Jeremy's Belly Fun

Stranger in My Bed

Jeremy huffs and puffs as he lowers his butt onto the mattress, waiting for you to help him get undressed. Watching him struggle from the other side of the doorway, you can't help but to laugh at him. His excessive, labored breathing. The dramatic sinking of the cloth and memory foam beneath his heavy behind. The regretful expression on his face. The way that his clothes cling desperately to his swollen figure, stretched to their limits. It's pretty comical, in its own sick way.

  "Don't laugh at me." He groans, looking up at you like a miserable little puppy. "It's not funny! It... it hurts." Regret smeared across his face, he reclines atop the bedsheets, propping himself up on his elbows. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I should've quit while I was ahead."

   Looking at Jeremy, you hardly recognize the man that he's become. How did you take a man like him — a shy, skinny, straitlaced mama's boy — and turn him into such a slob? The poor guy was barely 150lbs when you first met him... but, under your influence, he's become such a pig! He's nothing like the boring, scrawny kid that you first met, anymore. You've ruined him, in the best way possible... and now, he's as disgusting as you are. It's beautiful!

"Well... you talked a big game, Jer. Bit off way more than you could chew. Literally." Stifling a swell of insensitive laughter, you cross the threshold and enter the room, sealing your lips shut with a slight grin. "But, now... I'm gonna make it all better. It's about time I give you what we've both been waiting for."

   You waste no time getting to him, crossing the carpeted floor with the urgency of a first-responder.

"You were a good sport, you know. You really pushed yourself tonight... even though you're still a loser." Every inch of your body burns with a fiery desire as you kneel down before him, engulfing yourself in that pungent cloud between his thighs again. You simply can't contain your passion any longer. "I'm so proud of you... really. But, I guess I'm just a poor sucker, huh?"

You untie his sneakers and toss them across the room, careless with your aim... then, you yank his socks off, uncovering his swollen feet and wonky little toes. They feel so hot... like they've been cooking in his shoes. Little sausages.

"That's so much better." Jeremy sighs, wiggling his sweaty digits with relief. "My feet have been killing me all night."

   You've always had a thing for his feet... this nagging urge to get your hands on them, and do some exploring. There's just something about them that sends a tingle down your spine — the way they look, the way they feel, the way they smell. Everything about them turns you on. He hardly ever lets you have your way with them... always says that it's "weird"... but now, in his current state, he's so weak, and desperate for pleasure, that he'll let you do whatever you want — an opportunity that you'll happily exploit.

   "Well, you had them planted pretty hard when you were taking your last few swings, earlier tonight. It's no wonder." A slight grin rising at the corner of your mouth, you begin to kiss the bottoms of his soggy toes, breathing in their pungent odor as though it's the last bit of oxygen left in the atmosphere. Corn chips... onions... cheese... and a little something extra. The stink is enticing — an odor that enthralls you, almost as much as the lingering stench of his farts does.

   Jeremy throws his head back and curls his big toe against your top lip, savoring the sensation of your sloppy kisses. "Mmm..." he moans, pressing his sole firmly against your chin, "That feels so good. You don't even know."

   "Tastes good, too. This, right here, is the flavor of a hardworking... loser." As much as you love talking trash, it's hard to come up with a good burn while his clammy sole is pressed to your face. Silence creeps in where your smug laughter should've been... and your tongue finds its way into that gap between his first and second toes.

"Fuck!" His right hand creeps around the bottom of his belly as the sudden wave of ecstasy washes over him — pushing up his shirt to expose his supple skin. "I love it!" Eyes fixed to the ceiling above, and breath slipping away, he mindlessly rubs his palm along the curvature of his bloat, soothing himself. The swirling motion is almost hypnotic... circling around the mass of his gut. Just like a whirlpool, it sucks you in.

   Entranced, you let go of his foot and grab onto the ends of his pants-legs, yanking his bottoms all the way down to his ankles, and exposing his soggy lower body. The mixed stench of his sweat and dairy-farts intensifies, radiating from his swampy crotch, and engulfing the entire room as you grab onto his knees and hoist yourself up.