The Weekend...Part I

*Please be advised that this story was comprised primarily from text messages, picture and eyewitness accounts, as I don't remember most of it.

Where to begin? It was the weekend of my brother JV's 30th birthday. I was crashing at my cousin Ritter's place for the weekend. We had plans to go out Saturday night and we had dinner reservation at La Esquina for Sunday night. Somewhere in between I planned to squeeze in some studying for the Series 7. I know, I know...wishful thinking. I'm going to fucking fail that thing.

I drove in and got to Ritter's just in time for the start of the first football game at 4pm. My mom sent two bottles of wine in with me. Thanks, mom. Seriously, that was a huge mistake on her part. Ritters and I mainlined that first bottle. It was easily gone in twenty minutes. JV swung by shortly thereafter and we crushed the second faster than the first. We were meeting JV's friends, my other cousin Her, and Her's boyfriend, the Chin, at McSorley's.

We all arrived at McSorley's within five minutes of each other and were seated almost immediately. That's where things started to get hazy. The last thing I remember was Ritters ordering three straight rounds of 20 darks and 15 lights. We were putting them down at a ridiculous pace. This is pretty standard and not really a big deal...usually. There was one problem. We never ate dinner. The last food I had was at 2pm. At this point we must've been drinking 6 or 7 straight hours. This was ominous.

The next thing I remember was being at Zum Schneider, which we planned to hit before Whiskeytown. It's a solid German bar that serves giant beers. I have no clue how we got there. While there, some of the braniacs of the group decided they should get some cocaine delivered to balance them out against the booze. Some of us realized the downward spiral we were in and figured that would sober them up. The Chin gets on the horn to find some. Her overhears him trying to score the drugs and freaks out. She's always had a major problem with his recreational use of the white.

So now the two of them are fighting. The Chin is being insulting to Her. I guess this fight was the straw that broke the camel's back because they broke up right then and there. After that, the Chin kept making insulting comments to her and Ritters and I were not having it. The next thing I know Ritters is throwing punches at the Chin. Her yelled out and warned him so he didn't take any direct shots. He was only grazed before the bouncers threw the two of us out.

JV now runs out of the bar and demands the bouncers not let us back in. What? Is he serious? What side is he on here? The Chin was being a major douche to our cousin. As far as we were concerned, we were just standing up for her.

Ritters and i are now 20 feet away from JV, who the bouncers are holding back. Ritters takes his cigarette and throws it at him. The still-lit cigarette goes in JV's mouth. It was pretty amazing. It was a 1 in a 100,000,000 kind of thing. As he spits it out, it lights his scarf on fire.

Ritters then makes a bum rush at JV and slaps him and spits in his face. We bolt into a cab unscathed by the bouncers and head back to his place, the Cave. I don't remember much after that. We ended up at the Cave with Her, Ritter's ex-girlfriend Lucifer, his friend BJ and later on the Chin showed up. I'm blacked out by this point, but Ritters called the Chin's mom a fat bitch and started more drama. My cousin and BJ had to carry my corpse into the bedroom.

It's 11am and I struggle to make it out of bed. I enter the living room. Ritters is nowhere to be found. BJ is face planted on the couch and looks dead. There's papers strewn all over the floor. A remote control is smashed and in pieces on the floor as well. The cowhide rug is drenched with what I assume to be piss. I text Ritters:

Where are you? BJ is face down on the couch and the place looks like Haiti. What did we do last night?

My shuffling around wakes BJ up. We gets up, mumbles something in a coke-created language and walks out the door. No response from Ritters. I text JV to guage his situation. I ask him what happened last night and he briefly recaps the nights events. Yikes. I get on the couch and lob in a solid food order....sausage egg & cheese, chicken fingers, grilled cheese, two toasted bagels with butter and two cans of Coca-Cola.

Ritters gets back to me. He went home with Lucifer. He'll be home in twenty minutes. I walk into the bathroom. There's a giant, bloody tampon in the shower that looks like someone took a bite out of it. What the fuck?

I got back on the couch and feasted as I watched football. Twenty minutes turned into a couple of hours. Turns out Ritters was gassing wine all morning with Lucifer. He finally shows up with two magnum bottles of white wine. We start crushing them. We negotiated with JV through text messages to work out a deal. He would do his own thing during the day and he'd meet us at La Esquina for our 9:30 reservation. The next several hours were a blur. We watched football, played Wii tennis and had a dance competition. During said dance competition Ritters got naked. His cock had a black ring around it. It was dried up blood, which explained the tampon in the shower.

We were absolutely hammered. Ritters started to black out on the couch at one point. This is the guy that warned JV and I that we had to hold back and keep our composure at La Esquina. For those who don't know, La Esquina is a very trendy, tough to get a reservation, underground Mexican restaurant.

Nine o'clock rolls around and we get dressed to head down to the restaurant. One problem. My shoes are missing. The loafers that I wore the previous night are nowhere to be found. The Cave is not a big place by any means. We tore the place apart. Nothing. How do you lose a pair of shoes that you're wearing? We're running late so out of desperation I throw on a pair of Ritters', which were two sizes too small.

We get down there. It looks like a shack from the outside. We walk in and the bouncer and host ask for our name and reservation time. We tell him and the bouncer opens a door. We step through and he closes it behind us. We walk down the stairs where there's a hostess. She asks our name and we tell her. She leads us through a kitchen filled with illegal Mexicans and to an almost dark room to our table.

We immediately order a round of margaritas. La Esquina is known for their margies, which are very potent. JV and Ritters are bickering a little bit and it's annoying me. I perked up as the hostess sat three smokeshows pretty close to us. I tame the two animals I'm with and point them out.

