Choromatsu presses his plump lips to yours.
You don't object: instead you do your best to stumble backwards through the bedroom door while your hands, mouth and mind are on him. How could you not give your undivided attention to such a sincere and earnest guy, especially after he went to the lengths he did just for a shot at dating little old you?
Ever since that day when he told you how hard he worked to appease your desire to not date a thin man and you explained it was a huge misunderstanding (the problem – which, joy of joys, was entirely imaginary - lay in your weight, not his), the two of you have been going from strength to strength. Choromatsu's given you so many novel experiences: from the weird-but-exhilarating world of idol concerts, to having an over-enthusiastic study buddy, to lending him fruitless but much-appreciated help in looking for a job, to the first time you can say a guy's taken you home to meet his brothers – not his parents, his brothers.
And what brothers they are. You find it fascinating and endearing how Ichimatsu is so cold around people, but a complete pussycat in a setting where he can be himself. Jyushimatsu's positive energy rubs off on you, and you admire how Osomatsu is so easy-going and uninhibited. Karamatsu's a brilliant comedian (and so modest, judging by how flustered he got when you told him that), and Todomatsu's promise to get “Fattymatsu-niisan” and his partner discounts at Sutabaa was sweet in intent if perhaps not very sincere. Though such a large group gets a bit overwhelming, you can't help getting a warm, fuzzy glow from the reminder of spending holidays with your extended family… and yet, as much as you enjoy the company of all of the sextuplets (identical sextuplets?! You hadn't known that was even possible – but a lot of things you thought impossible have been occurring lately), the best times you've had since coming to Japan have been just you and the third-born. It was difficult at first to balance nurturing your relationship and sustaining his closeness with people he's known literally all his life, but over the first few weeks you both learned to compromise - and reaped the benefits.
Some time into your relationship, Choromatsu bowled all his brothers over like pins by becoming the first of them to lose his virginity - far from turning you off, his status helped you relax about your own relative inexperience and gave you both a chance to learn. You've fooled around together several more times since then and not only does Choromatsu enjoy exploring your soft frame: you're consistently surprised at how much you enjoy the luxurious body he cultivated for you. Again and again you assure him that he never needed to change for your benefit and what you really love is him, fat or thin; you'd happily help him lose weight if he wanted – but he's made it clear the last thing he wants is to give up your shared softness, squished together under the covers through a sheer lack of space.
In turn, you've pulled the breaks on the weight loss efforts you started with the aim of attracting Choromatsu: after accepting his feelings, your first action was to unceremoniously dismiss the personal trainer you overpaid for, and you're now content with simply leading a healthy lifestyle and taking all things in moderation (including moderation itself). Rather than plummeting like you once hoped, your weight has settled comfortably in one spot – and as for Choromatsu's...?
Well, that's the cause of your current excitement.
A few weeks after you both spilled your feelings, Choromatsu casually mentioned missing the feeling of being stuffed to his limit after he'd finally become “enough for you” - he'd always assumed eating would just be a means to an end, but then he'd remembered how he imagined you hand-feeding him to motivate himself to take just one more bite, and realised he really did enjoy the journey as much as the destination. It was a strange but pleasant surprise to hear your fantasies of him waiting for you at the end of the treadmill had a mirror image – and when you were willing to make that image a reality for him, he jumped at the chance. A few times now, you and Choromatsu have locked yourselves in your tiny apartment (it's not a palace, but it beats the alternative of living in student dorms in an unfamiliar country) with piles of yakisoba, chocolate bananas, imagawayaki and other treats, all of which slowly disappeared between your hand and his tight, round belly – to your mutual delight. You relished this ability to pamper him and pleasure him before anyone's pants even came off, and he was thrilled to finally be able to gorge himself for pleasure rather than results.
