Large lady at the fair
Publish Date: Jan 7, 2005
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Tales or erotica - Each year the county fair drew thousands of all ages- not that it was all that different, or exciting, but it had become a tradition for the older generation and an annual adventure for the young. There were the exhibits, the farm animals and produce, the carnival rides, and food for any taste but gourmet. Most of all, there were the people, diverse, sometimes a bit uninhibited, sometimes a bit strange, but always amused and amusing others.
Jack Donnelson wasn’t sure why he came to the fair. He was thirty, now, and had been an annual visitor since he was a schoolboy. Jack had become a bit of a businessman, actually an insurance adjustor, and now it was just a bit of a diversion. He was to have come with Debbie, a former business associate, but she had declined at a late moment, and so, being unattached, he wandered in by himself, probably mostly out of habit.
It was mid afternoon when he passed the midway, heading for a tent where he understand some foreign acrobats were to appear. Well, he had seen acrobats before, and didn’t find this particularly appealing, but what else was there? He scanned a posted program.
In a half hour, he noted, the beer drinking contest would be on. Now, what kind of person enters a beer drinking contest, he wondered. If one was looking for free beer, this wasn’t the place - there was an entry fee that would cost as much as what most people would care to drink. Jack himself wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but he thought it would perhaps be amusing to watch a few others make fools of themselves, so he moved over to the area.
As he found a place to watch, the contestants were being briefed. The contest would go half an hour. The contestants, lined up on a platform, would be given pitchers of beer - big pitchers. Each was to completely down the pitcher, and could then be given a second. The process would continue, until the half hour was over, or until contestants had reached their capacity and retired. The one who had consumed the most beer at the end would be declared the winner and would be awarded a handsome cash prize. It was required that the participants remain standing, not spill excessively, and if anyone became sick or nauseated he or she would be disqualified.
Jack looked over the fourteen contestants - nine men and five women. They were of assorted ages and shapes. The one who seemed the most unlikely was a young girl who looked like she couldn’t weigh over a hundred pounds. Several of the men looked pretty hefty, though, and Jack guessed they could put away a sizeable volume. One woman was older, a bit matronly, perhaps fifty something, with a bit of a paunch; and one was a younger woman, perhaps twenty something, but very well padded. Jack guessed she would outweigh him by a considerable margin.
A crowd had assembled, and at a signal, each contestant lifted his first pitcher. Friends and family members watching cheered on their favorites. All fourteen tilted their pitchers, drawing into themselves large draughts of the beverage. Some were neat, some were sloppy. One man, obviously in too big a hurry, suddenly coughed violently, spitting beer over those nearby. He was soon retired from the group.
The first man to empty his pitcher quickly exchanged it for another, quickly raising it to his lips. He had quaffed it in about minute and a half, Jack reckoned. Jack turned to a woman standing nearby, observing “There’s the winner - he’s got a head start already!”
She disagreed, shaking her head. “Not really - slow and steady does it here - they have half an hour, you know. And those things must hold half a gallon - think he can keep putting them away at that rate?”
The watched, amused at the differences in styles among the drinkers. The fastest man had downed two pitchers before one woman had finished even half of one. Soon, another participant turned away, bending over, obviously sick with an overstressed stomach.
The minutes passed. At the halfway point, the fastest drinker had slowed considerably, now trying to sip his way through a third pitcher. The slim young woman decided she was not equal to the game, and withdrew, to cheers from her friends. “She didn’t look like she stood much chance, anyway,” Jack observed to his neighbor. “Women don’t in things like this!”
The lady arched her eyebrows. “You better look at number six! She’s just started her third; but look at the size of her! Don’t you think she has a stomach to match?” Jack eyed the heavyset woman. “Maybe. But she’s up against some serious male competition!”
“Sexist!” smiled the lady.
The end drew near. Several had now quit drinking, one after gulping three and a half pitchers. He was standing still, looking a bit dizzied and bloated, looking to see if anyone would beat his capacity. Three men and two women were still trying to down more beer.
The announcer started calling the time left to finish. Two minutes - one and a half - one minute. The big woman was still holding her fourth pitcher to her lips. Seconds before the end, she put it down - empty.
The announcer looked at her hesitatingly, then smiled and cheered. He reached over to her and held up her hand - the only one of the fourteen to get four pitchers of beer into one stomach!
A cheer went up. Jack’s neighbor nudged him. “See - a woman can do it! But I’ll bet she’s got one bloated stomach!”
Jack nodded agreement. The announcer called out the winner’s name. “Our champion beer drinker - four full pitchers - is Mary Gustavson! Mary, come over here for your prize!”
Mary could be seen moving to accept her award. There were cheers, mostly from women, Jack noted. The crowd began to disperse to other activities.
Jack treated himself to a bit of refreshment, after all, watching all that drinking could make one a bit thirsty! He found other people and items to amuse himself for a bit.
Half an hour later, he passed back through the area where the contest had taken place. He happened to notice a woman, her back to him, seated alone on a bench. Something about her seemed a bit familiar. He took a second look. She was Mary, who had won the drinking contest. Now she was sitting on a bench, by herself, looking a bit downcast.
Jack approached her. She was indeed a big woman, and, he reflected, with a big stomach to match. She didn’t seem particularly tall, but she had a lot of meat on her. She was wearing a print dress, knee length, with short sleeves, not particularly fashionable. She had a nice looking face, hardly beautiful, but by no means ugly, and a rather plain hairstyle with a pony tail in the back.
“Didn’t I see you win the beer drinking contest?” Jack offered, by way of introducing himself. “I’m Jack Donnellson - I watched your performance! You must like beer!”
Startled, she lifted up her head and turned to him.
“Yeah. I’m Mary Gustavson, and no, I don’t particularly like beer. Right now I hate it! Gee, I feel awful!” She shook her head for emphasis.
“Guess you feel like anyone with two gallons of beer in them”, Jack offered, sympathetically.
She just sat, her eyes downcast, obviously in physical discomfort.
“I only come to enter the drinking contest. Gets me a little extra spending money; about all a big stomach is ever going to get you. That is, if I can keep from getting sick! Now I have to wait another half hour to see if I can get to the bus to get home. Yehh!! I hate beer, especially when there’s four pitchers inside me!”
