For dinner, I wore a nice button up and some jeans that made my ass look amazing. The idea was to make Ryan hungry for something else besides food. As I walked downstairs my stomach began to growl from all the food smells floating through the house. By the time I entered the dining room I was practically salivating, but my hunger quickly dissipated when I opened the door. The dining room was by far the most exquisite part of the house. It was lavishly decorated and looked like something straight out of a civil war movie. The room was extremely posh for such an old and relatively small house. The only other guest had already arrived and was seated. He was thin and not too attractive in the face, but seemed like a nice guy. I took a seat and Marcie joined us shortly after. The food would be ready in a few minutes, she told us. We began to chat and in the midst of small talk, Ryan walked in. He was a sight to behold. He wore essentially the same outfit as me, but his shirt was tucked in. A mound of fat hung suspended over the front of his pants. With each step you could see a jiggle reverberate throughout his entire body, but it was especially noticeable right below the belly button. His jeans fit snug, especially in the thigh. I wondered how he could sit down without them ripping. Much to my delight, he chose the seat right next to me. The chair creaked as he relaxed into it.
He greeted me warmly and there was immediately a palpable electricity in the air. The first few buttons on his shirt were undone and I could see his dark chest hair poking out. We exchanged a few words on how plush the surroundings were before he leaned back with one hand on his belly and said:
“Where’s the food? I’m hungry.”
No sooner had those words escaped Ryan’s mouth than the first dish came out. The chef, a very fit and attractive guy named Brad, served us. He announced that this would be a four course meal and we were beginning with fried mozzarella balls as appetizers. Everyone quickly dug in and the conversation drifted from the history of the inn to our personal back stories.
We learned that the third guest was named Brandon and he worked in marketing. He was in Mississippi on business and would only be at the inn for a couple more nights. Altogether, Brandon was somewhat boring and my attention kept drifting to Ryan’s appetite. He was popping those mozzarella balls like they were candy. He must have eaten about half the plate himself before then the chef came out with more. It was very clear how Ryan had developed such an immense gut, and he didn’t seem to mind if anyone noticed.
I found myself wanting to keep up with Ryan, but it was impossible. I was already getting full and the second course hadn’t even arrived yet. Eventually, the conversation became focused on myself and what I was doing at the inn. They were fascinated to hear that I was a writer, and successfully making a living off of it. Marcie in particular was quite giddy that a successful writer was working on something in her inn. I was relieved when the soup arrived and I was no longer the subject of everyone’s attention.
It was a clam chowder that was almost as thick as ice cream. Absolutely delicious, I didn’t have a problem keeping up with Ryan. I paid no attention to my tightening belt as I spooned in heap after heap of chowder into my mouth. It wasn’t long before Ryan noticed by voracious appetite. We made slight eye contact and with a mischievous grin, he picked up the pace. My imaginary eating contest had become more of a reality as the two of us crouched over our bowls and began to inhale the food.
“Wow, it looks like Ryan isn’t the only boy at the table with a big appetite,” Marcie exclaimed as we took our last bite.
“Well, I don’t know about slim over here,” Ryan began, “But I could go for another round of this chowder.”
Like magic, the chef appeared with another steaming bowl. Not to be outdone, I requested one as well.
“Would it be terribly uncouth of me to suggest an eating contest at my own inn?” Marcy asked. “And the winner gets… the winner gets breakfast in bed tomorrow morning!”
Ryan and I agreed with big smiles. Brandon, seemingly disgusted, declined to join. Marcy counted to three and we dug in. I knew I wouldn’t win but couldn’t turn down such an erotic proposition. As I shoveled in spoonful after spoonful my dick grew rock solid, pulling at the leg of my jeans. I was barely halfway through when Ryan banged the table and declared his victory. Marcie cheered like a mad woman. As our plates were cleared, Ryan leaned back with his hands behind his head, his massive round stomach on display for all to see.
“No worries champ, you never stood a chance,” he said, placing a meaty hand on my inner thigh and pulsing cock. He gave me a hard squeeze and added: “You might need to unbutton those pants.”