Today, after you'd stuffed Choromatsu until he burst out of his latest Large button-up shirt and spent a while soothing his stomach with rubs and tea (some messy, queasy trial and error had taught you not to jump into bed immediately after topping him off), he'd had an attack of curiosity and asked to use your bathroom scale. Both your eyes widened as it showed a higher number than it had just before he'd confessed to you - and your own curiosity demanded that you, too, step on the scale for the first time in ages. When you shared the realisation that Choromatsu now weighs more than you – the gap isn't huge, but it's there – you exchanged blank, overwhelmed stares that lasted a few minutes before blooming into laughs of joy. He's stopped trying to gain weight (he politely declined a second bottle of the metabolism-slowing drug created by Professor Dekapan - just as well since he'd barely afforded the first), but even so, the hot redness on your face and the hard spike between Choromatsu's legs indicated that a celebration was in order.
That's what you're doing right now: celebrating. Kissing and embracing your increasingly-huggable boyfriend feels amazing enough, but you can sense the celebrations will escalate soon.
Choromatsu lets himself fall backwards onto your bed and you break the kiss, allowing him to withdraw his MP3 player from his jeans pocket and put on his favourite piece of lovemaking music: Nyaaaaa~n Overture no. V, the crown jewel of Hashimoto Nyaa's third studio album. As he leaves the device on the bedclothes and lets the tinny speakers do their thing, you move down to what was once his waist. He's surprised when you pull his hoodie clean off before tackling his jeans but smiles gratefully as you undo the remaining buttons on his white shirt – he's digested everything you fed him by now, but it still feels good to air his gut out.
It doesn't stay aired out for long, though: the warmth and softness possess such a magnetic pull that you have to bury your face in Choromatsu's belly, making him jump in surprise, but he quickly relaxes and reciprocates by tousling your hair with both hands in that way you like. You nuzzle your face further and further into his flesh, making murmurs that sound vaguely like “so... damn... hot...” through the fat muffling your voice. Eventually you have no choice but to come up for air, and in doing so you switch to a more delicate approach: Choromatsu blushes as you slowly, methodically plant kisses on each of the vibrant magenta stretch marks on his belly. You keep your hands busy – and his dick hard - by gently pinching and rubbing his crotch through his jeans, but most of your effort is channelled into your mouth as you lavish attention on the colourful stripes that radiate out from his navel like sunbeams.
“H-hey,” says Choromatsu, who fails to stifle a ticklish laugh. “Easy there! You don't have to kiss every single one of them!”
“Yes” - you interrupt yourself to kiss another mark - “I” - yet another kiss - “do.” On the last kiss he lets out a high-pitched little moan, leading you to wonder whether to call that a day. Did you already kiss that one on the bottom left, or…? You want to, but it'd be rude to blue ball him; gotta compromise.
You finally unbutton Choromatsu's jeans, tug them down along with his underpants, take a second to appreciate the pinkness where they pinched against his flesh and shuffle forward a little (prompting another moan from the man under you) to grab a condom from your bedside table. There's a quick rip of foil and your hands return to his groin, where you slowly guide the latex - the only thing the two of you like extra-thin – down his cock with your fingers, gently pressing into the front of his shaft on the way down and stroking its side with the pad of your thumb. The extra stimulation has the desired effect as Choromatsu stiffens even more and whispers little “yes... yes”s of approval.
“Good… but, er...” he breathes, trying his best to compose himself. “Can we swap places? I need my turn to appreciate your body, too.”
With a glimmer of a smile, you grab Choromatsu's plush hips – one in each hand – and roll downward onto the bed, taking him with you so you're both lying on your sides. He lets out a chuckle of surprise and happiness, then follows your lead and climbs on top of you; you also get comfortable lying flat on your back. Choromatsu fidgets a bit as he wonders how to position his engorged cock and even more engorged body, but settles for sitting atop your thighs, his legs straddling your hips on either side. You're faintly aware of him shrugging off and discarding his unbuttoned shirt – but mostly you're overwhelmed by how great a shock of pleasure it is to have his bulk weighing down on you. He's been on top of you before, but you're surprised at just how good it feels now that he outweighs you… or maybe he'd been propping himself up on his arms before, and that lessened the impact of the weight? Either way, the realisation makes your face and crotch both glow, but you do your best to play it cool.