“Can’t say as I especially like beer either, but I do have a couple, now and then. ‘Course I wouldn’t drink four pitchers straight down! Here,” he offered his hand, “usually I settle insurance claims. Don’t you have anyone with you?”
“No”, she shook her head. “I came alone, just for the contest. I could have driven, but driving home after winning a beer drinking contest isn’t a really good idea!” She smiled a bit at her observation.
“I almost wish I could throw up”, she added a moment later. “Weekdays I’m a bookkeeper, but I don’t do much else.”
“Sounds like you’re bored with life. Haven’t you any friends?”
“Oh, of course I do. People I work with, but none of them wanted to come to this thing. Just as well. They’d think I was some kind of lush!”
“Well”,. Jack went on, “you did handle your beer quite well!”
“One of my few talents. When you carry around two hundred and forty pounds of flab, people think you must have a big stomach. And I do, I have to admit it. Oh, I feel so blown up!”
She started to get up. She rubbed her stomach gently, shaking her head. “Oh, I wonder why I ever decide to do this! Most of me is flab, but you want to feel one part of me that’s firm? Here, let me have your hand!”
Jack offered his hand, rather reluctantly. She placed it on her ample stomach. “Most of me may be soft, but one place is as hard as a rock! Feel that!”
He pressed gently on her stomach, indeed rock hard from its load of beer. She sat down again, a bit unsteadily. “Now I’m a little dizzy - too much beer, maybe!” She laughed a bit at her situation, realizing she was probably seeming a bit drunk.
“I hope I can find the bus!” she said.
Jack wasn’t sure why he had approached this woman. Probably just curiosity, he thought. She certainly wasn’t fitting his usual concept of an attractive female. She was badly overweight, not very tidy, unfashionably dressed, feeling miserable and probably a bit drunk.
“Do you need some help getting to the bus?” he asked.
“I’d better be sure I can walk, carrying all this liquid with me. Gee, I wish I could get rid of it! Well, in time- “
She rose up again, and started, rather unsteadily, to move away. Jack joined her. He hoped she didn’t stumble and fall, for he was sure he could never pick her up if she did. He began to walk beside her, from time to time grasping her arm to steady her.
“Gee, you’re a real gentleman. Don’t see many like you anymore!” She seemed to appreciate his proffered aid.
They passed an area with portable toilets, and she glanced at them. For a moment she stopped, looking longingly at a long queue of women lined up for one. She studied the situation for a moment. Jack asked her, “Do you want to make a stop before you go?”
In his mind, he considered the effect of those four pitchers of beer. She shook her head, and moved onward. “No, look at the line. I’ll wait till I get home!”
His eyes asked her the question of whether she could. In answer to his unspoken query, she added “I wait pretty well. I think.”
“Look”, he said, “I have my car out there in the lot. I wouldn’t mind giving you a ride home- that is, if you’ll allow me and tell me where to go. It may a be along walk to that bus, and I’m not sure you feel like doing it.”
She didn’t answer immediately. He repeated the offer.
She thought. “That’s nice of you. But you just met me, and you don’t know where I live. We’re out in the country, here, and you could stay and have yourself a good time. You don’t have to take care of a girl who’s tipsy with too much beer! Besides, how do I know you wouldn’t try to take advantage of me?”
“You don’t”, he replied. “But I really think you need some help. I don’t like to see you try to get home alone when you’re not really in the best shape! I do a lot of driving in my business. It’s no trouble to me, really!”
They bantered about it for a few minutes. Finally she relented. “OK - Somehow, I feel I can trust you. You’re a nice guy. And I do need to get home soon. Wish those lines hadn’t been so long back there.”
He let her comment about the lines pass. They reached the parking lot, and sought after his car. It took several more minutes to reach the car. Finally, they found it. He helped her into the front seat, then started the car. She gave him the needed instructions to get to her home.
By now it was dusk. He considered the route, and observed, “That’s about twenty miles, with traffic and all the turns, it may take us an hour.”
“OK”, she replied. “And I really do thank you! I was feeling pretty awful!”
“You were? Doing any better now?”
“My stomach feels little better. That’s good. Trouble is, I’m going have another problem, soon. But I think I can handle it.”
He guessed what she meant. “Sorry about the long lines back there. You want me to stop somewhere for you?”
“No, thanks. It’s OK just to get me home. I’m a big girl, and I can wait!”
They headed out, following her instructions. The route she had selected was mainly rural, passing mostly farms and pastures. They talked bit about each other, exchanging bits of personal history. Jack was beginning to develop a kind of rapport with his oversize passenger. At first she laughed a bit with him, and seemed to enjoy their casual talk. Gradually she became more restrained.
Jack sensed something was disturbing her.
“Are you all right?” He glanced at her, noting she was tensed, biting her lip.
“Yes - well, not really! I guess I have a kidney problem!”
“A kidney problem?”
“Problem is, my kidneys work - and they’re processing all that beer! And it’s all going- well, I thought I could hold it- I’ve got a big stomach, and I’m pretty big down there, too! Lots of times I can wait all day, but -”
Her voice trailed off.
“Want me to stop somewhere?”
“Ooh - it’s hurting me worse than when it was in my stomach! Jack, I’m not going to be able to hold it!” Tears were in her eyes, as much from embarrassment, he thought, as from pain.
“I’ll see if I can find a bathroom for you-”
She shook her head. “There won’t be any on this road, and even if you found one, I don’t think I could walk to it! Can you just stop along the side of the road, please?”
Jack pulled over on the road shoulder. They were passing a pasture. On the other side was only grass. No trees or buildings were nearby. There was, however, traffic on the road. Mary looked ahead and behind.
“Too many cars! I’ll just have wait until there’s a break. Here-”
She reached over and took his hand, placing it on her stomach. “Not as hard as it was before, is it?” she asked, as they waited. Then, abruptly, she moved his hand down to just below her stomach. “Please don’t push, just feel! See why it hurts? I just can’t go any further!”
His hand was resting on her belly, over her bladder. It could feel it, hard and immensely swollen. It seemed almost as big as her stomach had been. He didn’t usually feel female bladders, but this one was big, and very hard. He felt a surge of arousal within himself as he contemplated being with a woman who needed to pee as badly as this one.
The traffic seemed to subside a bit, and moved toward the door. He sprang from his seat and rushed around to open the door for her. She acknowledged his courtesy with a pained smile as she gingerly eased herself outside.
