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“Honey, I'm home!” Pete yelled as she walked through the door to her apartment. It was Thursday, her favorite weekday. Every Thursday, Trish would come over after school let out and would head over to Pete's shitty, shoebox apartment and where she would wait patiently for Pete to come home from her useless anthropology lecture. And if the tiny converse sitting haphazardly on the doormat were any indication, her jailbait girlfriend was already here.
“Sugar?” Pete asked to the eerily quiet apartment. Though Patricia was certainly shy, she was far from quiet. Thursday’s Pete would normally come home to the sounds of Cheers on the tv and her shitty bass being played far better than Pete ever could. But today, the only sound permeating the apartment was Pete's own questioning voice.
She pushed open the door to her bedroom and sighed at the sight.
“Oh, baby,” she said sympathetically to the lump under her comforter. The only part of her beloved girlfriend that was visible was the tips of her tawny red hair. Her gray cap lay on the ground alongside pairs of Pete's dirty boxers. Pete received a sniffle in return.
“What’s wrong, doll?” Pete stroked the crown of Trisha’s head lightly in an attempt to placate the weepy ginger lump under her blankets. Trish sniffled once again but didn’t answer.
“Baby,” Pete tried again. “We talked about this. You gotta use your big girl words. We can’t keep our emotions locked away.”
“‘S stupid.” Patricia says as she peaks her misty green eyes out from the comforter.
“Nothing about you is stupid.” Pete grins and gives her girlfriend a soft kiss on her forehead in a soothing manner. Trish gives Pete a weary, sad smile in return.
“It’s just…” Trish trails off “high school girls are so mean sometimes.”
“Not my high school girl.” Pete says pridefully. “My high school girl is the sweetest thing in the world. That’s why I call her sugar. Now what happened, angel? You can tell me.”
“Stupid fucking PE.” Patricia whines, refusing to look Pete in the eye.
“Mm,” Pete hums sympathetically, “you've always been more of a rock star than a quarterback.”
“It’s bad enough that we have to change in front of everyone, but I forgot my uniform. Stacey from physics had an extra in her locker that she let me borrow.” Trish began.
“That was nice of her.” Pete said as she continued to stroke Patricia's soft hair.
“Except she’s a size 2!” Trish yelps as if that’s explanation enough.
And it is. Pete knows that her girlfriend is on the bigger side. She’s not fat in any manner of the word, but her thighs rub together and her jeans are a little snug on her hips. She has a bit on a tummy and stretch marks all over her pale, cherubic body. And quite possibly Pete's favorite aspect about Patricia, aside from her voice, was her rack. Beautiful and bountiful, soft and pink, hidden behind a gray D cup that Pete adores ripping off whenever she gets the chance. To put it simply, Patricia was no size 2.
“Baby,” Pete said cautiously.
“And I could barely get the shorts over my fat ass and the shirt was so tight you could see everything!” Patricia continued hysterically.
“I would love to see you in tiny shorts and a crop top.” Pete said earnestly.
“You're the only one.” Patricia mumbled “all the kids on the soccer team laughed when we ran laps. They called me fatricia and made oinking noises when they passed me.”
“Oh, my love.” was all Pete said as Patricia wailed into Pete’s old Sex Pistols shirt, sobbing out the pain. Pete hushed her girlfriend and ran a soothing hand up and down Trisha’s back. “Your body is my favorite thing in the whole world.”
“I'm fat!” Patricia wailed.
“You're stunning.” Pete kissed Patricia's salty, tear stained lips. “From your tits to your toes. Gorgeous. Ethereal. Alluring. Delicious.”
Patricia shook her head with a choked off sob, denying every word Pete said.
“Baby, I wish you’d see what I see.” Pete confessed as she pressed a kiss on the crown of Patricia's head. “You’re my everything.”
At this, Patricia desperately leaned up in her girlfriend's mouth, devouring her rough lips and kissing Pete like it was her lifeline. Pete, ever the opportunist, kissed back with everything in her, wrapping her arms tightly around Trisha's back, pulling her as close as possible.
“I love your body,” Pete spoke as she broke away and began to leave a trail of soft but passionate kisses down Patricia's flushed white neck. She nibbled gently at Patricia's earlobe and nuzzled into the junction of her neck and shoulder.
“I love all of you. I love these lips.” Pete said as she planted a tender kiss directly onto Patricia's lips. “So pretty and pink. Very talented. And they taste delicious."
“It’s the strawberry lip gloss.” Trish explains with a weak laugh.
