Carmen's soft little fingers snatched at my wrist, begging me without words, "Enough!  Enough!"  I looked to her for confirmation, and I read an emphatic "Yes" from her blood-drained lips.  With a smile, I relaxed my hand and sat back on my heels for a minute or so, giving her muscles a chance to relax before I withdrew my sticky and tingling fingers from deep between her thighs.  She gasped at that final stimulation, and her entire body pulsed in a shivering wave.

"I love it so much when you keep me going like that," she panted, resting her hands absently on her wide, sweat dampened belly.  Her body seemed larger while she was splayed out on the bed, naked and unrestricted in every sense of the word.  Her breasts nested themselves neatly into the crevices between her flank and meaty upper arms, jiggling just out of sync with her short, rapid breathing.  Her face remained almost pallid as, eyes gently shut, she gradually dipped into afterglow.  A ring of gently curled hair framed her open-mouthed smile and spread like a drying black mop over her crumpled pillow.  Her wide, soft gut flared out below Carmen's invisible ribs, love handles wide enough to cover her hands if she held them at her sides.  Presently, the lowest roll covered the tops of her thighs, which were likewise spread like braised cream over the twisted bed sheets beneath us.  The fat limbs twitched spasmodically all the way down to her widespread knees, still beyond her control as much as her glowing, red-cheeked grin.

I smiled contentedly and supported myself with one hand on the side of her extremely squishy belly.  My wrists ached a little from spreading so far apart to support my body over hers; though, she insisted it felt better when I was on top.  I didn't doubt it, and I had no complaints over the last hour.  As soon as she felt my fingers on her supple skin, Carmen laid her hand on top of mine and squeezed it lovingly.

"Thank you," she said, already slipping into a pleasant exhaustion.

"No problem," I said, patting her bouncy side congenially.

"You're supposed to say 'you're welcome,'" she sighed.

"That's what I meant," I said, smiling a little less as I lay down beside her, one arm draped lazily over her parted breasts.

"They're a little sore," she cautioned, squirming a little reflexively.

"I won't bother them," I assured her and kissed her cheek.

We cuddled and kissed for an hour or so, few if any words were said or needed to be said with my arms curled beneath her heavy, glistening body listening to my own heartbeat reverberating between her back and my chest.  Nearing the hour mark, though, my eyelids began to drag me down, and I felt I had to sit up or I would doze off until morning.  I slid to the edge of the bed and slowly rotated my neck, cracking out the stiffness before I was ready to stand.

"You're leaving?" she murmured, already half asleep herself.

"Yeah, I need to," I replied, scanning the room preemptively for my shirt and pants.  "I have to make sure I'm up in time for the focus meeting with Dr. Mason's group tomorrow."

"Stay with me!" she suggested giddily.  She rolled over on one side, making a great pile of her fat belly and breasts in front of her.

"I can't tonight," I insisted.  "It always takes me an extra half hour to get out of here in the morning, and if I rush, I know I'll fall asleep in the meeting.  Jin has to present tomorrow, and he always takes forty-five minutes to talk about one week's work.  You know what he does?  He just pads his stupid presentations with shit that he did a month ago and rearranged a little so he can have a new graph."

"Just get up earlier, then," she suggested, rubbing a spot on the bed for me to fill.

I sighed as quietly as I could manage once it became obvious that we were going to play through the same irksome routine.  I was never getting out of this room, no matter what reason I had, no matter how much I wanted or needed to go.

"It's already almost one-thirty," I explained, "and I don't have any clothes for tomorrow.  I'm going to have to drive back to my place, anyway."  She pouted at me, unaffected by my sound reasoning, and, if anything, already starting to feel hurt that I was leaving her.  "Besides," I added, "there's no way you're going to be awake when I have to leave."

"But I want you to fall asleep next to me," she said in her milkiest voice.

"Then come stay with me tonight," I offered.

"I'm already naked here," she said.

"So am I," I observed, which I only realized belatedly did not help my argument.  "You don't have to get up early.  Just come back with me," I reiterated.

"I can't stay with you," she frowned.  "You know I can't.  I don't want to be around your roommate in the morning."

"Michelé doesn't care if you're there, Carmen.  He probably won't even get up until noon."

"I just don't like it," she repeated sheepishly.  "Stay with me…please?"