Soon our second round has arrived. Cucumber jalapeno flavor. It tasted like absolute ass water. The hot blonde from the girls that were just seated came over to ask what we were drinking. I told her and offered her a sip of mine. The three of us chatted with her briefly and I told her that her and her friends should join us. She ran over to her friends and after a few seconds they were collecting their purses and menus.

Besides the hot blonde, the group was made up of a gorgeous, Irish red head and a hot brunette Jew. We continued to pound margaritas and order rounds of 3 or 4 appetizers at a time. It was going well with the girls, but Ritters kept blacking out at the table. At one point he was out for a good 45 minutes. I'm talking out like Weekend At Bernie's out. But JV and I were juggling the three chicks very well. I had a good feeling about these broads.

The waitress must have reported us to upstairs. The doorman appeared at our table and crouched down. He warned Ritters that we would be asked to leave if he didn't wake up. I didn't take much stock in his threat because there was no way they were going to kick our tab out of the joint. Margaritas were a good $13 and we must've had 5 or 6 each. Nevertheless, Ritters regrouped and woke up.

So we wrapped up dinner and invited the girls to the bar which wasn't far from our table. I think each of us thought one of the other settled up the tab. We order a round of margaritas at the bar and someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was the doorman. He informed me that nobody paid our bill. I took it from him. It was $700. Now, I don't know how the fuck that happened. Either they tossed the broad's tab on ours or they just overcharged us because they new we were obliterated. The world may never know. I actually didn't remember how much the bill was until I found the receipt in my pocket the next morning.

So we hit a karaoke bar with the girls but it's closing as we walk in. We end up in another bar. I don't remember where or what it was called. I just remember dancing with the blonde girl. I don't which of us suggested it, but she and I snuck away from the rest of the group and headed back to her place. Oh, yes. The ridiculous hot streak I've been on is about to get hotter.

We get to her place and I vividly remember what happened next because it scared the shit out of me. We got to the front door of her building and the key wasn't working. I can't believe this is happening right now. All of my hard work I put in tonight was going down the drain. I could see it now. She'd have to crash at a friend's place or something, all because this dolt had the wrong key on her. I suggest that it's her and give it a try. I can't get it either. I just want to cry right now. She takes it from me and tries again. God was smiling on me, my friends. The lock clicks. We're in! I'm getting fucked after all.

Things got hazy again. I remember fucking her rawdawg. Not only that, but me being the rocket scientist that I am, figured that since she was having unprotected sex with me and never said anything regarding finishing, that I had the green light to cum inside her. We fucked all night. I can't remember how many times I blasted in her. At least three, maybe four times. I was so drunk I even 69'd with her! I never go down on randoms!

It's morning. I don't know where I am. The room is pitch black. I hear a girl talking on the phone in the living room.

I text JV and Ritters:

Where am I?

JV responds back immediately:

You tell me.

I open the bedroom door and venture to the bathroom. As I came out of the bathroom I looked around. This apartment was fucking ridiculous for Manhattan standards. It was huge and all decked out. I get out to the living room and the blonde is talking on the phone and drinking a mimosa. She hangs up and I join her. We sat on her couch and watched cartoons and went through two bottles of champagne. As we're chatting, she not only tells me about her job, but also about the business she owns. She invented and sells a garterbelt with a flask in it, primarily for bachelorette parties. The things sell for $50 a piece. Ridiculous.

Ritters calls me and asks where I am. I ask the blonde where I am and she tells me the address. I get off the phone and they start texting me to get here. I respond back:

Let me crank one more out in this broad and ill gen pgt

I lead her into the bedroom and fire off another blast inside of her. My dick is fucking raw at this point. I'm in agony. I get her number and head to JG Mellon's for burgers and bloody bulls with JV and Ritters.

As we sit at the bar, we are cranking out bloody bulls. They're going down like water. In case you've never had one, they're Bloody Mary's that have beef stock in them. We're bombed. The three of us are causing a scene. Most of the other patrons are enjoying the show but we are just out of control at this point. We get the check...$150. Geez.

The Weekend...Part II

The next thing I remember is that we’re at the Sin Bin because it’s right across the street from the Cave. The blonde texts me asking if we’re still at JG Mellon’s. I text her the new address and the next thing I remember is the three girls walking through the door. I don’t know how long we were there but I found the following text messages sent from my phone the next morning…..

In response to a text from AT:

I fuckfdsome Midwest whore. whag time is it. Am or pm. Should I be at work?
I honeatly didn’t kbow. What day os it. Im fucked.

In response to a text from Pink:

I sprayed in her puss timea!!!!

I do remember putting on Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” at the Sin Bin and going absolutely nuts. That’s it. From that point we all magically appeared in the Cave. We were hanging out and at one point the blonde and I headed into the bathroom to fuck again.

I’m trying to get off but it’s taking forever. My penis is disintegrated at this point. As I got close I remember her telling me, “Don’t cum inside me. I’m not on the pill.”

Argh?!?!?!?

You’re about a day late, honey. I unleashed the hounds inside this girl several times and now she tells me? I quickly forget about the fact that I might be a father already and finish on her stomach. I blacked out and the last thing I recall of her was getting dressed and kissing me goodbye.

When I woke up for work shortly after her leaving, I surveyed the scene with Ritters. We tried to piece the weekend together but struggled. My shoulder was burning so walked into the bathroom and checked out the mirror. There was a baseball-sized, purple bruise with a chunk of skin ripped from the middle of it on my shoulder blade.

I head into the office and am horrified and what may or may haven’t happened from Saturday afternoon to Tuesday morning. An email comes through from Ritters:

Dude, you realize the long term ramifications of this weekend…Her and the Chin broke up….you’re a father….and I’m definitely getting kicked out of my building.

