One morning I woke to find myself pressed against what at first appeared to be a giant pink walrus.
Strangely enough, it had tattoos, just like my girlfriend, except they were smeared and stretched like Sunday comics on silly putty.
Blue eyes suddenly blinked out at me from deep inside the wrinkled vastness and an enormous belch erupted from the creature.
Great Googly Moogly! It WAS my girlfriend!
I staggered into the kitchen to find that the second coming of Colonel Sanders had indeed occurred sometime in the middle of the night and every scrap of food had been raptured away.
Even the dog food was gone.
Come to think of it, I never did see little Sparky again.
But all thoughts fled my mind as I turned to face the lumbering colossus that was my girlfriend, now wedged inside the kitchen door.
She says to me,
“I know my belly’s got more steps than an Aztec ziggurat, so I’ll understand if you don’t want me anymore.”
Time stood still as I had an emergency group huddle in my brain to prepare for what was sure to be the most loquacious, magnanimous lie ever to fly from my lips.
She was huge any way you looked at it, especially from behind.
She looked as though Madam Tussaud and R. K. Sloane had collaborated on a wax sculpture of Dom Deluise, Luciano Pavorati, and Orson Welles all diving for the last bit of pimento loaf during a Star Trek transporter accident.
She was gargantuan, she was Brobdignagian, she was…she was…beautiful.
Quietly, inexplicably, it happened.
I had considered the well-endowed woman before, but not one so… uniformly endowed.
A newly-wakened hunger scorched through my loins as I said,
“Oh, no, baby, I like it like that!”
And not only that but,
“I want to play Jaque Coustaeu to your Marianas Trench!
I want to burn all the maps and be the new cartographer of your Grand Canyon!”
And from that moment on, our relationship began to expand in new dimensions.
Did you know that just about anything you could possibly need to make love to a tub of human flesh is readily available on the Internet?
A coal miner’s helmet and a wetsuit, for example.
Use your imagination.
Now we do all our clothes shopping at Wilderness Outfitters.
She holds up a slate blue Coleman 2-person tent and I say,
“It goes with your eyes, sexy.”
She buys two plus a tight red 1-man pup tent for those special occasions.
On the way home we pass AJ’s Construction Supply and she gazes longingly at the Caterpillar D400E Series II dump truck.
“Some day, princess, but you’re not quite there yet. Until then, my Ford Superduty will have to do.”
Oh, I adore my little mountain of love and I’ll do anything to make her happy. And she responds in kind.
Since I’m a Star Wars fan, we’ve worked this extra kink into our relationship.
Late at night, when I’m nestled in her labyrinthine folds,
I whisper, “Say it, baby. Say it!”
And she replies, “Bo shu da, ah yis cabba Wookiee.”
Oh, yeah!
One night we’re watching the Discovery Channel,
a special on the mating habits of blue whales.
It’s not even half way through when she slides her flipper up my thigh.
Time to break out the Crisco!
Oh, I agree, it’s not for everyone.
Like the call of Mt. Everest: many hear it, but few respond.
Only a chosen handful have a hankering to sit down to this all-you-can-eat love buffet.
Few men ever experience the pleasures to be had, elbow deep in his lover’s capacious embrace.
Few men will have their courage tested by the threat of a back brace or even a full body cast when one night she wants to have things her way.
But I am such a man.