DAMN I had my A game on
I met her at the Outback Steakhouse, surprised? I sat alone at my table, listening to my mp3 player and eating the free bread. I was just about to leave (like I always do, after eating the free bread) and then she waddled in with the grace of a penguin with cystic fibrosis. She was at least 550lbs. Had a face like Selma Hyek, but the body of a toll booth. I was instantly in love. She sat down at her table and the chair she placed her large buttocks into creaked like an old pirate ship aimlessly drifting out too sea. I approached her, the smell of French fries and rancid hot dogs filled my nostrils.
“Hello, mind if I join you?” I inquired. “Not at all” she bellowed. I engaged her in small talk, our conversation mostly touching on different snack foods and desert items from the menu. Then, the waiters brought out her food. She had a mountainous plate of meat, which she ate with the extreme voracity and precision of a Lion in his prime. A mixture of gravy, ox-blood, and saliva dripped down her various chins during the gestation process. I was sporting wood by then, unable to free myself from the curse this sexy beast had no doubt placed upon me. I told her I was the manager of a Taco Bell (a lie). She was impressed and asked if I could “hook her up.” I said I could, but would need something in exchange. She took her large marshmallow like hand and placed it onto her knee, caressing her cellulite filled thigh while licking her lips at me. I was mesmerized by that thigh. It looked like the soft underbelly of a dying cow, I watched as the waves on it ebbed and flowed back and forth. I could no longer contain my lust for this mammoth beef factory sitting across from me. I had no doubt she would become the subject of all my fantasies within the hour.
We got back to her place, it was dark, it smelled of curdled milk, hot sewage, and the musk of a male opossum. I stumbled through her living area, following her scent. I could hardly see a thing. I brushed against a carton of ice cream, still half full and had been liquefied by the warmth of her musty layer. She then lead me into her bedroom, and took me by the hand. My hand disappeared into her soft, blubbery extension. It was more like a whale fin than a hand, except she did possess opposable thumbs. I remember thinking that she could never fit a pair of normal mittens or gloves and would have to use two dead adult cats as makeshift mittens instead, with slits cut into their stomachs and their entrails taken out.
“Get undressed and lay down,” she growled. I was half scared and half aroused. I undressed and laid on her bed, which smelled like the juice from a can of Vienna sausage. I could feel cookie crumbs on my back and even felt a few melted chocolate chips sticking to my body (my God I hope those really were chocolate chips!) She undressed with the awkwardness of a 5 year old trying to drive a helicopter. Then, she edged herself onto the bed, which shook under her enormous weight.
She forcefully asked, “Who wants to feel my hot pocket.” Overcome with delight and fear, I could hardly answer. She then straddled me and eased her putrid cave of dank, moist misery onto my erect member. My ribs were about to crack like a white guy who just got fired from his job. I tried to breathe in. I couldn’t operate my diaphragm and my lungs were not taking on oxygen. I’d like to see David Blain hold his breath during this for 10 minutes I remember thinking. She finally noticed my pleas for my life and got off me and presumed the K-9 position, ready for love, doggy style. My abdomen and thorax were coved in her vaginal fluid, sweat, and a greasy substance that resembled butter. I quickly got behind the beast and prepared myself for the time of my life. Mid-stroke, my left pelvic bone became lodged into her vasty deep booty cleavage which some people would call an “ass crack.” My skeletal structure had become incased in her mound of wavering flubber. I felt helpless and told her the problem.
All of a sudden, I saw her make a face, the kind babies do when they are soiling their diaper. Before I could scream, “NO” a rush of mighty wind expelled from her rectum, a thunderous clap, blowing me halfway across the room into her lifesize cutout of Jared from Subway. The heat from the blast had singed my genital hairs and left me with a concussion. The smell from it was worse, it smelled like a horse ate an entire family of groundhogs, and then a hippopottumus ate that horse and then was burned alive inside of septic tank. I limped out of the beast’s layer and made my way to my vehicle, never to see the beast again. What a night to remember!
