CHONKY COUSIN
I stood awkwardly in front of the man who was taking pictures of me. I was wearing nothing but briefs, white and skimpy ones that almost left nothing to the imagination. We were inside a hotel room we rented. We took advantage of the strong morning sun whose ray's angles illuminated my body perfectly.
However, my body is not perfect. While I pack muscle mass, large remnants of adipose from my obese childhood retain. One would call my body chonky. My face just fully cleared up of acne. I do not know why I am doing this pictorial.
The cameraman, my cousin and childhood friend, insisted for me to join a pageant. He mentioned that it would be good for my self-esteem. I always felt ugly, and he always mentioned I was not. My cousin fondly calls me Mr. Cute Chonky.
He explained that the pageang allowed for diversity, including bodies. I discovered the roster of candidates, and they all had different bodies. But I was still insecure with the few who had ripped physiques, who had more followings on social media.
He showed some pictures to me. I looked okay.
He reassured me that I looked hot. I always looked hot. I looked hotter now that I have muscles.
He then kissed me. He does that whenever he catches me on an insecurity spiral. Our little erotic secret that spanned from childhood is what saved me, psychologically. He always made me feel good.
He touched my body. To him, it was better than a greek god's. He fondled my penis. Soon, it was in his mouth.
He looked at me lovingly while he pushed me to the bed and started fucking me. He whispers that to him, I am perfect.
And as he fills my bowels with his seed, my ego gets boosted again.
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