“I know. It’s my favorite flavor.” Pete grinned against Patricia's lips. “And your eyes. They’re blue, I think. But they’re green too. With a little bit of yellow around your pupils. Heterochromia, right? My little Bowie.”
Patricia smiled at this comparison. Pete’s little musical prodigy, beaming at a comparison with a famous rockstar.
“I love this hair.” Pete continued “my little red head. Hey I guess you got that in common with Bowie too.”
“I'm not a redhead. I'm blonde," Patricia defended weakly.
“We’ll meet in the middle and say strawberry blonde.” Pete offered as a compromise. “It’s red and blonde and brown all at once. It’s so soft and pretty and I love it.”
“I love you.” Patricia gasped as Pete's lips made their way down Patricia's neck breathing hotly with each wet kiss.
“I love this neck. Mmm, you smell yummy.” Pete's breath tickled Patricia's neck and the younger girl couldn't stop the whimper that escaped from her. She busied her hands by sliding them up the back of Patricia's green cotton tee. Pete’s fingers whispered against the curve of her spine before resting atop of the clasp of her bra. She deftly twisted the clasp until the bra unhooked,
“Pete,” Patricia moans out in a whisper “what are you…”
“I love these shoulders.” Pete ignored Patricia. Trish knew exactly what Pete was doing. “And this back. They make for a good view when we do it on your hands and knees.”
With her face buried in Patricia, Pete couldn't see the blush that made its way onto Trisha's face, but she could feel her girlfriend's delicate, freckled skin heat up under her invasive, wandering palms. Trish blushed all the way down. Pete was the only one who had the privilege of getting to admire that blush.
“Fuck, doll, I love these tits.” Pete said as she pushed the redhead down onto the bed and settled herself in between Patricia's husky thighs. “Greatest set of tits in the whole world I swear to god.”
Pete kissed Patricia's clothed chest, sucking lightly at the fleshiest parts. She kissed directly over each of Patricia's nipples before sinking down on the left one. She sucked Patricia's nipples through the cotton tee tenderly and wetly. She flicked her tongue over the hard pebble and moaned. Pete pulled off the left nipple, dragging her teeth on her way up, before sinking down on the right and giving it all the treatment it deserves. When she pulled off she could see the wet patches her mouth made directly atop Trisha’s erect nipples.
“Let’s get this shirt off, huh?” Pete asked lightly. Immediately, she felt her partner stiffen up beneath her, tense from the mere thought of being topless. ”Let me take care of you. Make you feel good.”
Patricia shook her head and clasped her lips between her two front teeth. Her face was flushed red and her eyes were wide with worry, damp.
“I’m fat.” Patricia whispered.
“You're beautiful. Let me touch you. I want to touch you. I need to touch you.” Pete begged.
As always, Patricia complied with a dejected sigh. Pete grinned up at her and pulled off her top first, revealing her bare, tattooed chest. Patricia took a moment to admire her girlfriend. Pete’s chest wasn't nearly as big as Patricia's but it sure was perky. They were soft and could fit in the palm of her hand. Her nipples were small and dark, delicious. Her chest, unlike Patricia’s, was always on display. Pete was small enough that she could afford to go about his daily life braless, hard nipples constantly teasing Patricia. Trish envied Pete for this. She slid her hands up from Pete's lean torso, fingers skimming across the tattoo in between her hip bones, until she was cupping Pete's chest, one breast in each hand. She squeezed a few times and made direct eye contact with the dark nipples in front of her. She only looked away when she felt her lover's hands grasp her own shirt and begin to nudge it upwards.
She sucked in a deep breath and screwed her eyes shut tight, willing the tears away. Above her, Pete was admiring the newly exposed skin. Patricia was pale, so very pale. But her torso was red and blotchy, a flush that was due to a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. Pete didn't see anything there was to be embarrassed about. Patricia had a considerably buxom chest. Her breasts, while large, were still perky with youth. She was the opposite of Pete in all ways. Her soft tits were littered with little white stretch marks, tiny silvery rivers running across her. Her nipples were pink, impossibly so, and larger than petes. They seemed to always be excited. With even the littlest gust of air they would harden into pink peaks that Pete was drooling to get her mouth on. While Patricia wasn’t exactly proud of her boobs, they were not what she was dying to hide under oversized shirts. It was her stomach.
Patricia was a voluptuous young girl. She had baby fat covering her in all the right places, including the front of her stomach. There was a little pouch that never seemed to disappear no matter how hard she sucked in. it pressed tightly against the front of her jeans and it jiggled when she jumped to put pants on. It hung ever so slightly over the waistband of her jeans or panties. It bulged out over the hips, giving her what the girls in her gym class so lovingly call a “muffin top”. That little pouch of extra fat was Patricia's greatest enemy, but it was Pete’s best friend.
