It had been a while since my "corporate" episode and if you read the last installment, you know that I'm referring to the luscious cheeks of Ms. Stetson. She eventually got tired of me jacking off using her massive cheeks and had nixed the affair and my firm's account. As a result, I found myself "laid off" and working at a temp firm.
The "Itch" had gotten worse than ever and I was in danger of becoming a serial masturbator. I found that I was worse off than before. Scott, my friend at the temp firm and a fellow chubby chaser (Although not afflicted with "crack addiction like me) had advised me on several occasions to use the services of a prostitute. But, I just couldn't get over the stigma that comes with being a "john".
So, I just dealt with it and tried my best to keep my not so secret fetish under control though I eventually did go online and contact a hooker and the results were a little less than stellar. I had the misfortune to pick the fattest, ugliest broad you could find on the net with absolutely zero asses. I had to threaten to call the cops just to get her out of my place. This should have cured me but the next night images of Marsha and Ms. Stetson's massive butts danced in my head and played havoc in my boxers. One day while Scott and I were sitting at this outside cafe eyeballing chubby chicks he came up with an idea regarding my situation.
"Maybe you should try a club."
"Club?"
"A size acceptance club for big women."
"What?"
"Doofus, it's a place where fat chicks hang out and party. There are lots of horny chicks there."
"I'm not into fat chicks, I'm into phat chicks."
"Same difference."
"No, Phat Chicks are thick and voluptuous, ripe massive deep butts and Fat chicks are just fat."
"Whatever man, I'm going on Friday and you can tag along if you want."
I was disturbed that he just dismissed my assertion regarding my proclivity, but none the less I found myself tagging along like a puppy dog. We drove over to Long Beach and parked in the parking lot of a huge strip mall.
"Where's the club?"
"Just across the parking lot on the other side of the mall."
"Too cheap for valet parking?"
"Man, shut up, you never park in front of a fat chick club. Somebody might see you coming out."
"Do you tell the chicks you pick up about this philosophy?"
"Of course not dumbass. Are we gonna run our mouths all night or are we gonna go get you laid buddy?"
"No, I'm just curious as to how you get the women to walk all the way over here."
"When a BBW wants to get laid, she will go anywhere. Once, I even got laid in a dumpster."
"That's special." I replied smarmily.
The club which I can't name for legal reasons was unassumingly inside a storefront pub. Looked like any old bar from the outside but once we got inside there were wall to wall BIG WOMEN and when I say big, I mean BIG! Most of the women were sporting the shapes of beach balls and other geometric shapes I don't care to mention at this time. All of the decent and half way decent women had swarms of men around them in unyielding phalanxes. Scott was living it up dancing badly to some 50 cent rap song called "In da Club". (That song needs to be laid to rest with a shotgun.) I navigated the floor and went to the bar where I began to down a record number of Heinekens when fate struck.