She moved just a bit, toward the rear of the car, her back against it. She began to squat slightly, and hiked up her skirt a bit as she reached to draw her underwear down. She tried to squat with her back against the car while trying to slide her underpants down, but in her dizzied state she fumbled a bit, then in frustration dropped her underpants to the ground and stepped out of them. Jack stood beside her, watching every move. While he might have offered her the courtesy of averting his eyes, his fascination with the sight before him was compelling. Anyway, she seemed to take no notice of his presence. She picked up her underwear in a quick motion, spread her legs, and sank to a half squat as she drew her skirt higher. She glanced at the road. A car was approaching from the rear, but it was some distance away.
She held the posture for a bit, her face uplifted and her eyes closed in seeming concentration. Then he heard her stream. He glanced down, in the fading light, to see a thick stream of clear liquid pouring out from under her skirt, projecting in a noticeable arc.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Then she glanced down the road, at the approaching car. “I can’t stop now - can they see anything?” She asked.
Gallantly, he shifted his position to the other side of her, to shield her from the view of the approaching car. His own eyes stayed fixed on her urine stream, gushing into a large and rapidly growing puddle at her feet. His arousal had now resulted in an uncontrollable erection, apparent as a large bulge in his pants.
“Sorry - it’s going to take me a while - it was a lot of beer!” she observed, now smiling a bit. Then she added, “For what it’s worth, I haven’t done this in front of a man - I really don’t mean to embarrass you!”
He eyes dropped a bit. Suddenly he became acutely aware that they were now focused on the bulge in his pants. He was seized with a need to somehow hide the signs of his aroused state, but he could think of nothing. They simply stared at each other.
The approaching car came and passed, and then another. Her stream continued unabated. The puddle was now spawning streams draining in several directions.
“I told you I was big down there - really, I’m quite a tank! Comes with being a big girl, I guess.” She was almost apologizing.
Now his arousal was almost dizzying. Never had he watched a woman urinate this closely, and never had he seen anyone release so much from one bladder. It was indeed a heady sight.
Finally her stream slackened. She gingerly stood up, still holding her skirt. She looked about, probably for something with which to wipe herself, but there was nothing handy. After a few moments, she dropped the skirt. She did not slip her underwear back on, but instead stuffed the garment roughly into her belt.
She reentered the car, and again he took his seat and started the engine.
“Again, I’m sorry we had to do this, but I guess you know now how much I needed to. You’ve been so nice, I hated to make you do this!”
“No trouble at all. Really, I rather enjoyed it” he answered. Then, thinking she might take his remarks the wrong way, he went on, “I have to admit, I never had a woman do that with me beside her - don’t apologize, I really did enjoy it?”
“You must not be around many girls”, Mary observed, inquisitively.
“Oh, I have had girl friends. They just haven’t done that around me. After all, you said you hadn’t done it around men, before!”
“When you’re thirty-one and weigh two hundred and forty pounds, men don’t exactly chase you. I haven’t really had a date in about ten years. What man wants to be with a woman who’s as fat and sloppy as I am?”
“Don’t degrade yourself - you have good qualities!”
“Well, you make good conversation, you drink beer well, and - and you pee beautifully!”
Her response was just a bit of a wry smile.
Slowly they traveled the somewhat complex route to her home. She lived, it developed, in an upstairs condo located in a rather large complex of similar residences. She recognized the familiar surroundings, and began to direct him to her location.
“We’re almost there - and just in time. I hate to admit it, but that beer is moving fast downstairs - I can hardly hold it. Gee, I need to let some more out. Well, we’ll be there in a couple of minutes! It really is great of you to do this!”
Jack could not resist the response that occurred to him. “You want me to stop again? I wouldn’t mind watching-” His eye sparkled a bit as she caught the implication.
“You got your chance! Thanks - I can make it there, now!”
She directed him and they stopped at a parking spot in front of her building. She fumbled a bit for her keys, then slid out of the car as he held the door for her.
“Thanks again for everything. I feel better now - or at least I will when I get to my bathroom. “
“Here’s my card”, Jack told her, offering her his business card. “My home phone’s on it. Just in case you want anything. Or if you’d like to call!”
He himself wasn’t sure just what he meant by that. This woman was not what he would usually consider a prospective date. Somehow, though, he was reluctant to lose contact with her. She hadn’t asked him up to her apartment, and he had a feeling she would not.
“You know where I live, I suppose - you found it! If you would like my phone number, I’ll give it to you.”
She waited for a response. He picked up on it. “Yes, if you would - here, you can write it on the back on one of my cards.” He offered her another card, and his pen.
She squirmed a bit, squeezing her legs together, as she wrote on the card, holding it against his car. “Here”, she replied, handing the card to him. “Sorry if I seem nervous, I’m a bit, well, you know what I need! I guess this will be goodnight - I hope we meet again- “ Her voice trailed off, seemingly awaiting something he might say.
He was at a loss. He gave her a quick wave, and started to move toward the driver’s door.
“Jack!” she called to him. He stopped, looking to her.
She approached him. “I’m sorry - I don’t know how to say this, but really, did you like watching me beside the road back there? I was so embarrassed - I thought maybe you were just trying to make me feel better. Did you?”
“Sure. I loved it - something I just hadn’t seen a woman do. Yes, I liked watching you, and I wasn’t just trying to make you feel better!” She seemed to need assurance to cover her embarrassment, and he tried to give it to her.
“Then - I want to show my thanks for bringing me here. I need to pee again, really bad, and, well, if you would enjoy looking- really like to watch me - I’ll do it again, right here! No point in me going private if you’d really enjoy watching - I owe you a good show for the ride!”
Jack was dumbfounded. This was the strangest offer he had ever had from a woman trying to show gratitude. His body already told him to accept the offer - his erection was trying to break through his trousers. He nodded, looking at her. “Right here?” he asked.
She nodded in reply. They were on a bit of lawn, to the side of the entrance to the building. It was now dark, and the area was poorly lit. No one seemed to be about.
She backed almost against the wall. This time she did not squat. She simply spread her legs and raised her skirt with both hands. She looked straight at him with a nervous smile, then glanced about to assure no one else was watching before meeting his eyes again.
