A Quite Large Lady

"You know where I live, I suppose - you found it! If you would like my phone number, I'll give it to you."

She waited for a response. He picked up on it. "Yes, if you would - here, you can write it on the back on one of my cards." He offered her another card, and his pen.

She squirmed a bit, squeezing her legs together, as she wrote on the card, holding it against his car. "Here," she replied, handing the card to him. "Sorry if I seem nervous, I'm a bit, well, you know what I need! I guess this will be goodnight - I hope we meet again- " Her voice trailed off, seemingly awaiting something he might say.

He was at a loss. He gave her a quick wave, and started to move toward the driver's door.

"Jack!" she called to him. He stopped, looking to her.

She approached him. "I'm sorry - I don't know how to say this, but really, did you like watching me beside the road back there? I was so embarrassed - I thought maybe you were just trying to make me feel better. Did you?"

"Sure. I loved it - something I just hadn't seen a woman do. Yes, I liked watching you, and I wasn't just trying to make you feel better!" She seemed to need assurance to cover her embarrassment, and he tried to give it to her.

"Then - I want to show my thanks for bringing me here. I need to pee again, really bad, and, well, if you would enjoy looking- really like to watch me - I'll do it again, right here! No point in me going private if you'd really enjoy watching - I owe you a good show for the ride!"

Jack was dumbfounded. This was the strangest offer he had ever had from a woman trying to show gratitude. His body already told him to accept the offer - his erection was trying to break through his trousers. He nodded, looking at her. "Right here?" he asked.

She nodded in reply. They were on a bit of lawn, to the side of the entrance to the building. It was now dark, and the area was poorly lit. No one seemed to be about.

She backed almost against the wall. This time she did not squat. She simply spread her legs and raised her skirt with both hands. She looked straight at him with a nervous smile, then glanced about to assure no one else was watching before meeting his eyes again.

He looked at the bottom of her skirt, following its movement. She raised it until it covered only an inch or so of her immense thighs. She was standing with her legs parted. She wore no stockings, and her feet were in simple flat heeled shoes. He was struck by the size of her thick legs and thighs. This lady, he thought, has a lot of meat on her; her shape was definitely not what he would have considered examples of feminine beauty. Still, he fixed his eyes on that skirt hem.

Looking straight at him, she said "Here it comes!"

It did. A powerful stream erupted from her crotch and shot out into the grass just in front of her. Her eyes followed his, observing closely his reaction. His gaze focused on her stream. His erection was stretching his pants. For a moment he wondered if she saw it.

Suddenly she raised her skirt a few more inches, displaying dark pubic hair and her slit out of which the stream projected. Her eyes was studying his response - which was pure gaping amazement.

As before, he was struck by the length of time she could keep it up. Her bladder must be immense, he thought. Maybe that goes with a really big woman. She held the skirt high enough to display her genital area until she finished.

When the stream ended, she dropped the skirt, very slowly.

"Did you like it?" she asked brightly.

"Yeah. Like I said, you pee beautifully!"

"Then I'm glad I did it. Now we both feel better. Well, good-night. Again!"

She waved to him and headed for the door. He returned to his car.

As he drove home, he pondered this odd female with whom he had suddenly become fascinated. Was she really a closet exhibitionist, or had she had a lapse in modesty for his benefit alone?

He hoped he would see her again.

Chapter 2: Déjà Vu

In the next few days, Jack said nothing about his encounter with Mary. He did not return to the Fair, though it was still in progress. In the back of his mind was the thought that someone might have seen him with Mary. Now, he wasn't exactly ashamed of her, but the idea of answering questions about her he found a bit unsettling. He mentioned her to none of his work associates.

He was tempted to call her, but he held off. What would he say? Would he suggest another meeting? He didn't quite consider her date material, but he couldn't get her out of his mind. Perhaps she would call him. Perhaps she wouldn't. He waited, uncertain how to proceed, yet somehow not wanting to lose contact with her.

Several times he took out the card on which she had written her telephone number. Actually, she had written two numbers, one evidently her home number, and one a work number. He figured out where she worked. He even developed a plan for how to get there, should an occasion arise.

