Do Fat Women Give Better Head?

corndog

We all love getting our knob slobbed and our snake slurped, then droppin the nut seeds down her hatch. Every time I empty out a batch of my own secret sauce in a fat bitch’s mouth, I throw my hands up and thank the lord; hell I even open up my window and let all my neighbors know with a loud Hell Yeah! I know the man up stairs is smiling down on me when I pull it off because It’s no secret that fat women give the best head.

You might think it’s easier to get some head from a BBW, because you assume that fat women are always hungry, which is true. But here’s the catch: they are hungry for food, not your dick, at least not right away. I’m going to explain how you can flip this around as quickly as possible, so you can get your dick sucked so hard that your forehead caves in.

First thing comes first, you got to have the right food.

Find out what she is craving by asking her what she’s in the mood for, or try subtly making suggesting that she responds well to. I like to put my head up to her stomach and assume it’s growling in hunger for corndogs and sausage. “Baby your gut knows what you want best, and it’s asking me for corndogs.” Every BBW I’ve done this to has laughed out loud. It’s usually a good idea to suggest food that has a phallic shape to it, and preferably something greasy. BBWs love the aftertaste of any kind of buttery grease — this Is why I often use popcorn butter or hog grease as lubricant for my cock, not just for cooking; Sometimes it’s necessary if her mouth is smaller, so I can squeeze in my huge BBC.

A common amateur chubby chaser mistake is made when you just start feeding her as soon as she is hungry and opens her mouth. Don’t be a rash fool. If you do that, she’ll just eat you out of house and home and then fall asleep — and you can’t have sex with her while she’s asleep, that’s rape my brother. You’ll go to prison if you do that, where you’ll be giving head instead of receiving it. Anyway, not to digress here, it’s important leverage her desire for food as a way to guide her toward whatever sexual act you want her to perform.

some guy feeding girlfriend

Above you see the mistake. He just rewards her right away. She didn’t earn that hot dog like a good little fat bitch. Below, my man Parker Clark has it right. After she finishes her plate she’ll be scarfing down his breakfast sausage like a bottomless cum dumpster. See, it’s just an associations game — she sees the food, the dick, and then slurp slurp.

Man puts plate of food near his crotch, bbw is hungry for his food/dick

If you get the above right, you’ll have successfully leveraged her insatiable hunger for food over to your dick, getting a blow job that’s stronger than a 100 Dyson vacuum cleaners. But watch out if you feel any teeth, keep your pimp hand ready. Keep it strong. I’ve knocked out a few fat bitches that thought they could chew on my cock. Where there’s great pleasure, there’s great danger.

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Read More: Solid chubby chasing player? Or beta male?

She Was Asking For it.

Nigel suited up, with a BBW, in front of golden corral buffet.

Lately I’ve been making my rounds at the local buffets once again. Last time I learned a very valuable lesson: Buffets are surprisingly the hardest place on earth to game BBWs. Even though you have so many of them waddling around in one place, they are overly distracted by all the choices of food, and even just the smell of food… They are so busy hogging up the buffet tables, carefully selecting what they want to eat, it’s hard to talk to them. They just get their food and sit at their table, intensely focused on the act of eating. I was so broken down after a week of nothing but cold rejection that I swore off buffet game forever. Never again I said to myself, but that was 5 months ago. Now I decided to tame the beasts in their own environment once again, by any means necessary.

A few days ago I hit up the buffet scene again, but this time employing a new overall strategy. I was suited up, more confident than ever, and had a new, solid alibi for my presence. In my new fitted purple suit, I headed for the Golden Corral and immediately noticed that every fat bitch was staring at me, for at least 3 seconds. Man I knew I had made a solid impression right there and then, until all the sudden the smell of bacon grease and fried foods hit me like a brick wall. The BBWs turned back around to the soul food selections, but the gain in confidence I had lingered, and I knew it was time to game on.

I got myself a plate and got in line, but this one fat woman in front of me was so god damn big I couldn’t see anything ahead of her. She was like an edifice of adipose with an ass the size of a dumpster, and a fecal stench reeking through her clothing. I had to hold my plate over my crotch to conceal a very intense boner. Once we got to the food, I knew my chance to spit game was now or never. I waited until she started loading up her tray with food, which was taking forever. The people behind us were getting visibly frustrated waiting for her to finish up,  so I called her out on it, “girl, come on. You’re holdin’ up the line!” I was trying to be cute, I smiled, but she got defensive.

BBW: Motherfuckah you got something to say to me?
Nigel: Hell yeah I do!
BBW: Whatchu got niggah? I’ll sit on you!
Nigel: Oh yeah, is that a threat honey? Because guess what, I could have you black listed.

