CHAPTER SEVEN

“Oh but enough of all that sad talk!” said Fran brightly.  “I had my time with my late husband and it was all lovely and wonderful.  Let’s hear about you, Peter!  I didn’t get a chance to ask you at Lane Bryant — how’s your love life these days?” 

“M-my…my love life?” he asked blankly, tearing his eyes away from her slightly wrinkled cleavage.   

“Yes!” said Fran, smiling at him as she ordered herself a drink from a waitress.  “I’ll order a lady-sized margarita for him.”  She winked at the waitress, who returned her wink with a knowing smile.  Peter knew that Fran had just used his free drink for herself, but what exactly could he do about it?  So!” said Fran, turning back to him, “what kinds of girls have you had in your life?  Dated?”   

“Uhh…” he stammered, extremely uncomfortable with the question that was coming from his middle-aged, horny ex-neighbor, “uhh…I…I haven’t really ever had a girlfriend before.” 

“What?!” cried Fran, leaning forward on the table toward him so that her breasts made an audible sound as they squished together even harder.  “You’ve never had a girlfriend before, Peter!?  No way — that’s impossible!  You’re too cute!”   

“N-no,” he said, shaking his head earnestly.  “N-never.  I…I guess I’ve, uh…I’ve always been too, uh, shy…or, or something.” 

Fran shook her head in disbelief as she leaned back in her chair.  “Wow,” she said, “that has been a major loss for the female sex so far, I can tell you that, little Peter.”  She grinned down at him, making his skin crawl.  “But I can see you aren’t planning on holding out for too much longer, huh?  Am I right?  I mean, you are here, at Martha’s, for single guy’s night, right?!  Haha trying to get some skin in the game, huh?” 

Peter looked up at her and tried to laugh, but found that he couldn’t quite manage.  She had him trapped in every way — he couldn’t explain away his presence at the restaurant.  No, it was totally obvious that he was looking for some kind of romance, and Fran had totally taken advantage of him and pounced.  How was he going to get out of this?? 

“Now if you were going to have a girlfriend,” said Fran, leaning in again and continuing to massage her rock-hard nipples, “what would she be like?  How old would she be?” 

“Uhhh…I can’t…I can’t really say,” said Peter, not wanting to offend her but also not wanting to give her any ideas…not that she needed help or anything. 

“Where do you live these days, little Peter?” asked Fran suddenly, smiling as her big margarita was brought by the grinning waitress.   

“Uh, I’m…I’m on my own now, actually,” he said, watching closely as Fran took a big gulp of her drink.   

“Are you really?” asked Fran with interest.  “So you’re in one of the assisted living areas, I take it?” 

“Y-yeah…I’m…I’m in one of their, uhh…their — ” 

“Their smaller homes?” suggested Fran, raising her eyebrow.   

“Y-yes.” 

“Ha, how did I know?” asked Fran jokingly as she reached in a finger to stir the ice in her drink.  “You know, I’ve seen those places before — pretty amazing, really.  Although — ” and here she leaned in even closer to Peter, to the point where he could see the fine hairs growing on her upper lip, and could smell the margarita mix and tequila on her breath.  “Although…there’s not much I can do in those places.  I mean, those houses are so small —I could never fit by big ass inside of them, you know?” 

“Y-yeah…yeah, th-they’re only for…for — ” 

“For small little guys like you,” Fran said, completing the thought. 

“Yeah…” he said, trailing off.   

Suddenly, Fran let out a rather loud and obnoxious fart.  There was no doubt where it came from, and several people looked over at her from their conversations, giving her looks of disapproval.  Being so close to her, Peter actually felt the vibration of the fart in the very table, and could not hide how grossed-out he felt.  Fran chuckled down at him, not seeming to care in the least what other people thought, and clearly enjoying Peter’s look of revulsion.  She chuckled even harder as she saw that he was forced to deal with the awful, rotten smell of the fart, which hung in the air for a good minute or so, encasing the little man in its stench.  He didn’t say anything about it directly, but Fran could tell that he was trying to strategically hold his breath here and there, waiting for it to pass.  she decided that now would be a good time to lay into him again.          

“There you go again!” she said, loudly chastising him.   

“Wh-what?!” he said in alarm, his nose wrinkling from the fart smell.  “What did I d-do?” 

“What did you do??  Oh come on, little man!  You might try and hide it in your words, but I can see it as plain as day on your face!  You’re grossed-out!  You think it’s disgusting that I just farted in front of you!” 

Peter tried to stammer some kind of response, but Fran abruptly cut him off.  “You should feel honored, young man, honored, that your new girlfriend feels comfortable enough to pass gas around you!  That’s a level of honesty that most couples can only dream of, you know?” 

Peter was horrified to hear Fran just cavalierly call herself his “girlfriend,” and the two of them a “couple,” but he didn’t have time to stutter out a response, because Fran was still talking. 