The older girl set to work after a few moments of adoration. She placed two firm hands on her girlfriend's swollen belly as she took one of those impossibly pink nipples between her teeth. She rubbed her hands around, playing with the doughy flesh of her girlfriend's torso. Patricia squirmed and he body flushed hot red. She felt like she was gonna burst.
“I love this belly.” she said as she nipped near Trisha's belly button and sucked a dark hickey, enjoying the give between her teeth, reveling in the soft jiggle with every movement. “Can't wait to fill it up with all my babies.”
“Pete you weirdo.” Patricia said between moans. She let out one sharp gasp as Pete began a new hickey on her chest and slowly popped the button of Patricia's tight jeans. She gently pushed the zipper down with the assistance of her girlfriend's puppy fat bulging through. The bottom of her milky smooth tummy was now exposed, tainted with bright red lines from where the jeans had cut into the pillowy excess flesh. Patricia had maybe put on an endearing few pounds since the two started dating. What Pete adoringly referred to in her mind as “relationship weight” (though she would never dare to mention these affectionate observations to Patricia). Pete pressed gentle, nipping kisses on the red indentations on Trisha's lower belly, admiring the jiggle of pliant skin.
Patricia’s hands found their way into Pete’s choppy, dyed black hair, tugging tightly at the fried strands. She bucked her clothed hips up into Pete's mouth.
“Love these hips. Love to wrap my hands around them, especially while we fuck.” Pete grinned deviously as she squeezed the love handles that padded out from the jeans that were a touch too small. Pete’s hands slid down the sides of Patricia, making their way into the waistband of Patricia's jeans and panties. “Up.”
Patricia complied quickly, lifting her hips up and wiggling until her pants rested around her ankles and she was completely exposed for Pete.
“My fucking god these thighs,” Pete exclaimed, taking big handfuls of bountiful, meaty thighs. They, like the rest of her, were pale milky white, dusted with light caramel freckles. They had a thin layer of invisible blonde hair that tickled Pete's mouth when she kissed them. They were porcine and dimply, and bruised oh so easily. There was a considerable river of stretchmarks running all over her thighs and up her fleshy hips. “I love having my head here. Suffocate me please. Thick thighs save lives, sugar.”
“But this,” Pete continued, “this is my favorite part of you.”
She spoke directly to the warm wetness between Patricia's legs. Pete cupped her girlfriend's dripping heat as she took a nipple into her mouth. Her fingers tangled in the damp thicket of copper curls and slid one finger up and down Patricia's hot seam, reveling in the breathy little whimpers above her. The first time they fucked, Patricia was shaved baby smooth, but as they grew closer and more comfortable, Patricia had learned that Pete adored the patch of red hair that grew between her legs. She loved the musky scent that filled her nose while she devoured her girlfriend whole.
Slowly and lovingly, Pete pushed just one finger inside Patricia's warm, wet orifice. It slid in with ease--Patricia was painfully wet at this point, dripping, soaking Pete’s hands. Using another finger, she rubbed tenderly at Patricia's swollen clit. At this movement, Patricia let out a howl of pleasure. Pete slid a second finger inside and thrust up against Trisha’s g spot. Trish’s hips met Pete’s fingers in the middle as she grinded down, riding Pete’s hand.
The whole time Pete’s mouth pressed tender kisses into the excess paunch that pooled above Patricia's waistline. She could feel all of Patricia's heaving aroused breaths. She smiled and nipped and whispered loving words against her skin.
“So perfect for me. So good for me, my good girl.” Pete sang praise “Your cunt feels so good. So tight and wet all for Mommy.”
Patricia whined at the words. Pete knew how to press every single one of her buttons.
“You gonna cum for me? Cum around Mommy’s fingers? Hmmm?” Pete asked rhetorically. Of course she was, she always did.
Patricia ground down a few more times and all it took was for Pete to whisper “I love you” softly to her pudgy stomach for Patricia to finish, panting and sweating.
“You really are beautiful, baby, I hope you know that.'' Pete smiled and wiped her wet, prunny fingers on the comforter. “You're more than just a pretty voice. You're my world.”
“I love you. Petey.” Patricia whispered at Pete.
“I love you too Patricia Stump.” Pete beamed. “That the only thing I don’t like about you, your name, you know.”
“What?’
“I think you should change it. To Patricia Wentz.”