Paul was sitting in his usual spot at his usual McDonald's, reading the Morning News and eating his usual breakfast - a Sausage McMuffin with Egg, hash browns, two milks, and a large coffee that he would take with him to school.
Paul was thirty-nine - still ten years away from middle age, he told himself - and alone. His brief marriage, to a sweet and lovely woman who turned into a cast-iron bitch before the wedding cake was stale, was far behind him. He had had a few involvements since, but had never found what he wanted.
What Paul wanted was a friend, a lover, and - something else. Something very particular, to him very precious, though a little peculiar. And he had given up on finding it.
He had no illusions about himself as a rare catch; he knew he was short, a little pudgy, and not particularly handsome. He knew he had a nice, if infrequent, smile, and women seemed to like his eyes; but physically, there was little else about him that women found appealing.
As a lover, he knew, he was perhaps too gentle and giving. He no longer expected to find a woman who could appreciate him for what he had to offer, though, and had grown used to being alone.
But he still dreamed and hoped and speculated. And he still liked to look.
Paul opened the paper to the comics pages - his favorite part of the paper - and looked toward the front counter of the restaurant.
He wondered if she would come in today.
A young woman he had come to think of as "that pretty auburn-haired girl" came in almost every morning and ate a Big Breakfast while sitting across from him. And she always looked sad.
Paul himself was always saddened by her apparent depression. He suspected he knew the reason for it.
The woman was, to Paul, wildly attractive. She was his own height, about five-foot-six; she had wonderful dark-auburn hair which she kept very short; big, beautiful hazel eyes with long lashes; full, rosy lips and smooth, clear, pale skin as white as ivory; and a sweet, shy manner that he found charming and endearing. She was, to Paul, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
But - she was not as slender, even skinny, as current fashion dictated was necessary for a woman to be attractive. She was, in fact, rather heavy; Paul estimated her weight at around two hundred pounds.
Which was fine with him. Paul LIKED women with lots of soft, generous, feminine curves that bounced and jiggled when they moved - but so many such women seem so unhappy with themselves.
And it was clear, to Paul, that this lovely red-haired creature was one of those. She always wore loose, sacklike dresses and layers of fabric in an obvious but futile effort to hide or disguise her size, and she walked in a self-conscious and closed-in kind of way that indicated she'd rather not be noticed.
Paul found it sad. He had seen it so many times; beautiful but lushly proportioned women who dressed and carried themselves in this way, and who were so clearly ashamed and unhappy. He sometimes wanted to take them by their shoulders and shout at them, "You are BEAUTIFUL! You are DELICIOUS and DESIRABLE and HOT! Anyone in your life who tells you differently is a FOOL! And someday you'll meet a man who can see you as you ARE, and he'll PROVE it to you!"
He thought of her, sipped his milk, and wondered what her name was.
And then she came in.
Frumpy frock, purse clutched protectively to her generous bosom, beautiful eyes darting around nervously - his heart melted, as it always did.
He wondered what she would look like wearing nothing. Radiant, he thought.
As she stood in line at the counter, he caught her eye and lifted a hand in greeting; she smiled and nodded to him. Though they had never spoken, Paul's was a familiar face that she saw almost every morning, and they always acknowledged each other with a smile or a lifted hand or some other small gesture of recognition. It had become part of their morning routine over the past few months, ever since Paul had moved to north Dallas.
When she had her tray, she moved toward her usual table, across from Paul - but it was occupied. She looked around in confusion - and, it seemed, in embarrassment.
Pail saw the reason for her distress instantly. The only unoccupied tables were near the window, high tables with high stools that would be difficult and uncomfortable for her to reach.
He quickly slid out of his booth and beckoned her, gesturing with exaggerated chivalry at the seat opposite. She smiled gratefully and approached. "Please, join me," he said before she could speak. "It's crowded in here today."
"Thank you," she said quietly as she slid into the booth. "Are you sure you don't mind?" Her voice was low and melodious, sensual somehow; Paul thought of a well-played clarinet.