Two weeks passed since their encounter at the fair. Then, one afternoon at his office, after a particularly irritating call from a client, the phone rang.

Jack answered it, almost with a snarl, his patience exhausted and his mood one of hostility. A female voice on the other end came back to him.

"Jack, this is Mary. Your beer drinking friend from the fair - remember?"

Almost in shock, his demeanor shifted. In his most genial manner, he replied.

"Mary - of course! How have you been? I was thinking about you!" His casual remarks belied his perplexity - he really had no idea how to deal with her.

She came back with some pleasantries, nothing of real import. Still, it was evident she wanted to continue their contact.

Finally it was she who broached the real issue of another meeting. "Jack, I just wondered if, maybe, you might like to join me for dinner one evening- there's this place not far from where I work. My treat, of course; well, I have to do something with my beer drinking prize money! There's an art gallery with a new show I wanted to see, and it's not far; I do a bit of art work myself, and I just thought -"

He got the idea. Art was not exactly his thing, but if it was hers, maybe he could soak up a bit of it for one evening. They talked for a few minutes, and finally came up with an agreement that he would meet her outside her office building on the chosen day, as she left work.

One thing pleased him - the area was no where near where he worked or lived, so he was unlikely to run into anyone who would know him. Also, he did not move in art circles, so an art gallery was not likely to be a place where he would chance encountering any of his friends. Why did this worry him, he thought to himself. Mary was not something to be ashamed of, and yet, how would his acquaintances respond to seeing him with a rather plain woman who admittedly outweighed him by nearly a hundred pounds?

On the appointed day, Jack went to the address where Mary worked. At least, he reflected, he wouldn't have to worry about not recognizing her. Her ample body would be unmistakable, he felt sure.

Shortly after five thirty, Mary came out. She was dressed much better, he thought, than when she had been at the fair. This time she was wearing a good looking blouse and calf-length skirt, with a scarf around her neck. Her hair was fixed in a short but becoming style. Quite different, he observed, from the lady who had arrived rather sloppily attired to take on a beer drinking competition.

He recognized her and went up to her immediately. She smiled and grasped his hand. She began a running conversation about her day. In the course of her remarks she pointed out that she was leaving her car in the parking lot of her building. They could walk, she indicated, to the restaurant and the art gallery, and they could return to the office area, from where she would drive herself home afterward. Jack appreciated her frankness, and took the arrangement as a gentle hint not to expect to be invited into her apartment later. In a way, he was glad she had said this. It set the tone for the evening and avoided what might have been a delicate situation later, if he had driven her home.

The restaurant was a good choice. Mary obviously liked food, and made no apologies for her appetite. She pointedly rejected the choice of a "lady sized steak," preferring the full sized version, then added she would make up for it by choosing the lo-cal dressing for her salad. Mary insisted on picking up the tab for dinner, pointing out that he had borne of cost of getting her home from the fair, and, anyway, she didn't expect him to pay for her voracious hunger. It was refreshing, Jack thought, to be with a lady who wasn't watching her weight and seemed not at all self-conscious for her extra poundage.

They headed to the gallery. Mary pointed out, "In school I was a bit of an artist; I dabbled in sketches and paintings, and a bit of sculpture. I wasn't much at the sculpture, but I still do sketches. The show tonight includes some works of one of my old art teachers." She went on about her studies of classic art and the subjects she liked to draw. Jack learned she was quite intelligent and held two degrees.

She escorted him through the gallery, treating him to a running commentary. After an hour or so, they wandered into a section devoted to portraits and figure painting. At the sight of the first female nude, Jack commented, "At least this is the kind of art I can understand. It's about the only kind I ever looked at in the art books I found in the school library." Mary laughed at his observation.

"Perhaps you were trying to use art books for anatomy lessons! Probably lots of people do. I like to do portraits, though I rarely do them anymore. I can do full figures of people, too. Sometime perhaps I can show you some of my work, though it's not really that good."

"Do you do nudes?" Jack asked, jokingly.

"No. All the ones I did were people with their clothes on. Sometimes I thought I might like to do nudes. Of course, if I was doing them, they would be male nudes."

