For dinner, I wore a nice button up
and some jeans that made my ass look amazing. The idea was to make Ryan hungry
for something else besides food. As I
walked downstairs my stomach began to growl from all the food smells floating
through the house. By the time I entered the dining room I was practically
salivating, but my hunger quickly dissipated when I opened the door. The dining
room was by far the most exquisite part of the house. It was lavishly decorated
and looked like something straight out of a civil war movie. The room was
extremely posh for such an old and relatively small house. The only other guest
had already arrived and was seated. He was thin and not too attractive in the
face, but seemed like a nice guy. I took a seat and Marcie joined us shortly
after. The food would be ready in a few minutes, she told us. We began to chat
and in the midst of small talk, Ryan walked in. He was a sight to behold. He
wore essentially the same outfit as me, but his shirt was tucked in. A mound of
fat hung suspended over the front of his pants. With each step you could see a
jiggle reverberate throughout his entire body, but it was especially noticeable
right below the belly button. His jeans fit snug, especially in the thigh. I
wondered how he could sit down without them ripping. Much to my delight, he
chose the seat right next to me. The chair creaked as he relaxed into it.
He greeted me warmly and there was
immediately a palpable electricity in the air. The first few buttons on his
shirt were undone and I could see his dark chest hair poking out. We exchanged
a few words on how plush the surroundings were before he leaned back with one
hand on his belly and said:
“Where’s the food? I’m hungry.”
No sooner had those words escaped Ryan’s
mouth than the first dish came out. The chef, a very fit and attractive guy
named Brad, served us. He announced that this would be a four course meal and
we were beginning with fried mozzarella balls as appetizers. Everyone quickly
dug in and the conversation drifted from the history of the inn to our personal
back stories.
We learned that the third guest was
named Brandon and he worked in marketing. He was in Mississippi on business and
would only be at the inn for a couple more nights. Altogether, Brandon was
somewhat boring and my attention kept drifting to Ryan’s appetite. He was
popping those mozzarella balls like they were candy. He must have eaten about
half the plate himself before then the chef came out with more. It was very
clear how Ryan had developed such an immense gut, and he didn’t seem to mind if
anyone noticed.
I found myself wanting to keep up
with Ryan, but it was impossible. I was already getting full and the second
course hadn’t even arrived yet. Eventually, the conversation became focused on
myself and what I was doing at the inn. They were fascinated to hear that I was
a writer, and successfully making a living off of it. Marcie in particular was
quite giddy that a successful writer was working on something in her inn. I was
relieved when the soup arrived and I was no longer the subject of everyone’s
attention.
It was a clam chowder that was almost
as thick as ice cream. Absolutely delicious, I didn’t have a problem keeping up
with Ryan. I paid no attention to my tightening belt as I spooned in heap after
heap of chowder into my mouth. It wasn’t long before Ryan noticed by voracious
appetite. We made slight eye contact and with a mischievous grin, he picked up
the pace. My imaginary eating contest had become more of a reality as the two
of us crouched over our bowls and began to inhale the food.
“Wow, it looks like Ryan isn’t the
only boy at the table with a big appetite,” Marcie exclaimed as we took our
last bite.
“Well, I don’t know about slim over
here,” Ryan began, “But I could go for another round of this chowder.”
Like magic, the chef appeared with
another steaming bowl. Not to be outdone, I requested one as well.
“Would it be terribly uncouth of me
to suggest an eating contest at my own inn?” Marcy asked. “And the winner gets…
the winner gets breakfast in bed tomorrow morning!”
Ryan and I agreed with big smiles.
Brandon, seemingly disgusted, declined to join. Marcy counted to three and we
dug in. I knew I wouldn’t win but couldn’t turn down such an erotic
proposition. As I shoveled in spoonful after spoonful my dick grew rock solid,
pulling at the leg of my jeans. I was barely halfway through when Ryan banged
the table and declared his victory. Marcie cheered like a mad woman. As our
plates were cleared, Ryan leaned back with his hands behind his head, his
massive round stomach on display for all to see.
“No worries champ, you never stood a
chance,” he said, placing a meaty hand on my inner thigh and pulsing cock. He
gave me a hard squeeze and added: “You might need to unbutton those pants.”
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