Ashley Getting Bigger Ch. 05

Author's Note: Well, Gentle Reader, once again the characters I created have surprised me. It never really occurred to me, as I started writing what I thought was a gentle love story, how David and Ashley's strange but beautiful and loving relationship would evolve. This IS a love story, make no mistake. But it has taken a strange and bizarre twist. So be warned, my friend. If body functions, waste products, and the mutual enjoyment of each of them troubles you, offends you, disgusts you, or sickens you, then do NOT read this. It is replete with such things. I was surprised, I say again, at the strange road their love story has followed, but now I am too interested to not follow it to its end. So join me if you care to, as we watch from our Olympian vantage point, but remember, you have been warned.

I suppose, on some level, I knew it was coming.

Dinner was one of David's Five-Star specials, something he called a taste of Florence.

The first course was Torta Barozzi. Think of an Italian brownie, very thick with cocoa and with a strong aftertaste of rum and coffee. Of course, David's version was infused with a gentle but powerful laxative.

The salad was tossed, with savory bits of bacon and swimming in a creamy Italian dressing.

His garlic bread was crusted with a thick layer of Parmesan cheese on top, baked to a perfect golden brown.

The Chicken Florentine main course was served with a white sauce that had spinach and tiny onions floating in it.

Between every third or fourth bite, he would hold the wineglass to my lips, it was very good wine.

Finally, stated, I leaned back and belched. Not a ladylike burp either. This was a long, sonorous belch, the kind that made room for something else in my stomach and made him smile.

I watched as he poured a healthy dose of the emetic into my wine glass and then, I was no longer surprised when he poured some into his. He was serious when he said "everything."

We finished our wine as I regaled him with a story of the latest book I was reading, laughing at the exploits of the heroine in my latest bodice-ripping romance novel.

Finally, he stood and helped me to my feet.

Since it was Monday we visited the torture room and I stepped on the scales.

"504," he announced, "down another three pounds and when we see a '4' in the first digit I'm taking you dining and dancing."

I was smiling too. Maybe I would get down to 250 someday.

"Now come along," he said, taking my hand.

When I started to turn into the bathroom he stopped me.

"No, Ashley," he said, "let's go to bed."

I felt my eyes go big.

"David," I said, holding his eyes.

"Everything," he said, pulling on my hand.

"Oh, God," I moaned but, of course, I had long since given up saying "no" to him about anything.

He undressed me, slowly, and I liked that he took the time to kiss the skin he revealed. This was almost like we were newlyweds again. And come on now, what woman doesn't like having her man on his knees, taking her feet into his lap to get her shoes off? I suppose there are some, but I ain't one of them.

He kissed his way up the rolls of my belly until we were standing face to face.

"God, you are so beautiful," he said, and in that moment I believed him.

He helped me into bed and then I watched as he stripped for me. God, I love watching him undress even if he has put on a little weight lately.

When he turned to face me his interest was obvious and I was flattered, as I always was. His erection pointed straight up his body in that male salute every woman finds flattering.

"David," I said, softly, as he started kissing me, "honey, are you sure you want this?"

"Never surer of anything," he said, smiling at me, "don't you realize how addicted I am to ALL of you?"

"David," I said again, "I know you always say often messy but never dirty, but this could get very dirty."

"No," he said, kissing me again, "Very messy but NEVER dirty," and with the emphasis he put on that word I knew I would never say "no" to him again.

"God, I love you," I said as we embraced and kissed and our hands explored and played with each other.

He was more intense than normal and I thought there was a hint of desperation in his lovemaking. His lips would latch onto a spot of soft fat on my arm or at my ribs or my belly and he'd suck hard. I wondered if he was leaving little round hickeys on my body as he did that.

Time lost meaning for me and I wondered if David and his pharmacist friend had, well, "adjusted" the formula of the emetic to give it even more of a delayed action.

His finger was busy and my legs were scissoring when I felt the first rumblings in my belly.

"Don't fight me," he said, his fingers busy, his mouth covering my face with kisses.

God, he knows me so well. I had been fighting the orgasm that was building and hadn't even realized it.

So I pushed and came and it was good. I could feel my vaginal muscles squeezing and my love honey flowing.

As I started to relax his finger sped up and he said, softly, his lips almost touching my ear, "Again."

And I pushed and came and it was even better. There was something about making love like this, gently but passionately as I felt the first roiling in my stomach that was getting to me.

"Again," he whispered, and this time I exploded. I did a partial sit-up, well, more a crunch I suppose, and felt myself spraying my release as I cried out, "JESUSSSSSSSSSSS."

I was laid back, relaxing after that earth-shaking orgasm and he was kissing me when I threw up into his mouth.

He pulled away, almost reflexively, and my vomit covered his face. He was smiling through the mask of mess and kissed me again.

"Get on top, baby," he said, laying back.

"DAVID!" I said.

"Please," he said so I rocked twice for momentum and threw my leg over him and mounted him, cowgirl style.

His eyes were red and watering, irritated by my puke, and his nose was running like a damn faucet.

"Everything," he said and opened his mouth.

And I laughed. I wondered about some hysteria in the laugh.

"Pervert," I said, "Keep your mouth open then."

