Karyne

[chrissy]

by Anonymous

It had been about two years since I had seen Karyne in person. It was at a movie - I think it was Batman - and she was looking as beautiful as ever. She was about 5’7”, a gentle, oval face, brown hair falling just above the shoulders, and more often than not wore a brilliant smile. She was in finance, but had a voracious interest in music. I was studying music, but wanted to find some semblance of practicality in the endeavor, against all odds.

Anyway, I remember that last encounter with Karyne because she seemed a bit different that night. It might have been that her arms looks a touch softer, or that her bottom held down a gentle swagger that may or may not have been there before. What I knew for sure was that her chest has most definitely gone up a size, to a solid C. We talked about the job she had recently gotten as a bartender.

“And at the end of the night, I end up having maybe five shots and two beers... it’s been great, but I really have to watch it,” she confessed. I was having a hard time covering my arousal as she uttered those words to me. Having analyzed my repose, she smiled and turned back to the opening credits of the film. I looked over and saw she had a large bag of popcorn, loaded with butter. I assumed she was sharing, but it was kept square between her legs... and emptied over the course of a couple of hours.

And that was the last I saw of Karyne. Until my phone buzzed, in the middle of a class for my teacher’s college. An unknown number, with a message:

“Hey it’s Karyne, can we meet?” Peculiar.

“Sure, it’s been a while. Where to?”

“Um, maybe for dinner? La Grande?” It was a fancier restaurant downtown.

“Is this a date? By text?” I was excited, but decidedly to ask the right questions anyway. But I had a feeling she could see through my air of cool, like she had two years ago.

“Call it an urge.”

So there we were, trading notes about entrepreneurship in music, Alex Ross’s latest literary opus, Keynes and alternative economic theories, and the like. A little more grown up.

And a little more grown, as I couldn’t help but notice. It started with Karyne’s smile, which now produced a tiny double chin, undiscernable to only those, like me, who hadn’t seen her in two years. It occured to me that this moment, which I relished, was testament to the preservation of surprise by staying off Facebook.

My eyes moved down towards her chest, which moved with her breathing. Clearly these were Ds, covered up by her blouse but tightly adhering to their voluptuous form. Below that, a belt to separate her chest from her midriff, which was now covered by her flowing shirt. Her jeans, however, were as tight as ever, and showed off what could only be described as a booty, which had no trouble smothering the surface area of her seat. To be with a woman so intelligent and so obviously capable of enjoying life was heaven.

“So are you still bartending?” I queried.

“Well, yeah. Technically I don’t have to since I started working at the bank, but, then I wouldn’t get access to all those $2 shooters. On the other hand, sitting down during the way and drinking at night has proven to be kind of a vicious combination...”’

“What do you mean?” I tried to play dumb, deeply aware the guilt and pleasure beginning to brandish my face.

“Well, you know...” she began playing with her fork. “A Jager here, a jelly donut there, and it just, kind of... adds up.” She lifted her breasts and let them drop, and they gave a small bounce. Do you know where I’m going with this?”

“.... Yeah.”

“Do you.... like where I’m going with this?”

“Where are we going?”

“My place.” She knew. I knew.

We were in her apartment - a block away from La Grande, of course.

“Time to relax.” She undid her waist belt and promptly took off her blouse, revealing a tight top underneath. The same one she wore to the movie theatre, years ago. But different. Very different.

[Guest bg777714]

More? MORE!

[Watashi]

More? MORE!

[Hoss Delgado]

MOAR. Please.

[chrissy]

Karyne was, unwittingly or not, showing off the effects of all that booze and office snacks as a part of her professions over the past two years. As she pulled her blouse up over her face, her old tshirt underneath gave way. What was a small but indiscrete paunch had developed into a real gut. Her navel, almond-shaped, was rendered deep, ensconced in the surplus consequences of White Russians and Guinness. Small lovehandles spilled out of her dark blue jeans, a seemingly unavoidable effect of her current shape.

Having thrown the blouse aside, she immediately adjusted her tee, although it wasn't quite enough to conceal her midriff bulge completely. The outline of her bra was also in clear view - not to mention an expanse of cleavage.

The five seconds encapsulating this event seemed to unravel themselves in ultra slow motion in my mind. The diffences were startling. 20 pounds? 25 pounds?

The speaker system in the far corner of her living room in the bachelor pad sprung to life. Anybody's Ghost - The National. Another throwback to two years prior. Karyne and I had danced to this song at a party, one. I tried not to read into any of it, however impossible it was.

"Drink?"

I was startled by the sudden interjection into my expedition into memory. It didn't help that knowing the term "mixologist" was the extent of my knowledge thereof.

"Uh - what do you have?"

"Guinness, Vodka, Rum..."

"Guiness," I said, hoping she might opt in.

"You're too easy," She laughed. "Let me make you something."

She opened the liquor cabinet. It was astounding. I wondered how she could afford it. On the other hand, I was mostly still a student - and a musician - and an aspiring teacher, and the allowances of a salary in two decent jobs never crossed my mind. Karyne had made her priorities clear to me.

"There." She set down two something-or-others on the coffee table, and we talked. About everything. Mixology, my current musical projects, the last two years of school, what had stayed the same, and what had changed. About three drinks in, the next topic was inevitable.

"So do you like what you see?" Karyne said, playfully.

"You're as beautiful as ever."

"Even though I'm kind of big girl now?" She leaned in. Her cleavage was completely on display, and her stomach, creased in the middle, sat over the belt of her jeans.  The moment of truth.

"Especially." Her face slightly reddened, and her breathing became a bit heavier.

"I had a nice big meal tonight and I've had soooo much to drink," she cooed, "and I think I need to skip dessert, but you can have some."

She reached into her bra and retrieved her left mammary. In the midst of mild drunkenness, I did the natural thing.

"I have a confession," Karyne started between her audible inhaling.

"Tell me," I said as clearly as I could given my current preoccupation.

"When I started working the bar, it was nice at first to have a few pints here and there, but it became an obsession. I felt fuller. I felt complete. And soon enough I did get fuller. And more complete. I loved the feeling of my tummy pushing the confines of my shirt, my ass and thighs getting tighter. Everything getting so curvy and luscious. I loved the drinks, and I loved their effect over time... and you, I love you, and I think you love me too. All of me."

"I do." I stared in her eyes as I opened her belt and unbuttoned her jeans, and her thick middle enveloped my fingers. My hand reached down into her waiting, wet interior.

"I've been dreaming of this for two years," she moaned.

"Don't be shy," I whispered into her ear, my hands working. "I love the way you're going," I teased, feeding into her nascent fetish.

"Grab my ass."

Her jeans and top seemed to fly off. Her ass was glorious, with big cheeks jutting out. Her thighs barely met. I carried her, with some effort, to bed.

We were good acquaintances, but tonight we became lovers.

[BilledMeUp]

Nice work. Great story.

[chrissy]

Thanks. I'm willing to take suggestions for the next one...

[le_gone]

Very good story.