She stared at me and stared and stared, and the longer I took to answer, the worse I knew it looked.  I really did not want to stay.  I needed sleep, and even though I knew I would fall asleep quickly in her bed, I wouldn't get to curl up the way I liked wrapped around Carmen all night long.  I needed sleep.  I didn't want to have to wake up an hour earlier and drive back to my apartment to shower and put on fresh clothes.  But I knew Carmen, too, and she might actually cry if I pressed the issue.  She always wanted me to stay with her, and most nights that was fine.  Most nights.  But everything has a statute of limitations, even what a man has to do in return for sex.  Two years, I thought.  Two years….  It wasn't as if there was no temptation:  God, just look at her!  I could barely wrap my arms around her middle, and she let me squeeze her whenever I wanted.  She was always ready to go; she dragged me into the bedroom almost every night.  Yes, there were benefits to dating a fat nymphomaniac—huge benefits of the kind I could bury my hands in and squish and squeeze until I was ready to cum in her back fat.  She was ready for that tonight.  It was written all over her face: come to bed with me tonight.  Let me rub your cock between my thick, juicy thighs.  Wrap your arms around my heavy body all night long…nibble at my neck and stay awake a little longer…just a little longer.

I was already getting turned on again, and the deal was sealed.  She saw it, too, and suddenly there was no more use in arguing.

"Fine," I assented, dropping my shirt back to the floor and thumbing off the lamp over her nightstand.

"Mmm," she purred in my arms when I snuggled up behind her, slowly pulling just one sheet over the two of us.  On her own, Carmen was usually warm enough for two.

"Thank you," she said, bending her arm to squeeze my butt a little.

"It's fine," I muttered, not pleased, but too far in now to turn back.  She didn't press me about the answer; she had already gotten what she wanted.  After a minute or so, she lifted her leg and smothered my hardening cock between her massive thighs.

"Goodnight, honey.  I love you," she said and wedged one hand between her legs to stroke the tip with her fingers.  I kissed her mouth wordlessly, and she stroked more vigorously.

Late the following afternoon, I found myself trying relentlessly to end a phone conversation I hadn't planned on having the night before.  "No," I said, "I'll be here until at least past eleven getting all of this stuff labeled for Amber for the morning.  …No, I can't.  She has to—  …No, she needs these results tomorrow before she can finish writing her proposal.  We only have two weeks left to get this done, hon.  Yeah, I know…yes, okay.  I'll see you then.  You, too."

Michelé knocked on the doorframe of my office just as I hung up the phone.  "You ready to go?" he asked, eyes fiery with excitement for the evening.  He had trimmed up his goatee and smoothed down his oily black hair especially for tonight, and I smiled in spite of myself at his pre-bar jitters.

"Yep.  Let's get out of here," I said and pushed out of my desk.

"Is Carmen going to meet up with us there?" he asked from the hall while I buzzed the door closed behind me.

"Nah…she had some work to get done, I think," I said slowly, staring at my hand as I slid my keycard back into my pocket.

Michelé was truly a cheap drunk.  Even at an expensive cocktail bar, he managed to get buzzed for less than ten dollars, and where I had taken him for the evening, for twenty he was well and truly off his ass.  Gleefully, that is.  Michelé, my roommate, the perennial bachelor, was no lady killer, and not for a lack of trying on his part.  He comes off as…a little over eager.  Michelé is the sort of guy at the club women dance with in the club, have a few drinks with in the club, and then leave in the club to go to another bar with her girlfriends.  His shirts were just a little too shiny and his accent just a little too thick to be taken seriously.  His shoes were a little too black, and his goatee was just long enough to be more distracting than sexy.  Somewhere along the road—astonishingly to me—he had come to accept all of it as rote, and I laughed quietly into my martini while I watched him move to first base just a little too quickly on his latest blonde victim.  I had to hand it to him, though.  He managed to do it while dancing with three different girls at the same time.

I spun away from the dance floor and dropped to my elbows at the bar.  I was buzzed to the point that everything was interesting but not quite entertaining.  The electric blue light flowing through the glass counter slithered up my spiraled martini stem like a techno-punk flower sprouting between my hands.  The surface was a little wet from melted ice and the sweat from a hundred different drinks already served that night.  I gazed pensively into my private glass garden, watching the clear liquor jump in time with the pounding base, rippling to the edge of the glass and rebounding seamlessly.  There was something almost peaceful hidden in the blaring voices, the thrumming music.  I let it all beat against my back, the breath, the laughter, the hoary smell of bodies, and I thought to myself that there was nothing I had to do, nobody I had to see.  I could leave anytime I wanted, if I wanted.  I was almost a little lonely, but that couldn't be right.  I did have someone that I could see anytime I wanted…if I wanted.