Choromatsu returns your favour from earlier by lifting up the hem of your shirt; he pauses before he can take it all the way up, but your quick utterance of “go on” assuages his worries and the garment is gone in the blink of an eye. His face lights up at the sight of your bare chest and he whispers “so gorgeous...” as he slowly, tentatively touches your nipples – even after sleeping with you more than once, he never quite got over the amazement of seeing someone else's breasts in the flesh. Part of you hopes he'll grow out of this overexcitement someday; another part knows you're just as bad about his body, and that getting overexcited is what makes Choromatsu Choromatsu.
“Come on, you can do better than that,” you gently prompt him, hoping to get a little more warmed up (figuratively and literally). Ever eager to please, Choromatsu dives down to meet your chest with his mouth and covers your breasts in quick, shy kisses while gently kneading the tissue nearer your collarbone with his fingers. “That's more like it...” you moan as you press on the soft flesh of his back, squishing his belly firmly against yours. As your breathing deepens Choromatsu moves on to your other breast, wrapping his lips around the nipple and sucking ever so lightly, then whipping his tongue out and trailing its circumference with the tip… in no time at all, your nipples are as stiff as his cock, and though it's hard to tell without touching between your legs, you feel aroused enough to move on to the main event.
Evidently great minds think alike: Choromatsu reluctantly pulls away from your chest, sits up and fumbles with the button of your trousers. “M-may I... t-t-take a look inside?” he stutters.
“Go ahead and do more than look.”
Choromatsu opens your pants, yanks them down to your knees, then extends his index finger into your underwear and ultimately inside you. You moan abruptly at the brief intimacy and can't help being disappointed to realise he's only checking for moisture: he timidly withdraws within seconds. “Ah... well, you're wet enough... but are you okay like this?”
You do indeed feel ready, but you're a bit puzzled by his question. “Like what, Choro?”
His already-scarlet blush deepens, both at the question and at hearing his name abbreviated in that cute (at least, he sure thinks so) accent of yours. “W-w-w-with me… you know… on top? Won't I be too… er…” Choromatsu self-consciously covers his soft chest and breaks eye contact with you as he struggles to find the right word. “I know you like me… like this and all, but I don't want to... hurt you...”
You stifle a laugh – not at him, but with him, as you so often do – and reach up to turn his face back down to yours. “As if Mr. Gentle could hurt me even if he wanted to. In fact... could you get up for a sec? I've got an idea.”
Choromatsu's a little flustered by your praise, but does as he's told, parting his legs to give you room to move and then squatting, causing the bed to creak enticingly under the more finely-pointed pressure. Trying not to dwell on that distraction, you prop yourself up on both hands and rotate under him so that your head, neck, and the very tops of shoulders are hanging off the edge of the mattress. Choromatsu seems surprised by this, but takes the cue to follow you and sit back down in your lap.
Your idea's working: as he leans in, his weight feels even better on you without the mattress bearing some of it, and you can't help but let out a moan. “Yes, that's better... I want to feel all of you on top of me.”
He gulps, and visibly sweats. “A-a-a-are you sure?!” he asks breathlessly, and grabs your shoulders with both hands for fear that you'll fall off the bed. Good – him keeping you secure was your plan all along, and by now he's shared your bed enough times for you to trust him with this.
“Never been surer of anything in my life,” you rasp. “Choromatsu, please, fuck me like this.”
“W-w-w-w-well… since you said 'please...'” he makes an attempt at a joke through his mind-numbing nervousness and excitement. You feel Choromatsu's hands tremble deliciously against your skin as he pulls your trousers and panties all the way down (briefly hopping off of you to allow them past your thighs – when he sits back down, you moan once again), then there's an agonising second of anticipation... and at last he thrusts into you.
“Ffffuck!” he groans, startling you a little, as he slowly pulls out of you. Upon thrusting back in he exclaims “you're this wet?!” in disbelief, but also pleasant surprise – your only answer is an affirmative-sounding grunt of pleasure. “I... don't know if I can... stay in you at all... like this,” he mutters, pausing intermittently to thrust several more times.
