I was in the backyard, up in the kids' tree house, anticipating my midnight tryst with Annie. I checked the luminous dial of my watch. It was time. I parted the old swning which served as a door and pointed my son's Boy Scout flashlight at the neighbor's house and flashed the beam a quick three times, the agreed upon signal.

I then sprawled my ample bulk on the ratty old queen size mattress that the kids played on, and waited with hungry anticipation for Annie, my neighbor's sweet and lush wife. Annie and I had been driven together by our respective spouses.

My wife had found the religion of diet and exercise. It all started innocently enough when she purchased exercise lessons online and also started going to the gym for the purpose of losing a few pounds. But she quickly moved beyond the silly dance routines and became enamored with the bodybuilding way of life.

As she shed fat and honed her body into a sleek whippet shape, our relationship became strained.

She offered herself as an example of how one could transform himself from lard to muscle and she tried mercilessly but unsuccessfully to light the fire of enthusiasm in my belly. I'm a confirmed bucket of lard; past, present and future.

Since my wife did the food shopping the cupboard was now figuratively bare. Low fat and natural was now her mantra. Gone were the sweet stickybuns, the chips and dips and the tubs of sweet, rich ice creams. Now an evening snack was dried and fresh fruit, nuts (unsalted of course), veggies (a silly stupid word), rock hard whole grain turds and seltzer water to wash it all down. Give my ass a fucking break.

Annie, the neighbor's wife, was a lush little number with creamy skin and a cheerful personality.

She was the victim of an indifferent husband. A guy who seemed to be away all the time. I think he might have had a little something going on the side but I never broached this with Annie.

The affair began after a chance encounter at a local convenience store. I had slipped out of the house on the pretense of gassing up the car for the morning commute. The gas part was true but I also made a quick stop at the Seven-Eleven to buy a few goodies which I hid in the tree house for a late night snack. I had been doing this since the wife started serving such delightful dinner fare as vegetarian meat loaf made from soy meal and bulgur wheat. That night while I was bounding through the store and loading up with pound cake, butter pecan ice cream and a few chocolate bars, I ran into Annie.

I jokingly kidded her that these were my tree house snacks and she was welcome to join me later that night. I assumed that she would think that I was kidding, but to my astonishment, while I was in the tree house shoveling ice cream on two thick slices of pound cake I heard Annie's voice calling my name. I peeked down at the ground and saw Annie's plump form standing at the base of the tree. I invited her up and she had actually come prepared with a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

That night we had more than the snacks. We involuntarily fell into each other's arms, spilling heaping plates of cake and ice cream. Thereafter, we met a few times each week when the urge overcame us. Sex and gluttony became our mantra.

I soon heard Annie's screen door creak open and then bang closed. So I peeked out and saw her bouncing across the backyard, her billowing negligee forming a luminous white ball in the moonlight. Then up the creaking ladder she came, hoisting up her round rump with amazing alacrity for someone as plump as she. Her hand poked through the gap in the awning and it held a big brown bag.

"Hi, honey," said Annie as she clambered into the house. Puffing, she continued, "I made fried chicken and potato salad for us tonight."

I was starving of course. I took a beer from the ice chest, popped it open and handed it to Annie, who had reclined Roman style on an air mattress I had hauled up on the sly a few weeks previously. Small talk could wait until halftime, the point at which half the food was gone. I needed to take the edge off before I could think of anything in the way of social chitchat.

I scooped potato salad onto my plate and dug in. It was made the way I like it, with lots of mayo and with chunks of hard boiled eggs. Then I attacked the chicken. Annie made great fried chicken and she made plenty. Also, she left the skin on when she fried it. Totally unlike the tasteless, broiled, skinless chicken shit that my anorexic wife prepared.

Annie was a pleasure to watch eat. She enjoyed food and purred like a contented kitten as she burrowed through a heaping plate of potato salad. It took only a few minutes to reach halftime. I put the plate aside and then rolled on my back and loosened my bathrobe. I was nude beneath the robe. The bathrobe spilled from either side of my big, pasty white, Budda belly. I ran my hands in contentment across my giant girth. I lifted my head and was unable to see my prick across the white horizon.

I burped. "Excusez moi,"! said.

Annie laughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She then placed her plate next to mine, stood and lifted her nightgown over her head, and tossed it to one side. She was short and thick, but shapely. Her breasts were massive creamy globes; her nipples were like small brown pancakes. Her waist was remarkably tapered with only a slight bulge at the abdomen. Her hips and ass were big, round, firm and dense. Her appearance was one of tightly packed and contoured lard. She did not jiggle or wiggle when she walked. Over the past several weeks a pattern had been established during these evening trysts. First we ate and then we fucked.

Annie came to me. She first propped my head with a pillow and then, facing my feet, she straddled my head and dropped into a full squat. Her big ass cheeks caressed my head. The folds of her pussy, like salami hanging out of a sandwich, smothered my face. She was too short for us to assume the classic sixty-nine position, so she licked my porcelain belly as she reached over its horizon and stroked the old bratwurst.

My hands kneaded her doughy white thighs as I tongued the meaty folds and inner recesses of her slightly sour pussy. She started moaning, her breathing shortened, and she rested her head on my belly. But she continued stroking my tumescent pulsing schlong.

I then gently indicated to her that it was time to change positions. I didn't want to be the first man smothered by an orgasmic pussy. She rose and we switched positions. She sprawled on the mattress and spread her legs. I reached fora paper towel and wiped her love sauce from my jowls in preparation for the second course. She knew that I now wanted to feast on her body. I stretched out beside her and started kissing her face, then moving down her dewy white neck to her round, firm shoulders, kissing and gently nibbling. Then on to her large, ripe breast which tended to flatten out from gravity.

My tongue played with one erect nipple, then the other. Downward to her belly. Soft and smooth. I licked her milky skin and rubbed my face in the angel softness of it. Then I positioned myself so that I could kiss, lick and massage her thick firm thighs. Such a pleasure to feel a leg with substance. My wife's legs were now as sleek and hard as driftwood, completely devoid of any female sensuousness. But Annie, sweet Annie, her legs were exuberant with ripe flesh. Something I could sink my teeth into.

Still rigid, my cock demanded relief. I rolled on my back and Annie knew it was time for the main course. Because of my belly, the missionary position was not possible. I held my stiff pole upright as she straddled me and lowered herself, engulfing my prong with grade fucking A prime cut. Good sport Annie stayed upright in the saddle and rode me fast and furious. In spite of my bulk, I started bucking up to meet Annie as she thrust down. We banged hard and sent shock waves through the tree. Too hard, I guess, because halfway to orgasm there came a terrible cracking noise and then the tree house started a sickening quick descent to the ground.

Fortunately the limb did not snap free from the trunk so we did not free fall to the ground.

When the end of the big limb touched the ground we rolled over several times and were pitched bare-assed out of the treehouse. The noise awakened my wife who came a-running. The ensuing scene was chaotic with shouts of dismay and disbelief.

Well anyway, it was the end of the whole sorry affair with Annie. Now I'm in a program for compulsive overeaters and I'm trying to make amends to the wife. We have the kids to think about. And she, to her everloving sense of fairness, has scaled back on the dietary and exercise regimens.

Also, what did I think Annie and I were going to do? Eat and fuck for the rest of our lives? It had to end and it was probably good that the old tree gave way when it did. I was out on a limb with Annie but I've got both feet planted firmly on the ground now.