice," she said.

I inspected both breasts that way before moving down to the next roll. This one was heavier, almost all belly fat and soft skin. It struck me that this was physical work. And I liked it. I liked it a LOT, pushing her skin and fat around like that, just handling her.

Evidently, she liked it too. Her breath was catching anyway.

It was the third roll where I found my first signs of a rash. This was the one that included her belly button, a deep crease in her case. I thought it might be fun to fuck it later.

But there, at the bottom of the crease, six inches deep in the roll of flesh and fat, she was very red, clearly, a rash was starting. I used my forearm to hold the heavy roll out of the way and then swabbed the bottom of the crease with the white cream.

I found another rash line at the bottom of that heavy crease of her belly apron where the fat of her thighs met the fat of her belly. There was a strong scent there, not unpleasant, but strong. A mixture of sweat and woman and urine and something else, something I suspected was from that redness I had been tending to.

Even her thighs had rolls so I inspected them too, finding a couple of rashy spots at the deep rolls above her knees.

Then I had her roll over.

It was a fascinating thing to watch. She had to make three efforts, each roll taking her a little farther until she made it onto her belly with a grunt and a sigh.

Jesus.

Her ass was absolutely enormous. She had four separate rolls of back fat and three on her thighs. Her gluteal sulcus, that line where ass meets thigh, was a meaty crease all its own.

I started at the back of her knees and worked up her thighs.

I found four more places where I needed to apply the Desitin.

When I had finished my inspection I handed her the tube and snuggled against her. She was soft and warm and I just wanted to snuggle into her, to have her big body engulf me.

She giggled and pushed me away. She was strong under that fat and had me on my back with a sudden push and roll of her body.

She squirmed around and took me into her mouth and it was like nothing I had ever even imagined before.

Her tongue, warm and wet and slick with saliva, seemed to wrap around my shaft. As she slowly pulled off, I felt my body try to ejaculate immediately but she stopped, not quite allowing me to finish. She did that a dozen more times, each individual stroke with her head pulling off and her magic tongue doing what it was doing brought me almost to climax.

She moved up then and kissed me, swinging a big leg over and straddling me cowgirl style.

"Are you in a hurry or should I make it last for you?" she asked.

I chuckled and said, "Trudi, I am most definitely NOT in a hurry."

She smiled and it was a beautiful smile, and said, "good."

The sex that night was like nothing I had ever imagined. She would bring me right to the edge, one more tiny touch, and I would finish, and hold me there with that magic tongue or with her fingers or with the soft fat of her belly or even her pussy. But she learned my tells quickly and didn't allow me to finish.

A couple of times she had me begging for my release but when she would ask, "do you want me to finish you?" I'd manage to say "no."

She came dozens of times, maybe hundreds. She masturbated while I watched and then I masturbated her. I used my mouth and when she came and squeezed on my head with her fat thighs it was like being waterboarded. I drank and couldn't keep up and coughed and wound up looking like I had just stepped out of a shower. And then I masturbated her again.

It was daylight when I finally finished. She pulled her knees up until they touched her nipples, reached around, and pulled the fat of her upper thighs out of the way, and I took her like that. She was so big I was on my knees to enter her properly.

Oddly, I had trouble reaching my climax. I thrust and humped until I was sweating and panting, hell, until I was gasping, and she was urging me on, "come on baby, fill me up," she was saying, and I couldn't seem to make it.

"Come on, baby," she was saying, "Please baby, don't let Trudi down."

When I did cum, finally, it was explosive. Like any other man, normally I was lucky if it lasted 10 seconds. This time it went on and on. It seemed like minutes although I know that was impossible. But I just kept going, a hard muscular contraction shooting a jet of semen followed by another and another and another. It passed through pleasure into pain when my prostate seemed to cramp and then back into pleasure as I just sort of flowed for the final few drops.

I realized that the sound I was hearing, a sort of a high-pitched keening, was me.

I collapsed, spent, exhausted, hardly able to breathe, my body desperate for oxygen.

And she was giggling softly under me.

"I'm not much to look at but I'm good in bed," she said.

I think I managed to say something like, "Jesus" before I settled into the soft warmth of her big body and went to sleep.