Indeed, Choromatsu's cock slides in and out of you with almost too much ease; he's motivated your body to provide so much lubrication that getting it back in after each thrust requires careful positioning and a lot of force. It's that force that keeps you far too enraptured to make a witty retort: there's some pain as his weight presses air out of your lungs, as well as slight dizziness from keeping your head thrown back, but both are quickly forgotten along with the sweetly-silly music playing next to you. Your whole world, for a few perfect minutes, is Choromatsu repeatedly hammering you into the mattress from the shoulders down while he happily, quietly moans your name and you not-so-quietly moan his, over and over.
“Choromatsu... Choro... Choro... Choro, yes!!” you unconsciously quote the origin of his name... the sound of something darting around, right? Although you're not thinking about the meaning so much as how it makes so much sense that his name begs to be repeated over and over. In fact you're not thinking about much at all except helping him by bucking your hips into his, or being careful not to bump your head on the floor as it tips back against the movement and pressure. Luckily, though, he's doing a fine job of holding your shoulders upright even while his hips are busy - leaving you free to focus on the one most important thing. The bliss of more than eighty kilograms of Choromatsu hammering down on you, again and again, dominates your consciousness.
The rhythm of his thrusts is choppy at first, but he quickly settles into a smoother one and you shout “yes... yes... fuck yeah” with each incredible burst of pressure on your entire body, concentrated in that wet little nook. When you cast your eyes upward, Choromatsu is moaning and panting, wearing that telltale look with his eyes closed and his mouth smiling like that of a frog anticipating a juicy fly: he's obviously in heaven too as he repeatedly makes contact with the soft landing pad that is the front of your body.
Even in the thralls of ecstasy, Choromatsu is his caring, cautious self: “you... sure... you're... okay?” he asks, breathlessly but sincerely, between thrusts.
“YES,” you exclaim without needing to think - “this is the stuff right here...”
“Good...” He smiles even wider and slows his pace a little, allowing you to appreciate each others' bodies even more. “Should I... do anything... special?” he shyly asks.
“You're something special,” you pointedly say, “but...” Propping yourself up on your elbows, you raise your butt slightly, along with a curious Choromatsu. “Wrap your legs around me! I gotta feel them!”
He briefly pulls out so he can oblige, then nervously-but-happily withdraws his legs from your sides and hooks them under your hips. Choromatsu thrusts back into you more vigorously than ever – and if it weren't for him catching you by the shoulders just in time, you'd fall clean off the bed, head thrown back in rapture.
“Fuuuuuck, that's good!” you yell as you feel Choromatsus's soft thighs and jiggly belly teaming up to squeeze your body to the brink of ecstasy, while your pussy does likewise to his dick. He lets out his own wordless moans of pleasure; clearly he's getting close... his stamina sure has increased since his first time, but he still needs guidance as to what to do with it.
“Choro,” you say in that firm-but-kind tone he likes, “go... just a little deeper... you're almost at that spot...”
Ever attentive, he gradually moves deeper into you, edging ever closer to that sweet spot until – “YES, there it is!” you scream, and the thrill of success nearly tips Choromatsu over the edge, but he holds on for your sake.
“Y-your clit!” he blurts out, and pauses thrusting for just one delicious second. “Can I please touch your clit?!”
“You… said… please,” you do your best to echo his earlier words through your blissful fog - “so… DO IT.”
Choromatsu's face lights up, then he pulls back a little to allow space for his right hand to explore you. He always gets such a thrill out of touching those sensitive parts nestled within two pairs of lips: it's no wonder, really, considering that for a while he didn't expect to ever get to see those bits in person -
Then it's there.
His thumb on your clitoris, and his forefinger pinching it against the hood as forcefully as he dares, all while his dick continues to hit the very core of you.
Choromatsu's fingers are there – and after a second, you're there, too.
With your loudest scream thus far, you tense up ever so briefly, then flop down as your arms flail wildly in the air off the bed.