He looked at the bottom of her skirt, following its movement. She raised it until it covered only an inch or so of her immense thighs. She was standing with her legs parted. She wore no stockings, and her feet were in simple flat heeled shoes. He was struck by the size of her thick legs and thighs. This lady, he thought, has a lot of meat on her; her shape was definitely not what he would have considered examples of feminine beauty. Still, he fixed his eyes on that skirt hem.
Looking straight at him, she said “Here it comes!”
It did. A powerful stream erupted from her crotch and shot out into the grass just in front of her. Her eyes followed his, observing closely his reaction. His gaze focused on her stream. His erection was stretching his pants. For a moment he wondered if she saw it.
Suddenly she raised her skirt a few more inches, displaying dark pubic hair and her slit out of which the stream projected. Her eyes was studying his response - which was pure gaping amazement.
As before, he was struck by the length of time she could keep it up. Her bladder must be immense, he thought. Maybe that goes with a really big woman. She held the skirt high enough to display her genital area until she finished.
When the stream ended, she dropped the skirt, very slowly.
“Did you like it?” she asked brightly.
“Yeah. Like I said, you pee beautifully!”
“Then I’m glad I did it. Now we both feel better. Well, good-night. Again!”
She waved to him and headed for the door. He returned to his car.
As he drove home, he pondered this odd female with whom he had suddenly become fascinated. Was she really a closet exhibitionist, or had she had a lapse in modesty for his benefit alone?
He hoped he would see her again.
In the next few days, Jack said nothing about his encounter with Mary. He did not return to the Fair, though it was still in progress. In the back of his mind was the thought that someone might have seen him with Mary. Now, he wasn’t exactly ashamed of her, but the idea of answering questions about her he found a bit unsettling. He mentioned her to none of his work associates.
He was tempted to call her, but he held off. What would he say? Would he suggest another meeting? He didn’t quite consider her date material, but he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Perhaps she would call him. Perhaps she wouldn’t. He waited, uncertain how to proceed, yet somehow not wanting to lose contact with her.
Several times he took out the card on which she had written her telephone number. Actually, she had written two numbers, one evidently her home number, and one a work number. He figured out where she worked. He even developed a plan for how to get there, should an occasion arise.
Two weeks passed since their encounter at the fair. Then, one afternoon at his office, after a particularly irritating call from a client, the phone rang.
Jack answered it, almost with a snarl, his patience exhausted and his mood one of hostility. A female voice on the other end came back to him.
“Jack, this is Mary. Your beer drinking friend from the fair - remember?”
Almost in shock, his demeanor shifted. In his most genial manner, he replied.
“Mary - of course! How have you been? I was thinking about you!” His casual remarks belied his perplexity - he really had no idea how to deal with her.
She came back with some pleasantries, nothing of real import. Still, it was evident she wanted to continue their contact.
Finally it was she who broached the real issue of another meeting. “Jack, I just wondered if, maybe, you might like to join me for dinner one evening- there’s this place not far from where I work. My treat, of course; well, I have to do something with my beer drinking prize money! There’s an art gallery with a new show I wanted to see, and it’s not far; I do a bit of art work myself, and I just thought -”
He got the idea. Art was not exactly his thing, but if it was hers, maybe he could soak up a bit of it for one evening. They talked for a few minutes, and finally came up with an agreement that he would meet her outside her office building on the chosen day, as she left work.
One thing pleased him - the area was no where near where he worked or lived, so he was unlikely to run into anyone who would know him. Also, he did not move in art circles, so an art gallery was not likely to be a place where he would chance encountering any of his friends. Why did this worry him, he thought to himself. Mary was not something to be ashamed of, and yet, how would his acquaintances respond to seeing him with a rather plain woman who admittedly outweighed him by nearly a hundred pounds?
On the appointed day, Jack went to the address where Mary worked. At least, he reflected, he wouldn’t have to worry about not recognizing her. Her ample body would be unmistakable, he felt sure.
Shortly after five thirty, Mary came out. She was dressed much better, he thought, than when she had been at the fair. This time she was wearing a good looking blouse and calf-length skirt, with a scarf around her neck. Her hair was fixed in a short but becoming style. Quite different, he observed, from the lady who had arrived rather sloppily attired to take on a beer drinking competition.
He recognized her and went up to her immediately. She smiled and grasped his hand. She began a running conversation about her day. In the course of her remarks she pointed out that she was leaving her car in the parking lot of her building. They could walk, she indicated, to the restaurant and the art gallery, and they could return to the office area, from where she would drive herself home afterward. Jack appreciated her frankness, and took the arrangement as a gentle hint not to expect to be invited into her apartment later. In a way, he was glad she had said this. It set the tone for the evening and avoided what might have been a delicate situation later, if he had driven her home.
The restaurant was a good choice. Mary obviously liked food, and made no apologies for her appetite. She pointedly rejected the choice of a “lady sized steak”, preferring the full sized version, then added she would make up for it by choosing the lo-cal dressing for her salad. Mary insisted on picking up the tab for dinner, pointing out that he had borne of cost of getting her home from the fair, and, anyway, she didn’t expect him to pay for her voracious hunger. It was refreshing, Jack thought, to be with a lady who wasn’t watching her weight and seemed not at all self-conscious for her extra poundage.
They headed to the gallery. Mary pointed out, “In school I was a bit of an artist; I dabbled in sketches and paintings, and a bit of sculpture. I wasn’t much at the sculpture, but I still do sketches. The show tonight includes some works of one of my old art teachers.” She went on about her studies of classic art and the subjects she liked to draw. Jack learned she was quite intelligent and held two degrees.
She escorted him through the gallery, treating him to a running commentary. After an hour or so, they wandered into a section devoted to portraits and figure painting. At the sight of the first female nude, Jack commented, “At least this is the kind of art I can understand. It’s about the only kind I ever looked at in the art books I found in the school library.” Mary laughed at his observation.
“Perhaps you were trying to use art books for anatomy lessons! Probably lots of people do. I like to do portraits, though I rarely do them anymore. I can do full figures of people, too. Sometime perhaps I can show you some of my work, though it’s not really that good.”
“Do you do nudes?” Jack asked, jokingly.
“No. All the ones I did were people with their clothes on. Sometimes I thought I might like to do nudes. Of course, if I was doing them, they would be male nudes.”
“Would you have guys pose for you?”
She laughed again. “What guy would want to pose for a fat girl artist? I think I’d just have to use my imagination!”
