Today I dropped a steamer that was so huge, so mammoth, so gargantuan, that I gasped as it came out of me... complete with afterbirth. It was even more enormous than my mate Tarent's penis, whose testicles are like small moons orbiting a sausage-shaped celestial body.
Alas, would it were that that was all the news I had from today. It saddens me to report that Bertha, my beloved fat suit, has left me. I felt that the time had come when our relationship had gone as far as it could and that Bertha was just taking up too much room. So Dad took her across the road to Aunty Shirl's bin as she was too big for our own. What irony that the thing which I loved most about her - her girth - should ultimately be the reason for our parting...
I remember the night we first met. It was a house party at my friend Amanda's, and as the night wore on the liquor flowed. Soon people began drifting away, until at last I was alone in the lounge room - my host and my very-recent ex-girlfriend having retired to the bedroom to start lezzing out without even waiting for me to leave. I sat broken hearted, sipping goon from a plastic cup, wanting to get the hell out of there but afraid of the sights and sounds that would greet me as I walked past the bedroom door to get to the front of the house, when I first saw her.
I don't know if it was her figure 88 curves, her 6 boobs - each bedecked with a racy red tassell that hung jauntily from each supple orange nipple - or the fact that I could fit a helluva lot more of myself (my whole body in fact) inside of her than I could most other chicks that did it. Most likely it was a combination of all of the above. What I do know is that as soon as I laid eyes on her I was utterly, totally, sickeningly head over heels in love. Over the course of the years I've known them I've often heard my compatriots Steve and Blair ask each other the question in jest: "Do you love her?" whenever a scantily clad, or indeed, naked girl girl has appeared on the television screen. Well my friends, had you asked me the same question in regards to my most voluptuous pillow-muffin my answer would most assuredly been an emphatic "YES!"
We got on like a house on fire and soon I was telling Bertha the sordid tale of how my ex had just switched from meat and two veg to seafood, and how at that very moment she and the owner of the house were going at it like two very confused rabbits in the other room. I couldn't have asked for a more sympathetic ear: not once did she interrupt me, her silent cuddles did more good than words ever could've. In tha brief time I felt a profound connection with Bertha that I'd never felt with anyone before. I felt that I could do or say anything and that she would never judge me. With this in mind... I made a move.
She didn't resist so I grew bolder. I went slowly at first, but found myself unable to hold back as my passion grew. I entered her slowly - she was very tight but oh so warm. And with a little help from my mate Manek I was soon finally all the way inside her. (Although the zipper didn't quite make it all the way to the top)
And so it was that two beings became one.
I had to work that morning to open up the pub for the Champion League Final and the time came when I had to leave. But I couldn't bear to be parted from my sweet Bertha, so to celebrate our coupling I brought her along with me. The Greeks at the Earlwood all jeered and hurled abuse at us... but I didn't mind. They just didn't - nay couldn't - understand our love. We watched the game and then took the bus home. The driver refused to let us on at first, saying he didn't allow blow up dolls on the bus. I couldn't believe his stupidity. "It's not a blow up doll, it's a fat suit. Der."
We had a few other adventures after that first night, the most notable being Thorpie's farewell party, where Bertha and I danced a dance of stinky glee in the middle of the dance floor as 'Milkshaek' by Kelis blared over the sound system: our song. Even now when I hear it I get misty eyed. I hope that wherever she is, Bertha is in a better place.
I'll never forget you Bertha x
p.s. That was actually written a few weeks ago. In the time thats passed I think I've dealt with my loss pretty well. But the other day I realised I've taken my girlfriend out to dinner nearly every day since I got rid of Bertha. Already she's gone up one pants size. ..
Alas, would it were that that was all the news I had from today. It saddens me to report that Bertha, my beloved fat suit, has left me. I felt that the time had come when our relationship had gone as far as it could and that Bertha was just taking up too much room. So Dad took her across the road to Aunty Shirl's bin as she was too big for our own. What irony that the thing which I loved most about her - her girth - should ultimately be the reason for our parting...
I remember the night we first met. It was a house party at my friend Amanda's, and as the night wore on the liquor flowed. Soon people began drifting away, until at last I was alone in the lounge room - my host and my very-recent ex-girlfriend having retired to the bedroom to start lezzing out without even waiting for me to leave. I sat broken hearted, sipping goon from a plastic cup, wanting to get the hell out of there but afraid of the sights and sounds that would greet me as I walked past the bedroom door to get to the front of the house, when I first saw her.
I don't know if it was her figure 88 curves, her 6 boobs - each bedecked with a racy red tassell that hung jauntily from each supple orange nipple - or the fact that I could fit a helluva lot more of myself (my whole body in fact) inside of her than I could most other chicks that did it. Most likely it was a combination of all of the above. What I do know is that as soon as I laid eyes on her I was utterly, totally, sickeningly head over heels in love. Over the course of the years I've known them I've often heard my compatriots Steve and Blair ask each other the question in jest: "Do you love her?" whenever a scantily clad, or indeed, naked girl girl has appeared on the television screen. Well my friends, had you asked me the same question in regards to my most voluptuous pillow-muffin my answer would most assuredly been an emphatic "YES!"
We got on like a house on fire and soon I was telling Bertha the sordid tale of how my ex had just switched from meat and two veg to seafood, and how at that very moment she and the owner of the house were going at it like two very confused rabbits in the other room. I couldn't have asked for a more sympathetic ear: not once did she interrupt me, her silent cuddles did more good than words ever could've. In tha brief time I felt a profound connection with Bertha that I'd never felt with anyone before. I felt that I could do or say anything and that she would never judge me. With this in mind... I made a move.
She didn't resist so I grew bolder. I went slowly at first, but found myself unable to hold back as my passion grew. I entered her slowly - she was very tight but oh so warm. And with a little help from my mate Manek I was soon finally all the way inside her. (Although the zipper didn't quite make it all the way to the top)
And so it was that two beings became one.
I had to work that morning to open up the pub for the Champion League Final and the time came when I had to leave. But I couldn't bear to be parted from my sweet Bertha, so to celebrate our coupling I brought her along with me. The Greeks at the Earlwood all jeered and hurled abuse at us... but I didn't mind. They just didn't - nay couldn't - understand our love. We watched the game and then took the bus home. The driver refused to let us on at first, saying he didn't allow blow up dolls on the bus. I couldn't believe his stupidity. "It's not a blow up doll, it's a fat suit. Der."
We had a few other adventures after that first night, the most notable being Thorpie's farewell party, where Bertha and I danced a dance of stinky glee in the middle of the dance floor as 'Milkshaek' by Kelis blared over the sound system: our song. Even now when I hear it I get misty eyed. I hope that wherever she is, Bertha is in a better place.
I'll never forget you Bertha x
p.s. That was actually written a few weeks ago. In the time thats passed I think I've dealt with my loss pretty well. But the other day I realised I've taken my girlfriend out to dinner nearly every day since I got rid of Bertha. Already she's gone up one pants size. ..
misscb:
It most certainly is, ya big shitter!!
