I was on a business trip, staying at the Best Western in Deerfield Beach, Florida. I don't know what it is about Florida, but the women there don't seem too concerned about letting it all hang out – big girls, fat girls wearing tight t-shirts, half shirts, halters or swim-tops. I guess their thinking is, "Hey, it's hot and I'm going to be comfortable – so what if I'm fat and my belly is showing."
Anyway, I had checked in and dropped my stuff in my room when I realized I hadn't brought a razor. A quick trip down to the lobby and I'd be all set.
My room was on the 5th floor and I was alone on the elevator when it opened on level 3. An older couple, older than me anyway – I was 24 at the time, was arguing at the elevator door. They were African American and the guy looked very angry. He was yelling at the woman while she held the door open.
The woman was overweight, some would call her fat, but she didn't seem to mind. She had a large towel wrapped around her ample waist and was wearing a brightly colored bikini top. Her breasts were huge and, in the colorful top, looked like twin beach-balls sitting on her protruding belly.
I was getting uncomfortable when the buzzer sounded loudly. The man shoved the woman onto the elevator with a, "Go ahead, get away from me!"
Angrily, as the door began to close, he reached in and yanked at her bikini strap, pulling it off her shoulder, revealing her left breast. It looked tremendous; round, firm and wonderfully brown. Her nipple was puffy and almost solid black.
"You okay?" I asked, trying to look her in the eye, but failing miserably as she stuffed her smooth flesh back into its silky cup.
"I'm fine," she said softly, adjusting her strap.
You sure are, I thought to myself, but didn't say a word. We both got off at the lobby and went our separate ways – she toward the pool and me to the front desk.
A little bit later, I was back on the 5th floor, outside my room trying to improve my cellphone reception, looking down at the cool blue water in the hotel's pool.
The woman from the elevator was wading slowly back and forth in the pool. She was the only person down there, but she wasn't really swimming. She was walking a bit and occasionally lying back in a semi-float, her breasts and stomach pushing skyward. I stared admiringly and marveled at how graceful she looked.
She noticed me at the railing and I gave her a silly salute. I watched her for a few more minutes before, grudgingly, returning to my room.
I spent the remainder of the afternoon unpacking and preparing my materials for the various meetings I had scheduled, but I couldn't get those colorful tits off my mind.
A knock on the door startled me and I peeked curiously out the adjacent window. It was the woman from the elevator; she was wearing a large t-shirt, the same towel and looked like she had been crying.
I opened the door a bit hesitantly.
"I'm sorry," she told me, "Can I come in?"
Unsure what to say, I gestured her in.
"Thank you," she said, swinging her purse nervously. "You seem so nice."
Her shirt was a mess, something had been spilled on it and her face was wet and shiny.
"Can I use your restroom?" she asked, before explaining, "He threw his beer on me."
"Sure," I said, finding my voice, "G'head."
She stepped into the small bathroom without closing the door behind her. I jerked the front curtain shut as she pulled her wet shirt over her head. She was still wearing the rainbow colored bikini top and her breasts bounced firmly as the shirt came free. She proceeded to vigorously wash her face and upper chest with the tiny bar of soap. Her tits and belly jiggled nicely as she did and I couldn't help but stare.
"Can I use a towel?" she asked, turning suddenly and catching my rude gaze.
"Sure," I fumbled, "I've got plenty – use as many as you need."
She laughed and wrapped a crisp white towel over her shoulders, draping it across her golden chest and cleavage. The white of the towel stood out in stark contrast to her brown skin.
"Can I get you something?" I asked. "I've got water and a Coke."
"Water," she answered. "Thank you."
I got her a bottle from the mini-fridge and she sat on the worn couch. I pulled out the stiff wooden desk chair and opened the Coke.
We spent the next hour or so talking; awkwardly at first, but soon it became more casual. Her name was Tamara and the guy she was with was her latest loser boyfriend. They had come to Florida to start over, but weren't having much luck. He was unemployed and unmotivated. She was tired of the whole adventure and just wanted to go home. Maryland was home and she told me she was going to get a bus ticket back there first thing in the morning.
While we were talking I continued to admire her large breasts. They were magnificent and spilling out of her top. The towel around her waist did little to hide her dramatic legs – thick thighs tapering to thin calves and ankles. Her stomach was round and full, but also smooth and sexy. Her hair was shoulder length and combed straight. Large, almost purple lips and a wide nose balanced pleasingly with her green eyes.
Somewhere in the conversation, I volunteered to drive her to the bus station and told her she could spend the night in my room.
When our conversation had finally wound down, she decided to try to get some sleep. She would have to sleep in her swimsuit because I had nothing for her to wear – all my stuff was too small. That was fine with her – and me, to be honest.
I tried to appear uninterested and busy, but watched eagerly as she removed the towel from around her waist. Tamara's wide ass looked incredible. The thin line of brightly colored material trying to cover it didn't stand a chance. Her smooth, brown cheeks took my breath away as she climbed into bed.
She was asleep by the time I had shaved and jumped into some sweats. I decided not to hassle with unfolding the sofa-bed and dropped tiredly onto the couch. As I drifted off, I found myself staring at the shape under the blankets and imagining what it would be like to touch her, to rub her, to make love to her ...