Shit. I forgot about the whole father thing. I decide to shoot a text to the blonde.

In a world of hurt. U might want to take plan B. I was extremely drunk Sunday night and cant remember everything. I may not have been thinking clearly and its got me nervous.

She writes back:

I’m in total pain!

Had to figure out what you’re talking about. You have no idea how difficult it was for you to have an orgasm. I must have spent 30 minutes to finally make it happen not during sex.

Wait a minute, did I get a half hour long blow job and can’t remember it? Fuck. That would be one of the bigger let downs of my life.

But I can if it would make you feel better. Can you get it over the counter now?

My phone goes dead. Please no. This is a joke, right? My phone never dies. Of all the times it does, it’s when I’m trying to have my potential child aborted? Come on, man! I stop to think for a second. I wonder if I can file suit against LG to pay for child support for having a phone battery with bad timing. My car is in the city. I ponder how long it would take me to reach the Mexican border. I’m guessing four days. I’d probably want to make a bunch of stops on the way. What about changing my phone number? Nah, she’d still probably be able to find me. Plus my phone number is pretty sick.

I email JV and Ritters:

Seriously, what should I do?

Ritters writes back:

Pray…

By the time I get home from the city and get my phone charged it’s about 9pm. I look through the phone and find a picture of Ritters sitting on a motorcycle with a bag full of wine bottles and he looks like he’s falling off. What in the hell?

I check my messages and they start coming in at rapid fire. Her name pops up on a message she sent at 3:17pm. I open it and it reads:

Ok just bought it. Feel better.

I write back:

My bad. Phone died this morning. Nice.

I felt the situation justified the “Nice”. She may have not because she never responded and still hasn’t. Here’s hoping I’m sterile.

Down Goes Drago

So I met this Russian girl at a birthday party a couple of weeks ago. I was drunk but kicking phenomenal game. Her and her friends asked me to take some pictures of them. It was the perfect opening into the group.

I purchased Drago and her communist friends a shot of vodka and was making out with her within an hour of meeting her. As her friend was trying to drag her home, I asked for her number. She hesitated. I told her it wasn't a big deal and that she doesn't have to give it to me. She explains that she wants to, but her nights are very busy because of her job. I immediately figure she's a stripper or prostitute, working for the Russian mafia to pay off her debt of them bringing her to this fine country.

She explains that she's an event planner. I picture said events being meetings with johns. Come on...she's Russian, lives in Brooklyn and works nights? Has to be a hooker. She gives me her number and says we'll get together on Tuesday. It being Saturday, I figure I'll shoot her one text as soon as she leaves the bar so she has my number and ignore her until late Monday night.

I text her Monday night and we plan to meet at Nevada Smith's because she has a "social obligation" that she must show her face at. Bachelor party? Group orgy? Whatever. I get there at 7pm. She's waiting for me by the door. Smoking body. The face is average. I didn't remember much about her considering I was up until 6am drinking and singing karaoke.

She escorts me to a party downstairs. Apparently Nevada's is a bigtime soccer bar. All the foreigners go there every week to watch the games. The bar was throwing a free holiday party for all of the houligans. It was a rather entertaining experience. The party was packed with people from all walks of life. A very odd and diverse group. These tools were screaming, chanting and singing the whole night. At one point, the bartender, or cult leader, got up on a table and gave a William Wallace-esque speech declaring how these soccer fans and Nevada Smith's has taken the Manhattan soccer scene by storm. Seriously? Is there such a scene anywhere in this country? He talks about how much better 2010 will be for them, the bar and their sport. Ugh! Get back behind the bar and back to handing out free drinks, ya fairy!

I pretended to be interested in learning about soccer and asked plenty of questions about it. This is going to be so easy. Drago is eating all of this up. I mingled with her friends. Some cool. Some losers. The party wraps up and we all head upstairs. One of Drago's friends, a mildly attractive black girl, took a liking to me and started buying us shots.

The next thing I remember is that we're sitting down in a Ukrainian restaurant. A gay looking waiter brings us Euro beer and hands us menu. I throw it down and tell her it's in her hands. Let me tell you something about the Ukrainians...boy do they love their beets. During this four course meal, I must've had three different types of beet salad. It was very good, but geez, how about a little creativity. Maybe some different ingredients. The bill comes and it totals $41. Are you fucking kiddding me? I just had four courses and beers. I ponder getting on the next flight to the Ukraine and buying the country.

After dinner we head to McSorley's but it's empty. We walk down the street to a different bar. I have a feeling it was a gay bar. On one side of me there was two dudes making out. On the other side, I overheard three guys huddled up together...

Fag1: "I don't know. I'm scared. It's not that big."
Fag2: "It doesn't matter if it's big. It just has to be pretty."

God, why can't women feel the same way?

At this point I was blacked out, so the being at the epicenter of gaydom did not bother me too much. But I do have to say, I did keep my head on a swivel on bathroom trips.

We're smashed and going at it at the bar. I've been that guy a lot lately. At one point she spreads her legs and shows me her panties. Nice. I squeeze her ass. She asks me if she can straddle me. I tell her to go for it. All of the sudden, a douchey bouncer walks over...

Bouncer: "Excuse me, but there's no straddling allowed."
Me: "I'm not straddling anyone."

He did not look amused. He turned to Drago and told her the same. She climbed down off of my lap. And what the fuck? Is there a sign on the wall that says, "No Straddling Please"? I don't fucking see one. I've got Clay Aiken talking about getting banged on film to the left of me but I can't have a Russian slut sit on my lap? What is this world coming to?

