Duncan Cyrus, age 27, Pick Up
It was one of those weekdays. You know, tired of the rut you're in. I get up, cook a breakfast sandwich, hygiene and before-work-prep, go to work, work the 9 to 5, go to gym, come home, hygiene, recreational activity, bed - repeat, repeat, repeat. I did this for months, and at first I didn't even notice it. I mean, my place is in order, no one had any issues with me, and my health was great. Then that one night when you get home, something within you tells you to look around and you realize what the hell have you been doing?
Now don't get me wrong; I'm stable, sane, intelligent, a hard worker, and every once in a while I do want a bbw playmate, but I suppose I was getting too old for such things. That put me in a bit of a funk and I didn't want to just heat up some leftovers. I took a shower, ironed some jeans and a polo shirt, and made my way out. Where I was going at the time I didn't have a clue until I saw this Italian place. I hadn't had pasta in a while so I decided to try it out. Inside it was rustic, like Rome or something of the "old country".
I was seated at a booth. Families and couples littered the place and I was alone. My waitress came to assist in my selection. Rarely did I see a waitress as rubenesque as she was. Normally waitresses are small, tall, but petite or slim. She was round and full. Of course these thoughts were going off in my head, and my mouth ran normally. I asked her what a newbie should try. Surprisingly, she sat on the other side and helped me choose. For a conservative work shirt it didn't hide much. Her breasts were too big no matter the shirt size. Every time she pointed at something on the menu they jiggled a bit. She wore her hair in large braids and covered them with a bandanna. That is a very adorable look on women, I don't know why.