"Not at all," he said with a grin. "It'll be nice to have some company at breakfast." He resumed his seat and smiled at her.
She smiled back, but said nothing. After a moment, she opened her Big Breakfast and began to eat. She seemed to have a hard time meeting his eyes.
"My name is Paul," he said.
She looked up. "Mine's Elizabeth," she said shyly. "My friends call me Beth."
He smiled again. "May I call you Beth?"
She smiled back, though cautiously. "Okay."
They ate in a mildly awkward silence for a few moments. "Would you like to look at the comics?" he finally asked. He offered her that section. "Best part of the paper."
She hesitated, looking at his face. Paul had the impression he was being measured or examined, somehow. He smiled, and warmly; he just liked her. She seemed as sweet as she was pretty.
Beth finally smiled back and nodded. "Yes... Yes, I would. Thank you! I've always liked the comics." She took the paper from him and began to read the strips. He couldn't help noticing where her eyes went first, and he smiled again.
They ate in silence again for a few moments. "What's your favorite strip?" he asked.
She looked up with an embarrassed smile. "I like 'Love Is...'" she said. Her full, creamy cheeks took on a slightly rosier hue.
Paul smiled. "Kim Casali's panel," he said. "I like that one too. It's sweet."
Beth blinked, looked down at the paper, then back at Paul again. "That's right!" she said. Her eyes narrowed and she looked down at the paper again. "Okay, who does 'Pearls Before Swine'?" she asked with a quizzical smile.
Her eyebrows went up, and she consulted the paper again. "'Get Fuzzy'?"
"Okay," Beth said with a smirk. "I've got you this time. Who does 'Sally Forth'?"
He grinned. "Francesco Marciuliano and Craig MacIntosh."
She goggled at him, her shyness forgotten. "That's amazing!" she exclaimed. "How come you know so much about the comics?"
Paul shrugged. "I've loved cartoons since I was a kid," he said. "Other kids read about sports stars; I read about cartoonists. I even cartoon a little myself."
He flipped the paper to an advertising page that was mostly white space, took a pen from his shirt pocket, and quickly drew a comical head of a bald, mustached man in a coat and tie who was frowning. It took no more than ten seconds.
Beth looked at it and laughed. "That's amazing!" she said again. "And you did it so fast!"
Paul grinned and followed it up with quick cartoons of a dachshund, a wide-eyed cat, a puzzled-looking horse, and a giraffe. Beth laughed at each one and looked at him in admiration, her big hazel eyes sparkling. Her self-consciousness seemed to have evaporated.
"Those are really good! Is that what you do for a living?"
"No," Paul said with a smile. "I'm a fourth-grade teacher. It comes in handy, though. Saves me a fortune in reward stickers."
"You're a teacher?" She looked down at her forgotten breakfast and took a bite.
"Mmm-hmm," said Paul, taking a bite of his own. He swallowed and asked, "What do you do, Beth?"
She shrugged. "I'm a nanny. I take care of a single mom's two children. She's a teacher, too."
"So we're basically in the same line of work."
She smiled ruefully. "Except you have a degree and I don't."
He made a dismissive sound. "Pfft! The longer you go to school, the dumber you get."
She looked at him wryly. "You don't really believe that."
"In some ways, it's true. Like Paul Simon said - "When I look back at all the crap I learned in high school - "
"It's a wonder I can think at all," they finished together, and laughed. "He's my favorite songwriter," said Beth.
"Really? Mine too. I don't think he's ever cut a single track I didn't like."
They looked at each other for a moment, smiling, friends. Then Beth looked at her watch. "Oh, sh- uh, fooey. I'm gonna be late!"
Paul looked at his too. "Whoops! I'd better go, too. It won't do for teacher to be tardy."
They gathered their trash and stood. "Thanks, Paul," Beth said, shy again. "This was fun."
"It was, wasn't it? Meet you for breakfast tomorrow?"
She looked at him, and Paul once again felt he was being measured. Then she smiled.
"Sure. Why not? See you tomorrow."