“Besides,” she said with increasing energy, “you could have had it so much worse, you know.  I hope you realize that, Peter, just how lucky you are.  You could have been like little Timmy.” 

“Wh-who’s Timmy?" he asked fearfully.   

“Well, Timothy, really, but anyway — he was a tiny little guy I found on the street today…and I mean tiny.  Couldn’t have been taller than 5 inches.  He was shivering and chilled to the bone, poor thing.  And I was having such a bout of gas, you know.  Poor Timmy was only asking for warmth and compassion, and I gave it to him.  I used him as my own personal fart-blocker to make myself presentable to my lady friends at lunch.  And he soaked them all up, the little guy.  I put him right there up against my pucker, little Peter, ground zero, if you will, and used him as a little human fart pad!  He did such a good job, for a little guy…now with you, Peter — since you’re a good few inches bigger, I reckon you’d do an even better job in between my big fat ass cheeks, hmm?  Whaddya say, little guy?  The job’s vacant — it’s up for grabs at the moment, just like you are, Peter!” 

“P-please…” begged Peter, staggering back in his chair in horror at this terrifying monologue from his massive ex-neighbor.  “P-please…F-fran…d-don’t…d-don’t use me like that…I…I b-beg you!”   

“Mind your manners, young man!” she snapped, taking another gulp from her margarita.  “Being a smart, young, educated man, you should know better than anybody that the occasional toot, the occasional fart here and there, is only natural!  Besides, all of that is beside the point, because it’s not as if I can help having them, is it?  So if you don’t like them, you rude, ungrateful little boy, you should just keep it to yourself.”    

“I’m — I’m s-sorry!” he choked, not knowing what else to say.   

Fran looked down at him severely, then blinked and asked a sudden question that caught him completely off guard.   

“Are you a virgin, Peter?” 

“W-what…uh…y-yes…I am.” 

Fran uttered an abrupt squeal and snatched him up.  All of her previous anger seemed to have suddenly dissipated.   

“So that kiss I gave you earlier, in the store?” she asked him excitedly, holding him up to her face.  “Was that your first kiss?”   

“Y-yes,” he said, nodding his head, terrified where this was leading.   

Fran gave him a huge beaming smile as she puckered her lips up.  Peter was once again jarred by experiencing this older woman from such a close proximity.  The hairs on her upper lip, dotted with beads of sweat, were definitely unappetizing for the young man, as were the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes.  But that didn’t matter now, because Fran was going in for another kiss, and there was nothing Peter could do but take it.  For the next minute or so, Fran smothered his entire body in kisses, leaving the tiny young man completely out of breath.  He gasped again and again, trying to get air into his lungs, as she covered him with lipstick prints and coffee-scented drool.   

“Mmmm!” she said delectably as she stopped making out with his tiny body for a moment.  “Just a delectable little young virgin!”  She met his eyes and bore into him with an intense stare.  “Take your clothes off, little Peter.” 

“P-please F-fran…” he began, but she wasn’t hearing any of it.  She flipped his little body around in the fleshy mitts of her hands, peeling off each individual article of clothing herself as she gushed and gushed about how adorable his lithe nude body was.    

“Just look at it!” she exclaimed joyously, “I couldn’t ask for anything better!  It’s perfect!  So fresh and soft and smooth!  Mmmmm oh god I love it!”  She held his naked body up to her face, dangling him directly in front of her mouth.   

“I’m going to assume,” she said, smiling toothily, “that no one has ever given you a blowjob, Peter.  No one…until now!”  Without waiting a second more, she went straight to work on his midsection, powerfully sucking him off as his nude body arched into a “U” shape, trying vainly to escape, but also not being able to resist the overwhelming pleasure of Fran’s powerful mouth.   

The waitress came by to ask how the two of them were doing, and she was just about to open her mouth to ask when she saw that Fran had stripped Peter down and was going to town on his tiny cock, holding his prone body to her face with one hand.  The waitress shuffled along awkwardly, doing her best to escape the embarrassing moment.  As the waitress moved away, Fran suddenly brought Peter away from the vicious onslaught of her mouth, revealing his rock-hard lipstick-stained cock.   

“Aww my god it’s just the most precious little thing!” she squealed out.  Relative to his 7-inch size, Peter was actually decently-endowed, but, of course, from the perspective of Fran’s massive size, it was just the most adorable little cock she could imagine.  She suddenly brought him back down to her chest, lowering her bra at the same time to reveal a huge, brown, bumpy nipple.  She brought Peter’s hard little penis up to her massive nipple, and chuckled.   

“Haha, you have a decent-sized little pecker, little Peter,” she laughed, “but even at that size, look how tiny it is compared to my nipple!  Haha, look at it!  My nipple absolutely dwarfs your little dick!  That’s how much bigger I am than you, little man.  No contest!”            

