On a Date: Thick Girl

She was drinking something with whipped cream on top and it couldn't be denied: she was kind of fat. I cursed under my breath because I had agreed to this blind date as a favor. I had been duped. I considered escaping but the thought of standing up a woman was, surprisingly, more than I could bear at the moment.

I sat at a table near her and considered her enormous cleavage, cradled in a low-cut blouse. They were perfect in their own right, with a sort of hefty softness, they were extremely attractive, the penultimate orbs. I looked at my hands; I would have to cup them together just to support one of them... A phone rang and I looked up as she reached between her breasts and lifted a phone out from inside. I gasped and she looked at me while answering her call.

"Hello."

She returned to her whipped-cream drink.

"No, he's not here yet."

And he never was.