I looked over my shoulder, but I couldn't see Michelé anywhere on the dance floor.  I shrugged off his absence.  If he had gotten lucky…well, that was good for him, but past experience had taught me that he had simply disappeared into the firmament of the club.  I would see him again in the morning, a little bleary-eyed, but otherwise unfazed.

I turned my head back to the bar, and to my right I saw a woman who had not been there a moment ago.  She stuffed a few crumpled bills into the bartender's hand and lifted a tall, thin glass of icy green liquor in return.  The bartender thumbed at the paper in his fist without bothering to count it.  He dutifully flashed a tooth or two while the woman thanked him, and they turned away from each other as she took the first sip from her drink.

The first thought that flashed into her head was, "She's pretty," and following on the heels of the first was, "I shouldn't think that."  I had two very good reasons for the second thought, but I found it far more intriguing to wonder why I had even had the first at all.  She was a shorter girl—not terribly short, but still small.  It was hard to tell in the exotic club lights, but there was something of an olive nature to her skin with a tinge of what might even be called grey.  Her hair had a similar hue, a very dusty blonde cropped straight at the level of her neck.  She sipped her drink through lips that were a little thicker than I was used to, and her nose was ever so slightly rounded; both were set into a sturdy but decidedly feminine head.  Perhaps what had caught my attention, though, was that she was not particularly dressed for a club.  She wore mostly denim, a pair of light-washed jeans that hugged her round bottom like they had been sprayed on, and a very short, long-sleeved denim jacket that she wore unbuttoned over a plain, black tank-top.

She leaned with her back against the bar as she sipped, staring absently at the dance floor, and I glanced at her waist.  For a woman her size, she was buxom, maybe 'thick' is the right word: good-sized breasts and meaty hips, an hourglass cinch about her waist, but not at all thin yet not at all overweight.  And there was my first very good reason for not finding her attractive.  But she was attractive—very attractive—while only being something close to half Carmen's size.  Carmen was obese; she had a gut and fat thighs and rolls on her back—just thinking about her body warmed up my groin.  Carmen, of course, was my second very good reason that this woman shouldn't be attractive—rather, that I should not think of her as attractive.  But she was.

I really couldn't help staring at her.  She hadn't seemed to notice me at all, and it was easy enough to watch her from the corner of my eye, rocking in time with the music and bumping her hip against the side of the bar.  The jacket was a softer material than her jeans, and the sleeves stretched against her arms each time she lifted her drink to her lips, sipping it slowly, wistfully.  The longer I watched her, the more I thought it was strange: strange that I was attracted to her body, strange that I was entertaining ideas of touching her body at all…strange, but not wrong.  My heart began racing, beating in my chest as loudly as the music, but I knew what that feeling was.  Even as I leaned closer to her, part of me wanted to feel guilty, to feel some twinge of regret or shame, but those were only concepts buzzing in my head; I felt nothing of them.  Lights, music, blaring voices…thoughts of impending infidelity should have come, but there was no more substance in them than the flashing lights around my head.  They weren't what I wanted to think about, even if I thought they should have been.

"Your drink—what is it?" I asked her, placing my elbow beside hers and lifting my head above my shoulders.  It's just innocent questions for now, and conversation—if questions lead to conversation—isn't taboo.  The woman turned her head slowly, evidently not surprised at all that I had started talking to her.  She met my eyes smoothly and turned her whole body toward me when she answered.

"Kiwi Collins," she said.  "It's like a Tom Collins but with kiwi juice and some kiwi liquor with the gin."

"There's a kiwi liquor?"

"Apparently."  She talked with her lips forward, and I could almost feel her tongue in her voice.  Was it a pretty voice?  Her tone was dark, situated at the back of her throat, but the pitch was light and feminine.  It wasn't abrasive; if anything, I wanted to bend a little closer.  Listening to her speak was intriguing, almost sultry.

"You wanna try some?" she asked, tilting the long glass in my direction.

