Search the Community

Her name was Jeanette and this was back in the 1980s, so specifics are a combination of memories tempered by memory. At the time, she was around 25. She was trying to work in my office, which was focused on architecture, but the had been somewhat of a party girl and had a tendency to play on the wild side. Everyone else in the office was a guy and would have typical guy lunches, which she kept pace on. Since she would go with me to meetings and job sites, which often meant two hour drives, we got a chance to get to know one another. We would often go out with clients after a meeting and that was where I got to see her party side, often having a drink or two more than she should have. It was also where I got to see her capacity to eat. She loved to eat, but her life style before working in our office kept her away from food for the most part, although drinking smoking marijuana were staples. Working in the office meant more regular hours and that brought with it the need to eat breakfast before she came to work and then real lunches. Through in a couple of real dinners each week and it was only maybe three or four months into the job when her clothes had gotten too tight for comfort. She had a pronounced body with a nice ass and hips and generous breasts. The several months on the job helped her belly catch up. In a number of ways she had a body similar to Shar's, with that kind of bouncy lower belly that connotes pure chub. One Monday she came in to work with the pronouncement that she was on a diet. She brought her lunch from home in a little paper bag and managed to make it all of the way until Wednesday until her resolve started to dissolve. Wednesday night was a zoning board meeting and afterwards we went out to dinner. She was starving and went for the prime rib with baked potato and sour cream. I didn't say anything, in part because, when it maybe looked like I was going to, she shot me daggers. When the waiter came to ask if we wanted dessert, she went ahead and ordered the chocolate volcano, which was molten chocolate cake served with ice cream, and whipped cream. It was the kind of thing that a couple might share. She was not interested in sharing. The next day at work I noticed that she ate the lunch she brought from home at around 11:00. When the rest of us started thinking about lunch at around 1:00, she ordered a meatball hero and ate a second lunch with us. She left work early, saying that she wasn't feeling well. When she came in the next morning, she admitted to me that she had left because she felt like she was starving and hit two fast food restaurants on the way home. I was a bit intrigued that she was entrusting me with this information, but my guess is that I wear a sign on my forehead that says I like chubby girls who like to eat, and I am also easy to talk to. Later she admitted that she felt that she could trust me and could tell that I enjoyed watching her eat. Friday she ate her lunch from home at the regular time and seemed to be back on her diet. On Saturday, I had to drive out to the Hamptons to check on a house that was in construction. She had asked if she could go along and I said sure, since it was nice to have her company. I was glad that she was into learning. We were done at around 2:00 in the afternoon and I asked her if she wanted lunch, since I was hungry. We stopped at a diner and she ordered a a double cheeseburger with fries, a separate order of onion rings and a chocolate shake. I asked if that was on her diet. That was when she explained to me that she had a serious problem with being denied things that she craved. And she was craving food. When the waitress asked if we wanted dessert, she ordered a piece of pie with ice cream and then ordered a brownie sunday for me. I looked a little puzzled and she waived me off. Of course it turned out that the second dessert was also for her. As she was eating, we talked about whether I made her feel uncomfortable, since I knew she was supposed to be on a diet. I started trying to explain that I wasn't judging and she just laughed, telling me that she knew that I loved it. I admitted to her that I did have a thing for watching girls eat, particularly when it seemed like they were a little out of control. I explained that I did not understand why I felt that way, but she said that it made total sense to her and admitted that she was into a kind of love hate relationship with food for herself, but a no nonsense total love affair with chubby women overeating. She said that it had been clear to her from early on over lunches at the office that I paid more attention to what she was eating than normal and she had figured out my secret. I told her that I was happy to have been able to contribute to her enjoyment. She said that I was not off the hook and it wasn't going to be that easy. Instead of heading for home, she said she wanted to go into the city. We walked around for a while, but at 6:00 she proclaimed that she was on the verge of fainting from hunger. I said that I doubted that, given the lunch she had devoured, but she insisted holding her belly as if she was in pain from a lack of food. We went to a really nice Italian restaurant that served family style. It was clear that she had been their before and she ordered the antipasto, the pasta e fagioli soup, and