Moving Experiences

Tara Pelvig hadn’t left John Mercer’s side since the suicide attempt, other than when they were both at work and needed to be different places in the building to keep things moving forward (and even then, not for long without checking in). Her SUV hadn’t moved from its parking space in the company lot, as she happily rode everywhere with him. Despite Barb’s comment, showering every night and not wearing undies kept Tara’s clothes fresh enough for her purposes, and at the moment, she didn’t much care what anyone other than John thought about her personal characteristics.

She was quite the morale builder at work, keeping him going in and going around together with him to visit each group for status checks and especially to find out if there were other things not brought up at the lunch meeting earlier in the week which were needed to keep work going smoothly. Seeing both people in the front office being so hands-on and proactive about correcting management deficiencies eased the worry of many employees regarding the firm’s and thus their own work future(s). The company would still need to win back former customers who’d bailed and new ones wondering whether Model Magicians was still a going concern or not, and a good choice or not. For now, focusing on getting all current projects back on track and finished to the firm’s historic high standards remained the priority.

She came to realize that John’s claim of being an ass addict had a quite literal component: he tended to fall into depression or anxiety if he didn’t get to feel one of hers for too long a stretch of time—more than an hour or so. All he needed was one or both her butts cuddling him or rubbing against him, or at least one of his hands caressing her there. Through clothes was fine; did not need to be skin-to-skin, excellent as that was. She wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her, making fulfilling this need easy, once she realized how literal it was.

“A great end to a great week” Tara grinned, as she locked the outer office door with lover and owner/president John by her side.

“Wholly thanks to you” he replied, with a nose-rub kiss.

“We’re a team, my Love.”

The deep, long hug they shared together certainly had the symmetry of teamwork.

“Care to go see my place? You can meet Barb and I can pick up changes of clothes and toiletries and other things I’ll need. Depending how things go, we could have an overnight there.”

“Is any of that going to be OK with Barb?”

“I’ll find out.”

There was no response for over 5 minutes. Tara concluded Barb must be driving, suggesting she and John go to her house anyway.

She led him to her SUV. Watching the lengthy maneuvers she needed to make to get all of herself inside and able to drive captivated and concerned him. First she needed to heft her huge mass up into the vehicle, then squeeze-slide as far right as possible, well over the pillow-cushioned center console (with her fat right butt cheek pushing the pillow out of the way), close and lock the door, then scoot back until her fat left hip was slammed well into said door, which got her body about as centered as it could get. Then she repositioned the center console pillow under her right butt cheek, and fastened the extended seat belt.

“That can’t possibly be comfortable.”

“It’s not so bad” she smiled, starting the engine. “For a bucket seat, this is pretty big, which is why I chose this model.”

“Did you even try anything with a bench seat?” he asked as she backed out of the parking space.

“Didn’t occur to me. How far does the seat in your car move back from the steering wheel?”

“Not enough to allow for all your magnificence.”

Tara snorted out a loud laugh, taking a moment before pulling out of the driveway to touch his wrist and say, “It’s OK if you call it fat, John. You’re an FA, I’m a USBBW who has come to enjoy being this fat. And hopefully soon you’ll be meeting a special one of a whole other shape who’s been very important in my life.”

He appreciated that she was a good driver, taking speed limits far more literally than most people did, signaling, looking carefully where she was going. His focus shifted continually between watching her and watching where she was driving, given that he wanted to see how she preferred driving between work and her home.

Barb hadn’t responded, and her car wasn’t there when Tara pulled into the garage. She happily claimed John’s hand once they were both out of her vehicle, leading him into his first experience of her home life.

No note from Barb, not did she expect one. There was enough food in the house for a nice at-home dinner, though she’d not purchased even half of it and Barb might be counting on it being there.

She quickly lost focus on collecting what she’d need, excited to show him all around and everything about her life, putting a physical dimension to things they’d discussed as well as seeing objects which triggered whole new conversations.

They’d been there nearly half an hour when Tara’s handheld sounded with the text message sound for Barb. She and John paused their conversation and she pulled the device out to see what was up.

“I’m getting a cold prickly rather than a warm fuzzy from your expression regarding that exchange you just had that I ensured I did not see.”

She put her device back on standby, setting it on the table and rushing into his arms for a hug. “She’s not coming home tonight, out with other lovers. She’s also not taking my absence well (sigggggggghhhh).”

“I’m sorry–”

“–No” she interrupted, feeling him pull away emotionally when he started to speak, making her tighten her arm wrap to hold them physically even closer together. “There’s absolutely nothing you nor I are doing wrong in terms of my IIR with her, other than my failing to meet expectations she has which I find unwarranted. I remain madly in love with you with no regrets, so our love takes priority and I’ll have to figure things out in terms of me and her later—some future day or week. What matters for us here and now tonight is that she is not coming here any sooner than noon tomorrow and maybe not even then. So if you’d like to spend an overnight here and have a nice dinner, we can.”