"Yeah, sure," I said, and put my lips to the straw that had just been in her mouth.  In a weird way, I hoped I might be able to taste her before I tasted kiwis.  The drink was surprisingly strong and tart, but it was sweet and thick, the kind that could be enjoyed for a long time.

"It's good," I said, smiling at her as I returned the glass.  "I'll have to order one next time."

"You should," she suggested.  "I'm Kelly," she added without being asked.  She was so relaxed, and her composure set me at ease almost immediately.  She gave me her hand below the counter, and I took it to shake.  Her fingers, like the rest of her, were soft but sturdy, not like Carmen's small, delicate hands.  Kelly's were even a little cool to the touch from holding her glass.

I turned my body outward from the bar and leaned with my elbows behind me on the counter, looking out into the club.  Kelly eyed me for a moment before mimicking me with a bit of a grin.  "This is a pretty cool place," I observed.  "There's something almost peaceful about it after a while."

"Yeah, I like it, too.  You must really like people watching if you think it's peaceful, though," Kelly smirked.

"Sometimes," I said.  "I came here with a friend from work tonight," I added.  I was opening my immediate situation to her—why?  I wasn't available, but suddenly I wanted to seem like I was.  With that in mind, I hoped she didn't take the comment about a 'friend' the wrong way.

"Cool," she said, looking through the crowded floor like she was trying to find someone.  "Where is he?" she asked.  The 'he' was a very conspicuous test to see whether our signals were crossed.

"He's, uh, oh—well, that's him there.  He's dancing…kind of," I said, spotting Michelé by sheer luck and pointing him out in the crowd.

"Oh, wow, really?  That guy?"  Michelé was quite literally hanging on a woman when Kelly spotted him.  I had seen this before: one of them must have bought him another drink.

"He's my roommate," I admitted, scratching at the side of my jaw while Kelly grinned and snorted into the edge of her glass.

"You're super nice, you do realize?" she commented with a nod of her head to Michelé.  

"I try…he's a good guy, though," I said warmly.

Kelly downed the last bit of her cocktail and set the glass on the counter.  "I'm sure," she said light-heartedly.  "You can dance better than him I hope?" she asked.

"I can," I said finishing my martini as well.  "Do you want to?" I asked, and it felt like a dream even as the words flew away from my lips.  I had taken a flying leap over the harmless-flirtation line and straight off the edge of a cliff.  Such an exhilaration!—And even if it was only the wind whistling in my hair as I fell to my doom, to me it still felt like flying.

"Sure," she said, standing, and she led me by the hand onto the dance floor.

We pushed through the first layer of bodies toward an empty pocket somewhere deep in the throng.  The tug on my hand felt familiar as Kelly led the way, but with Carmen, the experience was different.  'Oh, babe, come on—I love this song!  Yes, you do so know it—please?'  She begged me onto the dance floor—she dragged me if I didn't want to go; it was 'good for me.'  Her body was always soft and sexy, and she liked to push me against the wall with her ass while I held her hips in place or wrapped my arms around her middle.  It was tiring, though.  She was so much heavier than me…I had to stagger my feet if we were in the middle of the floor to keep her from pushing me over with her hips.  Kelly's hips felt different in my hands.  I could bend my fingers around her pelvis—I could find her pelvis—and my hands had no trouble gripping her thighs as she pressed her round butt into my groin and rocked in time to the heavy beat pulsing through the floor.

The two of us just danced for a few songs, switching position now and then so Kelly's breasts brushed against my chest, my hands digging happily into her firmer ass, and another part of me digging far from subtly into her inner thigh.  For a brief moment, she buried her forehead into the hollow of my shoulder, and I had to stop myself from planting a kiss on her neck purely on reflex.  Just touching her, feeling the heat of her body and the smell of her hair, those basic elements of physical attraction were so exciting, dragging me closer like chains from my chest; every second we were in contact was a thrill that made breathing difficult.  I recognized almost immediately that a large part of it was the adrenaline from knowing that I was committing an egregious wrong; though, I hadn't even tried to deny it.  I almost wished I could attribute everything to being "naughty," but that wasn't true at all.  It was genuine lust for this small, sensual woman.

Near the end of a song, Kelly looked up, and I caught her eye.  "How about you?" I asked.  "You come here with anyone?"  They were the first words spoken since we had started dancing.  It was not an empty question; I didn't have any plan for what I would do with her answer, but…but I wanted to have the option.

