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                   Georgia (m/f, FA, oral)
                   ================

            By Green Onions <flagger14@hotmail.com>


``Can you hand me the lotion, Dear?  It's on the nightstand!''

Mark's eyes caressed her reflection in the mirror.  Like the
giant double-basses he so painstakingly constructed by hand, his
wife of nearly three decades had soft skin which had become
smoother with age and a deep voice that had grown mellower
through the years.

Yet the instruments always remained the same size after they
were built, whereas Georgia had expanded slowly until she was
now in her late forties and fat as a cream puff.

As he palmed the full-size bottle of moisturizer he realized she
could easily have gotten it herself.  But Georgia was not
generally given to such exertions.  Once positioned, she
preferred to stay put.

Mark glanced at their wedding photograph, realizing how much she
resembled the giant oak that he would never cut down for wood.
The tree had been young but still substantial enough to provide
much cooling shade on their sunny wedding day.  That was when he
had resolved that it would stand alone as long as he lived, high
on the cliff. 

Her mother had told him then how delighted she was that Georgia
had obtained such a "good catch" because she was "so fat."  Yes
indeed, she had been a little pudgy when they had gotten
married--perhaps twenty pounds overweight by today's perverse
standards--though fashionably plump by the norms of those times.

``Do you think Jeannie will be all right with David?''

Childbirth had made its changes and by the time their only
daughter had been born, Georgia had added another twenty pounds,
only ten of which she would ever be able to take off.

``No Love, I'm sure they'll do fine.  Remember David has lots of
   experience driving in the snow and there's only a few inches
   of it.''

And then there had been the decades of dieting.  She would lose
five pounds after ten terrible weeks of carrot juice and green
beans.  Then she would gain them back along with a few more in a
subsequent month of moderate indulgence. 

Georgia would try the all-nut, the all-fruit, the all-meat, the
all-cheese, or the all-pasta diets, one after the other, losing
a few pounds and then reacquiring them with some extra to spare.
As she became more curvaceous, the buttons' threads would
become strained, her zippers and seams would grow tighter,
while still more dresses, pants and belts filled their closet. 

``Yes, but I heard that all the schools are going to be closed
   tomorrow.''

By the time Jeannie's face and heart had broken out with the
eruptions of adolescence, Georgia's body had changed completely
from a Marilyn Monroe-like elegance to a rich luscious robustness.

Every spring her upper arms seemed to sprout from sleeveless
blouses like the mushrooms bursting from the fallen trees in the
forest.  Though her legs had become substantial, her tummy was
still not so prominent, and the frequency of the undulating haze
of many summers' bright suns was matched by the dancing
heartbeat of her full browned thighs that challenged the
leggings of one pair of shorts after another.

``But that's due to the basketball finals--not snow--Dear!''

During next few years she tried exercise.  For months at a time
Georgia would go religiously every day for four hours--two
before work and two afterwards--losing thirty or forty pounds
and sometimes even her monthly cycle.  But the pressure was too
great, and he would always breathe a sigh of relief when she
resumed a saner regimen.

It was then that she really started to fill out.  If she left
twenty pounds behind in three months at the gym she would gain
twenty-five back in the next month.  If her losses were thirty,
she would later regain forty. 

And then there was the one year in which she exercised
continuously from September to May.  Her stunning shedding of
fifty-five pounds had been balanced by the slow return of her
lust for life during the summer as she packed seventy back on
during four months of barbecues, fish fries and camp-outs.  Like
the antlers of a mature buck, her love handles seemed to
disappear and grew back again with the seasons, always larger
and more finely rippled with age.

``I don't know why they always have to put the stupid zippers in
   the back--can you help me?''

He watched her rise to her full height, just a few inches shy
of his own six foot frame.  The round mirror seemed to broadcast
her brightly-colored gown's effulgence into the empty night
beyond their window, as if it were a lighthouse warning any
strange vessels sailing on the snow to avoid the mansion built
into the hill. 

