Adoring a Heavy Guy

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Bob was about 45 years old when Irma had left him. Now 55, Bob felt he had been a good husband: He had no secret life, and never cheated on Irma with another woman. Nevertheless, Bob had made the supreme mistake of sharing the truth of his secret desires with Irma: He told her how he was aroused by her body, but yes, also by men’s bodies as well. Bob told her how he had felt that arousal as long as he could remember. Upon hearing Bob’s revelation, Irma was at first complacent, thinking it was only a phase Bob was experiencing (a “midlife crisis” she called it). But she filed it away in her mind, and eventually, Bob’s soulful admission (tough for a guy born in the early 1950s) became one more item in a litany of Irma’s complaints about what was wrong with him, with men, and with the world. She blamed herself as well, saying that Bob’s curiosity was due to her failure as a wife, and as a woman. Bob tried to explain to Irma that his “interests” were sexual curiosity, and had nothing to do with love, or his love for her. He repeated that his interest in men’s bodies was no passing fancy; it was lifelong, existing way many years before he met Irma. However, what had been his simple curiosity soon got complicated when it was mixed in with Irma’s dissatisfactions. Yes, he understood that Irma wanted more attention from him, who at the time was caught up in getting ahead in his career at the bank. She, too, had been busy, managing the many tasks in her life, including her career, keeping a nice home for them, and taking most of the responsibility for their children.

The 1990s had begun a time in America when the quality of one’s work was judged, in large part, by quantity: How much time you spent at work, with a sixty-hour workweek a standard at Bob’s bank (except for the top executives, and the temps who were paid by the hour). Thus, the other employees like Bob were terrified by the prospect that they might have to take a sick day, or worse, time off for a vacation, fearing that it would not only look bad, but also that another employee who filled in for you would thereby get a leg up on you, and make you expendable. (Nobody Bob knew used all ten vacation days of their annual two-week vacation.)

Irma faced similar issues at work, so she and Bob, like other married adults, gave much time to the demands of employment. Couples barely had time to share a morning coffee. So when Bob confided in Irma, he hastened to add–and remind her–that he was still very attracted to her, and enjoyed being romantic and having sex with her. He never thought of himself as being a gay man. Yes, he knew that sometimes when he and Irma were having sex, Bob would fantasize about a nameless, faceless but masculine man joining them in a threesome, which helped him come more strongly. But he shared none of this fantasy with Irma, because the truth of Bob’s “interests” was already out, and Bob didn’t want to make things worse. Nonetheless, Irma connected her unhappiness with Bob’s revelation. What made Bob feel a little cheated was the reality of his being a caring husband and a good friend to Irma did not seem to count for very much after all.

When Bob began to gain weight, he also lost his job: The bank let go over one hundred middle managers in a cost-saving action. To get by, Bob took a temporary job in the mall doing peoples’ income taxes, but the loss of his regular bahis firmaları paycheck was a great blow to Irma, who asked Bob to move out. Irma then filed for divorce. (Bob would not find out for years that, prior to the divorce, Irma had already been enjoying the affection of a tall, thin, and married-but-gainfully-employed computer technician–ten years younger than Irma–who was not shy about letting her know how much he adored her, and sympathized with the rough breaks life had so far dealt them both. After all, he told Irma, his wife had also gained weight over the years, and was probably herself a closet lesbian as well.

Over the 10 years since Irma divorced him, Bob had gotten even heavier–living alone, he had a bad diet, which took its toll along with his getting older, and his getting less and less exercise. Now, at age 55, Bob was now a little over 300 pounds, which at a height of 5’11” made him look very fat in the middle. A handsome man, Bob now also had a salt and pepper beard, a broad chest, and legs that were like piles that supported piers in the harbor.