"What makes you ask?" she said, reaching behind herself and touching the back of my neck lightly with her hand.

"You're not exactly dressed for a club," I remarked, noting her jacket and tennis shoes.

"I'm comfortable," she replied.  "Do I look bad?"

"No," I whispered darkly, and I ran my hands along the sides of her body.  "You look incredible."

Kelly breathed a little "heh" and gripped the back of my neck with surprising force.  Without a thought, I bent my head and caught her full, parted lips in a tense, almost savage kiss.  Kelly lifted both of her forearms to my shoulders and pulled herself flat against my body, biting my lower lip and chewing it playfully with her teeth.  I hugged her close, growing hotter by the second—I needed to take her so badly!  To just throw her against the wall and give her what she was asking for so playfully.  I had to feel her skin, the texture of her intriguing body.  With my lips exploring the line of her trembling jaw and one hand on the back of her head, I worked my fingers beneath Kelly's t-shirt with the other, spreading my palm over the sweat-dewed small of her back.

Needing no further encouragement, Kelly pulled herself up by my collar and whispered "Let's just go" into my ear.  Without waiting for an answer, she took me by the wrist and pulled me through the crowd toward the exit.  She pushed through close-packed bodies heedlessly with me in tow, and I had no time at all to stop her from leading us straight into Michelé's stumbling path.  I bumped him jarringly, and I reflexively caught him by the shoulders before he could tumble backward to the floor.

Michelé swiveled dumbly while he recollected his footing, but he managed to recognize me before I could duck away.  "Hey—MAN!" he shouted, too loudly even in the clamor of the night club.

"I need to go," I said as distinctly as I could, trying to hold his attention by keeping a hold of his shoulders.  "Here's cab money—" I urged, stuffing a twenty into his pants pocket, "—use it."

"No problem, MAN," he nodded with a face of forced seriousness.  "I need to—no, I'm going home with HER—with her," he said, first pointing at nothing before spinning half way around and pointing with his whole arm to one of the three women I had seen him with earlier; though, she didn't seem to be paying any attention to either of us.

"Great—have fun," I said, attempting to rush him back to his intended victim, but Michelé refused to budge.  His eyes were fixed on Kelly, who had reappeared at my side, her grey eyes sparkling in the artificial twilight, and, for an instant, I panicked.

Michelé screwed up his face in exaggerated confusion.  "Is Car—?"

"Came to pick me up!" I shouted over his sentence.  "We have a car!" I added, putting my face right in his until he seemed to accept the substitution I had given him.  Kelly only grinned bemusedly below us.

"Okay," I said, spreading into a huge smile.  "Don't wake me up when you get in," I instructed my roommate with a hearty pat on the back.

"No, I won't, man!  I not—won't…?" he looked to me questioningly for whether he had used the correct English.

"Great!" I beamed and spun him around hard with a shove in the opposite direction.

Kelly took my arm again and led me away.  We squeezed through another layer of bodies, and the next thing I knew I was on top of her on an unmade bed in a strange apartment, her jacket, my shirt, and both our shoes tossed in a crumpled pile by the door with her cool, bare arms encircling my neck.  Our lips fought madly, groping and biting like teenaged lovers who were too excited for their own good.  I cradled her head in my hand, forcing her lips to mine harder while flexing my fingers into her scalp.  Her hair flowed through my fingers like corn-silk, straight and soft, sparkling with a diamond shimmer as it slipped over my hand and tickled my forearm.  Kelly responded with a shiver and a little 'Mmm' of approval, and she crossed her ankles around my calf, locking her legs around mine and stroking it with the balls of her sock-clad feet.

She raised her arms straight over her head, and I pulled off her tank top, tossing it against a wall so it fell in heap on the floor with a soft fump.  The bare skin of her chest and tender abdomen matched the silvery luster of her face and hands, though a little more pale with the tone and texture of white sand on a Mediterranean beach.  I snapped off her bra in a heartbeat, and her browned nipples were already erect in expectation; she drew shallower breaths as my hand hovered over her heaving breasts, touching her skin with the pads of my fingers so lightly that even the invisible hairs flush with her skin were standing on end.

"Oh my fucking god!" she whispered, biting her lower lip and squeezing my leg more tightly, and I bit gently at the base of her neck, making her gasp and squirm even more.