"Would you have guys pose for you?"

She laughed again. "What guy would want to pose for a fat girl artist? I think I'd just have to use my imagination!"

They went on to other areas. As they passed doors to the public toilets, Jack observed, "Look - no lines!" as he recalled the fair.

"No. No lines. I haven't peed since I left home this morning, either. But I am not ready yet. I do hold fairly well, don't I?" He wondered a bit as to why she interjected this bit of information. He made no comment on it.

They finished their tour, just as closing time approached.

"Did you like it?" She asked.

"You're a good guide. And, even apart from the undressed ladies, which I really liked, yes, I did like the show. And, let me add, the company!"

They stopped at a snack bar for a bit of ice cream and a drink, after leaving the gallery. Mary reminded him she didn't really like beer ("unless it's at a beer drinking contest") and elected a soft drink instead.

They walked together back to her office building and to its car park. She pointed out her car, now sitting alone in the otherwise empty lot.

She didn't go directly over to it. Instead, she stopped at a poorly lit part of the lot shielded from the street by a high hedge.

"Time to say good night?" he asked her.

"Yes it is," she responded. "I thank you for a nice evening."

"You paid for it," he observed.

"I still thank you for coming. And now that you have told me what you enjoy, would you like me to say thank you in the way I did the other night?"

His heart skipped a beat. He began to guess what was coming.

"Please, just stand there, and hold my purse for me," she instructed.

He did as requested.

She reached her hands under her skirt, pulled down her panties, then stepped out of them. She stuffed them in her belt, as she had done before.

"I have been saving up for this all day. Would you like to feel how full I am before I let it out?" Embarrassed, he failed to answer.

She hiked her skirt almost waist high, and took his hand, placing it on her lower belly. "Go ahead - push on it! I can take it!" she challenged him.

He pressed and felt the resistance of her firm, full bladder. She released his hand, but made no effort to remove it. "Go ahead - push on it!" she again asked.

He stared at her exposed pubic area, with its dark hair, just below his hand. He pressed, much harder, this time.

"Do you like doing that?" she asked.

He could only nod his head. Then he withdrew his hand.

She sank to a squat, holding her skirt waist high, her eyes first fixed on his, then dropping to focus on his lower body, where his firm erection appeared close to bursting his pants. She raised her eyes to his as she released her bladder. Her stream poured out, flooding the pavement.

"I thought you would like this. I planned it," she admitted.

As before, her stream continued for a long time. The flood spread all over the pavement, until both of them were standing with their shoes in it. He hesitated to step back, so great was his fascination with her act.

Finally, she finished. She stood, taking back her purse. She rummaged in it for a tissue, then used it to dry herself.

"Did you like it as much as looking at the nudes in the gallery?" she asked, rather objectively.

"Better. You're real. You're alive. And - as I told you, you pee beautifully!"

"Practice. Nice to have someone says there's at least one thing beautiful about me. I like to look at the nudes in the gallery, too. Gives me an idea of what women are supposed to look like. You didn't see any of them my size, did you?"

Jack just shrugged, sensing that there was no right answer to this.

Then, after a bit, he thought of one. "If there was, I'd sure like to look at it, though!"

She waited a moment, then, just as they were about to reach her car, replied, "If any guy looked at me without my clothes on, he'd probably throw up. That's about the way I feel when I look in the mirror. Maybe some day I'll do something about it. Anyway, that's what I keep thinking. Well, thanks and good night!"

Saying nothing further, she entered her car, started it, and, with just a wave, drove off. Jack was left to return to his own vehicle in another lot.

He still could not figure this woman out. If she meant their encounters to be romantic, she had an odd approach to it. Still, the encounter was her idea; she had initiated it, planned it, and paid for it.

Who would move next?

Chapter 3: Again With a Twist

Jack decided it was his turn to make the next contact. He did not do it for a few days, still uncertain how to approach this lady, not sure if their association was really romantic, or just some odd kind of adventure.