Again Choromatsu swoops down to catch your shoulders before you can bump your head; once you've regained some of your bearings, you grab his back and use that leverage to pull him into a kiss. The blood swirling around your head and back to your body causes a rush of unpleasant giddiness, but the highly pleasant giddiness of feeling his mouth on yours cancels it out. He, too, savours your lips as he gingerly pulls out of you: in the back of your mind you realise hot fluid is leaking out of you and that your attentive boyfriend is doing his best to scoop it up, emitting worried little “ah... a-ah!”s as he breaks the kiss. He can only do so much with no cloth or tissues within reach, but his attention is soon back on you, checking to make sure you're as okay as you sounded just now – you reassure him with a nod and a knowing grin.
Choromatsu shyly looks away from you - as if you'd take your eyes off of him for a second – then licks the remains of your joy off his fingers, tentatively at first, but soon sucking greedily. You smile at how desperate he is to not disappoint you (even when he's doing the opposite of that), then get his attention by reaching up to place your palm on his chubby cheek.
“That… was… great… but… I… didn't… say stop,” you remind him as forcefully as you can through your exhaustion. In the back of your mind you're slightly disappointed he didn't come at the same time as or just after you… but him being too patient isn't a bad problem to have; neither is all the practice you'll both have to do before you can cross the finish line simultaneously. A quick look up and down tells you he's still hard enough, but wears an expression of slight physical pain - as much as you don't want to see him hurting, he deserves a reward.
Choromatsu catches your drift: he rips his soaked condom off, hastily ties it up and takes the liberty of replacing it, then finally repositions himself back at your entrance. “Take it slow… it's your turn to feel good,” you assure him, and the promise breathes new life into his erection.
“S… s… same position again?” he checks, cautiously optimistic.
“Please,” you moan as you shuffle back into the indent the two of you just made in the mattress, letting your head and shoulders hang down once more. “We'll mix it up next time, I promise… but… some things are best when they're the same.”
Choromatsu smiles, glad that his methods of loving you are the exception to your shared love of 'different'. “You sure you're okay for more…?” he asks as a final precaution.
“Mm... a little more,” you reply. You're physically tired, to be sure, but the aftershocks of your orgasm have ceased now – and you're still very much in the mood for more Choromatsu on top of you.
More Choromatsu...? That certainly is a thought.
Quite a lot of Choromatsu slowly makes his way on top of you. “Oh… yes,” you say in the sultriest voice you can muster while he eases his dick back into you. He's really savouring this second, more relaxed round, which works for you: more time to enjoy his warmth and weight, and to prepare the final strike that just formulated in your mind.
Eventually Choromatsu resumes thrusting into you, more gently this time, but gradually building speed. He's holding you up by the shoulders again, and the touch of his hands, belly and cock all feel unbelievable... you let him know: “Yes... this is great... Choro,” you pant out of strained lungs. “But... you know... what would be... even greater?”
Choromatsu happens to be deep inside you when he pauses – it feels distractingly good, but you just barely manage to focus enough to hear him ask “wh-what?”
“If...” You find yourself almost too flustered to say it, but the sight of his body so close to yours (in more ways than one) gives you the confidence: “...if we did this again with... two or three more kilos of you on me.”
Choromatsu lets out an “ehhhhh?!” and is so shocked that he thrusts again without remembering he's already all the way in. You grunt in pain, but to your relief he pulls out and off of you quickly, then pauses at your entrance. “I... I'll see what I can do,” he promises under his breath, his face a perfect red cherry.
You grin and buck your hips to indicate readiness for more; Choromatsu obligingly slides back into you and resumes thrusting, more timidly than before. Your idea of a heavier future seems to have reminded him to exercise caution, but also to experiment: he leans into you with exquisite slowness, weighing down on you until the mattress practically absorbs you... fuck, this guy is heavy – not only is that fine with you; knowing the reason he's the way he is spurs you on to finish what you started.
