BBW Bookworm You’ve Been Spying on for Weeks!!!!

You don't know her name. You don't know her life. But every Saturday at 10, she's there—curled up in the corner of the library, wrapped in a cardigan over a turtleneck, thick glasses slipping as she buries herself in another reread.

It's the third time you’ve seen her with this book—must be her favorite. A sliver of belly always peeks between her tight pants and snug sweater. When she shifts or stretches, her waistband slips just low enough to expose your favorite part—her deep, inviting belly button that looks like it could swallow your whole tongue. You watch from the upper floor through the railing, phone camera zoomed in, catching every jiggle, every soft press of her gut against her waistband.

You've got hundreds of pics by now. That gut resting heavy on her lap like an inflated beachball, the slow rise and fall of her middle as she breathes. Her clothes can barely contain her anymore, and you can’t get enough.

You know it’s wrong. You don’t care. Some part of you even wants her to catch you. But for now you’ll keep watching her belly. Your biggest obsession. Your biggest addiction.