Super-Sized Fatass Claims Bedroom Superiority, Citing 'More Cushion for the Pushin'
Super-sized fatass chicks are better in bed!
That's the shocking claim made by Elmira Cheeks, whose derriere is featured in the fatass photo above. Ms. Cheeks, a personal trainer at Curvey's, shocked fellow diners at the Big-Time Buffet with her bold claims, while on course #7 at the potato bar.
It was at the Big-Time Buffet that I talked to Cheeks.
ELMIRA CHEEKS: My heinie, or any 400-pound plus heinie, is better than the tiny buttocks you find on skinny women. I call them my 'money makers.'
MIKE DOE: You'd have to pay me a lot of money.
ELMIRA CHEEKS: Thank you, hon'. And every dude that's ever picked me up, oh, and they're have been plenty, just ask my husband, has told me the same thing.
MIKE DOE: Ouch. My back.
ELMIRA CHEEKS: No silly.
MIKE DOE: Damn, you got a fat ass?
ELMIRA CHEEKS: Besides that. They all say, 'It's really true what they say about fatass chicks. More cushion for the pushing.'
MIKE DOE: How romantic.
ELMIRA CHEEKS: Yeah, they're my sweethearts. Although they always seem to be losing my phone number.
MIKE DOE: No!
ELMIRA CHEEKS: It's okay though. My husband will sometimes pick up the slack.
MIKE DOE: But not you. Dear God.
After this exchange, Ms. Cheeks insisted on handing me her phone number, written on a mayonnaise-stained napkin, I hope. But, sad to say, I lost her number seconds later when the napkin slipped from my hand into the trash can.
Mike Doe
11 Comments
Reader Comments (11)
I was at a department store yesterday, performing some tactical retail maneuvers, and there was an employee who, from the waist up, was overweight but not that overweight. She had an attractive face. But damn! The woman was a dead ringer for a hovercraft. If I curled up into a ball, I would approximate the size of her ass. I don't know how she was able to walk.
Maybe she and Elmira are buddies.
Dude. HAVE YOU BEEN LOOKING THROUGH MY PHOTO ALBUMS??
I am Dalton. For those of you who don't remember me, I was the head bouncer at the Double Deuce in Jasper, Missouri. My work cleaning up the bar, and the town, was featured in the documentary, Road House.
Now Mike Doe...
You are giving me flashbacks. And not the good kind like of my nights in the barn with Doc. You would not believe how many women like Elmira would pinch my buttocks, or grab me in the naughty place while I was at work. I always kept my cool, as long as they didn't touch my lucious feathered hair.
No one messes up Dalton's hair...and lives.
Hey, big girls need lovin' too! But I think it was more her braggadocia that inspired this post. Elmira was just so damn cocky. I almost advised her to call Jerry Springer about sharing her stories with the world.
Hahahaha. Sorry, but that is cheeky.
Mike,
I'm not sure if this qualifies but...
I had a rather unusual experience on my drive home tonight. Through the pitch darkness of my back country route, I was met with a startling display of two black cats fucking in the middle of the road. I assume that an experience such as this extends the boundaries of one having bad luck when simply crossed by a black cat, however, I am not certain to what degree.
The last stretch of my 25 mile commute home in the Central Texas hills calls for some dark and vacant narrows through the cedar and live oak. Top speed is posted at 35, and I wouldn't recommend pushing past that limit. As I rounded one bend, I came upon what I thought to be some wayward brush. As I slowed, my high beams detected a wrestling mass. I slowed further, dropping to near 20 miles per hour. My forehead felt the sting of a brisk chill as I dropped the driver side window to peer out and observe what I was approaching. Suddenly, two sets of yellow eyes glowed at me. A split second later, the halogen lamps of my car lit up the glistening tip of the male cat cock before the animal bounced off into the tall grass.
Frozen forever in my mind is the image of the spire.
gregwillis,
Welcome back! Hope you had a great Christmas vacation.
First you saw two black cats doing the deed in the middle of the road AND THEN you had a SECOND incident in which a cat flashed you his johnson, again in the middle of the road?
Dude, you're talking about some seriously trippy shit here. Are you sure there was no Jack Daniels or other mind-altering products involved in your kitties-gone-wild road trip?
I'll need this info before I can provide my full (psycho) analysis.
I'm now having unpleasant flashbacks to pee-wee cheerleading (oh yes, film_girl was a cheerleader - my older sister was nationally ranked in high school and college and so I was kind of forced into it by default) -- when I was 9, our "coach" looked like Elmira and would then try to do the various "moves" - awful.
And of course she openly hated my skinny ass.
Very funny stuff.
Digging the third person reference, film_girl!
That's too funny on your cheerleading coach. Somehow I picture her having a very deep voice, or an Eastern European accent. Possibly both.
Dude, how could you not keep her number! It really doesn't get more romantic than "more cushion for the pushin'". I mean really thats almost as good as a candlelit dinner and roses. Haha funny stuff, Mikey! :)
Shylie743,
Live and learn, mi amiga. Next time I'll know for certain that she's a keeper!