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lovescurves99

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  1. How can I be so thirsty? Imagine another twenty five pounds on this frame (best I can do).
  2. Sure, let me just post one here... .... dude, that is a terrible idea, don't you think? I am having such a hard time in class right now.
  3. This is a true story. In fact, one part of it happened very recently. I knew we were getting a new teacher for senior English, but I was wholly unprepared for Ms. Taylor as she walked in the room slightly hurriedly, slightly late for the first day. “Sorry about that, folks,” she said as she plopped her bag onto the teacher’s desk, organizing and arranging and getting ready for that first day where, admittedly, we wouldn’t accomplish much but introductions and trivialities anyway. If I had to guess, and yes, at that point I was guessing, I’d say she was in her mid-twenties, late twenties at most. Her height, at 5’ 8”, was wholly unremarkable either way. What was remarkable was her shape. Now, Ms. Taylor wasn’t fat or even chubby by any stretch of the imagination, but her size 8 jeans did wrap themselves rather conspicuously around her legs, and even on that first that there was a subtle but definite outward crease extending from the top of her belt to her navel, which if I had to guess was a recent development, as no self respecting woman would likely want to make a feature quite so apparent. It probably didn’t help that she was slightly out of breath from hurrying; her chest, appropriately well covered but no less remarkable, heaved a little, oscillating from looking like large Cs to perhaps even small Ds. Ms. Taylor fidgeted with her hair a little, pulling her brown locks to the back of her neck, hanging as they did just past her shoulders. Her facial features were decidedly sharp, angular. What made me mildly obsessed as a teenager with Ms. Taylor, however, was her upper arms. They had no business being quite so plush on her overage physique, or so it seemed. Her blouse was cut at nearly the shoulders, so I had plenty of opportunities to watch her right arm decadently jiggle a bit whenever she wrote out the board work. And yes, she was an excellent teacher, always taking our questions and providing feedback on our writing in a timely manner. But it could be hard to concentrate sometimes, given the circumstances. The thing is, those problem areas for Ms. Taylor – her arms, her curvy lower stomach – were getting noticeably worse for her as we proceeded from the doldrums of January to the hotter months of May. Sometimes I had to sit there in class with a hard member and hope to God I didn’t have to get up for any reason before it subsided. Actually, I ended up taking to making sure it was positioned such that I wouldn’t have to worry about that. I’m not proud. But this was the effect she had on me, and if you were to ever have seen her in that class, I’m sure you’d be fully sympathetic. As June approached, I started to think about how I would miss Ms. Taylor – I had conflicting feelings, actually. I genuinely liked her a teacher. And I was genuinely horny thinking about her. It didn’t help that, in my estimation, she put on maybe another twenty pounds or so since first meeting her in January. One day last week, I had forgotten my phone on its charger in Ms. Taylor’s class. As I rushed in without thinking to knock the door after school hours, what I saw was, to put it mildly, shocking. Ms. Taylor was sitting at her desk, blouse hiked up, jeans unbuttoned, and in the process of peeling down what looked like some heavy duty spanx (as I would learn they are called). Her belly was even bigger than I had thought possible, a huge round sphere with thick edges that spilled over her sides. She rubbed it a few times with her right hand. She sighed, and her stomach bulged out even more. This was all on a side view; at this point, her belly exceeded even her large D cups. I had never been so turned on in my life. Then, as I was just outside her field of view up to this point, she casually glanced over at me and her eyes went wide as hell. “Oh my god!” Ms. Taylor nearly screamed, stopping herself just enough likely in the realization that she didn’t want to attract any further attention, and quickly did herself up. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry,” she continued as I stood there, unsure what to do. “Can we um…. Can we make this between you and me.” I nodded. “I just…. Came to get my phone.” My bulge was raging and extremely apparent, and I noticed Ms. Taylor glancing at it. “Okay. Of course. Um…” “Yeah?” I smiled a little. I felt like I was talking to her not as her student, but as a person who was, in a weird way, more intimately familiar with her. “… Nothing. Let’s forget about this, please. See you in class.” She was suddenly more composed, but I think it was a front, part of a desire to get over it as quickly as possible. Obviously, I had so many questions. But I decided that was not the time. “I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, Ms. Taylor.” She smiled a little. I have no idea what might happen next, but I'm hopeful we'll keep in touch after graduation.
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