I met her at the Outback Steakhouse, surprised? I sat alone at my table, listening to my mp3 player and eating the free bread. I was just about to leave (like I always do, after eating the free bread) and then she waddled in with the grace of a penguin with cystic fibrosis. She was at least 550lbs. Had a face like Selma Hyek, but the body of a toll booth. I was instantly in love. She sat down at her table and the chair she placed her large buttocks into creaked like an old pirate ship aimlessly drifting out too sea. I approached her, the smell of French fries and rancid hot dogs filled my nostrils.
“Hello, mind if I join you?” I inquired. “Not at all” she bellowed. I engaged her in small talk, our conversation mostly touching on different snack foods and desert items from the menu. Then, the waiters brought out her food. She had a mountainous plate of meat, which she ate with the extreme voracity and precision of a Lion in his prime. A mixture of gravy, ox-blood, and saliva dripped down her various chins during the gestation process. I was sporting wood by then, unable to free myself from the curse this sexy beast had no doubt placed upon me. I told her I was the manager of a Taco Bell (a lie). She was impressed and asked if I could “hook her up.” I said I could, but would need something in exchange. She took her large marshmallow like hand and placed it onto her knee, caressing her cellulite filled thigh while licking her lips at me. I was mesmerized by that thigh. It looked like the soft underbelly of a dying cow, I watched as the waves on it ebbed and flowed back and forth. I could no longer contain my lust for this mammoth beef factory sitting across from me. I had no doubt she would become the subject of all my fantasies within the hour.
We got back to her place, it was dark, it smelled of curdled milk, hot sewage, and the musk of a male opossum. I stumbled through her living area, following her scent. I could hardly see a thing. I brushed against a carton of ice cream, still half full and had been liquefied by the warmth of her musty layer. She then lead me into her bedroom, and took me by the hand. My hand disappeared into her soft, blubbery extension. It was more like a whale fin than a hand, except she did possess opposable thumbs. I remember thinking that she could never fit a pair of normal mittens or gloves and would have to use two dead adult cats as makeshift mittens instead, with slits cut into their stomachs and their entrails taken out.
“Get undressed and lay down,” she growled. I was half scared and half aroused. I undressed and laid on her bed, which smelled like the juice from a can of Vienna sausage. I could feel cookie crumbs on my back and even felt a few melted chocolate chips sticking to my body (my God I hope those really were chocolate chips!) She undressed with the awkwardness of a 5 year old trying to drive a helicopter. Then, she edged herself onto the bed, which shook under her enormous weight.
She forcefully asked, “Who wants to feel my hot pocket.” Overcome with delight and fear, I could hardly answer. She then straddled me and eased her putrid cave of dank, moist misery onto my erect member. My ribs were about to crack like a white guy who just got fired from his job. I tried to breathe in. I couldn’t operate my diaphragm and my lungs were not taking on oxygen. I’d like to see David Blain hold his breath during this for 10 minutes I remember thinking. She finally noticed my pleas for my life and got off me and presumed the K-9 position, ready for love, doggy style. My abdomen and thorax were coved in her vaginal fluid, sweat, and a greasy substance that resembled butter. I quickly got behind the beast and prepared myself for the time of my life. Mid-stroke, my left pelvic bone became lodged into her vasty deep booty cleavage which some people would call an “ass crack.” My skeletal structure had become incased in her mound of wavering flubber. I felt helpless and told her the problem.
All of a sudden, I saw her make a face, the kind babies do when they are soiling their diaper. Before I could scream, “NO” a rush of mighty wind expelled from her rectum, a thunderous clap, blowing me halfway across the room into her lifesize cutout of Jared from Subway. The heat from the blast had singed my genital hairs and left me with a concussion. The smell from it was worse, it smelled like a horse ate an entire family of groundhogs, and then a hippopottumus ate that horse and then was burned alive inside of septic tank. I limped out of the beast’s layer and made my way to my vehicle, never to see the beast again. What a night to remember!
