I Liked You When

Part 1:

It was cold, well of course it was; it was November in the Midwest. He stood at the corner looking smaller than his thin 6 foot frame because he was huddled into himself for warmth. It looked as if he'd raided his grandfather's closet: green tweed pants and a heavy, black, wool pea coat. No hat. No wonder he was cold. His ears were shining red against dark hair, but were only just visible as he'd pulled his coat up and tucked in his chin—all for warmth. Why wasn't he wearing a hat? So absentminded.

I stood watching him for a moment, just wondering: what would he say, would he say anything, what was going to happen? A stiff breeze seemed to smack him right in the face and as he turned from it, he saw me. What was the look on his face? His eyes burned like blue flames in the icy air, his cheeks were just as red as his ears. Otherwise his skin was perfectly pale. He was just as I'd expected. He looked nervous and I wondered what thoughts were streaming through his head. Then his eyes went wide and I knew.

He didn't move other than to step forward once, away from the pole against which he'd been leaning. Then he stood there, quiet, still. He hadn't even said hello. I smiled and walked toward him. It was a little matter of a few steps and we were standing together, face to face—or as near to that as we could get. He was 6 inches taller than I, but I was at least two feet wider. The bulk of my belly stood between us, the last gulf of distance to be crossed. His eyes were still wide and I knew he was thinking, "she is the biggest thing I have ever seen." His eyes met mine and I smiled. He grinned like he'd been caught red-handed and, finally, said, "Hello." I took another step closer.

We both stood for a second, smiling at each other, our hands in our respective pockets—to the average passer-by, we must have looked pensive and tense. Without taking my hands from my pockets I leaned into him; instinctively he bent toward me slightly. His ear was cold against my lips, but I didn't flinch. The fullest part of my cheek grazed his bony, slightly scruffy cheek.

"Hello, Andrew." I whispered into his ear. A pause while I slid my hands from my pockets and around his waist to the small of his back.

He trembled. The cold? Me? It hardly mattered. I stepped even closer, the length and girth of my body pressed lightly against his. With my lips still pressed to his ear, I couldn't see the movement he made, but I could feel it. He swayed back slightly and then righted himself, reaching out instinctively and getting, for his trouble, two hands full of my corduroy jacket and decidedly more than two hands full of the fat beneath. Again his eyes widened and he said nothing, but his grip grew tighter.

"Say it," I whispered, tracing his jaw line with my lips, down and then back up to his ear, "say it."

His hands became vice like, but his body sank into mine. A sound died in his throat. His jaw moved a few times before he half whispered, half stammered, "say what?"

I took a step back so I could look directly into his eyes. "Say what you're thinking. It's written all over your face. Say it; you'll feel better."

In response, he closed his eyes and I took the opportunity to press into him again. He inhaled sharply and the heartbeat in his chest began to beat a furious tattoo against mine. His jaw moved once more. I leaned back enough to see his chapped lips part infinitesimally. A smile crossed his face, faltered, then returned splashing across his nose and cheeks a shade of red very different from that which the cold had done earlier. I gathered his cheeks, now warm and red, in my hands and kissed his lips. It wasn't until the fullest part of the kiss that his lips finally parted and he made his answer—not just to me, but breathily, hushedly against my lips.

"You're so beautiful, so enormous."

He pulled me tighter and I could feel relief and a shot of unrestrained desire rush through him. His voice had broken, but the world had not. I smiled against his kiss, took his hand, and led him home.

Part 2:

My thoughts flowed like the steam from the nearby street grate: steady and hazy. "What am I doing here? It's freezing and I don't even know where I am." Every bone in my body said, "Leave; she won't show up anyway. And what will you do if she does? Leave!" The running list of doubts shuddered through me like a scream and the only response I could make was to slump against the street sign behind me. I felt so stupid and exposed—not the least because I'd forgotten to even bring a hat. I'd rushed out the door with directions in my hand and getting here the only thing on my mind.

And, so, here I was, alone on a street corner, chilled to the bone with more than just the frigid temperatures and unsure which would be more dangerous: staying to find out what would come next or running straight into traffic. My latency and some perverse level of curiosity and anticipation got the best of me and I decided to stay.