We close the bar down. I get home at 4:30 in the morning. Work's going to be a doozey. Wait a minute, did I really not fuck this girl after all of this? Wow. Pathetic.

We get together at a Greek restaurant for Happy Hour a week later. This chick is pretty cool. Am I going to date her? Absolutely not. But she's decent to talk to. After some drinks she decides that she's hungry. She gives me the option. Burger or pasta. I put it in her hands.

Why the fuck didn't I say burger? After a heavy Italian meal and two bottles of wine, I'm $120 poorer. Not exactly devastating, but the bill at the greasy burger joint probably would have been $15. We head back to Nevada Smith's. We don't even finish our beer before we leave. As we stand on the street corner she invites me back to her place.

I promptly pass. Wait, what? Uh, yeah. You read that correctly. She invited me back to her place for sex and I declined. I think that may be the first time I never turned down sex. I was too lazy. I didn't want to head back to her place in Bay Ridge and then have to wake up at 5:30 in the morning to get back into the city and then on to Long Island. I didn't have it in me. I must be getting old.

After I turned her down she was begging for me to hang out. She asked to hang out the following two nights and when I made excuses to get out of them, she asked about the weekend. Wow. Although not what I was going for, declining worked like a charm.

So Sunday I drive my brother and cousin into the city. They had all of their Christmas gifts and couldn't bring them on the train. I figured I'd watch the Giants game with them and maybe meet up with Drago and crash at her place afterward.

We saddled up at SoCo for the game. After the Giants started getting blown out, we started doing shots of Jameson. I hate Jamo. This does not bode well for later. We leave the bar and head to Canyon Road, where we pounded diesel margaritas. After dinner there, my brother bailed and my cousin and I headed back to his place.

I decide to wave Mother Russia in. I text her and give her the address. She'll be over in 15. Things turned a little hazy at my cousin's place because we continued to drink a few bottles of wine. By the time she got there we were blacked out. I don't remember everything but as we were sitting on the couch, drinking and listening to music, my cousin reached over and grabbed her tit. Drago is mortified and speechless. He mutters something incoherent. She looks at me and I laugh. Somebody's not a happy camper.

I head into the bathroom and she asks if I need any help. I tell her that I do. We start going at it inside. As I pull her pants down she tells me she's got her period. Figures. She tells me that she wants to see my cock. I unzip my pants and pull my piece out. She makes a sound of approval and she unbuckles my belt. My pants drop to my ankles and she starts going to town. Quality oral. I fire off a nice shot into her mouth and she takes it all down. I exit the bathroom but she fixes herself up.

As I'm walking back to the couch I see that my cousin is passed out. I stop. I turn around. She's walking out the bathroom door. I unzip my pants again and take my penis out. Why am I doing this? I literally just fired a load about 40 seconds ago. She gets on her knees and starts to suck me off again.

I walk into his bedroom and she continues to blow me. She asks me if I can cum again. I tell her that I can. I probably can't. Intermittently she asks me if I'm going to cum soon. I keep playing it off that it will be any second. She blows me for at least a half hour. I took her tits out of the bra during this blowjob. They were horrible. Like flapjacks. Gross nipples, too.My body tells me to gag. This isn't speeding things up at all. I close my eyes and think of a happy place. Blasting is going to be a chore under these conditions.

She tells me that she wants me to cum on her face and asks if I will. Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I will. As I'm about to spurt I pull my piece out of her mouth and aim for her eye. My penis shoots the weakest jizz bomb of its career. A small spurt lands next to her nose. Why the fuck couldn't she ask for a facial on the first one?

I sit back down on the couch. I'm immediately bored with her and never want to see her again. Drago continues to try to get me to go out and wants to get dinner. I tell her that I already ate three dinners tonight so I'm not eating. I'm hungry, but there's no way I'm buying her dinner. She just sucked me off twice, I don't need to!

She's persistent. I can't shake her. I pretend to pass out on the couch. For the next hour, Drago shakes me, tries to talk to me and does everything else in her power to try to get me to go back out and come home with her. Holy fuck, can this girl take a hint? At one point she throws my sweatshirt over my face. I can't breathe. It's about 110 degrees underneath it. I'm not going to make it. Geez, they should use this tactic at Guantanamo Bay. I use every ounce of will power in my body and don't crack. She lifts it off and squeezes my nostrils closed. I flinch and pop up. I quickly pop down and pretend to pass out again.

She throws the sweatshirt on my face again. Fuck me. I hear the door close. I don't move for two or three more minutes, thinking this is a trick. I hear nothing. I get up. She's gone. Thank God. I thought she would never leave.

The Comeback

Greetings, friends. After an eight month relationship I have returned. Much like when Michael Jordan dropped 55 points at the Garden after his first retirement, I picked things up pretty quickly.

Hit the hoops tourney at MSG with some of the boys Friday night. This was a nice little warm up for the evening, as we were headed to Toy's birthday party afterward. Actually, it was a joint birthday party with his girlfriend.

As soon as I walk into the room I immediately introduce myself to two randoms and start dropping game. One is eating it up. She's average. The other is snippy and doesn't get any of my jokes. Such a bitch. I move on because the bitch will surely cock block me.

So AT and I are playing Beirut and he and Hack start talking to a girl who's basically wearing a napkin for a dress. The thing pretty much covers her pussy and stops. I step over and jump into the conversation with a dirty joke. Cannot remember what I said. She tells me that I'm dirty. I step back to the table and brush her off.

I sporadically walk over to her and make more dirty jokes to her. She tells me that I'm dirty and that she likes it because she's dirty too. Well, that turned out to be the understatement of the century, but we'll get to that in a bit.