Still, he told none of his friends about Mary. He could not conceive of a rational way to present her, that wouldn't seem strange or at least inappropriate. Here was a lady physically bigger, well at least heavier, than he was, talented, artistic, educated, and yet her most widely acclaimed public accomplishment seemed to be her ability to hold a huge amount of beer, a beverage she openly insisted she disliked.

After about a week he did call her, at her home, in the evening. Their conversation was casual, and never touched on her peeing episodes. He explored a possible outing to a beach with her, but was rebuffed quickly. ("Me? At a beach? In a bathing suit? Really! Are you trying to put me in side show?")

He decided places that called for abbreviated attire were not on her list as acceptable. He promised to call her again.

A few days later he did. His invitation was to a Saturday afternoon theatre performance by a local company, to be followed by dinner at a place he would choose - and, he added, he would pay this time. He was insistent. Moreover, he wanted to pick her up at her place and return her home. He was insistent on this, too. She hesitated, but then yielded. He had a date.

He arrived a bit after noon. He had expected to go up to her apartment, but she was waiting downstairs. She was nicely dressed, again in a skirt and blouse. He opened the door for her, and she seated herself in his car.

They drove the fairly long distance to the theatre, reminiscing a bit about their earlier outings but mostly exchanging views on the events of the day.

The performance was a current comedy, which she seemed to enjoy. It let out a bit after four thirty. As they walked to exit, he excused himself and slipped away to the gentlemen's room. He returned to her a few minutes later, to find her in exactly the same spot. Jokingly, he observed, "I forgot - you never use the facilities, do you?"

She smiled and answered easily, "Oh, yes. But only at certain times!"

No more was said of it for a time.

They went for dinner, and this time he was prepared for her generous appetite. She declined the beer, but settled for a bit of wine with her dinner.

Filled and refreshed, they lingered over their coffee.

Turning just a bit solemn, he abruptly asked her, "I was surprised you let me pick you up at your place today. I had a feeling you didn't want me going there. I don't embarrass you, do I?"

"No, of course not. I live alone, as you know. No one cares what company I keep, except of course, me. And I do try to be careful. At first I was unsure if I could trust you. Now, you know, I am a bit of novice at this. I may be thirty one, but I haven't dated anyone in ten years. In fact, I rarely dated in high school or college. You know, not many boys want to be seen with a fat girl. Are you comfortable with me?"

"Not when you keep calling yourself fat. You ought to be emphasizing your good qualities, and not drawing attention to what you weigh. No, I am not uncomfortable with you."

"When you invited me to a beach," she went on, "I declined as much for you as for me. You would never hear the end of the teasing you would get, after people saw me with you and both of us in beach attire. You know I always wear skirts - women my size look even worse in pants. I'm always looking for something I'd look better in, but there isn't much!"

"I've seen you in several outfits - you do OK. I wouldn't care if you were like the gals in the picture gallery - clothes don't make you what you are."

"You mean the nudes? I still say, if a man saw me that way he'd throw up."

"I wouldn't."

She eyed him, but let it pass.

After a bit, she added, "Jack, yes, I trust you, but I had to learn to know you. I don't have much experience with men. Now, I'm not gay, or anything like that, but, there just haven't been men in my life - not as close friends, anyway. So I was a little careful about letting you come to my place."

There was a bit of silence. Then she went on.

"Jack, I'm a virgin. That's right, a thirty-one year old, two hundred forty pound virgin. I don't want to change that. Not yet, anyway, I'm not ready. So we need to agree that nothing we do will change that now. Is that OK with you?"

"No problem. You're not looking for sex, so I get the picture. I respect that."

After his response, her face became a bit brighter.

"I didn't, of course, say I have no interest in sexual matters. You have probably observed that."

"You didn't seem to mind peeing in front of me!" he noted.

She smiled, looking into her empty coffee cup.

"Yes. The first time I was surprised you were so interested in watching me. Then I decided I liked doing it in front of you. Did I shock you?"

"A bit. I was sure surprised."

"Your surprise showed. I saw the bulge in your pants. I suppose that is a normal male reaction?"

Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. He really didn't know how to talk about this with a woman.

"I suppose. A guy just gets hard when a girl does something stimulating. You can't really help it!"