Paul smiled back, then said, "Here, I'll take that," indicating her tray. "You go ahead. My school's just a few blocks away."
"Thanks," she said again, and hurried out.
He dumped the two trays in the trash receptacle, then watched as she walked across the parking lot. ThIs is important, he thought. Will she look back?
She did. He waved, and she waved back with a smile - a smile that held no hint of self-consciousness.
Beth, he thought as he started his car. Her name is Beth.
The next morning, Paul was waiting at his usual table - with two trays. When Beth entered, he beckoned her over; she pointed at the counter with a questioning look, and he grinned and shook his head, pointing at the table.
She approached, laughing to see that he had already ordered her breakfast. "Here, let me pay you for that," she said as she sat down.
"Don't be silly. I just thought I'd save us some time. Small price to pay for good company."
"Well, thank you," she said uncertainly. They opened their breakfasts and began to eat. He handed her the paper, already open to the comics pages. "Oo, thanks!" she said.
"Check out 'Pickles" today," he said. "It's really cute." She did, and laughed.
Then, laughing around a mouthful of biscuit, she asked, "Did you see 'Rose is Rose'?"
He nodded. "One of my favorites," he said. "A happy family. I like that."
"Me, too." she hesitated, then added, "It's nice to see two people in love like that. Even if it's just in a comic strip." She looked at him, then reddened a little.
The moment could have been awkward, but Paul grinned. "I've got high hopes for Luann's brother Brad, too. His romance with Toni seems to be going well."
She laughed. "If TJ doesn't screw it up," she said. Then she looked at him. "Isn't it funny how you get to care about the people in the comics?"
"The good strips do that," he said. "They become kind of real. It's like a good book or movie. You can tell when the writer likes his characters." He smiled. "I can see you're a big fan, too."
She smiled back and nodded, then looked at him curiously. "What do you think is the greatest comic strip ever?" she asked.
He thought. "That's hard," he admitted. "'Peanuts' is kind of the standard, but artistically it never impressed me much."
"Mmm," she said, nodding, her mouth full of eggs.
"I liked 'Calvin and Hobbes,'" he said, and Beth flapped her hands excitedly.
When she swallowed, she said, "Oh, me too! That strip was such fun! I have a lot of the books!"
"I have the big collection," Paul admitted, blushing a little himself. "All of them."
....They were almost late again.
The next day, they talked about music, and discovered that their tastes matched there, too; the next day, it was movies. The next, books; and then TV shows. They both confessed to being Star Trek freaks.
That was a Friday, and they had had breakfast together every day for a week. "Have you seen the new Star Trek movie?" he asked as they finished their Egg McMuffins.
Beth shook her head. "No," she said, "But I've heard it's really good."
"Would you like to go?"
She blinked and looked at him. "You mean, like - like on a - "
"A date. Yeah," he said. "And have dinner too." He smiled. "How about it? I really want to see it, and I'd hate to go alone."
She looked at him, nonplussed. "Tonight?"
"Why not? It's Friday."
"O-okay," she said. "Okay. Sure. Uh, what time?"
"Well, let's look." The movie listings were in the same section as the comics, and they bent over the page together. "Ever been to the Studio Movie Grill?" he asked. "We can have dinner while we watch the movie."
"That sounds fun!" she said, and he was pleased to see a hint of sparkle in her eyes. "Do you want me to meet you?"
"Okay," he said. Best not to push it, he thought.
"Where is it?"
He smiled and pointed. "Right over there," he said.
The theater was in the same shopping center as the McDonald's. She blinked, surprised, then giggled. "Well, I think I can find that," she laughed.
The movie started at both seven and eight o'clock. They chose the later movie - each knowing that they wanted a bit of time to get ready, though not speaking of it - and agreed to meet at 7:45. Then they finished breakfast and went to their cars.
She looked back at him twice this time, and he noticed a small spring in her step.
He smiled and thought, move over, Brad. This romance looks promising, too.
Paul found himself shaving with extra care, choosing a soft, cuddly turtleneck and a casual sport coat, and slapping on a little extra Old Spice.
