An Ideal Husband

Guys always stare at me, at my big knockers and booty. Sure, the ideal woman is supposed to be slim and look great in the latest fashions. But what do you think guys really want? Why are there so many magazines with titles like MAMMOTH MAMMARIES and BOMBASTIC BOOBS? Or DOUBLE-WIDE BUTTS and SUPER-SIZED SITTERS? Screw the latest fashions. I wear tight tops and tighter jeans, to show off what I've got. So with all the guys who are interested in me, when some shy little twerp came up to me at my favorite bar and offered to buy me a drink, my first instinct was to tell him to scram. But then I figured, hey, I got here early, nobody interesting is around, so why not let the loser pay for my first rum and cola? Right? So I patted the stood next to me and resisted the temptation to make a joke about how long a climb it would be for a shrimp like him or about how they would have to card such a baby-face. So he hops up alongside me, trying not to gawk at my contours, and signals for the bartender. That evening it was Turk, a tall Black guy who I like to chat with. He comes over and I can tell from his look that he's ready to chase the little creep away, if that's what I want. But I give him a wink and say, "My new friend here wants to buy me a rum and cola." Then I turn to my admirer and ask, "What did you say your name was?" He looks at me with these sad puppy eyes, like he's expecting to get smacked, and says his name is Willy. Okay, so I have to skip telling a few more jokes, the obvious one being to ask him if Little Willy has a little willy. Turk brings me my drink, he and I talk for a minute, and then Turk turns to Willy after making him wait, and says, "Can I get you something?" The loser orders himself a glass of white wine. I'm asking myself if he could have thought of anything less macho, like maybe a Shirley Temple with a paper umbrella in it. Turk pours him the wine and puts it in front of him, then stands there giving him a serious look. Willy catches on and reaches for his wallet. He puts a twenty on the bar and Turk takes it and brings him his change. I'm thinking it's time to ditch Willy so before Turk can hand him the bills I say, "That's your tip, honey." Turk ignores Willy and thanks me, saying, "Appreciate it, Kara." I brush back my long red hair with one hand and give Turk a smile. I'm sipping my drink and wondering how far I'll have to push the midget to get him to leave. Maybe I should start talking about how I'm a size queen, which is true, and that I'm not interested in any guy with less than eight thick inches. That's when Willy clears his throat, managing to sound like my little niece, and tells me, "I think you're really pretty, Kara." That's when I spot that bastard Richie coming in. I had been dating him and the sex was great, but we always got into fights and finally split, but then the the make-up sex was even better. Since we're on the outs again already, I figure I'll make Richie jealous. He looks at me and I put my hand on Willy's thigh, which just about gives the wimp a heart attack. Then I lean really close to him, so my rack is almost touching him, and say, in a sexy voice, "Thank you, darling. That's so sweet of you to say." Then I cup his weak chin in my plump palm and give him an air kiss. From the corner of my eye I can see Richie getting steamed. So I reach over and unbutton the top button on the geeky shirt Willy is wearing. He almost falls on the floor. Richie turns around and stalks right back out the door. I laugh. Turk laughs. Willy is clueless. And I still have to dump him. All of a sudden I get an idea. With a slight jerk of my head I get Turk to move closer so he can hear what I'm going to say. Then, just loud enough for the three of us, I inform Willy boy, "You know, we could go to my place and get to know each other better but there's one problem." His face gets really worried, like I'm going to tell him something terrible, and he says, very concerned, "What is it, K