With my lips still pressed to her neck, I smothered her left breast with my hand, massaging it and getting a feel for the soft but perky organ, taking care to wedge the nipple between my ring and index fingers, twisting it a little with every slow squeeze.  Cupping the side with my palm, I flicked gently at the tip of her right nipple—barely touching it, just enough to send a hot shiver through her nerves, tracing fast circles with my finger, pulling her nipple ever so slightly with each pass—and flick, flick until her thighs quivered.

"Jesus—Jesus!—keep doing—yeah, keep doing that!" she cried, pulling at my hair and grinding her hot groin against my thigh.

Rapid stimulation, a slow twist with a heavy hand, pressing her neck with my lips and warm breath until the tension in her legs grew more desperate and the pulses became tighter and increasingly rapid.  I kissed my way from her neck to her right breast and replaced my fingers with my lips, rolling her nipple in my tongue in a hard, fast circle.  Kelly gasped with pleasure at the sudden change, the heat, the lubrication, and the rush of intensity was enough to send her over the edge in a hasty flurry of pelvic thrusts and one sharp "Ah!" from her blood-flushed lips.

I snatched at the opportunity of her brief release to unbutton and throw open the fly of her pants.  She helped me pull the band over her bubble-shaped ass, but, before her pants were even off, my hand was buried inside her newly dampened panties where my fingers searched out her warmed-up clit, ready and eager for harder stimulation.  I kept my lips wrapped over one nipple, sucking it while I stroked her clit teasingly; from the first touch, I could feel her clenching from the inside out.

"Jesus…JESUS…what—what are you doing?" she repeated—talkative, but not needlessly so.  I wanted to hear her voice, to hear her and feel her.  She closed her eyes and drank the air in a narrow stream of breaths, drawing them in with a laughing smile: Hah hah haah hah….  Her eyes closed and her mouth twisted upward, showing me her flat teeth.  I bit at the base of her nipple and her butt and thighs quivered beneath me.  I started pressing her button harder, stroking further down over the exposed, crackling bundle of nerves.  Kelly drew in a long breath and held it, building up pressure with all her might, shaking all over and sweating from the base of her hairline.  At last, she laced her fingers around my shoulder, trembling too hard to tell me that she was ready, that she needed it now.  I changed my stroke so that I passed two fingers from one side of her clit to the other, raking the screaming bump as hard as I dared—and Kelly immediately reeled and bucked from her lower body to her finger tips, an electrical surge through her muscles that left her shivering long after I had lifted my lips and stilled my hand.

Kelly hugged my body tightly, squeezing my chest for support until she stopped shaking, but her breathing never slowed or softened.  Her hug for security quickly reverted to hungry talons so eager to rend my flesh for a more exciting embrace.  I knit my fingers with her hair as she straddled my left hip, rubbing her groin against me encouragingly and slowly removing my pants.  She wrapped her fingers around the base of my cock, squeezing it and kissing my neck.

"I want you in me…" she nipped at my ear.

"Wait—" I started to say, rolling my head around to catch her eye, but she shushed me and put her lips to my ear.

"Pi—ill," she sang.

I hesitated a moment, watching Kelly's legs as she slowly nudged her socks off with her purple painted toes and flicked them away.  "Oh, what the hell," I assented with a careless smile to the ceiling.

Kelly uncurled her body and slowly straddled my waist.  She held my shoulders to the bed with her arms and lowered herself until her nipples grazed my chest.  I twisted my neck, offering the spot below my jaw, an invitation that Kelly accepted eagerly.  She kissed the tender skin, closing her lips and opening them again painfully slowly.  From nowhere, I felt the shaft of my penis rubbing on the back of Kelly's thigh.  She made a little ring below the head with her thumb and forefinger, and she squeezed hungrily as she played with my junk behind her back.

I grabbed her arm and forced her head upward for a real kiss.  "Mmm," she purred after our lips parted.  "You like this?"

"Yes," I said, holding onto the word with a hiss.

"I haven't even gotten started," she boasted huskily.  "Just hold still…mama knows what she's doing."

Kelly slid down my body, pushing herself away with her hands on my chest.  She kept her body planted on top of me, and she passed my dick under her left thigh, squeezing me as she passed over.  Then, she lifted her legs, balancing herself on her rump, and rotated them behind her with the grace of a gymnast.  She came down slowly, and the weight of her body shifted to her groin.  Raising up a little on her hands and feet, Kelly gripped the shaft and eased herself around me, lowering herself a fraction of an inch at a time—an entrance to her steadily pulsing body so maddeningly slow that it made my skin crawl.

