Pizza Woman

Pizza WomanI was in a rut. Another Friday night alone. Just like last Friday and the onebefore that. Sitting here watching some stupid info-mercial aimed at inbredtrailer trash. My God- I was watching and thinking of buying the assinineproduct!!! I needed to do something…quick. Hell, I’ll just get a pizzaand take it from there. Yeah, a pizza with everything.With shaking hands and trembling fingers, I picked up the telephone andtriumphantly placed my order: “Three pizzas – the works, and a six pack ofdiet coke.” I impatiently waited for my gourmet feast to arrive.Needless to say, by the time the doorbell rang, I was hungry and horny. I hadpopped in the video and Ron Jeremy was already boffing Ginger’Lynn in a giantbowl of french salad. Both were smothered in mayonnaise and pickle relish (ofall things!).The doorbell rang. I lethargically lifted my body from my Laz-Y-Boy chair andslowly, cooly, walked to the door. (Mustn’t let on any show of anticipationto those pimple faced, lecherous pizza boys.) I methodically opened the door.My jaw dropped. My stomach wriggled. My words u*********sly slurred.”Pizza” she said.She! Yes! She! This was no pizza boy! No! This was a woman! And what a woman.240 pounds of woman!!”Pizza” she said, a bit impatiently, again.”PPPllease cccome in.” I, through my extreme nervousness (it took all myconscious effort), calmly directed her into the living room and motionedtoward the Laz-Y-Boy chair. She, without a bit of hesitation, without a bit ofsurprise – almost as if this was a regular occurrence during her nocturnalpizza travels – plopped herself down, opened pendik escort a box of pizza and enthusiasti-cally began to feed.As she sat on the Laz-Y-Boy, I quietly sneaked into the kitchen, out of reachof her unsuspecting eyes. There I could get a better look at her features.She was big – about 240 pounds, blue eyed, and wore her hair in two tightpigtails, like a hefty farm girl, innocent to the ways of the world. She was,naturally, double chinned and her large, plump, rotund breasts must haveweighed at least 15 pounds each. Her attire was the routine “pizza” blue andred. To be honest, her whole appearance was that of excess. But though, I mustadd, her physical appearance appealed to me, iit was the way she carriedherself. The way she ate pizza, for instance. She grabbed the pie with bothhands, unafraid of getting her palms greasy or oily. Then in laser-likesuccession, she would sink her teeth into a slice, devouring half of it inone mountainous bite. After finishing off a piece, she would cooly wipe hersauce-stained mouth with the back of her fleshy right hand and then continueon. She did this with twenty slices.I stared, lost in the rapture and passion of the moment. It was truly love atfirst sight.I came to my senses and walked back into the living room. The video was stillplaying. I looked intently into her eyes. No words were spoken. She knew mydesires.”Want some?” she indifferently asked.There were four slices left in the third, and final, box. It was not pizza Iwanted.”NNNoo, III’mm really not hungry. Shouldn’t you be getting back?” This kartal escort wasonly a formality. I thought it should be mentioned.”You want me to leave?”She read my mind, “No… No!””Well let’s put on some music!” she replied. She got up from the Laz-Y-Boy,turned off the tube, and went headfirst towards the record collection. Albumswere subsequently strewn across the floor. She found she wanted.She awkwardly removed her top to reveal at least a 50DD bra which, withdifficulty, contained two titanium-sized melons. She began to dance. Herstomach wriggled with each gyration, moving with the elegance of a ballerina.She continued this sensual writhing. Plumpy hands being lifted over her head,to the left, to the right, then her whole big body bending forward! For atleast fifteen minutes she continued, then her jeans fell heavily to the floor.Heavily, I might add, but it was such a fluid motion, it seemed an essentialpart of the dance. All she had on where her panties and bra. Her oversizedsaddlebag ass now joined her oversized balloon orbs in the elegant bouncingand swaying. She then, without warning, did fifteen jumping jacks. The fatshook. The walls shook. The room shook. The vibrations of ecstacy…I, by this point, was in heat. I had the most massive hard-on and was all butready to explode. She noticed my fevered state.”Was’ a’ matter, big boy?” she laughed. Her double chin now bouncing incomplete rhythmic synchronization with her breasts and buttocks.I lost control. I fell to the floor and wrapped my wanton arms around hersequoia-like thighs.”I maltepe escort know I am nothing! But if you have any mercy at all, you’ll show me somemeaty passion! I can’t go on much longer!” Why I said those exact words, I’llnever know. However, you know how it is during the heights of ecstacy.Anyway, she understood, and seeing the pitiful puppy dog expression in my eyesshe took my hand and led me to the Laz-Y-Boy. She sat me down on the chair andproceeded to remove her bra and panties. Her breasts were larger than ever, atleast 20 pounds each. Her nipples were the size of a bologna slice. Shegrabbedme head and massaged it between her fleshy orbs. The sensations of the flabbywalls of breast fat rubbing up against both my sensitive cheeks almost sent meout of control. How I somehow managed to sustain control, I’ll never know. Iwas unequivocally in heaven.After this lesson in sexuality, she grabbed my penis and – how can I describeit – well, she sort of rolled it up and down in her belly fat and implored meto, in her words, “Fuck my fat!”. It felt so good that I decided to ‘go withthe flow’.What transpired next is still a haze to me to this very day. I seems I was socompletely immersed in the intense pleasure of the moment, I sincerely believeI left my physical body and entered some supreme spiritual state (I came sixsix times!). I do vaguely recall, however, removing my penis from herfantasticrolls and inserting it into her massive love tunnel. After numerous earthshaking orgasms, everything after that moment, unfortunately, is a completeblank.When I finally awoke from my ‘passion stupor’, it was 3am. I quickly jumpedto my feet and desperately searched, hoping to find… But it was too late.The pizza was gone. The diet coke was gone. She was gone. All that was leftwas a food-stained note taped to the refrigerator door. It read:Thanks for the PizzaAND the sausage.