I don't know how long she'd been there when I finally turned to see her. I'm not even sure why I turned at that point, so maybe my attention was attracted by the mere fact of her arrival. The only thing I know is that there she was in all of her corporeal glory and she was immense. Somehow numbers and even photographs never conveyed the true nature of her size. Everything about her, from her chubby cheeks to her plump ankles, spoke of excess and hedonism and sucking at the marrow of life.

In an instant, I knew I was lost to everything that had come before this moment. I still wanted to run, but only in the direction of her wide welcoming face, her coy grin, and the warmth of her vast, burgeoning body. The impulse was nearly greater than my control. I made a single step toward her but had to stop. It was the only way I could keep myself from embracing her, from holding on with all of my strength before I'd even managed to say a single word. I think maybe she could read my mind, because she closed the distance between us quickly.

In the moment it took for me to take a shivered breath, she was standing before me. Her skin was pale and slightly pink: whether from the cold or the sudden intensity of this first meeting, I didn't know. Her eyes were a deep green and conveyed just as much joy and impish pleasure as her grin. They sparkled. They were inviting. Everything about her said "come closer, take hold." I wanted to accept the invitation; I wanted to step forward, sink into her softness, and never leave, but my muscles tightened, holding me in place making a liar of my desire.

Stunned into stillness, I tried to take everything in, but there was entirely too much of her to absorb with one look. My eyes traveled from her face to her neck to the monumental seat of her girth, her belly, and then down her well fleshed legs. My hands itched to touch her, to squeeze handfuls of her soft flesh. My cheeks burned instantly with a fiery blush. I looked up suddenly and could see she knew what I was thinking, could feel my intentions even through the cold and all of our bundled clothing. I grinned sheepishly and finally managed a weak but well-meant "Hello."

The smile she flashed at this point was electric and jolted me almost as much as her next move. Though we were already only inches apart, she stepped closer. There was no air—neither in my lungs nor in the lack of space suddenly between us. This was the moment, the first touch. The heat surging through me made my layers of clothing feel redundant, burdensome. I didn't move. I couldn't even if I'd wanted to. We stood like this for several long moments, touching but not moving, not saying a word, but just letting the current of eons of natural instinct surge between us.

Then the Earth moved or she did and I was lost. She leaned toward me, against me, her pudgy cheek brushing the peak of my bony one. Her belly was pressed against me, slightly on me, both heavier than I expected and lighter than I'd imagined. For just an instant, I lost my balance. My hands flew up to grab hold of something, anything, and found her: mounds and mounds of her. My fingers sank into the fleshy folds just above her hips. And then she was there whispering right in my ear. My mind was an absolute blank that was part disorientation and part delight. She was asking me something but I couldn't process it. There was nothing in the world to me that was real except her softness in my hands and the slight bit of her extra weight on my hips.

She wanted me to say something. I shook my head like some ridiculous confused puppy. "I'm sorry, Angela. Say what?"

Then she laid me bare. There was no doubt that she'd read every one of my looks, from innocent coups d'oeil to decidedly lascivious glances. She knew what I'd been thinking and probably had a good idea of what I'd been imagining and she was asking me, literally pushing me, to make it all known. Words and all other sound died in my chest before ever being given the chance to find life. Instead, silence hung in the air. More moments passed, ticked off by my pounding heart, still no words would come. It was as simple as she said, I only needed to say it. I only needed to open my mouth and claim it for my own. It was all, quite indisputably, within my grasp.

Finally, she took pity on me. She moved forward into my arms, pressing more of her weight on me, holding my face in her pudgy hands, and kissing, kissing, kissing me. My breath shuddered and finally my mind knew what my body had been screaming since before I could remember. She was so fat and I wanted her, wanted to be lost in every one of her rolls, lost for days in an ocean of softness. Her kiss deepened and desire burned in me, carried on my blood from my heart and surging to all parts of my body at once. Before I could stop it, as if I wanted to at this point, my thoughts were pouring out of me, little more than breath and right against her kissing lips.

"You're so beautiful, so enormous."

In that instant, all the tension rushed out of me and I sank into her, the most natural place to be in all the world. We stood tucked in that embrace for almost long enough for my heart to stop racing, then she took my hand and led me to...I didn't know and didn't much care where. Anywhere with her, was fine.