They went on to other areas. As they passed doors to the public toilets, Jack observed, “Look - no lines!” as he recalled the fair.
“No. No lines. I haven’t peed since I left home this morning, either. But I am not ready yet. I do hold fairly well, don’t I?” He wondered a bit as to why she interjected this bit of information. He made no comment on it.
They finished their tour, just as closing time approached.
“Did you like it?” She asked.
“You’re a good guide. And, even apart from the undressed ladies, which I really liked, yes, I did like the show. And, let me add, the company!”
They stopped at a snack bar for a bit of ice cream and a drink, after leaving the gallery. Mary reminded him she didn’t really like beer (“unless it’s at a beer drinking contest”) and elected a soft drink instead.
They walked together back to her office building and to its car park. She pointed out her car, now sitting alone in the otherwise empty lot.
She didn’t go directly over to it. Instead, she stopped at a poorly lit part of the lot shielded from the street by a high hedge.
“Time to say good night?” he asked her.
“Yes it is,” she responded. “I thank you for a nice evening.“
“You paid for it”, he observed.
“I still thank you for coming. And now that you have told me what you enjoy, would you like me to say thank you in the way I did the other night?”
His heart skipped a beat. He began to guess what was coming.
“Please, just stand there, and hold my purse for me,” she instructed.
He did as requested.
She reached her hands under her skirt, pulled down her panties, then stepped out of them. She stuffed them in her belt, as she had done before.
“I have been saving up for this all day. Would you like to feel how full I am before I let it out?” Embarrassed, he failed to answer.
She hiked her skirt almost waist high, and took his hand, placing it on her lower belly. “Go ahead - push on it! I can take it!” she challenged him.
He pressed and felt the resistance of her firm, full bladder. She released his hand, but made no effort to remove it. “Go ahead - push on it!” she again asked.
He stared at her exposed pubic area, with its dark hair, just below his hand. He pressed, much harder, this time.
“Do you like doing that?” she asked.
He could only nod his head. Then he withdrew his hand.
She sank to a squat, holding her skirt waist high, her eyes first fixed on his, then dropping to focus on his lower body, where his firm erection appeared close to bursting his pants. She raised her eyes to his as she released her bladder. Her stream poured out, flooding the pavement.
“I thought you would like this. I planned it,” she admitted.
As before, her stream continued for a long time. The flood spread all over the pavement, until both of them were standing with their shoes in it. He hesitated to step back, so great was his fascination with her act.
Finally, she finished. She stood, taking back her purse. She rummaged in it for a tissue, then used it to dry herself.
“Did you like it as much as looking at the nudes in the gallery?” she asked, rather objectively.
“Better. You’re real. You’re alive. And - as I told you, you pee beautifully!”
“Practice. Nice to have someone says there’s at least one thing beautiful about me. I like to look at the nudes in the gallery, too. Gives me an idea of what women are supposed to look like. You didn’t see any of them my size, did you?”
Jack just shrugged, sensing that there was no right answer to this.
Then, after a bit, he thought of one. “If there was, I’d sure like to look at it, though!”
She waited a moment, then, just as they were about to reach her car, replied, “If any guy looked at me without my clothes on, he’d probably throw up. That’s about the way I feel when I look in the mirror. Maybe some day I’ll do something about it. Anyway, that’s what I keep thinking. Well, thanks and good night!”
Saying nothing further, she entered her car, started it, and, with just a wave, drove off. Jack was left to return to his own vehicle in another lot.
He still could not figure this woman out. If she meant their encounters to be romantic, she had an odd approach to it. Still, the encounter was her idea; she had initiated it, planned it, and paid for it.
Who would move next?
Again With a Twist
Jack decided it was his turn to make the next contact. He did not do it for a few days, still uncertain how to approach this lady, not sure if their association was really romantic, or just some odd kind of adventure.
Still, he told none of his friends about Mary. He could not conceive of a rational way to present her, that wouldn’t seem strange or at least inappropriate. Here was a lady physically bigger, well at least heavier, than he was, talented, artistic, educated, and yet her most widely acclaimed public accomplishment seemed to be her ability to hold a huge amount of beer, a beverage she openly insisted she disliked.
After about a week he did call her, at her home, in the evening. Their conversation was casual, and never touched on her peeing episodes. He explored a possible outing to a beach with her, but was rebuffed quickly. (“Me? At a beach? In a bathing suit? Really! Are you trying to put me in side show?”)
He decided places that called for abbreviated attire were not on her list as acceptable. He promised to call her again.
A few days later he did. His invitation was to a Saturday afternoon theatre performance by a local company, to be followed by dinner at a place he would choose - and, he added, he would pay this time. He was insistent. Moreover, he wanted to pick her up at her place and return her home. He was insistent on this, too. She hesitated, but then yielded. He had a date.
He arrived a bit after noon. He had expected to go up to her apartment, but she was waiting downstairs. She was nicely dressed, again in a skirt and blouse. He opened the door for her, and she seated herself in his car.
They drove the fairly long distance to the theatre, reminiscing a bit about their earlier outings but mostly exchanging views on the events of the day.
The performance was a current comedy, which she seemed to enjoy. It let out a bit after four thirty. As they walked to exit, he excused himself and slipped away to the gentlemen’s room. He returned to her a few minutes later, to find her in exactly the same spot. Jokingly, he observed, “I forgot - you never use the facilities, do you?”
She smiled and answered easily, “Oh, yes. But only at certain times!”
No more was said of it for a time.
They went for dinner, and this time he was prepared for her generous appetite. She declined the beer, but settled for a bit of wine with her dinner.
Filled and refreshed, they lingered over their coffee.
Turning just a bit solemn, he abruptly asked her, “I was surprised you let me pick you up at your place today. I had a feeling you didn’t want me going there. I don’t embarrass you, do I?”
“No, of course not. I live alone, as you know. No one cares what company I keep, except of course, me. And I do try to be careful. At first I was unsure if I could trust you. Now, you know, I am a bit of novice at this. I may be thirty one, but I haven’t dated anyone in ten years. In fact, I rarely dated in high school or college. You know, not many boys want to be seen with a fat girl. Are you comfortable with me?”
“Not when you keep calling yourself fat. You ought to be emphasizing your good qualities, and not drawing attention to what you weigh. No, I am not uncomfortable with you.”