Most of the dancing shadows were created by the visual concerto
of her complex curves and the shiny mirrorlike fragments
embedded in the dress.  There was no denying the effect of her
lush hips on the shape of the shimmers.   Despite her height, it
seemed as if she had a very short back because of her buttocks.
He could feel himself slowly stiffen as he gently pulled the
zipper.

Only the slightest movement from Georgia was necessary to
produce small arroyos in her back, like fissures of flowing lava
from a volcanic explosion.  Mark couldn't help running his
fingers between the inviting rolls as he might stroke the
strings on one of his instruments.

``Ohhh...that feels niiice!'' Georgia intoned, regarding him
directly for the first time since she had sat down at her
dressing table.  The layer of flesh on her back marbled into
several striated rows as a result, like the notes of a complex
slurred chord.

The zipper was now down to her girdle, which had become
absolutely essential since her repeated cycles of heavy exercise
and subsequent weight gain.  In that period her abdominal
muscles had grown and her once-svelte stomach had caught up with
the rest of her.  Mark knew that without the restraint, a jelly
roll of soft dimpled tummy flesh would have descended lazily to
the upper middle of her abundant thighs like this morning's
clouds had settled upon the foggy winter horizon.

His eyes smiled directly into hers.  He felt himself growing
larger as his fingertips outlined the ripples emerging from her
thick waist.  Mark ran his tongue between her folds very slowly,
gently teasing the depression in which her navel was buried.
Then he kissed her small mouth, penetrating deeply with his long
tongue.  She responded with her own organ and languidly turned
her girth towards him, as he reached for the slender bottle of
scented oil.

Two minutes later a cloud of long dark hair was all that
adorned the deep curves of her upper body.  The sloping mass of
two ripe breasts was distorted by the rise of her soft stomach,
like fruit hanging from an imagined bush.

Mark applied handful after handful of the massage oil to the lip
of her juicy belly that hung over her lap, making sure to
slather a few errant droplets on her ample legs.  He knew she
wanted his large hands there--on the smooth creamy surfaces of
her sensitive inner thighs--so she could squeeze them together
as she became hotter and wetter.  But not yet.

He repositioned her on the bed to his liking, as she closed
richly lashed eyes in anticipation of her arpeggio.  The urge to
cover her with his moisture was overwhelming, and he engulfed a
stockinged foot in his mouth as she squealed in delight.  She
was so delicious that he had no trouble drawing a fine, wet,
bright line with his tongue up to the middle of her leg.

Mark licked the back of her knees as he squeezed a fatted calf
with a soothing palmful of massage balm.  Georgia knew the white
thigh-high stockings she had worn to tease him would be ruined
by the treatment.  Yet the sensation of slippery oil being
applied through the ultra-thin silken enclosure was too
satisfying to protest.

It was only a matter of time before his patient tongue was
working its way underneath the tight upper seam of the silk
stockings.  His lips whispered a series of minuets over
Georgia's inner thighs as he allowed the odd jewel of glistening
oil to flow onto the sensitive exposed flesh below her hot
springs.

Georgia's warm breeze tickled the matured sapling of Mark's
masculinity before she teased the poised nectar from its
roundly-beveled crown.  She could feel him spreading her own
thick branches apart as the wetness of the oil mixed with his
falling rain, lapping at the borders of her inner garden.

While she cradled his rootstock in her hand he was pushing,
pulsing, and penetrating her bass clef with the triplets of his
tongue.  They both gasped together as she took him in her mouth
while her lush swamp became overrun with his lips and his nose
as she stiffened and moistened even more.  Georgia's wetness
flowed into him while their two mouths sang in one harmony,
river merging with lake, as she shuddered in a crescendo of
resonant joy.

As he greedily drank of her essence and squeezed her mountains
between his fingers to heighten her climax, he felt his own
explosion between her lips.  A few seconds later she caressed
his shrinking member with her smooth tongue and felt the last of
his love squirting softly onto her dimpled check.

The branches of the huge oak that would never be made into an
instrument creaked under the moonlight while the lovers licked
each other's glistening faces clean.


Green Onions