Bob and I met through the Internet, where we exchanged emails–I as a married man who was “curious,” and he as a “lonely fat guy,” as he called himself. We met for coffee at a diner, hit it off immediately, and then he invited me to his apartment. We sat in his kitchen, across from each other at his kitchen table. Bob was a charming guy, had a wonderful smile, and made good conversation. I was honest with Bob: I was not in the market for a relationship, only a good friendship. Bob understood, and agreed, saying he too was not looking for a relationship, but if one came along, he would accept it, and enjoy it. For me, this would be my first real experience with a guy since my teenage years, forty years ago.

Perhaps Bob’s best asset was his sense of humor, which was excellent. As Bob laughed, his belly went up and down, in the manner of a Santa Claus. Yes, I noticed the golden brown hairs at the top of his chest, showing above his shirt’s top button. Nice brown hair! He said he liked the suggestion I made in one of my emails that I would like to massage him, so I got up and stood behind his chair. I put my arms around him, and nuzzled his neck, smelling his nice masculine aroma. I rubbed his arms through his shirt, and put my arms down on his chest, rubbing it lightly through his shirt. I moved my hands down to his huge belly, which felt large and firm. Leaning forward, placing my head ear-to-ear with him, I stroked the tops of his thighs, and then–ever so gently–I touched the front of his pants, feeling for what was underneath. Under his huge belly, by lifting it slightly, I could feel his penis, which felt soft Yet as I stroked him, it began to harden beneath my fingertips. Bob said “ahhh” as I lightly rubbed his jewels. (I smelled the smoke on his breath!) I kissed his neck as I rubbed them. I rubbed the insides of his thighs (which are supposed to be the most sensitive-to-arousal parts of the human body), and let my forearms brush his swelling penis.

Bob was enjoying my massaging him. So I came around to the front, and opened his shirt. His hairy chest looked inviting, as did his dark hard nipples. I knelt between his legs, and stroked his hairy chest, then his belly. I opened his pants, too, and undid the belt. I left his pants opened as my hands returned to kaçak iddaa his chest

After rubbing his hairy chest, I kissed each nipple, and placed one in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. I got a whiff of his armpit, and it smelled sweaty but nice and masculine, reminding of my father’s armpit smell many years ago. I kept licking Bob’s nipples. The big guy began to moan, saying “Oh, that’s nice!” I then did the same to his belly, licking it and tonguing his belly button. With my hands I softly rubbed his cock through his sweatpants as I licked his belly.

“Why don’t we go into the bedroom?” he asked. We went, and Bob laid down on his bed, which was small for such a huge guy. First, I undressed him…his shirt, then I took off his socks, his sweatpants, and finally, his boxers. His cock was beautiful, surprisingly large and thick for such a heavy guy. He was uncircumcised, and his prick stood up a little, rising above his larger-than-average balls. He unzipped my pants as I stood, and took out my cock. It dripped with precum, which he tasted with his finger, smiling at me. “Yum. Delicious!” he said. (As I saw his penis, I remembered that my own father’s penis was uncut, too, and I was secretly very fascinated by it. I think I resented that they had me cut at birth, making me look different from my dad.)

I stroked Bob’s huge thighs and tickled them with my tongue as I kneeled on the floor between his legs, which were slightly spread apart. His feet looked and smelled so clean, and fragrant, that I kissed them, and he giggled a ticklish giggle. Next I stroked his ankles, and the calves of each leg, working my way up. I fixed some pillows behind his back, so he could recline a bit and watch as I took care of him. He knew that I wanted to pay attention now to his cock and balls. I smelled between his legs, his balls and crotch, even smelling under his balls toward his ass. Bob’s aroma there was pleasing and masculine. (I was getting very turned on by the smell of his body!)