“When you invited me to a beach”, she went on, “I declined as much for you as for me. You would never hear the end of the teasing you would get, after people saw me with you and both of us in beach attire. You know I always wear skirts - women my size look even worse in pants. I’m always looking for something I’d look better in, but there isn’t much!”
“I’ve seen you in several outfits - you do OK. I wouldn’t care if you were like the gals in the picture gallery - clothes don’t make you what you are.”
“You mean the nudes? I still say, if a man saw me that way he’d throw up.”
She eyed him, but let it pass.
After a bit, she added, “Jack, yes, I trust you, but I had to learn to know you. I don’t have much experience with men. Now, I’m not gay, or anything like that, but, there just haven’t been men in my life - not as close friends, anyway. So I was a little careful about letting you come to my place.”
There was a bit of silence. Then she went on.
“Jack, I’m a virgin. That’s right, a thirty-one year old, two hundred forty pound virgin. I don’t want to change that. Not yet, anyway, I’m not ready. So we need to agree that nothing we do will change that now. Is that OK with you?”
“No problem. You’re not looking for sex, so I get the picture. I respect that.”
After his response, her face became a bit brighter.
“I didn’t, of course, say I have no interest in sexual matters. You have probably observed that.”
“You didn’t seem to mind peeing in front of me!” he noted.
She smiled, looking into her empty coffee cup.
“Yes. The first time I was surprised you were so interested in watching me. Then I decided I liked doing it in front of you. Did I shock you?”
“A bit. I was sure surprised.”
“Your surprise showed. I saw the bulge in your pants. I suppose that is a normal male reaction?”
Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. He really didn’t know how to talk about this with a woman.
“I suppose. A guy just gets hard when a girl does something stimulating. You can’t really help it!”
“Stimulating - like peeing in front of you?”
“Yeah. Obviously. OK, it was mighty stimulating to watch you. But, when you first asked me to feel your bladder- “
“You found that stimulating, too?”
“I have a big bladder. I guess you’ve noticed. Usually, I don’t hold it all day. But when I want to feel a bit, well, stimulating as you say, I do hold it. That’s what I did the other day. I was pretty worked up holding it, and then having you watch me! Oh- I liked it, too!”
“Is your bladder full now?” he asked, feeling rather brazen.
“Yes. But not nearly as full as I can hold it. Do I seem stimulating?”
“Do I get a show again tonight?”
“Depends”, she answered. “We agreed to the limits - nothing heavy, right?”
“You’re a virgin and you want to stay that way. I agreed. You can trust me.”
“Then”, she asked, “what kind of a show do I get?”
He gave her a perplexed look.
She repeated, rather insistently, “What kind of a show do I get?”
“What do you mean?” he asked her plainly.
“Just this. I’ve peed in front of you several times, even let you see my bottom while I was doing it. Have you ever peed in front of me?”
“Do you want me too?”
She straightened herself up and sat back in her seat.
“Jack,” she started, her voice almost shaking, a tear showing in one eye. “Don’t you think women like to look at men - like you looked at the pictures of those nude women? I could see the bulge in your pants when you watched me pee. It made me feel good to know that I had that effect on you. But I could only imagine what was behind that bulge! Sure, I’ve seen lots of pictures, and some children, but here I am, over thirty years old, and I have never seen a real male sex organ, except sometimes off in the distance! I bet you don’t believe me!”
This woman continued to shock him. He pondered her statement, guessing where she was going with this.
She didn’t wait for him. She went on.
“Did you ever engage in a show party when you were a kid?”
“Show party? Oh, you mean when boys and girls get together and sort of expose themselves to each other - taking off their pants and exchanging anatomical views?”
“Exactly. I was called fatty. I didn’t have a boy friend, and no boy wanted to get in that kind of situation with me. I can understand it - that’s why I realize my body is not really very pretty to look at. But you do like to see me pee, don’t you?”
“Mary, I have told you, you do it beautifully. But I don’t think your body is repulsive, either.”
She smiled a bit, now leaning toward him.
“Jack, you’re probably going to think this is childish. Maybe it is. I’ll pee in front of you tonight, again; in fact, I’m saving up for it now. But I want you to pee in front of me, too; and let me see that part of you that does the peeing. You know my limits - I don’t want to get into full blown sex, but I do have sexual feelings; I’m certainly not gay, and you are the only man I’ve found that I felt I could share this with.”
“You’d like a show party, then? With me?”
“If you want to call it that. We agreed to the limits, you know.”
“Right” he replied. “But a show party means not only do you pee in front of me, but I get to see you without any clothes on? Within the limits, likewise?”
“You want to look at me that way? Do you really have that strong a stomach?”
“I told you, Mary, I don’t think your body is repulsive. Only you think so. Let me be the judge. I’ll show you, then you show me, just like little kids do. OK?”
She thought for a moment. Then she extended her hand. “OK. Deal. When you take me home from here, at my place. Right?”
“Right!” he replied, taking her hand firmly.
“And, Jack, this is just between us. No talking to anyone else- fair enough?”
“Fair enough!” he responded enthusiastically.
In his mind he was confused. He had the feeling that he had just closed a business deal with a handshake, not a kiss, but he had thought this was some kind of a romantic affair. He still hadn’t figured her out, but he wasn’t going to back out. Not now.
With little conversation they settled the bill and left the restaurant. They got into his car for the drive to her apartment.
They talked little during the drive. Mostly they just exchanged smiles.
As they approached her neighborhood, Jack broke what seemed an awkward silence.
“Mary, I’m going to like the deal we made. I promise to respect your limits, and I promise again that it is just between us. I feel like high school kid, again, doing something maybe just a little naughty. I’m going to love it. Thanks!”
“Don’t thank me, Jack. We have a deal. You have a part to play, too!”
They parked outside her building and locked the car. It was still early evening. Few people were about. They went up the stairs to her door on the second floor.
She took out her key and opened the door. He followed her in.
The condo was modest; a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, dining area, and a living area. He saw a TV, a computer, and an assortment of books. She either wasn’t a fastidious housekeeper or wasn’t expecting company, for there was considerable disorder. She apologized for the mess, adding, “I live here. Just me. I don’t fix it up for others. Just don’t have many guests.”
Obviously she didn’t have male guests, or, at least there were o signs of such. The few pictures around were of women. Books were on subjects of art, accounting, and business. She directed him to a seat, and offered him a drink.