Other than the minor annoyance of having to reassure him several times that it truly was OK for him to be in her house (related to housemate Barb’s unhappiness), Tara and John shared a wonderfully romantic dinner, and romantic and sexy evening plus overnight plus morning. It was a nice house, with no peeling paint nor other visible maintenance issues. The doorways weren’t as wide as his and the square meterage seemed smaller, but in other ways it was at least as suitable as his house for someone like Tara, if not more so.

In the morning she focused on gathering everything she’d need for awhile. It was definitely so much stuff that it seemed more like a move than a longer visit, which deep within John below his conscious mind, was good.

They waited to load up until they’d made a grocery run to replenish what they’d eaten. John really wanted to get Barb some kind of thank you gift, but didn’t know what would be appropriate. Tara suggested they stop at See’s so he could get her a small box of truffles, and she could get her a one pound soft centers “apology box”.

Tara felt a twinge of upset as she drove herself and John off away from her home and back over to his for the remainder of the weekend and the foreseeable future. She definitely had her work to do reconciling the disparate aspects of her love life, soon as she and John were fully stable and she knew what was what.

Late that afternoon, Tara suddenly stiffened up.

Naturally, John was concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I forgot to change the bed sheets, much less do laundry!”

She rushed to grab her handheld, texting furiously:

A minute later, Barb responded:

The runaway train that was Tara Pelvig’s and John Mercer’s love raced onwards. The levity of her putting her clothes and toiletries away in spare drawers in the bedroom and bathroom had a weighty permanence that felt oddly like an unspoken marriage commitment or similar. They took it seriously, hugging and caressing one another a great deal during the process.

She felt like she lived there now, and so did he. Having parked her SUV in his garage reinforced this feeling; being handed a set of house keys and going over the alarm system did so even more so. The power of this love remained a life foundation shaker beyond anything she’d ever known. Over in his world, he felt this same power in the context of her healing him, and how he’d disintegrate if she went away.

The seeming permanence or at least longer-term nature of Tara’s presence in John’s home allowed him to emotionally heal further. Anxiety and depression were less evident. Signs of humor Tara could barely recall from brief flits here and there at work early in her career at Model Magicians found their way out of him, delighting her and making her laugh. They would have made her love him that much more, but she already loved John Mercer about as much as a human being is capable of loving another.

She too appreciated the strong sense of her permanence there, comfortable with him in a way beyond what she’d been with any previous intimate lover or really even friends—including Barb. Barb was probably #2, but a distant #2, as evidenced by their warming and cooling for one another and not infrequent disagreements. There may well be any number of future disagreements between her and John she realized, but in the present (where she preferred to live her life), they simply weren’t there, or were buried so very deep she couldn’t even dredge them up into her consciousness. She didn’t even care about the undone home maintenance like the peeling paint and plastic sheet-covered holes in the walls, beyond concerns of basic structural function she intended to ask him about some months down the road, once she’d integrated this new life with her old one.

The love was on every level: close friendship, companionship, nuts and bolts life partners, and physical intimacy, sexual and non-sexual. He handled the entirety of her middle leg and foot with a natural ease as though everyone had them. Same with her middle bun, and truly any part of her body which differed from what most women had. He never so much as twitched nor raised his eyebrows frequently buying toilet paper in bulk to keep her two huge butts clean, nor big stocks of feminine hygiene products required to cover both sides. No one since her father had shown such an interest in helping enable her to have shoes and other clothing meeting her needs. Here, she drew a line: his interest was welcome, but for now and until their time living together was measured in years or they’d made a more formal loving bond commitment, she’d continue to manage and buy her own clothes, and he’d do the same with his (unless he felt overwhelmed, in which case she’d help).

His natural ease with her continued to carry over to the times they went out in public together as a couple, which was virtually 100% of the time they went out in public. Treating her as if there was nothing whatsoever unusual about having 3 legs or being extremely fat was part of his invisible loving protective force field, reducing the shock and awe responses of those seeing her for the first time, or the first time in a long time. Tara felt herself becoming spoiled by his protective force field—she never wanted to lose it! He never mentioned it and she was sure he didn’t notice he was exuding it, meaning it was no hardship for him—just another innate part of how he expressed his love for her. In turn, she became almost unnaturally attuned to his signs and signals of distress, no matter how mild. Preventing him from getting stuck in the first place with a very minor suggestion or moment of physical love was less effort than getting him unstuck once his emotional mind had locked up. She did notice herself doing this, though it was about as natural and easy for her as his projecting his protective force field. She also didn’t have to do it anywhere near as often as long as he had his frequent, routine opportunities to touch her sexually.

After a life of so many lovers, one might expect Tara would find one person insufficient to satisfy her strong drive and two sides. Indeed that had been the case before getting into the poly group, then later Barb unleashing her massive body with so many surfaces and her two nipple-two clit rubbing technique. She herself had so many surfaces on her lower half and he so beyond-control lusted for all these surfaces and body parts, they’d barely scratched the surface of all the possible sex experiments they wanted to try, or had even yet imagined. Even their favorite positions were so numerous that had they stuck solely to those, it would still be some years before either of them got bored!