Mike wasn't lying when he said his apartment was crummy. It was a two bedroom basement suite in an old house. Walking in the side entrance brought you into the kitchen, which was a disaster. The kitchen was open and led directly into the living room. There was a three person couch in front of an absolutely huge television. Game consoles were scattered over the stained carpet floor. Clothes and empty food containers were scattered throughout. The lighting was dim. And it did smell like cat piss.
"Bachelor living," I commented.
"Yeah, sorry. I know it's gross. Like I said, I just don't get anyone over here and Aron doesn't really care to clean up. Are you...grossed out?" I just shrugged.
"Whatever. Doesn't bother me. I'm not as high maintenance as this outfit makes me seem."
There wasn't much of a tour to be had, so we just sat down on his couch and chatted for a bit. His tremendous weight had carved out a deep groove as wide of two full grown men. I sat in the corner, next to him, but turned facing him with my legs underneath me. That big fat ass and huge torso made him sit tall like a giant next to me. Again, I was stunned and in awe.
"So...like I said. I'm...rusty. Not sure what to show you now." Mike was nervous now. We'd gotten to know each other little bit, which had decreased the tension, but the fact that we'd moved closer to his bed had ratcheted it back up. "You want a drink?"
I considered. "Hm. Depends what you have."
"Well..." He placed his hands on his knees and slowly pushed himself to his feet. I felt bad for making him get up when his lumbering movements were so slow. At the same time though, watching him walk around the couch and open the fridge gave me a beautiful view of his overflowing physique. He was bloody gorgeous.
"We've got...some lime cooler things. You like those?"
"Oh, actually I do. I'll have one if you're drinking." He smiled again.
Swoon.
He handed me a can of what turned out to be a carbonated vodka citrus thing. The can looked tiny in his hand and then seemed to grow as it entered mine. He cracked a big 750ml bottle of beer and took a swig as he sat.
I was taken in by the sensations before me: the heavy thump of his weight hitting the couch; the sight of that big bottle looking little in his hand; the sound of him gulping down the light beer; and the quick lick of his lips afterwards. Again, I felt a twinge between my legs, but now that I was in his apartment and surrounded by his smells, so close to his bed, the twinge became more of a clutch. I squeezed my thighs together and cracked my can.
"What's that? Blonde ale? So you do like blondes, huh?" He smirked.
"Yeah, good point. Blonde is my favourite."
"I guess you can probably pack away quite a few of those."
"Uhh...yeah, if I wanted to. I never really get drunk. I'd have to drink a ton before that happened. What about you? Do you drink much?" I shook my head immediately.
"No way. I'm a lightweight. I'll have a cocktail when I go out but I'm pretty much buzzed on one drink, drunk on two, and if I have three, I'm done for the night." He smirked again, seemingly amused by that.
"Wow. Good metabolism." He took another swig and a big gulp.
The sight and sound of him drinking that beer was continuously turning me on. I was actually getting really horny just looking at him. I wanted to advance closer to sex, but I needed to go through at least one more round of investigation first.
"So...can I be blunt?" He shrugged but didn't really answer. "Well...tell me if I'm being too forward, but I have a series of questions I always ask a guy before...things happen. A quick interrogation, if you don't mind. Is that okay? Can we exchange some questions to one another, like...back and forth?"
Mike showed the slightest hesitation but went along with my request.
"Uhh, yeah. Go ahead."
"Okay." I decided to start off slow, so as not to push him before the alcohol entered his bloodstream. "So, I've been dying to know...how tall are you?"
"Six foot eight."
"Wow. That's...nice. Tall guys, I mean. Nice to be around. Um...your turn."
He shrugged. "Same question back at you."
"I'm five seven." His brows bounced in response. He was clearly less interested in the height question. "And I'm a hundred and eleven pounds. How about you?"
Mike took a big breath and let out a deep sigh. I knew it was a little rushed but I was getting horny and really eager to know the number.
"Well...uh..."
"Too blunt?"
"Uh, no. It's just...it's not like I weigh myself every day so I can't give you an exact number. I was...well..." I could tell it was a harder question than he wanted to admit. I felt a little bad for asking, but mostly my mind was just racing to guess the number. I knew it was more than five. Could easily be six. Possibly seven?
"I went to the doctor about two years ago and I maxed out the scale, which goes to seven fifty. So...at least seven fifty. But I've probably gained since then. Just guessing. So...between seven fifty and eight, I guess." He nodded to himself somewhat solemnly, and then slowly turned to see my reaction. "What do you think?"
"I, uh...well honestly...it turns me on. I mean, I've been turned on since I first laid eyes on you and then I got really turned on when you picked me up. But knowing that you're literally seven times my weight...yeah. You're...incredible."
Mike made a face that was more of a sneer than a smirk.
"Really? You really like it? My big gut and my big thighs and my man boobs and double chin?"
"Fuck yes." I was resolute. "And plus, the way you describe yourself is based off someone else's standard. Don't look at it that way."
"Well, how should I look at it?"