Then he brushed his teeth again. You never know...
He was early, and stood outside the theater for twenty minutes or so before Beth arrived. She was wearing a long dress, loose and flowing, of a flattering forest green. He noticed she had taken a bit of care with her makeup, which she normally didn't wear; her big eyes looked even bigger, and her full, lovely lips were tinted a slightly darker pink. She wore dangling gold earrings, a matching pendant, and pretty gold-colored sandals.
Even her feet are beautiful, he thought. "You look delicious, Beth," he said with open admiration.
He couldn't tell if she was wearing blusher, but her cheeks grew a bit pinker at that. "Thank you," she said quietly. Her shy smile was endearing. Then she added, "I don't think anyone's ever called me 'delicious' before."
He grinned. "You're beautiful," he said with unaffected admiration.
She stopped and looked at him. Her face was oddly blank.
"I mean it," Paul said softly. "You are." Then, before she could react further, he said, "Come on. We don't want to order after the movie starts."
They took their seats, in big office-style chairs sharing a small table in front of them, and looked at the menu. "I hear the pizza is good," he murmured in her ear. "The burgers, too."
They settled on burgers, and as they sat back to watch the previews, he took her hand. She let him.
He squeezed - and she squeezed back.
The fries were excellent, the burgers better, and the movie was best of all. As they left, they talked about it excitedly.
"That was amazing!" said Beth. "I heard it was good, but - "
"Stunning," Paul agreed. "Roddenberry would have been proud."
Beth stopped in her tracks in the parking lot. "Oh, my God!" she said, her face alight.
"I just realized - they really started it over, didn't they?"
"What do you mean?"
"It started a different timeline! They aren't tied to anything that happened in the series any more!"
He blinked. "You're right!" he said. "All bets are off. A real reboot." he shook his head. "Brilliant," he said.
"I can't wait till the next one!" Then she looked at Paul. "I don't want to go home. I want to talk about the movie some more."
"How about Starbucks? There's one on Forest."
"Let's go in my car," said Paul. "Silly to take two. I'll bring you back here later."
"Okay," she said again. "The guy who played Spock was perfect!" she bubbled as they walked to his car - and this time, she took his hand.
They closed the place down, drinking decaf lattes and talking - at first animatedly, then more and more quietly.
As they drove back, she was oddly quiet. Then, just as they turned into the parking lot where she had left her car, she spoke softly: "Paul?"
"Do you really think I'm pretty?"
He glanced at her as he pulled his car in beside hers. She was looking at him starkly, her lovely, round face open, vulnerable, and a bit fearful- but her eyes were hooded and dark.
He smiled. "I didn't say 'pretty,' Beth." He set the parking brake and took her hand yet again; they had held hands for most of the evening, even at Starbucks. "I said 'beautiful.' And I meant it." On impulse, he lifted her small, plump hand to his mouth and kissed it.
"But I'm so f-"
He touched her mouth with his fingertips. "Don't say it," he said.
"Beth." He looked at her, his eyes soft and serious. "You. Are. Beautiful." He smiled at her childlike, puzzled look.
He touched her face again, brushing her soft cheek with his fingertips. "Beth, listen to me." His voice was low, but clear. "I love the way you look. There is not a single thing about you that I'd change. Nothing. Do you understand me?"
"I love your butt," he said, then grinned.
She blinked, then laughed. "Really?" she said. He could see the light in her eyes coming back.
"Real women have curves, Beth," he whispered. "I like real women. You turn me on. Okay?"
She nodded, and he saw her small smile. "Okay," she said softly.
"C'mere," he said, and pulled gently at her hand. She slid closer, and he put his arms around her, also gently.
He held her, and he felt her humming tension, her uncertainty. He stroked her back and cuddled her a bit. "It's all right, Beth," he whispered, his mouth an inch from her small, pink ear. "Really, it's all right. I mean every word. It's all right."
"I think it is," she whispered back. "Yes..." And he felt her relax against him.