So her and her fat friend are up next to play Beirut. Thinking on my feet, I befriend the beefy friend. I tell this Jew (did I leave that out?) that she's cut and that I'm playing with her friend. I totally pour it on. I'm high-fiving the friend after I hit a cup. She sinks one and I'm picking her up, which was no small feat. I figure that once this broad falls in love with me, it's as good as gold with the other.

Finish the game. So I go up to the bar and sit next to the Jew. Ten minutes later we're making out in front of anyone. Ugh, I hate being that guy. It's like investing in your 401k. You hate seeing that money taken out of your paycheck but deep down you know it's the right thing and will pay off in the long run. Boy will it ever.

The following exchange takes place:

Jew: "All my friends are going home but I really want to stay out and party."
Me: "Well my cousin just texted me. Her and her boyfriend are at some party at a karaoke bar. You wanna go?"
Jew: "Yeah, that would be awesome. I would totally be down."

This is going to be easier than I thought.

We cab it down to the thirties. During said cab ride we start making out. We get to the place and start walking up a long staircase to get up to it. I pull her skirt up. No panties. Hmmm. My cousin greets us at the bar and we head back to the private room.

My cousin's boyfriend wants me to do a song. He gives me the book to pick one out. As the book sits on my lap, the Jew slides her hand underneath and starts playing with my cock. He keeps bugging me to do a song. I keep telling him that I'm looking for one. Finally I tell her that I need to go to the bathroom and that she should come with me. No hesitation.

We walk down this narrow, sketchy hallway to the john. I open the door and survey the scene. Empty. She scurries in behind me and we get in the stall. She drops to her knees and starts unzipping my fly. She pulls my johnson out and starts going to town. Real professional. So I'm not sure if she's going to want to swallow so I give her warning when I'm about to blast. She takes it in her mouth. I don't know if it caught her off guard or just because I shot a boatload, but it's coming out of her mouth. She pulls my rod out and the last few spurts land on her tits and sweater.

She starts wiping the cum off of her tits and sweater. As she's wiping it, she's putting it in her mouth! At this point it's a little horrifying. Not only did this girl just suck me off in the bathroom of a karaoke bar at 4:30 in the morning, but she doesn't want to waste any of my semen and is ushering it into her mouth!!!

We get back in the room. I'm basking in the glory of what just happened. I sing a song and we eventually wrap it up.

Jew: "Do you want to come home with me?"
Me: "Yes, yes I do."
Jew: "I live with my grandpa. Is that alright?"
Me: "Yeah, no worries."
Jew: "Wow. Most guys aren't cool with that."
Me: "No big deal."

I live with my freaking parents. At least your roommate will probably be dead by next week and you'll have the place to yourself.

She tells me that the next train to her town is at 5:30am. Is this girl kidding me? Pappy's going to be waking up to watch Golden Girls reruns by the time we stroll in. I tell her that I'm getting us a cab. I hail a cab. The Paki wanted $85 but I negotiated it down to $70.

We're making out in the cab. Next thing I know she starts fingering herself. I take the hint, hike the mini skirt up and start blasting away. She's going buck wild. I unzip my pants and take my penis out. She takes the whole thing. This made it the quickest cab I've ever taken from Manhattan. We arrive. I'm bamboozled at this point and tip this knob job five bucks. Whatever. He just got a great show so fuck him if he's not happy.

We get to Pappy's condo. Sneak in, get up to her room, which is right next door to Pappy's and fuck. It was solid. Nice performance. Black out.

Next thing I know it's morning and I have to piss like a race horse. The vodka/sodas I was crushing all night have finally hit me. This is not good. I'm going to piss the bed momentarily. I have to act. I crack the door open. No sign of Pappy. Sprint to the bathroom. I come out and I hear him mulling around downstairs. Fuck. Spring back to the room. I get in bed and pass back out.

I wake up shortly thereafter to the Jew playing with my cock. I open my eyes and she starts blowing me again. Nice. She asks me if I have another condom. I throw it on and she gets on top of me.

She's riding me but I'm sort of disinterested in the whole thing. I'm am still drunk, my head is pounding and I don't know if Matlock is going to bust through the door at any moment. These factors made for a great performance.

As she's riding me I notice that she's grabbing her ass. I'm sitting there wondering why the fuck she's holding it. For a second I think that she's conscious about it or something. Not sure why. It's pretty nice. The girl's body was diesel, now that I think about it. So I turn her around so she's now riding me reverse cowgirl and I discover what's been going on the whole time.

THIS CHICK WAS FINGERBLASTING HER ASSHOLE!

I perk up like a startled deer. I am into this. She had her middle finger knuckle deep!

She tells me that she's going to cum and soon after does. She then asks me if I'll cum in her mouth. Seriously? Do you really have to ask? I tell her "of course" and she slides the rubber off and starts deep throating my piece. I finally fire off a shot. Low volume and very weak pump action. She then tells me that we better get going because Pappy was probably out but would be home soon.

She drives me home. As we pull up to my house I ponder how to play this. I decide that I'll tell her that if she wants my number she can get it from Toy. Toy obviously doesn't have my number.

Me: "Umm...thanks for the ride. Uh, if you want my number you can..."
Jew: "Yeah, totally. What is it?"

Fuck.

I give her the number and start to get out of the car.

I say my goodbye.

Jew: "It was nice meeting you....and everything else!"

Ugh, what a skank. I close the door as the word "and" was leaving her lips. I stroll through the door and my father asks me who that was. As I walk up the stairs I tell him that I don't know.