I slid inside her, deeper, deeper, until she bent forward, supporting herself with her hands spread wide on my chest, her elbows bent a little and her eyes ravenous.  Kelly flexed her toes and dug her feet into the crumpled sheets and rocked forward on the balls of her feet.  I felt every ridge, every heartbeat in her muscles as she glided up and down my member, so hot and so tight.  She pushed her chest down so her nipples grazed my skin and made a sort of pleading moan.  As she began to grind her clit against my pelvis, I filled my hands with her firm, hanging breasts and kneaded them, rasping her nipples with the rough skin at the base of my fingers.

"Theeeeeere you go—harder!" she encouraged me, riding me in long, deep strokes.  I mashed her tits into her chest, and her back arched with pleasure.

I had never felt anyone like Kelly on top of me before.  Carmen's body smothered me.  Her fat, heavy belly draped over me, covering my stomach and filling the space between her massive thighs when she sat on my legs, her ass reaching all the way to my shins.  I could feel it sliding over me, quaking, slapping against her legs and mine and she bobbed up and down.  When I was on bottom, I felt encased with her fat—it covered me and spilled onto the bed around me—so sexy, so much brute-force arousal that it didn't matter that Carmen's movements were completely artless.  She squinted and bit her lip, constantly shifting her groin to find the spot that ever eluded her own efforts at stimulation, and if she caught my eye it was with a look of aggravation and eagerness to be finished.  I held Kelly's hips while her pussy rode up my cock, squeezing it with the dexterity of a pair of lips.  If I thought of Carmen's weight, it was like Kelly wasn't even there, a girl hardly half her size.  One-fifty?  Sixty?  She was a smooth, compact weight on my thighs, her soft bump of an abdomen crinkling ever so slightly; I traced my fingers over her stomach, relishing the velvet-soft skin.  Her short, straight hair bobbed as she tossed her head, falling like a mat of silk against her shimmering neck.

I felt the bump of Kelly's clit at the base of my shaft; she bit her lip to stifle a low uuuuuh, and the pace of our breathing rose.  She raked my chest with her nails; I suckled the inner curve of her neck, being rough with my tongue until I felt her tremble.  She squeezed me with her thighs, reminding me of the weight of her body—she didn't feel light at all.  She was so engaged, so present, so connected to me from the inside out—And, oh god! The sex!  The way she squeezed me and teased me all the way down the shaft; she moaned with a smile, letting me know how much she loved it.  She brought herself to the brink and back again, over and over—it was maddening!  The closer she came, the more exciting it was for me, this sexual artist stimulating the both of us to the point of screaming.  So much panting—I grabbed her round butt and it was already clenched, her thighs, her whole body beginning to shake—the heat, the ruffling sheets and bedsprings—she bent her neck and bit my lip, forcing her tongue into my mouth, reaching for my hair.  The hot, the screaming pleasure, faster and louder, her thighs burning on my thighs, and I held it in until—Oh, God, it burned so good!  Kelly shook and I shot and we clung to each other, squeezing the air from our lungs, forcing our muscles to tighten, thrusting from both ends to drag out the quivering lips and the eyes rolling back in our heads until we gasped and collapsed.  I held Kelly, who trembled, held her until her thighs stopped shaking, running my fingers through her hair, trying not to laugh, trying not to cry.

After about half an hour, she stared at the ceiling in contemplation, and I watched her, waiting for a hard question that I would eventually have to answer.

"That was a lot of fun," she said, turning to me.  "I know it was fun for both of us, and not just the sex," she added.  Rather than make a vocal comment, I wrapped my arms around her naked waist and held her close to my body, pressing her soft torso flush with my chest, and she stroked the tip of her finger along the arc of my shoulder.

"I think your friend thought I was somebody tonight," she said in a soft, even tone.

"He was just drunk," I said, hoping vainly to dismiss the question.  Surprisingly, Kelly rested her neck on my shoulder and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"You've got your own things going on…that's cool.  Whatever," she said.  I could feel her throat vibrate with every word.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want.  You don't seem like the kind of guy who sleeps around…for no reason.  Sometimes it can be good when things are a little…complicated.  But everybody has their limits; I have mine…and you have yours.  I'm not going to ask what your friend was going to say—I don't really care right now.  I like you.  I like the way you touch me, the way you feel inside of me, and I want to do this again if you do.  I am available for you," she said.  I breathed with her as she spoke, my heart racing desperately against excitement and exhaustion.