BBW: What, you gonna put me on a black wishlist? Huh?
Nigel: No bitch, It means you won’t ever be able to come back here again. All I have to do is snap a picture of you and send it to the Golden Corral head quarters, telling them you’ve been “over served” and are acting belligerent fat hoe, hoggin’ up the line. That’s it, and you’ll be banished from the Golden Corral kingdom for all eternity. How’s that sound?
BBW: FUCK YOU niggah! You ain’t gonn’ do shit!

At this point everyone was staring at us, and some were even filming with their iPhones.

She put down her tray and waddled toward me, getting in my face like she was ready to throw down. I put down my plate and got ready in my boxing stance — and I’ll be honest here, I was scared for life, because she was at least twice my weight (I’m 235 pounds). I told her to “step the fuck back.” That was her third and final warning, I was through being nice, but she still didn’t want to listen. She choose to seal her fate when she grabbed a good scoop of greasy mashed sweet potatoes and flung it at my suit, which I had just gotten dry cleaned. Damn, that was the last straw. I quickly jabbed her in the face with my right hand and followed up with a left hook to her jaw (the good old one two combo). She was out already, when I kicked her over. She fell back, hitting the ground so hard the whole building shook up. It was like Godzilla had fallen over in defeat. The crowd of patrons was cheering for me when she went down, but I hardly noticed.

Word of advice for you hoes: Never mess with a brother’s suit, especially if it’s fitted, cause you’ll get knocked the fuck out for real.

She was lying on the ground unconscious while I was still in aggression mode, lost in the violence, seeing red; so I pulled my pants down and got to work. I couldn’t find her pussy beneath all the layers of flab, so I compromised with a nice crevice. I was getting in it hard, trying to bust a nut, but then I noticed that fecal smell again. It was coming from a hole near her gunt, she had a colostomy. Her colostomy bag had fallen off, and there was a nice hole for me to shove my dick in. There was shit inside, but my dick didn’t care, it was just like putting it in her ass, no different. It was nice and tight and I busted a few times. I felt like a champion beating up her… hole. She got what she deserved, and I had finally gotten a notch from a buffet — a Golden Corral flag. My dick gave me a fist bump.

After I got done, I noticed that everyone had left, so I pulled my pants up and went outside for a smoke. The cops showed up and asked me what had happened, and I told them the truth, “I was scared for my life, and she was asking for it.”

Photo credit: https://twitter.com/RaymondStarke

Photo credit: RaymondStarke

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Read More: When BBWs Act UP

An Open Love Letter to Lindy West

I don’t normally allow myself to get too heartfelt and emotional on this blog, cause I’m not about that shit. I don’t ever give my love to just one girl. I like to spread it around like red sauce on pizza. Today however, I’m going to share my deepest feelings and desire for a very exceptional BBW. Since this is a very special post it’s only proper that I set the mood with the right music:

Lindy West, I just want you to know that you are the biggest, brightest, and all around most beautiful feminist in the whole wide world. 

Consider this an open love letter.

When I first discovered you on Jezebel, my heart skipped a few beats. I knew it was love at first sight. Your sassy feminist vibe, your rotund, rubenesque frame, it’s spicy yet familiar. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

I’ll admit I’ve done wrong in the past. All those nights I spent with other big women, feeding them nachos and friend chicken, sleeping with them, break some off in them, but I would give it all up for you.

I need a strong woman like you to set me right once and for all. You’re a big woman, so naturally you deserve a big man with a big heart, and a really big hot dog.

If you’ll be with me, I will always be there for you.

When ever you need help getting into a wheel chair. Girl I got you.

For you, I would delete my account on Craigslist forever.

We could have countless nights together of cuddling in front of my big ass fire place. With your thick ass and thighs, your potbelly, and your giant love-handles, It’s as if God made you for this purpose; there’s so much more to hold on to. More flesh for me to handle and discover. I love discovering new territories, and your body is like a whole new continent, a whole new world baby.

All them hohos and all them tasty cakes I saved all these years, all yours. You can eat me out of house and home, and stuff your face while you sit on mine. My face is your throne.

I know a beach somewhere that we could go to, where we could go on romantic strolls together. I’d bring out the wheel chair of course, a special wheel chair like you’ve never seen. Girl, you’d never have to walk on them heavy ass legs again, I got you baby, all the way! I know how much trouble you have breathing even when you sit still. So just relax. I’ll roll you up to the candle lit dinner on the beach.

We’d crack open the wine and some Cognac, fine ass cheese, candy corn oreos (your favorite) hamhock gravy and mashed potatoes, pizza, and a funnel to help it all go down. We could let ourselves loose in the moment.

You wouldn’t ever have to lift a finger, in fact I don’t even want you to. All you’d have to do is relax, lay back, and open your mouth.

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