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She placed her hands on the small of her back, above the wide heft of her meaty hips and fattened backside, presenting the full scale of her belly to the arrows, breathing in to inflate herself to her fullest and most impressive scale.Her eyes widened as she heard a snap.The great bronze plate, decorated by hand with holy motifs and calligraphic art, fell forward, the cut bindings snapping at once at the strain of containing her inhumanly massive abdomen. She gasped, her mouth forming a perfect O shape as she felt a sudden draft of cold air against the naked mountain of flesh that erupted forth. Her belly was quite bare, years of keeping it covered and protected had left the skin a pale, almost ghostly white. Here and there shined the ghosts of stretch marks, once red slashes that had littered the mighty girth as it grew and grew, it's owner filling it beyond capacity for such an inordinate length of time.The skin shivered and goose pimpled almost instantly, the soft mist of the early. He didn't want me he said but he did say hi a few times and I sent him sexy photos of his first American love. I did not like to be ignored so I kept sending emails saying Hi and how are you..I was really hurt to be honest. Then one day out of the blue he emailed me and asked could he call me. I was very scared that he would yell at me because I had been so pesty in emails. "Margo, I left my wife." He told me. I drank in the words and his Turkish accent. I had not heard his voice in ten years. His voice was the first voice I ever heard outside of America. I smiled and I tried to think of what to say. "I am sorry Murat." I told him and I took a deep breath. "It was coming for a long time. Would you like to have coffee with me today?" He asked. There was a pause and I wondered if he was nervous or what.It was a Sunday morning. My husband was at the gym. I would lie, I would do anything to see Murat. "Yes, where?" I asked him. "I can come pick you up email me your address." He told me..
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