spaghetti with meatballs. They brought out a basket of garlic bread dripping with butter and she killed it. The servings were huge, but she made her way through effortlessly, ending the meal with the tiramisu for dessert. Although she had pulled out her shirt and had it over her jeans, I see that her belly was sticking out. I suspected that she had pushed the waist of her jeans down so that they were cutting in under her belly. We were finished at about 8:00 and when I asked her if she wanted to head for home, she suggested that we go for a drink instead. We hung out for a while a bar in lower Manhattan that was part of the scene back then and listened to the first set of the band. When they took a break, we left. While we were there, she had three Long Island Iced Teas and she was clearly a little bit high. By this time it was probably almost 12:00 midnight. we were headed up 6th Avenue and as we approached 57th Street, she told me to turn left and find a parking space. We parked and walked to the Hardrock Cafe. I questioned whether she really needed another drink, but she swung her face into mine and asked if I really thought it was a good idea to deny her something that she wanted. She was joking, but also pretty serious. Then she explained that we were not there to drink. She claimed she was feeling a bit peckish and figured that it was because she hadn't eaten for four hours. I told her that she had to be kidding, but she made it clear that she was quite serious. We got a table and she ordered a couple of things from their starters menu: classic nachos, chicken tenders, and fries. I explained that I was not hungry at all, and she calmly looked at me and said, "What made you think I was ordering for you?" She asked me to tell her my story. I asked "What story?" She told me to tell her why chubby girls over eating turns me on. When I tried to explain that I really had no clue, she just told me to talk about it. As soon as I started talking, she started eating. There was a lot of food but she simply and calmly picked up the food, put it in her mouth and chewed. I went on for a while, which what I am writing clearly shows that I can do. About 30 minutes later, all of the plates were clean and she had a glazed look with a soft smile. She had her elbows on the table steading herself with her chair pushed back with her knees apart. I could tell that this was to allow her belly to hang free. She hiccuped a couple of times and then let out a soft, but long and deep belch. I couldn't tell if she blushed, since her face was flushed, but after a few seconds, she said she should probably excuse herself. I said that there was no need and in some cultures belching is a sign of having enjoyed the meal. The waiter came over and asked if there was anything else that we wanted. Without taking her eyes off of mine, she ordered, "I would like a legendary cheese burger with lettuce, tomato, and aioli, but no onions, cooked medium." The waiter asked her if she wanted fries, but she answered, "No. I am on a diet." I then ordered a chocolate milk shake. While we were waiting, she asked me if I had any idea how many calories she had eaten. I asked, "Starting when?" She answered, "Starting with lunch." That was back before restaurants were required to post calorie counts, so I could only guess. I told her that lunch was probably 2,000 calories and dinner was probably 3,000 calories. I told her I figured that she probably doubled that with what she was eating at the Hardrock. When the food came, she was having trouble finding a comfortable position. She reached under her shirt and undid the button and zipper on her pants, took in a deep breath, exhaled and picked up her burger with both hands, opening her mouth wide. It was an impressive burger. I slid the shake over to her. She almost looked surprised, but she thanked me. When she finished, she leaned back in her chair, with her legs out straight and spread apart. I will admit that by this point I was totally turned on. Sitting back like that her bloated belly formed a dome under her shirt. We had parked about two blocks away, which she explained was about two blocks further than she thought she could walk. I went to get the car and pulled up. She actually seemed unsteady on her feet and had the look of being in a semi-torpor. I helped her to the car and held her hands as she backed her way through the door and sat down. She put her seat back all of the way down so she was lying flat on her back. We drove home and she asked me to rub her belly. I explained that nothing could happen, since she worked for me. I said we needed to maintain a professional relationship. She said that she was not asking me to sleep with her. She said the belly rub would be more medicinal, since she was actually experiencing some pain from being so full. I kept my hand on top of her shirt, probably to avoid my accidental straying to where I should not go. I was amazed about how round and hard her belly felt. She was totally bloated. She kind of drifted off while we were driving and even started snoring a little bit. I got her home, walked her to her door, and made sure that she was safely inside. Before she closed the door, I gave her a kiss on the forehead, wishing her a good night. There were many more experiences with Jeanette, but that is enough for now.