“No beer. I don’t like it, you know. I don’t want you drunk, either - you need to be in shape to get home, and I don’t want you forgetting our deal. Soft drink or coffee?”
He settled for a soda.
They sat across from each other at the little dining table. She also had soda.
“Filling your bladder for the show?” he asked, a bit amused.
“I‘m working on it. How about yours?”
“It’s feeling the effects of the wine and coffee at dinner. I can manage.”
Now it was she who smiled at him. She took his hand and squeezed it.
Next, she took a large jug of cold water from the refrigerator. From it she poured herself a large glass. She began to drink it. “Topping off for what I will do later”, she observed.
In silence she emptied the large glass. Then with obvious anticipation, she refilled the glass and turned to him.
“I’m looking forward to this, Jack. Shall we begin? You need to be first!”
“We don’t do it together?”
She shook her head. “First, I’m the spectator. Then I’ll do what you wanted. Are you ready?”
He really wasn’t sure he was. She asked him to stand up.
“I don’t see your pants bulging. Sure you’re in the mood?” she asked.
“Oh, I will be. Or do you want to show me something stimulating first?”
“Like feeling my bladder?”
She stood in front of him, and raised her skirt to display her belly, covered by her large cotton panties. He reached out a hand and touched her lower belly. He could feel her bladder, not as hard as she had felt before, but full enough to be felt.
“Not full enough for you? It will be!” She gulped from her water glass while his fingers poked at her belly. As she finished the glass, she looked downward, casting her eyes on the front of his pants. She smiled, and told him “That’s enough. Now it’s time for you to do the showing.”
He sat down, and began to remove his shoes. “These pants don’t come off easily over shoes”, he commented.
“Take your time, Jack”, Mary answered, watching every move.
In bare feet, he stood and unbuttoned his shirt. Under it, he wore a T-shirt, which he then pulled off.
Facing her, he unfastened his pants, and dropped them.
Wide-eyed, she stared at his bulging erection pushing out a big tent in his underwear.
Conscious that he was even blushing bit, he dropped the underwear, forcing himself to stand before her, now naked.
He felt very self-conscious, standing totally naked in front of this fully clothed and intensely interested woman. His penis stood stiffly at attention, extending straight out in front of him.
Mary looked him over quickly, then focused on his stiff and erect organ.
“May I touch it?” she asked politely.
“Sure. If you want to.” he responded, not knowing what else to say.
Very gently she placed her fingers on his erect organ. She moved it slightly, then lifted it and looked at the underside. She ran her fingers gently over his scrotum, feeling his testicles gently. She squeezed the tip slightly, causing the urethra to open a bit. Her interest was intense.
“You know, I never had the chance to do this before. I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“No. You can feel it if you want.” He was feeling the effects of her handling, though she was so gentle it was not at all as though she was masturbating him.
“The pee comes out here. Right?” she asked, her fingers at his urethra. It seemed to him her knowledge of male anatomy must be abysmal. “Yes”, he replied.
“And you’ve got lots?” she asked. Her hand moved to his lower belly, as she pressed over his bladder.
He winced noticeably. “Yeah. Lots. Coffee, wine, and now soda. Saved up since the show.”
“Bet mine’s got a lot more in it. Anyway, I’m still filling it. Well, we’ll see.” She went on with her examination.
She went back to his penis. She didn’t pull it, she twisted it, just a bit. She moved it up and down, in various directions. She seemed in no hurry.
Finally, she seemed satisfied.
“Ready to pee for me now?” she asked.
He nodded, wondering how he was going to do it with the erection he had, and with the stimulation of her watching him.
She motioned for him to go into the bathroom with her.
She looked at the toilet, then suggested, “I think it would be better if you use the shower stall. We can wash it out after.”
He entered the shower stall, facing the wall, She stood at the open glass door, watching intently.
He tried to release his bladder. With his erection, he was unable to make it release. He tried to relax.
Mary, enjoying every second, stood watching. He explained, “When it’s that erect, it may take a while- it’s hard to pee where you’re hard!”
“Take your time!” Mary replied quite willing to wait and watch.
It seemed several minutes passed. Eventually his erection subsided slightly and a small stream emerged. It grew stronger. Mary stared, transfixed, missing nothing. The stream struck the wall and splattered a bit. After a time, Mary reached out and, very gently, took his penis in her hand while he urinated. She moved it slightly, moving the stream. She looked at him and smiled.
“I like this!” she said.
She kept her hand on him until his stream stopped. She gave him a minute to relax, then asked, “Is that all?”
“Didn’t you get enough of a show?” he asked.
She led him from the shower. She turned on the spray, and allowed the water to wash away the effects of his urination.
“Enough?” he asked. “Is it your turn now?”
“You did great. I loved every second. Yes, you can get dressed now. I guess it’s time for Act Two.”
Surprisingly, she seemed wanting to make no preparations. They went back to the little dining area, where he had left his clothes. She sat down and watched him dress.
“Aren’t you going to get ready?” he inquired.
“I am. My kidneys are still working on the water. I want my bladder as full as I can get it for the show I’m giving you.”
“I mean your clothes. It’s your turn, isn’t it?”
“I’m waiting for you to finish. I am not going to miss anything. Anyway, are you sure you want me to?”
“Are you getting cold feet, Mary? We made a deal, remember?”
She seemed a bit nervous. “You have great body - why should you be upset? I think you’re going to get sick when you look at mine. Really, I don’t show it to anybody!”
“You promised, Mary. You promised to show it to me. Don’t back out now!”
She sat until he had finished dressing. Then, following his example, she started taking off her shoes. She wasn’t wearing stockings, so with her shoes off her feet were bare. She stood and unbuckled the belt of her skirt.
“You said you wouldn’t get sick, but, really, do you promise not to laugh?” Her question was serious, and Jack could see she was almost in tears.
“I promise. No laughing.”
Very reluctantly, she undid her blouse and removed it. Beneath it she had on a heavy while bra, industrial strength type, supporting her enormous breasts. Jack could see her shed tears as she slipped off the blouse. Then she unfastened the skirt, and stepped out of it. She had on a half slip of what must have been an extra large size.
Before taking off the half slip, she reached under it and pulled down her underpants, stepping out of them.
