I’m not proud of it, but I have smashed some absolute, undisputed ham planters during my dry spells, especially after alcohol got involved. Thankfully those days are a lifetime ago, but dredging up those memories still makes me want to punch myself in the dick until I pass out.

I’m talking squat, spherical trolls that would blow out your lumbar disks and asshole trying to lift them into position.

You wanna gauge it by arm fat? My largest specimen acquired that badge many moons ago. Creamy white slabs of flesh, like the flesh of an anemic manta ray.

I could have fucked the creases between the buffalo humps on the back of her neck.