"There, serious time's over," she said, rolling away from me and sitting up on the covers.  "Do you want to stay the night?" she asked, her eyes huge and inviting with a promise of a repeat of the last hour.

"I…can't, I'm sorry," I said, meaning it deeply.  "I need to be at work early, and I don't have any clothes with me."  Though, as I said it, my thoughts returned to Carmen.  My internal clock had me guessing I was either just reaching or barely over my predicted time of return.

"That's cool," Kelly said, reaching for and re-hooking her bra over her gorgeous, swollen breasts.  "Do you need a ride?" she asked.

"No," I said, slowly climbing down from euphoria.  "I think I'll manage on my own."

"Okay," she said lightly, but before I could stand, she stopped me with a hand on my shoulder and kissed me firmly on the lips.  "Just let me ask you…when you go home to her…when she calls you baby and kisses you like this…will you think of me?"

I said nothing, but I dropped my eyes.  Kelly smirked and kissed me again, more gently.

"Okay…" she repeated.  "You know how to find me."

I knocked only three times on her door before Carmen flung it open and welcomed me inside with a warm, fat hug that positively engulfed me.  She was only wearing a pink t-shirt and panties—the panties were an assumption because her stomach normally rested on her thighs while standing.  Presently, the creamy bottom of her belly hung exposed; her small shirt was draped lazily on her love handles and piled up around her navel.

"I missed you," she said in a snuggly voice and gave me a loving squeeze.

"Hey," I replied, a little more wearily than I had intended, and hugged her back.

"Long day?"  She pursed her lower lip into a sympathetic pout.

"You have no idea," I sighed, rubbing her back and kicking off my shoes into the corner by the door.  "You about ready for bed?" I asked, sounding thoroughly spent without even trying.

"I can be if you want," she said, smiling.  I blinked, thoroughly confused.  Carmen was in an exceedingly receptive mood.  I took it for the luck that it was, though, as she led me into her bedroom without discussion.

I unbuttoned my shirt for the second time that night and tossed it on a more familiar floor.  Carmen stood in front of her closet with her back to me and slowly pulled her t-shirt over her head.  "So," she began with her arms still bound up in pink cotton, "I was thinking about last night…and the last couple of weeks."

I sat on the edge of her bed, and my breath caught in my throat.  Carmen tossed away her shirt into the colorful pile on the floor of her closet and turned to me.  She took three deliberate steps toward the bed where she stopped and leaned against me, her bare breasts resting heavily against my chest, her belly resting on my thighs.

"I don't want you to fall asleep angry with me…" she said and placed a gentle kiss on me neck.  I caught the scent of her hair, and the hairs on my neck stood on end.  "…and I don't want you to feel like you have to place all your plans on hold because of me."

Carmen rolled off my legs and heaved her butt heavily onto the mattress.  I slipped down into the dent she made by sitting, knocking our shoulders together.  Her skin was soft, and we collided gently without a sound.  "I don't want you to feel like you have to leave every night—I want you to be able to stay with me so that you can hold me while I'm asleep.  I like having your arms around me," she said, stroking my arm before she scooted herself onto her customary side of the bed.  Her body quivered and shook long after she stopped moving; the bed creaked from the weight of her movements, and I waited mutely.

She lifted the covers and slid beneath the sheets; I mimicked her, and in short order we were in bed together.  I lay on my back with Carmen curled up on my stomach.  Her belly flowed over me; one of her legs wrapped me in warm softness, and she let her arms drape comfortably around my neck.  Carmen felt for the light switch above her head, sending us both into instant darkness and near total silence.  In a moment, my eyes adjusted, and I was able to discern the outline of Carmen's nervous, smiling face in the grey darkness.  "So I was thinking," she said, a tremor of excitement in her voice, "why don't you move in with me?"

"You'd pay a little less rent than you do now, and we'd get to see each other every day…"  

"I don't know…I guess you'd have to ask Michelé, but I have a girlfriend who needs a roommate, and…"

"…and you'd get to sleep here…with me…every night...every…night……."