The MILF Chronicles by Looty

So when I first started this current job, I was really bummed out because it was a small office and really didn't have any talent. But later on during that first day, I met a this hot chick and a milf. I immediately wanted to fuck both of them.

As time went by, through my quick wit and vile humor, the Milf and I grew closer and closer. Soon we were eating lunch together every day and emailing back and forth, sometimes a hundred times a day. The flirting really skyrocketed.

On the day of the Christmas party, which was at another one of our offices, she asked if I could drive her to and fro. I jumped at the chance. Knowing she was married with two kids, I really didn't think I had a shot but dreamed there was an outside chance of something happening that evening. No luck. Oh well.

So the hot chick is getting married and invites a bunch of us. I bail on the wedding but the Milf was desperate for a ride there. So again, dreaming she'd make a move, I offer to drive her. Slight problem, this gay black dude who wants me weasels his way in on the ride. I pick her up first and on the way to get him he keeps calling her to give her directions.

She picks up the phone and tells Gay Black to "stop calling me I'm sucking Looty's dick", in a joking fashion.

So throughout the whole wedding, the Milf is texting me nonstop.

"Wish you were here"
"You should come"
"Just come I want you here"

You get the idea.

So towards the end of the wedding she texts me that she wants to meet up afterwards. Done. I already know how this is ending. Don't we all?

So Gay Black slithers his way into the plans and comes out too. They're getting out of the wedding at 12:30 so I meet up with Pink and we go bowling and crush some pitchers while doing so. I get shitfaced while there.

So the Milf texts me and tells me where to meet them. I drive drunk (which I don't condone kids) and meet up with them. Pink and I are both smashed, borderline sloppy. So we hang at this bar 'til closing, drinking beers and yucking it up. After that, the Milf says I'm too drunk to drive and we sit in my car for an hour or so. She massages my neck while sitting behind me.

So this all went down Friday night. Saturday goes by with no contact from the Milf. Sunday rolls around and I get a text from her that afternoon:

"Do you remember kissing me?"

Wow, she must be joking about this cuz she wants it to happen. Nice.

Me: Haha, very funny
Milf: No seriously
Me: Uh huh
Milf: You don't remember?
Me: It didn't happen
Milf: Now I feel like an ass.
Me: Why?
Milf: Bc you don't remember our kiss
Me: Didn't happen
Milf: I knew you were drunk but didn't realize you were that drunk

Wait a minute...she does not sound like she's joking. I may have actually kissed her! I panic and quickly go into damage control mode to try to salvage this into hooking up with her.

Milf: You really don't remember?
Me: I do, I was jk
Milf: It was really gentle and nice
Me: Yup
Milf: You don't remember
Me: Yeah I do
Milf: Then where were your hands?
Me: On your hips
Milf: Wrong!

Is this seriously happening?

Me: Kidding, on your face
Milf: No! You don't remember! Your hands were on my shoulders
Milf: Where were mine?
Me: My ass
Milf: No!

Fuck me. Why the fuck would I guess ass?

Me: I'm really sorry. I was really bombed.
Milf: I feel like an ass. Is this the first time you've forgotten about kissing a girl?

Yeah...first time this week.

Me: No. Don't take it personally, I was smashed.
Milf: I'm really upset.
Me: Me too
Milf: Why are you upset?
Me: Bc that's something I want to remember
Milf: Really?
Me: Yeah, I'm really hoping I get another shot at it
Milf: I don't know

This continues the rest of Sunday night. I get into work on Monday and it carries on throughout the day. After some major damage control and buttering up, she shoots me this email:

I may have some time to spare after work tomorrow. Would you want to meet up?

Yes and yes!

Tuesday couldn't go any slower. We get out of work and meet a couple of blocks away from the office on this street that doesn't have any houses on part of it. She gets into my car. We start going at it. Big makeout sesh. She rub my penis on the outside of my pants.

A forty year old woman who is married and has two kids is rubbing my penis.

Love it.

I reach for her pants but she denies me. So after about a half hour of making out and some heavy petting, she tells me she has to go.

Hello, Wednesday. She shoots me an email asking if I wanted to meet up again after work. Done. Same deal. Just some making out and some fondling. Our session ends and I go home. I get a text later that evening.

Do you want to meet tonight? I'll have some time after my kickboxing class.

I meet up with the mommy and we go at it. Ten minutes in and she's unbuckling my belt. She's feasting on my cock like it was the Last Supper. She moves down to my balls and goes to town on them. But it doesn't stop there. She makes her way under my balls to my grundel and absolutely works it over. What a go-getter. First blow job and she's covering all angles. I blast and we part.

This continues for two weeks. We meet up and she blows me a minimum of two times, every time. Now I've fingerblasted her but she said she won't have sex in a car. Go figure.

So she emails me one day telling me that her family is going out of town for some hockey tournament that her kid is in. She suggests that we go out for drinks and then go back to her house. Given the fact that her husband was a big time hockey player that was supposed to go to the NHL before his father got ill and died, and he gave the sport up, I figure it'd be smart to take as little risk as possible. For all I know this dude could be an absolute monster.

So I book a hotel room.

We decide to meet at the hotel at 5:15. That gives me a half hour after work to check in, jerk off, take a shit and air out my sweaty socks. What the fuck was I thinking? A half hour? I'm a fucking dolt.

I get to the hotel at 5. That leaves me fifteen minutes to prep. I text her to see if we could change that to 5:30. She tells me she's two minutes away. Fuck. Didn't get to jerk off or shit. Walking around with two loaded weapons before a date isn't exactly something I prefer to do but I've gotta bite the bullet this time.

We go to a bar down the street and after her first rum and coke she's buzzed. After the second she's drunk. After the third she's making out with my neck as we sit at the bar. Check please. I stop off to get some beer before hitting the hotel.

