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

How I pick the right woman

nigel kills it again

She was born hungry, and I fed her well.

Back in my early days when I was a younger man, I was a french fryer at McDonald’s. I thought the smell I brought with me from work to the club was all i needed to be a big-ass-getter. But I was so on it, so hungry, so inexperienced, I didn’t even give bitches the chance to smell me. I just chased girls with big asses like I escaped from prison and had to bust a nut real quick before the police could catch me and send me back. I was always buying new clothes, trying to increase my swag, and hustling hard like a door to door salesman selling dick. Sometimes it worked, but man, It got tiring; it was hard work. I usually only drink Gatorade after fucking fat BBWs to replenish my electrolytes and energy/sugar-levels, but back then I had to drink that shit all the time because I was exhausting myself so much. At one point I had to smoke crack just to keep up and stay alert. Then my hair was starting to turn grey, and I had had enough. Those were the days… Then a major paradigm shift changed my game forever. One day I saw a man on TV hunting wild beasts in Africa. He took his time to wait and ambush big game beasts, and that’s when I knew that catching big game required big game. It was so much more strategic, relaxing, and intelligent than what I was doing all along. All the pieces of the big game puzzle finally came together. This ain’t checkers motherfuckers, it’s chess.

So let’s come back to the present, around last week. It was big ladies night at the Ham Hock Saloon. I weaseled my way into the VIP party room where they had an open buffet and strategically planted myself in front of it — specifically the table with the fried chicken assortment. The BBWs started waddling their way in like a stampede. I was gettin’ real excited but kept my cool with a big pitcher of beer in my hands. I stood there posted up like a soldier on guard duty, just watching them get comfortable, waiting for all that food to start digesting and sap up their strength. The time started to fly and the room got hot and sweaty, when all of the sudden I felt an intense pressure on my foot, like a truck had run over it. I thought my foot was about to be pulverized, but I held my breath to avoid screaming in public. I looked down and noticed it wasn’t someone’s foot stepping on my shoe, but instead the end of a walking cane — a fat ass woman (with severely debilitating gout) had inadvertently placed the end of her cane on my foot for support as she struggled in a lumbering waddle, on her way to the next buffet. Immediately all the anger and pain turned into excitement, because the weakest link in this procession of very big titties-n-ass had just stumbled into my clutching range.

She was short and very wide, especially her ass — no wonder she needed a walking cane, it was epic; or maybe it was because of her gout, which looked like a giant ass tumor. I had to make the first move, so I grabbed her by the love handles and pulled her closer, pretending to whisper something in her ear about how I noticed her checking me out, and how beautiful I think she is; see a little flattery goes a long way with big bitches, and it’s a great way to buy time. She smiled, and then I offered her some beer from the pitcher I was holding. She gave me a funny look and then asked me if I was just trying to get her drunk, but I was like, “baby, you serious? Just have a sip.” She looked thirsty, and I was thirsty for her epic ass and pussy, it was a win win situation. But being a black belt in big game, I also knew something else: if I could get her to drink the whole pitcher of beer, it would seriously agitate her gout. So I put the pitcher up to her lips and I started chanting, “drink! drink! finish it bitch!” and got the whole room to chant with me; the peer pressure set in and the beer disappeared. It didn’t take long for her  to guzzle it down, she was born to swallow.

After drinking all that beer, it only took 2 minutes for the pain to set in. Her big ass foot with the gout was glowing red hot and lookin’ ready to explode. She could barely stand up, even with her cane for support. She started leaning on me and moaning. I knew I had her right where I wanted. “Excuse me folks, coming through. She needs help taking a shit” was all I had to say, and everyone moved out of our way as I guided her to the restroom. One hater that supposedly was her friend jumped out in front of me and asked me what I was doing, but I pulled out my wallet and quickly flashed him my health insurance card that has a blue cross on it, “I’m a nurse at the hospital, I work with obese patients. I’m a professional, I know how to handle this.” He quickly shut up and walked away. Once we made it to the restroom, I guided her toward the stall. She put up some physical resistance; and being a big woman, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to just push her in, so instead I yanked her walking cane away and she fell to the floor like a limp sack of shit. She fell into the stall perfectly, just barely fitting in with her ass hanging out. I couldn’t close the door, but it’s didn’t matter. I unzipped my pants and got to work, kneading her doughy ass with my chocolate dough roller.

It is thanks to my strategic approach to big game that I don’t have to break a sweat and waste my time if I don’t want to. Sun Tzu would approve.

my man sun tzu

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