He kissed her - gently, again - and her mouth was as soft and sweet as he had thought it would be.
She kissed him back, and then they just held each other for a while without speaking.
"Thank you, Paul," she finally breathed.
He chose to take it another way. He leaned back and looked at her, smiling. "No, thank you," he said. "The movie was great, wasn't it? Did you have a good time?"
She smiled back at him, her big eyes bright. "The best," she said.
"Can I call you tomorrow?"
She grinned at him, at ease now. "You better," she said with a lilt in her voice. They laughed, and he escorted her to her car.
Before she got in, she turned toward him, and he took her in his arms again and held her close. Her arms went around his back too, and they kissed again, warmly.
Not intimately, yet; too soon. But he knew - and knew that she knew - that that would come soon.
Another quick, small kiss, and she slid into her car and was gone, but with a wave.
Paul drove home, dreaming of her lips and of the full, soft breasts she had pressed against his body, and of the warmth of her in his arms.
For her part, Beth drove home in a bit of a daze. She, too, had given up on love.
Was this really happening?
The next day - Paul called, all right. He called at eight o'clock in the morning.
Beth answered blearily, her voice thick with sleep: "H'lo?"
"Good morning! I'm sorry I woke you. I just couldn't wait."
She smiled sleepily, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "That's OK, Paul. Good morning."
"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?"
"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?
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.
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."
"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?"
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:
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 from 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.
Their eyes met for a moment, and then she pulled them down.
Beth gasped. He was big, bigger than she had expected. And he was vibrating-hard, the broad, animal head of his big dick gleaming-wet with his need for her.
She looked up at him, and reverently took it gently in her soft hand - and she closed her eyes and nuzzled it with her smooth, soft, plump cheek. "So big," she breathed. "So hot..."
She kissed the tip, and a thin, gleaming skein of fluid stretched from her lips to his dickhead for an instant, then broke. "May I suck it?" she asked. "I want to suck on it..."
Paul could only nod, again, and watch, amazed, as she parted her beautiful lips and licked at his cock lovingly - and gasp as she looked up at him with a teasing smile as she did. Then she took his dickhead into her sweet mouth and sucked, gently, moving her wet tongue and cheeks against his quivering knob intimately.
She looked up at him again. He shivered, leaned down, and lifted her by her shoulders as she reluctantly let his humming cock slip from her mouth. He kissed her, tasting himself in her mouth.
"My turn," he said after their lips finally parted. "But I want to kiss the rest of you first."
They lay down together on the silk comforter and moved into each other's arms. They kissed for a long time; Paul knew what she wanted, and he wanted that too. He caressed and felt her all over, stroking every inch of her plump, perfect body. He tugged and twisted gently at her large, pink nipples; he kissed and sucked them too, at first tenderly, then harder as she responded with gasps and subtle movements of her generous hips. He stroked and caressed her smooth, bare pussy, teasing her inner wetness with just a fingertip, a quick brush of her liquid lips and her hot, hard, swollen clit.
He took his time as she writhed beside him. He traced her sides with his lips, nuzzling the weight of her breasts with his cheeks; he tickled her soft, white belly with his tongue, even probing her navel for a surprisingly electrifying instant. He kissed her soft, heavy thighs, her legs, and even kissed the soles of her lovely feet. She did not giggle this time.
He even kissed her arms and hands, from shoulder to fingertips, and insisted that she turn over so he could kiss and tongue and stroke her back and her big, pale bottom, the backs of her thighs, the back of her neck.
She did not need to hear him say he thought her beautiful. She felt it with every touch of his hands and lips.
Finally, Beth lay on her back, her thighs wide, as wide as she could open them, pulling her chubby knees back with her chubby hands, her pussy cocked lewdly upward. She was breathing raggedly, her face and pussy flushed and hot and red, her nipples hard, her breasts rolling and rippling as she shivered.
Ever so gently, Paul parted her hairless lips with his thumbs and opened her most intimate secrets - and then paused to stare at her, so pink and red and wet and bare. She opened her eyes and looked at him - then blushed and moved her small white hands to his, and stretched her pussy open even wider with trembling fingers.
