Jackoblangada
Well-Known Member
SSBHM,~FFA, Eating, Explicit ~Sex, Romance - At long last Sunday dinner brings two hearts together
Part One
I love Sundays best; Sunday evening really. That is when I go to dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant, Gina’s.
The best part of going to Gina’s on Sunday is that it’s usually so busy that they will seat me right up near the kitchen, at that table where the staff sits to read the paper when it’s slow. What’s so good about that seat? From there I can see right into the kitchen to watch Gina herself cooking.
I am happy to admit that my mad crush on Gina. She was from first encounter amazing, not only gorgeous but accomplished, energetic, funny, smart and one of the best Italian cooks I have ever met, and this includes my own Italian family. I mentioned gorgeous right?
If God himself had reached into my head and created exactly what I wanted in a woman he could have done no better than she.
At most she is 5 foot 3, with close cropped hair that is generally some unnatural color, last week it was white, and a trim body that is almost always hidden by a black chef’s coat; if she is more than 100 pounds I am the pope.
Above all though, she has the most incredible big blue eyes I have ever seen. They light up like sapphires and when I look at them I seem to be incapable of rational thought. I am fairly certain the radiate their own light like that vial thing that the elf queen gave that Hobbit in that movie. I have literally been left speechless on the occasions she has looked directly at me. I hear music and my skin feels funny, the whole bit, pathetic really.
I say this because, while Gina was the ideal woman for me in every way, there was I felt almost no chance whatsoever that I would be the perfect man for her. I was sure her man...I was assuming it’s a man but I would not have been shocked if it were a her, I have a bad habit of being attracted to lesbians…but that is neither here nor there; I was sure that her man would be tall and skinny, one of the lanky rocker guys, all lean muscle sunken eyes.
Gina did not seem the type to suffer fools lightly so he would have to be erudite and smart. I was sure he was really cool and as much as I wanted to hate him for having her I would probably still like him even though I would hate myself for wanting to be like him….sigh.
Me? I'm what you call, big…ok heavy or overweight…all right all right I'm fat. Not like kinda chubby, has a few too many beers on the weekend fat, or even ex jock gone to pot, I am over the top fat. The kind of fat where Cartman and his pals would see me and say “Man, you are fat”. I haven’t seen 350 pounds since there was a Democrat in the White House. I am, by any stretch of the imagination, obese; 5’11 and headed towards 500 pounds. That gross you out? Ok, stop reading and go turn on the TV; I am sure there is a repeat episode of Baywatch on.
I have been told I am good looking or rather “Max, you would be a lady killer if you lost weight” or “ You have such a handsome face, why hide it under all that?” the ‘that’ always said with the special disdain. I have nice eyes and a good nose if not a touch small, a have full lips that aren’t those swollen fat person lips but rather full lips that would be full even if I were thin. And a head of blonde curls that more than one hair dresser has asked me to give them.
But to imagine I could ever be with a woman like Gina…well, realistically women like that don’t go for guys like me. Women like that don’t have to settle. Women like that have hot guys that make the ladies swoon, guys who are a bit of a bad boy … you know all that stuff.
Anyway, as you can imagine when I thought of Sundays, I thought of Gina’s and I would start to salivate, not just for the most succulent veal in town down but the amazing cook behind it.
Sadly, on this particular Sunday it looked like I was not going to make it to Gina’s in time. Seems my bosses were heading out of town on a big pitch Monday and slacked on getting everything together. So they called the whole team in to cram and get the presentation together and solid.
Good news is we got the pitch together and the bosses said we could stay home the next day, the bad news it looked like I was not going to make it before she closed. 9pm clicked over on my old dashboard clock as I raced through traffic.
‘Blast it!” I growled as I twisted my little car through a not so safe freeway exit ramp. “I am never gonna make it…she closes now!”
It was barely 9:20 when I screeched to a halt outside the restaurant and jumped out of the car…ok at 425 pounds one does not exactly jump from a little car but you know what I mean. It was more like squeezed out quickly, happy? So I pulled my fat ass from the car and tried to act moderately nonchalant as I approached the door…seeing the open sign turned off was a bad sign but maybe just maybe but arriving at the glass door I could see there were no patrons and it seemed only minimal lights were on in the dining room.
I cupped my hand over my eyes to look inside and could see movement in the kitchen but they were well and truly shut down.
Feeling thoroughly bummed out at this point I started back to my little car. Then behind me I heard a magical noise, the sound of a door unlocking and blessed keys jingling.
“Hi Max” I heard from behind me. I turned and there she was leaning out the door. Those big blue eyes shining like flashlights to me. I don’t know that she had ever looked prettier to me then right there.