We get back to the room. We're going at it, tearing each other's clothes off. We start to fuck. It's awesome. She's going buck wild. Her husband probably hasn't fucked her in ages. We're hitting a nice assortment of positions. Going strong. Straight plowing it.

Next thing you know, McGruff is taking a bite out of crime, and when I say crime I mean my fucking arm. This isn't a sexy nibble or soft love bite. This is great white shark chomping the shit out of a sea lion. I'm fighting back tears as I continue to fuck her. A sharp stabbing pain is pulsating at the spot of the bite, where my shoulder meets my bicep.

I am in so much pain my dick goes soft. Un-fucking-real. Couldn't keep it up. So she realizes and chalks it up to me being drunk. We fool around for a little and I throw another rubber on, thinking I'm ready to saddle back up. Get it in and start pumping. My arm is going numb. Lose the woody. This cannot be happening. And it certainly could not happen a third time. Could it? Fucking right it could. So humiliated at this point but I'm pretty sure she still thinks it's because I'm drunk.

She starts to suck my cock. My dick plays Lee Harvey Oswald to her JFK.

So we take a short break and before you know it I'm playing the pussy lips piano and she's back to sucking me off. Blast again.

So then we got into a fight. I really can't remember what it was over. She gets dressed and says she's leaving. She tells me she's leaving again. She keeps saying it but isn't doing it. She clearly does not want to leave and I'm calling her bluff. I tell her to do what she's gotta do. I'm basically Scott Boras and my penis is Mark Teixeira in these negotiations. After some drama and yelling at me she gets back into bed and is making out with me.

Now I'm determined to fuck her again, and finish.

I start fucking her. She's gets into it quickly and is going crazy again. So as I'm drilling away, wouldn't you know, fucking Hannibal Lector over here bites my hand as hard as she can. I bite my lip hard. I feel like slapping this broad. She reads the anger in my face.

Milf: "Oh I can see you're mad. I'm really sorry. I got caught up in the moment."
Me: "Nah, I'm not mad. I just can't really feel much of my left arm right now."

I tell her I have to go to the bathroom. I get in their to survey the scene and check out the battle scars. My shoulder is lightly bleeding. My hand, which feels like was slammed in a door, has a perfect mold of her teeth in it (which by the way, as I type this, THREE DAYS LATER, I still have the imprints of her fucking teeth in my hand).

I get back out there and she blows me.

We wake up the next morning and we fuck twice. In between, she shows me a text message her husband sent her last night:

Way to turn your phone off while both of your kids are way, God forbid something happen to them. Your son just wanted to say goodnight to you and you don't answer the phone. Guess it would be hard to do that with your mouth full. The sad part is I don't even fucking care anymore.

Now the weird part is that she said he's never acted that way before. I wonder if this buffoon is catching on to her coming home late three times a week to suck on my bratwurst. The best part was, by the second or third blow job of the night, she not only worked my grundel over but started tossing my salad. She continued to do so on each one after that point. There wasn't any tongue penetration like Fish Taco did but she did go to down on the outside and surrounding areas. It was a delight.

I look at the clock. We've been in bed for 16 straight hours, doing nothing but fucking and drinking. I really don't even remember how many times I jizzed but I'd say it was at least six, maybe closer to 7 or 8. My dick was so raw the next day that I could barely stand up straight. At one point, when we went to get lunch after all of this, she asked in amazement how many times we fucked. I couldn't give her an answer.

Girls Are Stupid

Forgive me, this story might not meet the usual standards.

So AT and Pink and I usually go to the same bar on Thursdays. This one group of chicks started talking to us one night. After two weeks of hanging out with these broads on Thursday nights, one approached Pink after I had left. She asked him why I haven't asked for her phone number yet.

Game over.

As soon as he tells me this I know how this is ending. We all do. My dick will be wet. I'm going to fuck this girl and she's going to hate me and herself after doing so. Sounds good to me.

So the following Thursday, at the end of the night, I put the wheels in motion and approach Picasso (because she goes to school for art and is a painter).

Me: So what are we doing this week?
Picasso: Are you asking me out? That's not really asking me out?
Me: What? So you don't want to do anything?
Picasso: But you really didn't even ask me out.
Me: Okay.

[I turn away from her. I don't deal with terrorist tactics.]

Picasso: So wait, aren't you going to take my number?!?!?
Me: Oh, so you DO want to give me your number? You were just complaining that I didn't ask you out.
Picasso: Here, take it. Give me a call sometime this week. It's XXX-XXXX.

I leave the bar. A few days pass. I call her. No answer. She calls me the next day. I don't get to the call. We play tag like this for a few more days. Finally we set something up. We go to a bar and crush beers. Unfortunately I couldn't get absolutely wrecked because I had to drive her.

So we leave the bar and we get to her house. I kiss her. She turns it into a little 15 minute sesh. She's straddling me in the driver's seat. I lift her top off and suck on her boobies. Nice boobies. They've got nice posture.

So it's going pretty well and decide to travel downtown. While slipping my hand down her jeans, she stops me.

Picasso: Looty, I want to but not in the car. I better get going.

Fucking biotch. Her puss lives to see another day.

Fast forward through the usual bullshit that you have to go through with most chicks.

The following week we go to the movies. Nick and Zora's Infinite Playlist. Fucking weak. Went in thinking it'd be really good but what a let down. By the way, can Michael Cera play any other character? But I digress.

After the movie we head back to my parents' basement, or as I like to call it, the spiderweb...once chicks enter, they're stuck until my penis feasts on their insides.