Peter clearly wasn’t enjoying all this, and he squirmed a little in her grasp, as if to get away.  He couldn’t help but notice that, in addition to her hard nipple poking into him uncomfortably, that there was a single, dark, kinky hair right next to her nipple, growing out of her tit flesh, that was scratching against his naked body.  It was all extremely uncomfortable.  But all of that was nothing compared to what happened next — Fran pinched his dick against her nipple, chuckling some more as she massaging both at the same time.  

After a moment of this massaging, she noticed that they had forgotten the salted rim on her margarita.  “Hmm!” she said out loud, as if pondering a problem.  “Little Peter, it seems like they forgot the salted rim on my margarita!  Do you see that?  No salt!”  

“Y-yeah…yeah, I s-see,” he said uneasily.  Where was she going with this?  As if in answer, she brought him to her mouth once more and spat on his crotch.  Peter couldn’t find any words in response, so sudden and self-assured were Fran’s actions.  Without any more ado, she began quickly jacking him off with her index and thumb, holding him over her drink as she worked on his engorged member.  Peter strained and struggled in her grasp, but there was no escaping it, such was her strength, and he felt the heat of a huge and inevitable orgasm start to build up within him.  His face grew hot and red, and his entire body felt like it was a coil of rope that was winding itself tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until he could hold on no longer.   

With a quick little shout of delight, Fran brought him to orgasm, and a pathetic few squirts of cum shot out of his purpling cock into her icy margarita. Fran then swiftly gripped him in her hand before taking a drink, closing her eyes as the mixture of cold margarita and Peter’s salty cum went down her throat.  

“Mmmmm!” she moaned approvingly.  “Delicious!” 

After a few more gulps from her drink, Fran was ready to go home.  

“Ok, little guy, it’s about time to blow this popsicle stand,” she said, smiling down at him as she licked her lips.   

“P-please…” Peter begged her, “please let me go, Fran!  Y-you…you can j-just get up from the t-table and l-leave and…and I…I wouldn’t make any trouble for you at…at all.” 

Fran brought Peter up to her face and looked at him severely, squeezing his body in her now-sweaty grip.  “Now, is that any way to talk to someone who just gave them the first blowjob of their life?” asked Fran harshly.  “You know, Peter, if our relationship is gonna work out, you’re gonna need to learn to be a lot more grateful and appreciative than that!  Unless…of course…you’d rather take up that vacant job in between my ass cheeks as my little fart blocker?” 

“N-no!” cried Peter, terrified. 

“That’s what I thought,” said Fran, nodding smugly.  “Maybe, in time, you’ll learn how good you’ve got it…right here…in my hand…instead of…well…you know where.  I could do it, you know — I should put you down there right now, since you’ve been so ungrateful.”

“P-p-please d-don’t!” he begged her, holding up in hands in a desperate plea.  

“Hmmm…well, ok,” she said.  “But you owe me, little Peter.  Especially after all that teasing you put me through at Lane Bryant, you owe me big time.” 

She rose up out of her hair, with the naked Peter still in her grip, and left the booth, depositing money on the table.  On her way out, the hostess stopped her.   

“So, everything went alright?” asked the hostess uncertainly, her eyes on the naked form of Peter in Fran’s sweaty grip.   

“Oh yes!” said Fran brightly, nodding her head.  “We both had an absolutely wonderful time — I think we’re a great match, actually!  Little Peter here’s going to come home with me!”

“Is that right?” asked the hostess to Peter.  “You agree to go home with this lady?  It’s uh…you know…policy to make sure that both partners agree, you understand?” 

“Oh I understand perfectly,” said Fran warmly.  “Well go on Peter, tell the nice young lady how you feel.”  She gave him a hard squeeze, warning him with her grip that he shouldn’t cross her.              

“Y-yes,” stuttered Peter to the hostess.  “Y-yes, I…I, uh…w-would, uh…r-really like to, uh, to go home, with…with Fran.”   

The hostess looked at him silently — she didn’t really seem to believe him, but a moment later she shrugged and gestured them out the door.  Fran chuckled as they left — apparently, the hostess jobs at Martha’s didn’t pay enough for them to go around getting in the way of older women and their desires. 

Now that they were outside the restaurant, Fran separated her giant, sweaty, middle-aged breasts, exposing her dark cleavage to Peter, who looked down at the chasm like it was some sort of mythical canyon that would swallow up his whole existence, pulverize him into nothing, and smite his very being. She set him in between her sweaty mammaries and then let them go, leaving only his head showing. As she strolled down the street, she gave them a squeeze, enveloping her new boyfriend in sweaty, fatty flesh. 

“Hmmm yesss Peter, I’ve got myself a little virgin boy,” she chuckled down at him as she strode down the sidewalk.  “I’m gonna take it upon myself to teach you all about the birds and the bees, little boy.  Oh yes…there are gonna be a lot of HARD study sessions and late nights with me, I can tell you that.  I’m quite the hungry, passionate teacher!”  

Peter felt a sense of despair as his whole body vibrated with Fran’s laughter.  What had he gotten himself into??