"Look at me, Paul," she breathed. "Look at my pussy - stare at me..."
He did - and then he licked her, one long stroke up her center, and she squealed and shuddered in ecstasy.
"Oh, Paul -"
He licked and kissed and sucked at her tender lips, dug deep in her grasping hole with his tongue, and lovingly slid his tongue around and around her exposed clit. She struggled to hold herself open wider and stick it out farther, peeling her wet lips back and pressing down on either side of it to make it protrude for his mouth.
And then he sucked it.
The naked, curvy beauty gritted her teeth and fought to keep from cumming as he sucked and tonguewhipped and massaged her bare, hot nubbin with his busy mouth - but he showed her no mercy, and held her big ass in his hands as he worked on her with all the skill and love he had.
He made her keep holding herself open and sticking out her cum-trigger as he tormented her, till she jerked and shuddered and cried out, on the edge of a shattering, endless orgasm - and then he quickly slid himself upward and whispered, "Look at me."
As their eyes met, he slid his cock inside her clenching pussy, all the way in, till she felt his bristles against her shaved pussy and his dickhead nudging her cervix.
Bath came all over his big cock, shuddering under him as he began to slide it in and out. He fell against her and crushed her cushiony breasts with his weight, and she clung to him and pumped her pussy up at him hungrily as she came, again and again. In and out, in and out - "Oh, fuck me, Paul, fuck me, fuck me with your big, delicious dick - "
He had her stand beside the bed and bend over, so he could pound his cock into her from behind and watch her hanging breasts swing and bounce and dangle outrageously - and he found she loved that, too. "Oh, make 'em swing, Paul, make my tits flop - they're so big and fat and floppy, just for you, oh, watch 'em jiggle - "
She straddled him and swung and shook them in his face; she took him on her knees, and on her back, and squatting on him on the floor and bouncing on his cock. And still he didn't cum.
They finally stopped, after Beth had all but fainted at her most intense orgasm yet - lying on her back again, as he pumped his dick in her and sucked her nipples and rubbed beneath her clit with his thumb.
They lay together, gasping. She looked at him, her face pink and moist with exertion; her auburn hair clung to her forehead, wet with sweat.
"Paul - what - "
"It's hard for me to cum, sweetheart," he murmured. "I'm sorry."
She rose on one elbow and looked down at him wryly. "Sorry?" she said. She looked at the clock. "Paul, you've been fucking me for almost an hour. Don't be sorry..."
Then she saw the look in his eyes. "Paul, what is it?" He shook his head and looked away.
"What is it, Paul?" she asked again. "What can I do to help you?"
He wouldn't meet her eyes. "I can't tell you, baby," he said. "You'll think it's stupid. And childish."
Beth blinked. After a moment, she said, "Paul, look at me."
He slowly did. "Paul, I will do anything," she whispered. "Anything, Paul. Do you understand me?" Her big eyes bored into his. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"Anything," she said again. "And if it makes you happy, I'll love doing it. No matter what it is." Then she said, without quite knowing why: "I think I'll love it a lot."
He looked up at her beautiful face and felt a tiny spark of hope. "I've asked other women... Some of them laughed at me. Some were just disgusted." He hesitated. "I'm afraid to tell you."
She held him close, pressing her big breasts against him. "Paul - I trusted you, without even knowing it," she whispered. She moved her plump leg against his, stroking him with her thigh. "Please trust me."
"All right," he said. "But I don't want to lose you. You don't have to do it, Beth. I swear. Just promise me I won't lose you - and that you won't laugh."
"I won't. Promise." She waited.
He sat up, and she moved away to give him room, watching his face. It was sad, and still.
After a moment, he swallowed, and said in a choked rush, "I want to watch you dance and wiggle and show off for me, naked, and I want to play with myself while you do it." She watched a tear run down his cheek. He looked at her, despairing. "That's sweeter to me, and more intimate, and more precious, than sex. I want to jack off to you, Beth. But it's no good if you're just doing it to - what?"
