"Oh. My. God, this is the girl I saw here last week," - said Mike quietly, pointing discreetly at a girl who just walked into the restaurant. I followed his gesture and saw her as well. My mouth went dry instantly, rivaled only by the instant stirring in my pants.
You see, me and Mike are long-time friends and roommates. When we were teenagers together, we discovered that among other things we have in common, we share the preference for a certain type of women's figures. Well, not quite. Mike likes big girls. Big boobs, big asses, big everything. Me, I like fat girls: it's not the size that does it for me, it's the softness. But most of the time that point was not valid. Neither was it this time.
The girl that came in was both big and fat. Very big and very fat, easily around 400 pounds. Her top was a size or two too small for her, clinging to her breasts, - on a thin girl, those would have seemed huge, but on her figure they seemed quite smallish – clinging to the rolls of fat on her sides, leaving her tattooed shoulders bare. She was wearing low-rise jeans, her belly hanging over the waistband, jiggling with every step she took.
"Oh my God is right," - I told Mike, - "I want her."
"- I told you, dude."
Ever since college, we decided that when we fell for the same girl, we should not fight, but instead should get her to sleep with both of us, separately or both at once, her choice. It worked very well, with very few glitches.
In the meanwhile, the lovely fat girl sat down, her abundant ass cheeks overflowing the chair. If she weren't wearing jeans, I am sure that the sides of her ass would actually hang down from the chair's edges.
She ordered a cup of coffee and two cannolis, and settled down to wait, staring into distance. I sat watching her lovely face.
Her cheeks were round and fat, and very smooth. She had huge beautiful eyes and a very small, delicate mouth with a subtle curve of the lips. Her nose was straight, short and incredibly cute, pierced with a small ring on the side. She wore her hair short, but not too short. There was a flowery tattoo on her left shoulder.
Her coffee arrived, and I watched her open her lovely mouth and taste the cream-filled tube of a cannoli, her tongue darting out for a brief second. Then she gave a content sigh and bit into the pastry. The movement of her face when she chewed was mesmerizing, as both her cheeks and her perfectly rounded double chin wobbled a little.
I signaled the waiter and handed him a $20 bill.
"Bring that girl over there a large rum raisin and vanilla sundae," - I told him, - "and another one, hmmm, let's see, make it chocolate and butter pecan. Tell her this is courtesy of the two gentlemen at the bar," - I indicated Mike and myself, - "and keep the change."
She was halfway through her second pastry, when ice cream arrived at her table. We watched her eyes widen with surprise, then her brows lowered, as she suspected that someone was making fun of her. When the waiter pointed us out to her, we smiled and waved, and she seemed to relax a bit. After tasting one sundae, then another, she smiled back at us, and with a nod of her head invited us to sit at her table.
Mike and I walked over and sat on both sides of her. She was even more beautiful close up than she was from a distance – I could see the little chubby folds on her fat upper arms.
"So, boys, what's the deal?" – she asked us with a playful smile when we sat down. – "Why the ice cream?"
"We just wanted to make your day a little sweeter, Miss," - said I, moving the ice cream slightly closer to her. She promptly ate a spoonful of it.
"You seem like such a sweet girl," - said Mike, touching her hand gently, - "so pretty. What is your name?"
"Yvette," - she said, blushing. – "but really, you should not have..."
"Such a beautiful name for such a beautiful, beautiful girl," - I said, stroking her other hand, so soft and smooth and small.
"We would really, really like to sit with you and watch you eat this ice cream, Yvette," - said Mike. – "This is Sam, by the way, and I am Mike."
"Nice to meet you, Mike, Sam," - Yvette said, - "What do you guys do?"
"I am a writer, and Mike is a photographer," - I said, - but please, eat.
"You are holding my hands, guys," - she laughed, and that was true – Mike was stroking the back of her hand with his fingers, and I was holding her other hand,, my fingers intertwined with hers.
I picked up the spoon from the rum raisin and vanilla sundae, and scooped up a little ice cream from the top, where it's just started to melt. I put the spoon up to Yvette's lips, and she looked at me with her huge lovely eyes, and parted her lips obediently for her treat.