(All characters in this story are the age of consent. Had to put this here since it got rejected, even though I made it pretty clear the main character and his fiancé were both 18.)
I've been pretty inseparable with my girlfriend since we met, and we were so close, you'd think that we were glued together.
I was fourteen when we met, and I was a quarterback for the Raging Lions, while she, coincidentally, was a cheerleader for them. I know, cliché.
Well, it all started great.
She was really different from most of the other cheerleaders, she wasn't just hot and had a pair of big tits that barely fit her uniform, but she was really kind, sweet, sincere and easy to get along with; not to mention she had a great sense of humor and laughed at all my jokes, no matter how stupid they were.
We became closer them what couples usually were.
Clingy? Yeah, maybe, but neither one of us minded, and we still had some boundaries, like alone time, away from each other.
But now that I'm hitting nineteen, I've stated noticing a lot of things that bother me.
I started noticing that she's been really distant lately, she kisses me less often, usually only once or twice a day, and it's never anything more than a short peck on the lips.
She reached the point where she hugs me very little, and 'I love you', has become very infrequent as well.
Another thing that was bothering me was the fact she seemed to be hanging with her guy friends more often, something which she didn't do often when we were together, but now she would go off and hang out frequently with them.
And lastly, the one thing that bothered me the most, was this: She'd let them lay their heads on her tits.
I sat down at the table surrounded my all my friends and family; my best friend Justin Godwin was there, Ethan Mackleson, Joan Taylor, Skip Rogers, my Mom, my Dad, my sister Kim, my aunts and uncles, my cousins and grandparents, everyone was there, except...Kristen.
After the party, I walked out of the house, and just sat down on the front porch; my cheeks resting in my palms while a glum look overtook my expression.
"Are you okay, Leslie? And happy nineteenth birthday."
I heard an attractive, mature voice address me.
I lifted my gaze and hit the face of Diane Winston; more commonly referred to by me, as Mrs. Winston.
Diane was Kristen's mother.
I was told by Mr. Craigson, my neighbor who lived on the left of my house, Diane used to be something quite pleasing to look at, but that changed.
It changed when Diane caught her husband of ten years cheating on her about four years ago with another woman.
Diane turned to fiod for comfort, and just kinda gave up on trying to stay healthy and exercise, and started eating in large portions.
This became something she relied on.
With the ensuing shit she had to go through with her husband leaving her, disappearing from her and Kristen's life, going off some place he never revealed, and toying with her by staying married and not divorcing her, her food comfort grew until her portions increased and she'd stay up late at night to eat.
She was actually quite large.
She was over four hundred pounds, with her attractive face being the most thin of her whole body, had a huge, perfectly round, sagging stomach, and her breasts, which I was never able to make out their size, were quite large; impressively huge.
She had dark brown hair that was fixed into a bun, and her eyes were a darker, almost black, brown..
She was actually rather beautiful, especially in the face; a pretty decent looking forty three year old; a milf, you could call her.
She was always really nice to me; treated me like family, even before I had became engaged to Kristen.
But married women weren't my thing.
I knew and was ashamed and embarrassed of the way she looked, because she always wore something that covered as much of her body as she could, and didn't flaunt her body like Kristen or other women I've seen.
"I--I'm fine." I lied.
"Are you sure?" She asked again; her tone motherly.
She sat down beside me, although, took up quite a bit of room, but I didn't mind.
I felt one of her meaty arms wrap around me, and I turned to look at her; sighing in discouragement as I wrapped my arms around her, turning my body to face her.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" She inquired in a soothing tone.
"Yes, ma'am." I nodded.
"Then, why don't you?"
"Kristen never showed up." I finally said; feeling like a lump got caught in my throat.
"Honey," she smiled gingerly at me, "she may just be late."
"But it's my birthday!" I said; my tone raising a little more than I would have liked.
She looked startled, but then a smile just crept across the corners of her face.
She brought the other arm behind me; hugging me tighter.
My chest hit her breasts; and I felt something raising up in my jeans.
I went bright red, and just hoped she didn't notice or feel, that, by now, I was poking into her spherical stomach.
She noticed.
Her cheeks flushed, but instead of looking too freaked out, she ignored it and just kept hugging me in a firm, soothing, comforting, warm hug.
I always liked Mrs. Winston's hugs; she was great at them, and her hugs were even better than Kristen's; she gave the best ones and it just made me smile and relax.
"Maybe Kristen will help you with your friend when she gets home." She giggled softly in my ear.
I went redder.
"I'm sorry." I apologized, clearly embarrassed.
"It's fine, sweetie. I've had more than one touch me before. Believe me: You're not the first man who's erection has touched me."
"I'm still embarrassed." I felt like I had became two inches tall at that moment.
"You're my fiancée's mother. It's weird I'm getting a boner, that my boner is actually poking into you the way that it is."
As we sat there together, I watched as a car pulled up.
The car was a hoodless, well-polished, 1993 red Camaro.
Emerging from the passenger side of the car, pushing the door open, and walking out, was none other than Kristen.
I stared towards the car, and noticed another person in it, I instantly recognized who the male was: It was Johnny White; one of her friends, one if the guys she knew from our years in high school, the running back for the Raging Lions.
Johnny was a pretty good long guy.
Back in high-school, we used to he considered the two most desirable guys in school, and I seemed to lose out to Johnny by just a little.
He was pretty good friends with Kristen, but I never interacted with him much outside the game, except when we went out for burgers or pizza to celebrate our victories.
He had long hair that went to his shoulders, which was a far cry from the length it used to be back when he was on the team, and his eyes were gray; another thing that set him apart from the other guys on the team.
He was wearing a black, leather jacket, a plan white T, a matching pair of black leather pants, and a pair if black boots.
The spiked choker was new.
"Leslie!" Kristen's voice was excited.
Kristen took more after her father when it came to physical appearances.
She had his blond hair, and also his forest green eyes.
She was quite the looker.
A nice pair of DDDs that she always chose to proudly display in whatever it was she decided to wear, an ass that, although small and not quite a match to a black chick's, was pretty round.
She also had freckles; one thing she didn't outgrow.
She had her hair fixed into the same style she would back when she was a cheerleader; pigtails, and she was dressed in a pink top that showed shameless amounts of cleavage, and a pair of booty shorts that showed her small, yet bubble-like, butt.
"I told you she'd show up." Diane patted me on the shoulder.
I stayed sitting down.