Beth was sitting there with her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide. The expression on her face was - what? Shock?
"What?" he asked again, his heart sinking. "You think it's stupid, don't you?"
She took her hands away, and she was smiling - a bigger and wider smile than he had ever seen on her face. "You're going to laugh at me, aren't you? You promised - "
"No, no!" she said excitedly. "Just a minute! Just wait here a minute!" She jumped from the bed, still naked, and ran from the room, pale and jiggling.
Paul waited, his mind in neutral, blank. He couldn't imagine what he was waiting for.
No more than ten seconds later, Beth ran back to him, breasts bouncing wildly. "Read this," she said excitedly. She held out a hardbound book. Flapping it up and down urgently. "Read it! It's marked."
"What is it?"
A book? He thought. What would a book do?
"Just read it!"
He opened the book, and realized it wasn't a printed book; it was a journal. Beth's journal.
"No one on Earth has ever seen that, Paul," she said. He looked up. Her eyes were bright.
He turned to the bookmark and began to read:
"I know this will never happen," she had written in a round, childlike hand. "But I want it so much. I want it so much, I cry sometimes, but I know no man will ever think I'm pretty enough or anywhere near sexy enough. I'm just too fat and too ugly. But I dream about it every day.
"I want to have a man think I'm so hot and sexy and beautiful, he wants to just look at me and masturbate. I want a man to stare at me and pull on his dick till he shoots his sperm, just from watching me pose and belly dance naked and shake my bare tits and wiggle my ass in front of him and show off my bare pussy. I want to tease him naked while he stares and sweats and jacks off till he squirts to me. I want that more than I want to be fucked. I want that so much.
"And I'm crying again because I know it'll never happen. I'll just have to keep on doing it by myself and pretending..."
Paul looked up to see Beth looking at him - and she was laughing. And it didn't hurt.
She was laughing, with tears running down her cheeks. "Can we do it now, Paul? I've been practicing for years...."
He didn't have to answer. His cock was at full hardness again, and he looked at her with such joy, such warmth, that she felt near orgasm again with anticipation. He wants it, she thought. He really wants it!
Paul's mind reeled. He felt drunk, and the room seemed to be revolving. "I can't believe it," he breathed.
Beth giggled and lifted her arms, put her hands behind her head, and crouched - and as he watched in amazement, she began to bump and wriggle and writhe, still naked, tossing her heavy tits and hunching her bare, slick pussy at him sensuously. She licked her lips and trilled, in her low, melodious voice, "Do you believe it now?"
He stared as if his eyes would pop, and began to grin. He reached for his swollen cock -
She stopped. "No, not here," she said suddenly, and took his hand. "Come on. In the living room."
She led him back there, both of them naked, his cock standing out like a flagpole.
She pointed wordlessly to the sofa, where he sat in a daze as she turned to the CD player and pushed a button. A thrumming, syncopated Middle Eastern beat filled the room. Beth faced him, pale and plump and oh, so bare, and began to dance naked before him.
"Now," she whispered, and he took his aching cock in his hand and began to stroke it.
She crouched low, her bare, lovely feet wide apart on the carpet, and humped her broad, curvy hips at him in a sensual rhythm that was at once graceful and lewd. Her big breasts swung and wobbled, bare to her wide pink nipples.
Paul moaned and pumped faster. "I did this last night and pretended you were here," she said softly. "I've done this every night for years... It's how I get off." She squatted and held her gleaming-wet hole wide open, teasing her erect clit with one white finger and shivering. "I can't believe you like it..."
"I love it," he gasped, "and I love you." He was jacking off in earnest now, pulling at his foreskin and popping it over the rim of his dickhead. "Oh, my baby, my Beth, you're all my dreams come true..."
She gasped and shuddered, all of her bare white flesh quivering deliciously. "Stare at me, Paul," she quavered, her voice thick and unsteady. "Look at me and jack off to me - I need that so - "
Beth wriggled and writhed and jiggled everything she had for him, lost in the music, in his smoking eyes and the thrill of being so bare and loved and exposed - and of being so adored and admired and lusted after. "I'm your jack-off girl, Paul," she murmured, her voice cracking with emotion. "I'm naked just for you... I'm your fat naked fucking hole..."
