Breakfast at McDonald's

"I take it you're not up yet."

"No, I'm being lazy."

"Tell you what. Call me when you're ready, and I'll come pick you up and take you to breakfast. Okay?"

"Um - sure. McDonald's?"

He laughed, and so did she. "No, someplace nicer."

"Okay." She blinked and looked at the clock. "Give me, um, an hour."

"Got it! See you then!"

"Uh - Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you need to know where I live?"

There was a brief silence, and this time she could hear the smile in his voice. "Nah. I just thought I'd drive around town hollering your name."

She giggled and gave him her address, then hung up and headed for the bathroom.

As Beth walked past her full-length mirror on her way to her shower, she paused and looked at herself. She was nude.

Curves, she thought.

She cocked her head and let her eyes travel up and down her bare body, something she rarely did.

Curves. Well, I've certainly got those. She smiled, and for an instant she caught a glimpse, perhaps, of what Paul saw; a pale, cherubic sweetness, a softness and a cuddly quality about herself that she had never seen before.

But does he think I'm HOT? she thought. On impulse, she put her hands behind her head, set her bare feet wide apart on the carpet, and bumped and wriggled for a moment, setting all her pale, bare flesh to quivering and jiggling. She made a passionate, teasing face in the mirror and humped her plump, hairless pussy at herself lewdly.

Would he like to see me - like this? Would he want to -

She stopped and made a sour face at the mirror. No, I look ridiculous, she thought. Soft and cuddly, maybe. Hot and sexy?

Nah....

But in her shower, she squatted under the spray and fingered herself, gasping. She couldn't help dreaming of it.

Wouldn't it be wonderful....

---

Paul knocked on her door precisely sixty minutes after they hung up. She smiled, looking at the clock, and opened it.

The first thing she saw was the flowers.

"Paul! Are those for me?"

He grinned and held out the roses, a dozen in assorted colors. "Well, they aren't breakfast, Beth."

"They're beautiful! Come in! Let me put them in a vase!" She turned and headed toward her small kitchen, picking up an empty vase on the way.

She was still barefoot. As he walked behind her, Paul admired her pretty feet, the roll and quiver of her broad hips and round, grabbable ass, and even the soft curves of her pale, bare arms.

Beth bubbled as she clipped the stems and put the roses in water. "Thank you so much - these are so pretty - and they smell so sweet!"

"I'm glad you like them," said Paul. Her eyes were sparkling, and she was so happy - she's almost glowing, he thought.

She set the vase with the flowers in the middle of her kitchen table, then turned toward Paul.

Beth's cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and her sweet mouth was open slightly as she looked at him; Paul caught the small flick of her eyes downward as she looked at his own mouth.

My mother raised no fools, he thought. She wants me to kiss her. And as he thought it, he stepped forward, took her into his arms, and did it.

She clung to him with surprising passion, and her mouth opened under his with surprising eagerness. Their tongues met for the first time, and the feeling was more surprising still.

"Mmm," she murmured after the kiss ended - which was some little time later. "That was nice."

He held her close. He felt drunk. "It was - it was like - "

She leaned back, her heavy breasts still pressed against his chest. "Like we've done it before," she said softly.

He smiled at her, their eyes on the same level. "Yes. It felt right."

He tried not to look down. Beth was wearing a dress with a considerably lower neckline that day, and he knew he would get lost in her deep, creamy cleavage if he looked. Even so, her big, pale breasts quivered at the edges of his vision. He felt his blood rushing south.

They kissed again, longer this time. "Paul," she whispered afterward, "Why don't we forget about breakfast and just stay here?"

He looked at her with a peculiar smirk. "We have all weekend, Beth," he said. Then, "Don't we? Do you have any plans? I should have asked."

She shook her head. "But-"

"I love your butt," he said. He gave it an affectionate pat, and she giggled. "But I have some plans for us. Trust me?"

She nodded happily. "Okay."

"Then let's go!"

---

Breakfast was delicious, at a place called Benedict's on Belt Line. They had Eggs Benedict, of course.

Paul grew less bashful about looking at her neckline, and Beth leaned forward to allow him to enjoy it. They both smiled knowingly, but did not speak of it.

As they sat over coffee, Beth spoke shyly: "You make me feel so good, Paul. You make me feel pretty." Her arms were drawn close together in apparent modesty, but that pressed her breasts together and made them swell out in creamy lushness. She was showing him perhaps seven inches of deep, tempting cleavage.

