Friday, December 29, 2006

A Day in the Life

A Day in the Life

Heading home after a long day at work, obsessed with the thoughts of lovely fat women, pretty of face, ample of body and sharp and witty of mind, my path takes me through Grand Central Terminal and the thousands of people coming, going and at this time of year, seemingly just hanging out and watching the displayed holiday images on the ceiling and walls of the main room. The regular high powered, high speed zigzag used to reach my train platform, usually diagonally placed from the corner I enter GCT won’t work at this time of year. There are easily half again and perhaps twice as many people in the terminal, many of them milling around eyeing the visual display or, exhausted from a day of shopping or awaiting the appearance of friends and family stand like statues. To make matters worse from a FAs perspective they’re all wearing overcoats as winter, for some reason not in a hurry to stay, has made one of its cold feints into the Northeast. So, all these people, many of them bbws and ssbbws, are essentially hidden from view by the billowing coats and outerwear. Also, the shear volume of people tend to hide individuals from view as my attention as a faster moving pedestrian needs to be focused on the ten or twenty feet of space in front of me to navigate around slower moving folks, milling obstacles, people with abundant suitcases and the like. Clearly not for beginners.

But as I make my way finally to my platform the logjam is broken and the number of people is manageably reduced. On a slightly earlier train than usual to deal with something on the home front I hope to see a different crop of commuters and some infrequent visitors to the city on the train. My hopes are met as I swing into my usual car and look for an open seat. From the outside, looking in the windows I see at least three women who are bbws and one who appears to be a ssbbw. In fact, the woman entering the car in front of me has a swinging wide rear atop a lovely set of graceful full legs. That poetic pliability of flesh and fabric which follows a woman with thighs wider than the space between the two legs is working and my outlook has improved immediately. I’m also looking for a suitable seat, the aisle seat on a three seater row with no one in the middle. If the passenger sitting on the window seat is a bbw or ssbbw that would be even better. I pass the three bbws sitting in the car but no empty seats next to them. As I continue down the aisle and the open seats I know are there, I follow the gal with the mesmerizing meaty mambo and watch as she heads for the second open seat, so I head for the first one, in the row behind her.

As I approach my seat I look at the couple sitting together in the row behind the one I’ll be in. They are actually quite huge, surprisingly so. The man looks like you’d expect Santa Claus to look like if he stopped climbing in the sleigh so much and let himself really enjoy the food at the North Pole. I can’t tell how tall he is, but I’m guessing under 5’8” and the weight somewhere in the 400s with a very ample belly to go with his wide full face ringed by a white beard and wispy white hair. Sitting next to him is his wife, they both have their wedding bands in view, a ssbbw of similar vintage… probably early to mid 50s. My first impression is that she has one of the huge black and white cookies sold in the terminal resting on her bosom as if it were a table or shelf. They’re discussing some book the fella is reading and the woman keeps absently touching the cookie, almost stroking it, until I notice that she’s flipped it over so the black and white frosting is now pointed down and the baked bottom of the cookie is facing up. As I slowly take off my overcoat, scarf and suit jacket, stowing them on the overhead rack and letting people walk by(it’s easier to do this stuff while standing in the aisle then when in the row of seats(not enough room for this big fellow to maneuver gracefully there) I have an opportunity to observe the woman. She is sitting in the middle seat, tight up against her hubby, rather than the more roomy aisle seat which would give them some space. While not a spring chicken she has that smooth,unlined facial skin common among women of size who haven’t spent a lot of time losing and gaining weight. Her body shape seemed to be that of a pear shaped woman with a relatively smaller top spreading to a much wider base. I would consider her an ssbbw of middle size. My initial interest in why she elected to sit in the middle seat(sort of, since her husband extended somewhat into that seat) rather than the end seat which would have given them both more room, was answered about ten minutes after the train took off and I heard gentle snoring from both of them periodically. Of course, had someone wanted to sit in the same row(with three seats, nominally), the space between the aisle and the woman’s left hip was probably under a foot. How sweet it was to see the two of them together, growing older as a loving fat couple, the woman having eaten the black and white cookie before going to sleep.

After sitting for a few minutes and just before the train headed off, another bbw came up the aisle. A shortish, about 5’3” dirty blond with shoulder length hair and thick arms, smallish bust and slightly bigger belly but ample derriere. A tasty confection, if not a meal sized treat. And then, after she was settled she took out Tattoo Magazine. I spent the rest of the ride trying to imagine how many tattooes she must have and where they are located. None were apparent and she was dressed conservatively in a pair of black dockers and a purple wool sweater which seemed just a bit snug. I hoped that it would creep up exposing her back above her waistband and show a tattoo. Alas, when it was my stop she was still fully covered and apparently tattoo free.

And off I went….

1 Comments:

Anonymous endomorphophile said...

A cute story, and I really enjoyed how the descriptions transported me with a feeling of being in the echoing halls of Grand Central Station.

The rhythm of your prose also reminded me of the swaying of a train car, too. I can just imagine the beautiful flesh of the passengers swaying back and forth with that mesmerising cookie in sight.

30/12/06 10:00 AM  

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