"Unngh," he grunted, beyond words, staring at the pale, plump beauty as she showed off for his pleasure.
Beth turned around and around, slowly, making sure he could see everything as she bounced and bumped and shook herself. "I'm so bare, Paul - I don't even have any pussy hair - "
"N-no nail polish," he gasped. "Not even that..."
She gasped and giggled and wiggled her toes delightedly. "I like to be COMPLETELY bare," she squealed. "You like that too?"
"Y-yes," he moaned.
She turned her back and squatted, and put her hands on the carpet. "Do you like this?" she asked teasingly.
The view was devastating. Her broad, white ass, split open to reveal her wet, flaring pussy and her pink asshole, huge breasts swinging and dangling almost to the floor, pale and quivering, seen from underneath.
Paul made a strangled sound and bore down, pumping his dripping dick fast and hard. And then she pulled her fat asscheeks apart and began to rhythmically squeeze her asshole for him to the music, swinging her tits in time. "I'm sorry I'm so MODEST, Paul - fat girls are supposed to be bashful, you know - "
Paul cried out and gasped, "Baby, you're gonna make me shoot - "
She flipped over and lay on her back, right in front of the sofa, inches away - and she pulled her bare feet to her face and smiled at him between them. Her bare breasts lay across her pale thighs, rippling and sloshing liquidly, an ocean of white, pink-nippled flesh, and her wet pink hole gaped at him below her bare fat belly. "Oh, Paul, I'm so modest and shy," she teased. "Don't squirt your gooey cum all over me, that would be so nasty - "
How does she know? he thought. How does she know what I need?
He grunted and gave it up, pumping hard, and his sperm ripped out of his cock and geysered over her, splattering all over her wobbling tits and her open pussy and her bare, fat legs. Spurt after spurt flew into the air, long, stringy arcs of thick white cum.
And to his astonishment and electrifying excitement, Beth orgasmed as he splashed her with his sperm - grimacing and shuddering in her naked climax, her face red and twisted with ecstasy, her bare, open hole runny with fluid, her nipples standing out like her thumbs. She mewed softly and jerked with it, gasping at every spurt and splatter that landed on her naked body.
"Oh, God, Paul, it's so good - I'm cumming - oh, shoot to me, baby, shoot all over me, spurt your sperm all over my pussy - "
He finally stopped, milking out the last few drops onto her cum-sloppy hole. "So good," he said shakily. "I wanted to make it last longer - "
She smiled up at him happily, two streaks of his cum across her pink, beautiful face. "Why?" she asked. "I'll do it for you again in an hour - covered with shiny oil..."
He helped her up and they embraced, his sperm slick and sticky between their bare bodies. "Oh, Beth - I never came so good in my life, not in my whole life - "
"Me neither," she breathed into his ear. He held her tight, and after a moment they began to cry, together, with joy, lost in their deep fulfillment. They sat on the couch and clung to each other, weeping, wordless, for long minutes.
"Marry me, Beth," he whispered. "Be my naked jack-off girl forever."
"Yes... Oh, yes... Yes, yes..."
And she did, two weeks later.
No one knew, but beneath her bridal gown she wore a tiny spangled G-string and matching pasties with long tassels. A little surprise for their wedding night...
And they lived, in the old but seldom-fulfilled phrase, happily ever after.
They often ate breakfast at McDonald's together, still - going in separately and meeting as if by chance, reading the comics together and laughing, reliving their first moments together. It was a special time for them - but then, all their time together was special.
Paul had always thought he would like it best if the girl of his dreams danced for him baby-naked, wearing nothing, nothing at all; but he found that there was one costume he liked even better than that when Beth posed and danced for him.
It was the little gold ring on her left hand.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-stories/breakfast-at-mcdonalds.aspx">Breakfast at McDonald's</a>