My name is Hubert W. Humphrey. Hube Boob. Hube Tube. Humpty Hubert. Hubris. I’ve been called every name on every possible occasion and it’s all very funny.
I’m not what you’d call a ladies’ man. Though I am tempted to blame this on my name, it really has nothing to do with that. My name actually suits me well. I’m big-boned—obese, my doctor calls it. I’m short. I don’t exercise. My favorite things to eat are donuts and fast foods. I’m just a regular guy.
But I have never been able to get a date. My lowest point was when I asked Harriet, the checkout clerk, to go with me to the office Christmas party. Harriet is a member of the fat pack, a group of mall chicks who hang out together during coffee breaks. She has the least presentable face in the fat pack—oily skin, pockmarks, and buckteeth to boot. But she has enormous breasts. I figured if we were in the back of a car, in the darkness of night, I could bury my head in her tits and get laid. So I asked Harriet to go with me.
“No way,” she responded, “am I going to be a Hairy Hump!” She walked away, taking her heavenly 40DDD tits with her.
Let’s face it: if I couldn’t get a fuck out of Harriet, there wasn’t much hope for me. I didn’t go to college, where women get naked just for the intellectual experience. I couldn’t afford a decent whore on my paycheck as manager of the local Kmart—a prestigious job where I come from, but the salary caps at fifteen bucks an hour. Maybe I could find myself a cheap hooker—but with the threat of AIDS and other diseases, I didn’t want to risk it.
So I turned to the Internet. Free porn, free live streaming video, free tits—whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. No dates, no hassles, no fear of disease. I discovered a site that would change my life: www.XoticMailOrderBrides.com.
It was 3:00 A.M. I had just finished jerking off to some soft porn, but was still unsatisfied. I went to the mail-order brides site and began browsing.
Online, I was the pickiest son of a bitch in the world. I passed over pretty Thai women because I decided they were too scrawny. I clicked past the Russian ones for being fake blondes. Most of these women were stunningly beautiful: a guy like me had no business overlooking them.
I spent hours that night trying to find The One. The One what? The one ultimate fuck of my life is how I thought of it. I like curvy women with thick black hair and easy bedroom eyes. My random clicking patterns weren’t bringing her to me, so I consulted the advanced search engine.
South Asian brides came up. Indian chicks? Why not?
I followed the link and there she was: Siliidi. I clicked to see her profile and instantly got hard.
She was practically naked. Her stats were listed on the sidebar: 5’9”, 38D-26-38. Her skin was the color of coffee ice cream and looked every bit as tasty. She had great tits—definitely real—with round, suckable brown nipples. Her hips flared out from her tiny waist and flat stomach. Her legs were long and lean, but had that fleshy female roundness that I love.
With a package like that, I wouldn’t have cared if she had Harriet’s face. But of course she didn’t: she was absolutely gorgeous. Her hip-length black hair was spread across a white pillow, and her huge, liquid brown eyes stared at me as if she wanted to devour me. As if she wanted to fuck me.
I connected to the site and sent Siliidi a private message.
<HUBACCA> Hello Siliidi.
<SILIIDI> Hello there. Who are you? 😉
<HUBACCA> My name is William. I saw your page and wanted to say hello.
<SILIIDI> Well hello, William. You obviously already know my name….
<HUBACCA> Are you in India?
<HUBACCA> Where are you?
<SILIIDI> I’m from Sri Lanka. It’s very hot here tonight, so I’m not wearing any clothes.
<HUBACCA> Do you look like your picture?
<SILIIDI> Yes, except for one thing.
<HUBACCA> What’s that?
<SILIIDI> I’m wet. I want you, William.
She was getting right down to business. I didn’t have to do a thing. She proceeded to send a series of dirty messages while I jerked off again and again. Before I knew it, the sun was rising and I had to get ready for work.
Over the next two weeks we continued our virtual meetings nightly. Eventually I sent her a naked picture of myself and told her my real name was Hubert. I didn’t want to be caught in a lie if I got to meet her in person. To my surprise, she said my photo turned her on. That night I typed out the things I wanted to do to her while she touched herself. Then I sent her a hot 69 and was completely spent.
Later that night, I wrote her a short email asking if she wanted to marry me.
She was still online. Yes, she said, she would marry me and yes, she would fuck me.
I waited outside International Arrivals for Sri Lankan Airlines Flight 24824. I had given up fast food for a few weeks, so my stomach wasn’t rolling over my belt quite as much as usual. I had also bought a new pair of pants; this was as good as I was going to look.
I couldn’t wait to meet Siliidi. It wasn’t only that I wanted to get regular sex—I certainly did—but this was the first time in my life that a woman had learned almost everything about me and still wanted me. I felt incredible. She was the hottest thing I’d ever seen—at least, there weren’t any women I’d jerked off to who were better than Siliidi.
We didn’t love each other, but neither of us minded. We were adults, and each of us would be getting something we needed. She wanted a green card; I wanted to get fucked and have my house cleaned. Besides, I genuinely liked Siliidi—and to be honest, I’d never really liked a woman before.
I’d agreed to our getting married in the airport chapel. She had said that if I didn’t marry her right then and there, she would get on the next plane back to Sri Lanka. Those were her terms; if it meant getting sex right after I took her home, I was more than willing to oblige.
I saw Siliidi on the security camera as she walked out of customs and shivered—in person she was even better looking than her Internet photo. She wore a sundress tight across her tits. Her hair hung sexily down her back. Gorgeous.
Siliidi pushed her luggage cart toward me, showing off, swaying her hips. I shoved a bouquet of airport flowers in her face and waited for her to speak. I was sweating profusely. I couldn’t wait to finally hear her voice. She turned out to have the voice of a phone sex operator. I got hard instantly.