Sweat dripped between the curves of his breasts and rounded the corner of his stomach getting stuck in between the suction being created by the meeting of these two bodies. Her mouth let out a moan of appreciation for the moment he had just brought. He groaned his thank you as her body grabbed him in a perfectly placed squeeze yearning for his finish.
The smile they shared came not from the ecstasy they just gave each other but a deeper place of comfort and it showed beyond the depth of their shared gaze and giggles on their mouths.
The glow was unmistakable and seemed to bind their bodies together. As they tried to wrench them a part their bodies voiced their displeasure in a loud squeak as the sweat that molded them together was forced apart.
To assuage the discontent in her body she quickly climbed back toward him laying her head on his pillow chest and arm draped around his man made teddy bear stomach.
The profound smile in her eyes couldn’t be removed even by the pleasured exhaustion he had caused.
“Seriously you are amazing.”
“It’s the love machine” He rubbed his stomach pleasingly.
“I never thought it could be this good.”
“What I didn’t look like a pure pleasure ride?” Even as she punched him, the same smile, the one out of her control stayed firm.
“Nice.” They both laughed.
“So what do I do that is so amazing?”
“I mean you didn’t stop you just kept coming and then so did I.”
“Well you are so inspiring, that thing you do with your hips… amazing.”
“I am glad you liked it.” She looked up, but didn’t need to tell him she loved him, she simply tilted her head toward him with her unmovable grin; her body communicated the love emanating it from all over. He squeezed her, his body teletyping its thank you through his arms bringing her closer. She relaxed back into his chest and buried her body in his arm wiggling a little bit to really fit in. Her bodies smile was reflected even more on the lengthening of the corners of her mouth. She closed her eyes to profoundly appreciate the rhythm of his stomach’s movement.
He watched her arm move up and down as his ample stomach filled and deflated. She interrupted the peaceful beauty of their bodies dancing in this rhythm moving her hand underneath his stomach and bouncing it up and down like a fake doubled “D” breast. Not letting his clear movement of dissatisfaction deter her she stuck her finger into his belly button. His fatness not made enough of an uncomfortable joke she moved passed his pleas to stop and blew on his stomach, letting the extra skin that encased his stomach flutter under her lips.
The shaming with her actions was punctuated with an uncomfortable proclamation so beyond his understanding it was hard for him to respond beyond the tears of disappointment and self-pity that were wanting in his ducts. “I think your stomach is sexy, why don’t you let me play with it more?”
“I am not sexy with this thing. I could be sexy for other reasons, but my stomach is just a sign of my laziness, inability to control my mouth, and clearly slovenly soul, or so society tells me.”
“You aren’t any of those things, you are intelligent, thoughtful, athletic, big AND beautiful.”
“But how can I be beautiful with this thing? Don’t you sometimes wish I was skinnier? Wish I lost weight… had a six pack?”
“If you want to lose weight or exercise more that’s fine with me, we can just have more sex just don’t lose your stomach in the process. I love your stomach too much; he gives me so much pleasure.”
“My stomach?” An unexpected shock could not be disguised in his question, while normally faining surprise this was one of those rarest of moments that actually did jolt him.
“Yeah it rubs against my clit or sits right on top when you thrust it feels surprisingly doubly amazing.”
He allowed himself to start living this thought, such a concept never leaking into his consciousness nor on the lips of one of his past lovers. Even though his consciousness wanted to disbelieve something so ridiculous, he smiled allowing it to be true.
“What about me, am I beautiful?”
“I mean look you are not…” He took the moment to say what he really meant. “I have no delusions that I am Brad Pitt. But I always hoped that someone would see me and love me for who I am, not who I appear to be.” He looked down to let his eyes describe his next point. “I may not be Brad Pitt and you may not be as societal defined hot as Angelina Jolie, but we are definitely just as beautiful.”
“So you are ok that I will never be skinny, never look good in a bikini.”
“As long as you keep looking this good naked and feel this good next to my skin and continue to just be the person you are, there will never be anyone as beautiful as you. I don’t care what society says as long as I have you in my arms I will never again be without true beauty.”
The warmth their souls’ exhaled was being shown in the dark comfort of their eyes, “I hope my eyes reflect your truth, because I have never felt so seen as when you look at me.”
The moment still fills him with a radiance that never allows him to question the truth of that moment even as it has seemingly been proven false.
She looked over with a forced smile; that smile that tries to hide how much happier she is but doesn’t want to hurt him with the conceit of that thought. Thinner and less pretty she put her head into the properly muscular shoulder of the man without any interesting distinction. His claim to fame was clearly the ordinary handsomeness he displayed. Just as easily as he could be an Abercrombie & Finch model he could be forgotten; his lips elongating to the corners of his slight dimples with all the depth he could muster and yet clearly lacking any true depth behind it.
The cold infrastructure that underpinned this new couple’s exchange, defined their embrace of these now societally sanctioned beauties.
He smiled his clearly fake smile and turned to walk away. He wished he could see his toes as he looked down for comfort. He wanted to see that they would carry him to his next step and the one after that. Instead he saw the same stagnant view he always saw when he looked down. He gave his stomach a momentary rub and trusted his feet to take him on. The warmth of their moment was now fading out of his stomach and being forced back to the recesses of his abdomen.
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