"You are." He grinned. "Want me to prove it?"

She blinked at him, wide-eyed. He said, "Those guys at that table over there - " he tilted his head to his right, ever so slightly - "have been checking you out ever since they came in."

She looked, and saw three young men in suits who all looked away quickly and began studying the table, the wall, or the menu.

Beth giggled. "Me?" she said in a tone of disbelief. Paul only smiled.

---

They spent the day together. Paul took Beth to see some of the lesser-known sights of Dallas, but the main attraction was each other's company. They fit well together.

They went to the Arboretum on White Rock Lake; they went to the flagship Half Price Books, and left with a bag full of books and DVDs and CDs; and then they had a very late lunch at a little Mexican-run pizzeria Paul knew, which he said had the best pizza in Dallas. It did.

They laughed and talked throughout the meal, and Beth realized that for the first time, she wasn't at all self-conscious about how much she was eating - or, it dawned on her, about anything else.

"What?" said Paul. She was sitting there across from him, her mouth open and her eyes on his face.

She shook her head, then smiled and waved a hand. "Nothing," she said. She looked down at the empty pizza pan. "What now?"

"I thought I'd take you downtown, to the Nasher Sculpture Center and the Museum of Art -"

"Are they open tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes..."

I can't believe I'm going to say this, she thought.

"Then why don't we go back to my place?"

---

They did. As they walked in the door, Beth slipped her shoes off and went to the CD player. "I want you to hear this," she said. She sat on the cushiony white couch and tucked her bare feet beneath her as a sustained violin note filled the air.

Paul sat down beside her, entranced. The music was ethereal and evocative, indefinable, like nothing he had ever heard before. The tones subtly changed and merged and wound around each other, at once simple and complex. He looked at Beth. "Who is this?" he asked.

"Tim Story. This is called 'Shadowplay.' It's my favorite." Her big eyes were on his face, and she leaned back on the cushions comfortably.

She smiled as he moved closer. "It's perfect," he murmured as he opened his arms. "Soft and gentle and beautiful. Like you."

"Aww..." She came into his arms and snuggled against his chest. "That's so sweet."

"I mean it." He kissed the top of her head, then nuzzled it with his cheek.

They held each other in silence for a while and listened to the music. After a time, Beth murmured, "Why am I so comfortable with you?" He looked at her, smiling just a little, then gave a small shrug and shook his head, don't know.

"I mean - I'm not nervous or afraid or anything. Not at all." She hugged him again, rubbing her cheek against his chest. "I don't understand..."

He cuddled her and whispered, "Maybe you know you can trust me."

"Mmm.... Maybe."

"Like I know that you want to be held and kissed today, but you didn't bring me back here so we can make love."

She sat up and looked at him, her hand on her mouth. "My God, you're right," she breathed, her eyes wide. "It never occurred to me that you might think that." She blinked at him. "How did you know -?"

He smiled. "Shut up and kiss me," he said.

Their tongues danced as they clung to each other, hands wandering. Through her clothes, he cupped her big breasts, stroked her heavy thighs, and caressed her generous bottom; she clung to his back and stroked it, felt the strong muscles of his arms and thighs, and dared to sweep her hand shyly and quickly across his fly. She shivered as she briefly felt the lump there - partly because it was so big, and partly because she knew that she, herself, was the cause of it.

Their kisses became more passionate, their hands bolder. Paul went so far as to squeeze one erect nipple through her clothes. She shivered.

"I do want you to make love to me - " she whispered into his mouth -

"But not today," he whispered in return. "I know."

---

They sent out for Chinese, and talked throughout the meal. Comic strips, movies, music (they agreed on all), politics (not so much).

Afterward, they talked about themselves and each other. "I guess I should have asked before," said Paul. "Do you mind if I ask how old you are, Beth?"

"Twenty-seven," she said matter-of-factly. "How about you?"

"Thirty-nine."

She smiled impishly. "Oo! An older man!"

Paul looked at her wryly. "Am I too old for you?"

"Cradle robber," she said, and kissed him. "Don't be dumb. You're perfect."

"No, that would be you," he said, laughing.

"No, really. You are. You're perfect."

He grinned skeptically. "Now, Beth - I may be okay, but - I'm short, I'm no athlete, I'm no Brad Pitt, I'm older than you - "

"And I'm fat," she said. "There, I said it. And you said I'm perfect, too. So there." She nodded once, defiantly.

Paul opened his mouth, then closed it again, shrugged, and shook his head.