Gently, I cupped his balls in my hand, and felt them in their huge wrinkled bag. Supporting it with my hand, I kissed his ball sack, and softly stroked it from the top down. I was eyeing his penis, which was throbbing. I kissed the very tip of his foreskin, which had a small puddle of precum that had accumulated. I put the tip of his foreskin between my lips, savoring the sweet, sticky taste of his precum. Softly, I stroked his cock with one hand, and saw that his penis was getting harder, and growing longer. Bob had a lot of foreskin, but by now, his glans was moving forward, and I could see it now showing itself within his foreskin. I licked his shaft, from down in the hair where it started, to the tip, then down to the point it met his balls, and back again. I drew back his foreskin, and saw his entire cock. It looked beautiful, shiny, moist, and clean, glowing pink, like the cock of a dog, only much thicker. There was no smegma under the rim of his glans. Bob said he had just taken a shower that morning, because smegma builds up so quickly on his cock. I stroked each thigh, the outside and then the inside of each as I watched his cock harden and start to point up at my face as if it had a life of its own.

Leaning forward, I used my lips to massage the underside of his cock, which he liked. With my hands I rubbed his nipples as I licked his cock. More precum kaçak bahis appeared and I licked it off with my tongue. Bob groaned, and said “oh, man, I need you to put me in your mouth!” I obeyed: Holding his penis in my hand, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, putting it under his now-growing-heavier organ. I held up his heavy penis with my tongue–It felt so soft yet so full. I closed my mouth around his cock, moving my tongue under it and locating the top ridge with my upper lip. Gently, I moved my mouth back and forth over Bob’s beautiful prickhead. I varied my mouth action on him, licking, kissing, then engulfing his ever-growing cockhead. In and out, his cock grew in hardness as I drew it back and forth in my mouth.

By now, Bob was moaning loudly. Taking my mouth away, I put my hand on his prick, and stroked it in my hand, spreading his precum over the his cockhead. Bob at this point was highly excited–“Put me back in your mouth,” he pleaded. With pleasure, I swallowed his prick, and continued taking care of it with my lips, throat and tongue. I knew Bob was on the edge; he was going to come very soon. Rubbing his belly with my hands, I focused my mouth on his cockhead, and then drew it in deeply. I moved my mouth all the way down, so my nose was against his public hair, his dick entering my throat. His prong filled my mouth, and I went all the way down, then all the way up, holding his glans in my mouth and swirling it around with my tongue and lips. “I’m coming,” he warned, as he shifted his huge body in his seat. He opened his legs wider as I sucked, moving my tongue underneath his cock.

I intensified my attentions, tightening my lips’ lock on his penis as I moved my head. I cupped his balls in my hand as I sucked him. “Faster,” Bob whispered, so I moved my head faster on his now-hard dick. “O-god-oooooo.” he moaned, “Ooooooo” “God, I’m come….”

Suddenly, Bob exploded in my mouth. Wave after wave of orgasm flew through his huge body. I stole a look up at his face, and saw pure pleasure there—his mouth open wide, unable to speak, his belly shaking like a huge bowl of gelatin. My mouth was also open, and quickly filling up with his ejaculate. I counted 8 blasts before he slowed. But I kept the pressure with my lips and tongue on his glans, waiting for him to be done and not quitting sooner. (I had experienced my wife quitting on my cock too soon–just as I was coming in her mouth she would stop–It annoyed me, so I was determined to not do it to Bob. It cut short the pleasure from what should be the most wonderful feeling a man can be given. Worse, her “hasty retreat” made it feel a little like she was sucking me out of obligation, or sympathy, but not for her own enjoyment.)

“Beautiful,” he murmured, as I kept his cock in my cum-filled mouth. I swallowed his cum. I would not let go of his cock until he was ready. It began to shrink inside my mouth, and Bob moved his penis out of my mouth. Wrapping his big hands around my head, Bob kissed me on the top of my head. “Thanks, man. That was beautiful!” he whispered. Taking my cock in his hand, he said “It’s time for you to come, now.” I stood between his legs as he leaned forward and engulfed my prick in his mouth. I was so excited that after not even a minute of his sucking me, I came and shot down his throat. He kept my penis in his mouth till long after my orgasm subsided. I’m looking forward to seeing my buddy Bob again. Even if he and Irma get together again, I hope to keep seeing him. Maybe I’ll even introduce him to my wife, and we can have my long-awaited threesome!

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