Kenna is amazed by the sheer amount of fat on my back, marveling at how the rolls are larger than my breasts and hang low enough to touch the top of my butt shelf. Her hands glide over the sagging mounds of flesh, easily slipping beneath them as she squeezes and admires their heavy, hanging softness, drawing comparisons to the weight and shape of a belly hang. She notes the emergence of a new roll above my butt shelf, a clear sign of my ever-expanding form, a living testament to indulgence and gluttony. Straining to shift my bulk, I turn so she can explore my breasts, her hands kneading the...

Kenna is amazed by the sheer amount of fat on my back, marveling at how the rolls are larger than my breasts and hang low enough to touch the top of my butt shelf. Her hands glide over the sagging mounds of flesh, easily slipping beneath them as she squeezes and admires their heavy, hanging softness, drawing comparisons to the weight and shape of a belly hang. She notes the emergence of a new roll above my butt shelf, a clear sign of my ever-expanding form, a living testament to indulgence and gluttony. Straining to shift my bulk, I turn so she can explore my breasts, her hands kneading their softness and tracing the contrast between their feel and the rolls on my back. Her touch drifts lower to the thick, heavy slab of my upper belly, where she revels in the mass of lard, playfully teasing my greed and indulgence. My arousal builds under her attention, my body yearning as I prepare to turn my focus to her own luscious, abundant curves.