She pressed him: "Can we talk about that? It's important to me."

He smiled. "Ask me anything, Beth."

"Okay. Don't you wish I was smaller? Even a little?"

He sat back. "Stand up," he said.

Blushing, she rose from the couch and stood in front of him. He looked her up and down, from her bare feet to her pink cheeks and timid eyes. "Turn around," he said. "Slowly."

She did - and when she turned back to him, she saw him grinning. "What?"

"That's fun," he said. "I like looking at you."

She felt a quiver inside, but asked, "Well?"

He shook his head. "I don't want you to lose a pound, Beth. Not an ounce. Not a gram. I love the way you look - " He lifted his arms - "and I love the way you feeeel...."

She knelt on the sofa, facing him, and nestled into his arms. He saw that her eyes were wet. "It's true, Beth," he whispered as he kissed her. "I swear it is. I love you just the way you are."

She leaned back and looked at him. He looked back, and he knew what was coming.

"Say that again," she said.

He smiled - gently. "'I love you'?" he asked. "Sure. I love you, Beth. It's a little soon, maybe. But that's what I'm feeling."

Paul knew she would cry at that, and he held her as she did, kissing her head and cuddling her as she sobbed into his shirt. Her hands wandered his chest and tugged at him aimlessly, and she even pounded him a little with her small, chubby fists.

He held her tightly till the storm had passed, till she was breathing quietly and only hiccuping a little against his shirt. She lifted her head and dabbed at it, sniffling. "I got mascara on your shirt," she whimpered. "I'm sorry..."

"I'll treasure it forever, sweetness," he said. He kissed her tears away. "You we're crying so hard," he said softly.

Her eyes filled again. "I never thought I'd hear that."

He smiled. "You'll hear it again."

They stopped talking. Their tongues had other things to do.

---

They snuggled and whispered and kissed till almost midnight. It was warm and passionate, sweet and intense, by turns. Paul kissed her skin everywhere it was exposed - even her pretty bare feet, which made her giggle. They laughed and gasped and sighed and moaned, and they talked a little too.

Finally, it was time for Paul to go. When he was standing at her door, ready to leave, Beth looked at him and touched his chest with a trembling hand.

"I hate for you to go," she said.

"I know. But it's best. There's no hurry, Beth. I'll be back."

"Tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

He smiled. "Tell me when," he said.

Beth looked at the clock. "Twelve twenty-five," she said. "AM."

Paul looked at the clock, and she giggled. That was five minutes away. He burst out laughing, and so did she. "How about ten o'clock?" he finally asked.

She slid out her lower lip and pouted. "Okay," she said with mock sadness. "If you can wait that long..."

"Nine, then," he said with a grin. "And I'll bring breakfast."

She kissed him, and he was gone.

Beth closed the door and floated back to the couch, pirouetting prettily on her bare toes once or twice. Her smile was dreamy, her eyes soft and distant, her nipples erect, and her pussy humid.

She sat for a while, thinking - then stood, and went to the CD player and put on quite a different kind of music - and then she turned to face the couch and began to take off her clothes.

---

At that very moment, Paul was sitting on his own couch and stroking his cock with the same dreamy expression on his face.

---

It was closer to eight-thirty than nine when Paul knocked on her door. He was holding a large McDonald's bag and two large coffees, and he was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.

Beth opened the door, and his eyes went wide.

"Oh, my," he said. Then, "Oh... Oh, my."

Beth was wearing a short, pale-blue babydoll nightgown - opaque, but short enough to reveal a glimpse of her bikini panties. Her big breasts swung and wobbled freely beneath it, her shockingly large nipples clearly swollen and erect.

Paul's cock was instantly as stiff as a steel bar, and he stared openly. "Beth - you look - incredibly beautiful," he finished lamely.

Her cheeks were flaming. "You like me?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Oh, Beth - "

He swept her into his arms. His hands roamed her back, so smooth and soft and warm beneath the filmy nylon. Their tongues met again, and she plastered herself against him with fervent passion - and she felt the hot lump beneath his waist against her plump pubic mound.

She broke away, blushing furiously, and took the bag and the drink holder to the coffee table. "Come on," she said, her voice a little husky. "Let's eat... And you can stare at me all you want," she added on impulse.

"I will," said Paul incredulously as he followed her, staring at her pale, plump, curvy and totally bare legs, and her big, beautiful bottom, which was tightly sheathed and barely covered by her tiny panties. "Believe me, I will..."