Then she stood, almost shaking, in front of Jack. Thy were under a strong light, and every part of her body was illuminated. She had on only the bra and half slip. Her body size was evident. Her breasts were heavily sagging into the bra, and her belly bulged under the waist band of the half slip.
He could see the distress she was feeling. He knew she wasn’t beautiful, but she really wasn’t ugly, either. Her skin was showing no marks or blemishes, and despite the abundance of flesh, she was quite well groomed.
“No laughing?” She reminded him, one more time.
She unhooked the bra and dropped it. Her breasts immediately fell, two great heaps of flesh, tipped with nipples that he noticed were stiffly erect, though aimed downward with the sag.
She removed the half slip. Now she stood, her eyes red and tearful, her hands clasped behind her back as she showed her full frontal nudity to him.
“I’m not laughing, Mary. You really don’t look as bad as you think. I’m not sick, either.”
He was tempted to take her into an embrace and comfort her with a kiss, but he was fearful of disturbing the rather businesslike atmosphere they had created. He didn’t want her to think he might violate her limits.
“Go ahead, Jack. Feel anything you’d like. You let me do it to you. Or are you so disgusted with what you see that you can’t bear to touch?” There was sarcasm in her voice.
It was a strange invitation. He was fearful of being too aggressive, yet if he did not handle her body she was going to feel insulted.
He reached up and gently touched a bare breast. He ran his fingers over it, then tweaked the nipple. She winced, visibly.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No. Just a new sensation for me. You can do it again.”
He did. Then he touched the other nipple. Both were rigidly erect. He decided to inject a bit of humor.
“Looks like you have an erection problem, too. Just like I did!”
“I know. You just never saw it before. Happened when I peed in front of you, too!”
Now she was sharing, perhaps relaxed a bit. That was good.
His hands ran over her body. He raised and lowered her ample breasts, moving them a bit, lifting them and looking beneath them.
He ran his hands over her belly. She had a bulging paunch, and he pinched the flesh gently. His hands moved to her lower belly. He pressed on her bladder. He could feel it, harder now, and quite swollen. His hands roamed around to her buttocks.
He returned to her breasts, gently palpating the great mounds of flesh. He tugged gently again at a nipple. She gasped slightly.
“I am hurting you, aren’t I?” he asked, rather apologetically.
“No. Go ahead - pull on them.” She placed her hands clasped behind her head, leaving her body unobstructed to his touch. Gently he tugged again at an erect nipple. He was amazed at the length of her nipples - they stuck out like rods, ready to poke at something.
“How do you hide those under your clothes?” he asked her.
“How do you hide your erection? It’s a lot bigger than mine!”
“Touche”, he replied, now tugging both nipples at once. She closed her eyes and held her breath.
“Pull them -hard!” she instructed, more of a command than a request.
He complied. Her huge breasts were stretched away from her chest by the tension. Her eyes closed and she bit her lip in response to the sensation.
She spread her legs, inviting his attention to her crotch. He slipped his hand to her genitals. Stroking the lips lightly. He pulled on a few of her pubic hairs. She stood, unmoving, with her hands still behind her head, absorbing the sensation.
After a couple of minutes, she dropped her hands, and used them to hold apart her genital lips. “Can you see where the pee comes out?” she asked, inviting his inspection.
He bent over and looked closely at her widely spread genital area. Never before had he been invited to make so close an examination of female genitalia. Gently he extended his hand and touched her between the spread lips.
“Not sure”, he informed her, “it’s hard to see.”
“Just keeping touching it, please-” Now her voice was pleading, not commanding. He let his fingers wander around in her most private area. He touched a small swollen protuberance, and she jerked and gasped. He withdrew his hand.
“No - don’t. You can feel it!” With one hand she pulled his fingers back to the area he had touched.
He stroked her gently. Suddenly she stopped him.
“OK - I think my kidneys have done their work. Time to water the shower stall.”
She led him into the shower stall. She stood, legs spread widely, facing him, then raised her hands over her head.
Her belly jiggled as she moved, and it was hard to discern whether the bulge in lower belly was her distended bladder or just her paunch.
“Now - please - can you spread me open and rub inside?”
He spread her vulva and stroked between the lips. He could feel her engorged clit and squeezed it gently. He rubbed the area. He felt her body tense and quiver.
Suddenly there was a jerk as her muscles contracted in a powerful spasm. She cried out slightly in a vocal expression that was part pain, part pleasure. Her breathing came in jerks. Immediately a stream began to gush from her.
He withdrew his hand and watched, a bit in awe, as her huge bladder emptied in front of him. She simply stood there, immobile, her breathing returning to normal as a huge stream came out of her. She began to relax, and looked in his eyes while her urine flowed voluminously to the floor of the stall.
“Satisfied?” she asked him.
“Were you?” he replied, sensing what she had experienced.
“I promised you a good show. Do you like the waterworks?” Her stream was still pouring from her.
“Like I say, you pee beautifully!”
“Really now, did you mind touching me?”
“Loved it - you have--”
She interrupted him. “I do not have a beautiful body. But it was nice to have someone touch it who could at least conceal his disgust. I hope the water show makes up for what you had to look at on the rest of me!”
Her stream was slowing down.
“If you want a final close up look, you’d better take it now. The tank’s getting empty.”
He took a close look at her spurting genital area, convinced that she expected it. Finally her stream ended.
“Back up a bit”, she told him. She turned on the shower water and rinsed herself off and flushed out the stall. Then she stepped from the shower, reached for a towel and started to dry herself. Suddenly she stopped. “Would you rather?” she asked, offering him the towel. “You really don’t have to.”
He took the towel and she stood on the small mat, raising her arms over her head. Carefully he dried her body, paying special attention to her breasts and her pubic area. When he had finished, she took the towel and hung it up.
They stepped into the little dining area, and she reached for a robe hanging nearby and slipped it over her body.
“Thanks,” she said, extending her hand. “You made a good show - and I loved it.”
A handshake didn’t seem the appropriate way to end the evening, but here it was. They talked for a few minutes, and he perceived that she was signaling the end of the evening. He rose and went to the door.
Her hand was extended again. “Really, I did have a great time. Thanks for coming!”
He was half way out the door when she added, “And thanks for looking. I needed that!”
The door closed and he went down to his car.
Again he faced the dilemma of the next move. Would he call her? What could follow this?
A strange lady. A big lady, indeed. He pondered his strange fascination.
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