I leaned back so I was sitting up straight, riding my beautiful horse in a posture that would make Rip or Walker proud.

I came. Not the full-on spraying orgasm of earlier, but I came, feeling the heat in my bowels and the rolling of my stomach helping me over the top.

I could feel his body under me starting to retch, and I bent and kissed him.

He threw up then and I tried to hold the kiss, feeling hot vomit in my mouth, tasting the acidic gorge, and feeling the force of his throwing up pushing the puke into my sinuses and out my nose.

I tried to swallow but my body rebelled at that and instead, I threw up again, making him cough and spewing us both with puke and bile.

I lifted far enough to let us both breathe and he turned his head and his stomach contents just flowed out his mouth, puddling on his cheek.

Watching that, for some reason, triggered another round of nausea but my stomach was empty so I was reduced to dry heaves and nothing came up but a greenish bitter bile and very thick mucus.

I kissed him and enjoyed the way his body retched again as the bile and mucus entered his mouth.

When my own body rebelled and retched again I held the kiss and when he gagged and tried to turn his head away I dug my fingers into his hair and swallowed his puke.

Well, tried to swallow. I retched again and this time I felt my bowels let go.

As I held that position, shit slowly extruding from my asshole, fighting to keep my gorge and his down, I had a brief flash of sanity I guess you'd call it, part of my brain screamed "THIS IS CRAZY, ASHLEY!!!!"

But then I felt a new sensation. I thought at first he was cumming but soon realized that he was inside me and pissing.

And somehow that realization gave me the most powerful orgasm I have ever experienced. This was beyond anything I had even imagined was possible.

I came vaginally and anally as my stomach convulsed one final time expelling one final gush of bile and my nose just poured snot onto his face as I held that kiss. Hell, I came nasally, great gouts of snot pouring over our mouths as we held the kiss.

I realized his fingers were digging in painfully when I tried to break the kiss so I just held it, my bowels emptying, my nose running and then, not making me cum again but giving me an oddly comfortable feeling, my bladder let go.

Again I didn't try to push, just relaxed and let myself flow. My back was straight now, puke and snot running down my chin onto my tits, as I pissed slowly on my husband's cock still inside of me.

Finally, my bladder was completely empty and I started to relax.

"Finish me with your mouth, baby," he said.

"DAVID!" I breathed.

He was grinning up at me.

"Are you going to start saying 'no' to me now?" he asked, his grin wild.

So I grinned back at him. I did something I had seen old men do from time to time but never done myself - I used my forefinger to close my left nostril and huffed out a hard breath, blowing my nose and leaving a long string of fresh snot hanging from it.

"Open your mouth, pervert," I said and he smiled as he opened his mouth wide. I bent forward slowly, watching the string of snot getting closer to his mouth.

"Just like an oyster, David, and you love oysters," I said and he surprised me by lifting his head and noisily slurping his way up to my nose where he sucked, sort of reverse-blowing my nose with his mouth.

I lifted my hips, pulling off of him then, and started slowly kissing my way down his body. I was finding the taste of puke and snot and drool on his body exciting and my hips were working my pussy against his leg as I slowly worked down his body, I remembered a book/story I had read in the past, I'm sure one of my silly bodice-rippers, and when my pussy got to his big toe I took it in. In the book/story, as I recall, this was a way for young girls in the group/harem/polygamous relationship to learn how to pleasure themselves and a man while leaving their hymen intact. Of course, that ship had long since sailed in my case, but it was fun anyway.

Between his legs, though, well, was about what you'd expect. The was a pile, warm and soft, of his, and laying across it, much firmer, a testament to our different diets, was a giant Baby Ruth. Well, that's what it looked like anyway.

As I bent closer to his cock the smell was strong and I could see where our movement had smeared him liberally.

But he had asked and I wouldn't say "no," so I opened my mouth and took him in.

I was surprised that there was no taste. And I did SO love the way he responded that I pulled off and began licking his shaft. When I got to his balls, in order to do it properly, my chin had to be, well, had to be in that pile of shit.

"Often messy, never dirty," my ass. This was fucking DIRTY. And I realized that I liked it.

As I turned my face to get my tongue alongside his scrotum in that way he liked I felt my cheek in the pile and I liked it. I turned the other cheek, so to speak, and used my tongue on the other side of his scrotum. I opened my mouth wide, took his balls in, and sucked them gently, using my tongue to clean him, inhaling deeply, finding the scent heavy but exciting.

And when I took him in my mouth again, stroking his beautiful shit-smeared cock with my lips and tongue, I felt dirty. Hell, I felt filthy. But that didn't even slow down the building pressure in my belly as I fucked his toe and sucked his cock, wallowing in the degradation I felt.

When he came I savored it, holding him in my mouth, sucking gently, licking gently, until he softened and I couldn't hold him anymore.

"So," I said, crawling up now until I could look down at him, knowing my cheeks and chin were shit smeared, my hair hanging lank from where it had been pressed into the pile between his legs, "Still not dirty?"

He smiled then, an angelic smile if ever there was one. He kissed my cheeks, and my chin, and finished on my lips before he murmured, "Very messy," and pulled me down to snuggle against him.

I whispered, "God, I love you too," and let a long, sonorous, bubbly fart.