Beth giggled. She felt incredibly self-conscious - and she was enjoying it to the depth of her swollen, fever-hot, liquid pussy. Her big nipples were so hard they hurt.

I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought. She looked at Paul's delighted, enchanted face, at his ecstatic smile and wide eyes. "I can't believe you're looking at me like that." She shivered, and her breasts rippled deliciously.

Paul looked at her face, which wasn't easy. "I can't believe you're wearing that for me," he said. "You're the most beautiful and the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life."

She giggled and sat back on the couch, one pale, bare, chubby leg cocked up to show her bare belly and her tiny panties. "Coffee?" she asked teasingly, holding it out.

Paul almost spilled it.

They ate in near-silence, and Paul hardly tasted a bite; neither did Beth. Forget about breakfast; he devoured and savored the sight of her bare, soft skin and quivering flesh, his eyes crawling over her from her blushing face to her pretty, curling toes - and she was all but vibrating with excitement at being so exposed to his gaze, and at being so obviously enjoyed.

She leaned back against the cushions and turned to sip from her cup - and at the same instant, she felt her breasts bounce and quiver and saw Paul's eyes go wide and his mouth open.

She giggled and deliberately shook them at him. His jaw dropped as she waggled them heavily from side to side.

"Dear God," he whispered. She laughed with delight and did it again, more blatantly.

Again, she thought: I can't believe he so likes to look at me like this.

And, again, he thought: I can't believe she so likes to show off for me like this.

"You're being so naughty," Paul said. His voice was husky. "Very unladylike."

"Am I?" To his amazement, she stroked her breasts, molding the silky nylon to herself. Her nipples were clearly swollen, wide, puffy, and stiffly erect. "Do you like that?"

"Oh, Beth - " Paul swallowed and tried to speak. "I - I - I can't even say how much I like that."

She giggled and came into his arms, and their tongues met again. His hands roamed her body, all but bare now, and when he slipped one beneath her nightie, she did not gasp or protest; she leaned back a trifle to let him.

He fondled and stroked and squeezed her bare breasts till she was breathing quickly, her cheeks pink with passion; he caressed her thighs and kneaded her soft, damp center till she was gasping; and she shivered and writhed in his arms, open to him, trusting him -

And wanting him. "Now," she whispered. "Today, Paul... Now." Her small hand was at his fly, squeezing, massaging, pulling at him.

"Are you sure, Beth?" he asked softly.

She breathed into his ear, one word only:

"Yes..."

They rose and moved toward the bedroom. "Walk in front of me," he said. "I want to watch you."

She looked at him, a strange expression on her blushing face; then she began to walk in front of him down the short hallway. He hung back for a moment, then followed, his eyes roaming her bare, fat legs, her broad, round, deep-split ass, marveling at how he could see her huge, swinging breasts even crom behind her. She looked back at him shyly, her eyes soft.

"You really like to look at me, don't you?" she asked in a tiny voice, in a tone of wonder.

They were in her bedroom. "Take those off," he said, looking into her eyes. "Show me, Beth. Show me everything." He was still fully dressed.

Beth felt more self-conscious and vulnerable and afraid than she had ever felt in her life - but she was somehow not afraid, too. Something in his eyes calmed her, even as it excited her.

She took a deep breath, then lifted the nightie over her head and dropped it to the floor. Paul gasped - and before she lost her nerve, she slid her bikini panties down her legs and stepped out of them. Then she stood before him naked, her heart on her face.

She saw that his eyes were wet, and he was smiling. "So beautiful," he quavered. "So beautiful..."

He had been right. She looked radiant. "Turn around," he said. "Slowly."

That quiver in her belly came again. She did as he said, turning slowly.

When she faced him again, she saw that his hand was squeezing his cock, and the quiver came again, stronger now. "You do love the way I look," she whispered. Paul could only nod, wide-eyed.

"Now you," she said, and stepped toward him. "No, let me." She lifted his sweatshirt and pulled it over his head; his chest was hairy, and she shivered a little in anticipation of feeling it against her tender nipples.

His jeans followed, and though his waist was soft and a bit pudgy, his legs were muscular and strong. She wanted to feel them between her own.

He had left his shoes in the living room. The plump, nude beauty knelt at his feet, and he lifted first one foot, then the other as she pulled off his socks; and then, without rising, she took hold of the waistband of his shorts. The front of them stood out, tented, with a dark, wet stain of fluid at the rounded peak of it.