“No... pressure,” you wheeze out (the irony of the word not lost on you), “it's just that… I can't believe my luck-” a pause to allow another thrust - “with you… working so hard to match me, and exceeding your goal… one day… you'll do the same at a job-” Choromatsu trembles with joy, but dutifully slides back into you - “but… for now… you could work toward… I dunno, say… 95 kilos?”
Choromatsu yelps in mid-thrust, and comes dangerously close to letting you fall to the floor. Luckily you throw your arms back and prop yourself up with a second to spare, breathless and exhilarated for a number of reasons, but still on the ball – barely. The same can be said of Choromatsu, who attentively takes you by the shoulders despite his hands shaking so much against your skin.
For a second you silently smirk, pausing to let Choromatsu compose himself and find a rhythm once more. Once he does so, he tries – god bless him, he tries – to keep up with your teasing: “M-m-m-maybe... ninety-seven w-would be better? You... s-said something about seven being a l-lucky number where you're from, right?”
“Something... like... that,” you pant as your eyes lose focus from a bit of pain – but mostly overwhelming pleasure. Forcing yourself to look back at Choromatsu's lovely round face, you can tell from his expression just how close he must be, and go in for the kill: “But… even better… would be a nice round number; imagine- ahh!” You briefly lose composure when he hits a particularly sweet spot, but regain it quickly as you ride that wave of endorphins.
“I-i-i-i... imagine... what?” Choromatsu asks; he's visibly sweating as he struggles to hold himself together, and has to pause to catch his over-excited breath. Time for his reward.
“Imagine...” you begin, then take advantage of the respite he's offered you. “One hundred kilos of you pushing down-”
You don't get to finish that sentence before Choromatsu screams your name and climaxes - you wouldn't have it any other way.
Though your body doesn't quite hit that same spike of pleasure, his heft – both in you and on top of you – still feels amazing; even more so when he flops down on you, exhausted. You wrap your arms around his back, tempted to let him stay there and enjoy his embrace, but you remember how impractical that'd be when your hair touches the floor...
“Well... done... Cho...ro...” you pant, “but... I... have... to... breathe... eventually.”
He pulls out and sits up with an adorable worried yelp, then lends you his hand to pull you all the way back onto the bed. You gratefully accept and get comfortable on your mattress, relieved to feel your dizziness subside and to rest back on solid ground, as it were – but still holding onto the memory of being suspended and crushed by that much love for dear life.
Choromatsu, meanwhile, curls up in a corner of the bed to shut off his MP3 player and remove his condom. Once the latter is discarded in the waste basket beside your bed, he turns to you and asks “was... um... was... that... okay?”, fighting against both physical exhaustion and shyness, but determined to get the words out. “I... didn't... hurt you... did I?”
You reply at first by reaching your arms up around his shoulders, then with “I'm still in one piece, aren't I?” The broad smile on your face quickly shrinks into a pucker as you peck him on the lips.
That familiar shade of red returns to Choromatsu's face, and he mirrors your smile to the best of his ability. “That's good... it's just that...” He timidly breaks eye contact for a second, but can't keep his eyes off of you for long. “W-w-w-well... that stuff you said about a hundred kilos-”
You feel a pang of regret and try to soothe what might have been a sore spot. “Don't worry, I was just playing what-if. You know you don't have to gain any more weight if you don't want to.”
“I know, I know... I was just about to say... if I had to, I'd be happy to try, for you.”
You glow down there all over again, but simply reply to Choromatsu with a gentle, sustained kiss on the cheek.
“You're wonderful,” you gush under your breath, then speak a little more forcefully: “the question is, do you want to?”
Choromatsu casts a glance down at his soft form and mulls the question over. He cups a handful of his stomach, wondering how it'd feel to have more of it – but he's interrupted by a demanding gurgle from under his palm. “Mmm... I'll have a snack and see; I always do my best thinking when I've eaten.”
“Good plan. I've got a box of chocolate cornets in the cupboard - how does one of those sound?”
“Can we make it two? Maybe three?”
“You know I can't resist a chance to spoil my puffed-up frog prince.”