“I was worried about you, you never miss a Sunday… you ok?”
Oh my word….she knows who I am" I thought.
“Yeah...yeah... I just had an emergency…work thing an emergency work thing…it took too long...” I stammered as best I could. At that momenent I realized that I really needed to get the whole speaking and looking at her thing worked out.
“Max?” She said calmly.
“Yeah” I said...almost calmly, and then she said three of the best words I have ever heard…I could only think of three others that would be better…
“Are you hungry?”
“Oh yeah,” I said reflexively. “Very”
At that she smiled as wide as could be and replied "Well then come on in, I can’t have you leaving my place hungry, that’s just bad manners.”
And at that she pushed to door all the way open and stepped out to let me in.
She stood holding the door and as I waddled up to the door I realized this was the closest I had ever been to her standing, I mean she had leaned over the table on occasion to drop off a plate or something but never had I been this close where I could look down on her face and almost touch my body to hers. Quite an experience for a one with an all encompassing crush, I must admit. She was even more stunning up close…
My head was buzzing a bit as I stepped into the dining room, I was more excited than I let on, at least I hope that was the case. I was here almost alone with Gina, and she was going to cook for me, just for me! Not only that but here she was right next to me guiding me in.
Then something odd happened. She put her hand on my back, just above the spare tire where there is a rather big fold of, well, fat. I almost flinched but I did not want to be rude. She not only kept her hand there but I think she was actually trying to sink her fingers into the fold. Talk about your surreal situations.
She led me to my favorite table and pulled out the chair for me, not letting go of my back all the way into the chair. She scurried quickly to get me silverware and such, then sat down opposite me.
Then she turned that 10,000 watt smile at me, asking “So, did you have something in mind for dinner? I know you usually like to have the special whatever it is.”
She almost seemed to glow as she said this.
“You do? I mean yeah…I do.”
We laughed a bit at that “Well I trust that whatever you make is gonna be amazing…”
At that she hopped up quickly with a smile and said ‘Good! Chefs choice it is!!”
And ran off into the kitchen...and you are darn right I watched admiringly as she went.
I sat there stunned for a moment until she suddenly appeared at the table with the biggest basket of bread and a plate piled with whipped butter.
“To get you started...” she said patting my upper arm as she ran off again. I was pretty sure at this point that I was losing my mind and this was the side effect of the drugs they were pumping into me, not that I was complaining mind you.
I Love Sundays Best
By Jackoblangada
By Jackoblangada
Part One
I love Sundays best; Sunday evening really. That is when I go to dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant, Gina’s.
The best part of going to Gina’s on Sunday is that it’s usually so busy that they will seat me right up near the kitchen, at that table where the staff sits to read the paper when it’s slow. What’s so good about that seat? From there I can see right into the kitchen to watch Gina herself cooking.
I am happy to admit that my mad crush on Gina. She was from first encounter amazing, not only gorgeous but accomplished, energetic, funny, smart and one of the best Italian cooks I have ever met, and this includes my own Italian family. I mentioned gorgeous right?
If God himself had reached into my head and created exactly what I wanted in a woman he could have done no better than she.
At most she is 5 foot 3, with close cropped hair that is generally some unnatural color, last week it was white, and a trim body that is almost always hidden by a black chef’s coat; if she is more than 100 pounds I am the pope.
Above all though, she has the most incredible big blue eyes I have ever seen. They light up like sapphires and when I look at them I seem to be incapable of rational thought. I am fairly certain the radiate their own light like that vial thing that the elf queen gave that Hobbit in that movie. I have literally been left speechless on the occasions she has looked directly at me. I hear music and my skin feels funny, the whole bit, pathetic really.
I say this because, while Gina was the ideal woman for me in every way, there was I felt almost no chance whatsoever that I would be the perfect man for her. I was sure her man...I was assuming it’s a man but I would not have been shocked if it were a her, I have a bad habit of being attracted to lesbians…but that is neither here nor there; I was sure that her man would be tall and skinny, one of the lanky rocker guys, all lean muscle sunken eyes.
Gina did not seem the type to suffer fools lightly so he would have to be erudite and smart. I was sure he was really cool and as much as I wanted to hate him for having her I would probably still like him even though I would hate myself for wanting to be like him….sigh.
Me? I'm what you call, big…ok heavy or overweight…all right all right I'm fat. Not like kinda chubby, has a few too many beers on the weekend fat, or even ex jock gone to pot, I am over the top fat. The kind of fat where Cartman and his pals would see me and say “Man, you are fat”. I haven’t seen 350 pounds since there was a Democrat in the White House. I am, by any stretch of the imagination, obese; 5’11 and headed towards 500 pounds. That gross you out? Ok, stop reading and go turn on the TV; I am sure there is a repeat episode of Baywatch on.
I have been told I am good looking or rather “Max, you would be a lady killer if you lost weight” or “ You have such a handsome face, why hide it under all that?” the ‘that’ always said with the special disdain. I have nice eyes and a good nose if not a touch small, a have full lips that aren’t those swollen fat person lips but rather full lips that would be full even if I were thin. And a head of blonde curls that more than one hair dresser has asked me to give them.
But to imagine I could ever be with a woman like Gina…well, realistically women like that don’t go for guys like me. Women like that don’t have to settle. Women like that have hot guys that make the ladies swoon, guys who are a bit of a bad boy … you know all that stuff.
Anyway, as you can imagine when I thought of Sundays, I thought of Gina’s and I would start to salivate, not just for the most succulent veal in town down but the amazing cook behind it.
Sadly, on this particular Sunday it looked like I was not going to make it to Gina’s in time. Seems my bosses were heading out of town on a big pitch Monday and slacked on getting everything together. So they called the whole team in to cram and get the presentation together and solid.
Good news is we got the pitch together and the bosses said we could stay home the next day, the bad news it looked like I was not going to make it before she closed. 9pm clicked over on my old dashboard clock as I raced through traffic.
‘Blast it!” I growled as I twisted my little car through a not so safe freeway exit ramp. “I am never gonna make it…she closes now!”
It was barely 9:20 when I screeched to a halt outside the restaurant and jumped out of the car…ok at 425 pounds one does not exactly jump from a little car but you know what I mean. It was more like squeezed out quickly, happy? So I pulled my fat ass from the car and tried to act moderately nonchalant as I approached the door…seeing the open sign turned off was a bad sign but maybe just maybe but arriving at the glass door I could see there were no patrons and it seemed only minimal lights were on in the dining room.
I cupped my hand over my eyes to look inside and could see movement in the kitchen but they were well and truly shut down.
Feeling thoroughly bummed out at this point I started back to my little car. Then behind me I heard a magical noise, the sound of a door unlocking and blessed keys jingling.
“Hi Max” I heard from behind me. I turned and there she was leaning out the door. Those big blue eyes shining like flashlights to me. I don’t know that she had ever looked prettier to me then right there.
“I was worried about you, you never miss a Sunday… you ok?”
Oh my word….she knows who I am" I thought.
“Yeah...yeah... I just had an emergency…work thing an emergency work thing…it took too long...” I stammered as best I could. At that momenent I realized that I really needed to get the whole speaking and looking at her thing worked out.
“Max?” She said calmly.
“Yeah” I said...almost calmly, and then she said three of the best words I have ever heard…I could only think of three others that would be better…
“Are you hungry?”
“Oh yeah,” I said reflexively. “Very”
At that she smiled as wide as could be and replied "Well then come on in, I can’t have you leaving my place hungry, that’s just bad manners.”
And at that she pushed to door all the way open and stepped out to let me in.
She stood holding the door and as I waddled up to the door I realized this was the closest I had ever been to her standing, I mean she had leaned over the table on occasion to drop off a plate or something but never had I been this close where I could look down on her face and almost touch my body to hers. Quite an experience for a one with an all encompassing crush, I must admit. She was even more stunning up close…
My head was buzzing a bit as I stepped into the dining room, I was more excited than I let on, at least I hope that was the case. I was here almost alone with Gina, and she was going to cook for me, just for me! Not only that but here she was right next to me guiding me in.
Then something odd happened. She put her hand on my back, just above the spare tire where there is a rather big fold of, well, fat. I almost flinched but I did not want to be rude. She not only kept her hand there but I think she was actually trying to sink her fingers into the fold. Talk about your surreal situations.
She led me to my favorite table and pulled out the chair for me, not letting go of my back all the way into the chair. She scurried quickly to get me silverware and such, then sat down opposite me.
Then she turned that 10,000 watt smile at me, asking “So, did you have something in mind for dinner? I know you usually like to have the special whatever it is.”
She almost seemed to glow as she said this.
“You do? I mean yeah…I do.”
We laughed a bit at that “Well I trust that whatever you make is gonna be amazing…”
At that she hopped up quickly with a smile and said ‘Good! Chefs choice it is!!”
And ran off into the kitchen...and you are darn right I watched admiringly as she went.
I sat there stunned for a moment until she suddenly appeared at the table with the biggest basket of bread and a plate piled with whipped butter.
“To get you started...” she said patting my upper arm as she ran off again. I was pretty sure at this point that I was losing my mind and this was the side effect of the drugs they were pumping into me, not that I was complaining mind you.