We're making out. Fondling. Petting. Groping. Well, mostly I am.

I slip her the breakfast sausages and she's getting buck wild. I'm working my fingers more than a Mexican day laborer picking grapes off the vine. Her vagina is flowing like Niagara Falls. Creaming all over the place.

Picasso: Do you have a condom?
Me: Yes.

As I pull the connie out of my pocket she has a change of heart.

Picasso: Wait, we probably shouldn't.
Me: Why not?

In my head that exchange looked more like this:

Picasso: Wait, we probably shouldn't.
Me: Why the fuck not you stupid fucking cock tease whore of a cunt?!?!?!?

Back to reality....

Picasso: I just don't trust you yet.

I got news for you, sweetheart, you're never going to trust me. But I do guarantee you will end up fucking me.

But I gotta give it to this broad. She's smarter than most chicks. She should be in a lab somewhere figuring out the cure for cancer...or herpes.

So I continue to fingerblast her for a very long time. Gauging by the pussy juice river that's been flowing down her ass crack, I've estimated that she's cummed about two times during this poke marathon, maybe three. Yet during her little orgasm fest, she hasn't reached for my cock or my balls once. Not fucking once.

This is absurd. I take her hand and place it on my shaft. She starts to rub it. She then moves to unbutton my jeans and slides them off. I'm on top of her now, in somewhat of a pushup position. She's in an all out stroke. It hurt at first but she really picked up on the correct rhythm. She continues for a good amount of time. I throw up one last hail mary.....

Me: We should have sex.
Picasso: No, not yet.

It was worth a shot. She continues to jack my cock for a while. Soon I'm about to blast. I inform her.

Picasso: Where, on the blanket?

Are you kidding? That blanket is like velvet and I'm not crusting it up with my fucking goo bomb. Nice try, honey.

Me: No, on you.

I explode onto her chest. I could've filled a Capri Sun juice bag with that fucking load. No joke.

Fast forward through some more time and bullshit. Said bullshit included the fact I discovered she was family friends with a guy who tends bar on Thursdays and Sundays at this one place and hooks it up big time. The dude will give me a $24 tab for an evening of drinking for three people. Now this is a pickle......fuck the girl and jeopardize the free booze, or don't fuck the girl and keep drinking from the table of plenty. What to do? Now, I've already sprayed a load on this girl. This dude can't even know about that. Do I take it a step further? Take a guess.

She calls me drunk last weekend at 2:30 in the morning. She wants me to come over to fuck her. She tells me her parents are away. I tell her I'm too tired. She's shocked.

Picasso: What?!? I just asked you to come to my house and I'm drunk AND my parents are away. Any other guy would jump at the chance!
Me: "Maybe I'm not any other guy."
Picasso: "Explain this to me. Something must be wrong. Did I say or do something to turn you off the other night?!?"
Me: "No, I'm just really tired."
Picasso: "That's bullshit."

We continue this dance for at least another twenty minutes. She's desperately fiending for my cock at this point, especially after I denied her.

Picasso: "Just tell me what's going on, Looty. If you don't want to hang out anymore, that's fine, just tell me."
Me: "Listen, I don't think we should have sex."

Did I really just say that??? Couldn't have. Wait...Yeah, I did.

Picasso: "Why?"

Obviously I can't tell this girl that I don't want to risk losing a boatload of free beers when her borderline "cousin" finds out I fucked her silly.

Me: "There are several reasons."

This is me stalling.

Picasso: "Let's hear them."
Me: "A) You've got better chemistry with AT. Maybe you two should get involved instead."
Picasso: "But..."
Me: "Let me finish. B) You just got out of a two year relationship. C) I'd hate for Steve-O to find out and have it awkward at the bar. I'd hate to ruin that friendship. D) You just seem more serious than I am. I'm very immature. To put it bluntly, I'm not boyfriend material."
Picasso: " A) Why would I be calling you? I practically had to force my number onto you. B) So what I got out of a relationship? I'm the one who ended it C) Steve is not your friend. D) I'm more serious? You're almost five years older than me and have a job. I'm in college and have no clue what I'm going to do. You're way more serious. Why did you even pursue me if you weren't interested? Just to have sex with me?
Me: "Anybody who gives you free beers is a friend in my book. That's not the kind of serious I meant."
Picasso: You know, you're a real jerk. I had you pegged completely differently. People told me you were a really good guy. You are such a jerk. Honestly, you're a jerk.
Me: "I know. But I was just trying to do the right thing by telling you this probably won't amount to anything."
Picasso: "You're such a jerk."
Me: "I'm not saying it won't amount to anything at some point...just not for now."

We all know that is a brutal lie. This drama continued for close to an hour, maybe longer.

Finally, after I tell her I can't talk about this anymore because she's not understanding and I can't explain it again there's silence. Picasso sits on the phone silent for like thirty seconds. I don't know what to say. I'm waiting for her a-bomb of curses to drop.

More silence.

Picasso: "So are you coming over???"

Girls are stupid.

I tell her I'm too tired. It's not working. She continues to prod me.

My tiny brain can only keep my tiny penis in check for so long. It's like Skywalker squaring off with Vader, with victory going to the one who yields the force best, but this one ends a little differently. In this epic the bad guy wins. I succumb. I tell her I'll be over in fifteen minutes.

I get over to her house and she slips me in the side door down to the basement. We are sitting on a couch and she's telling me how much of a jerk I am. Whatever. Who cares? I can't listen to this broken record anymore. I make a move. Little make out sesh. Groping. Etc.

Gentlemen, we have penis insertion. She's going buck wild. I'm putting on quite a performance. Very unlike me. It's going so well I ponder if it will run longer than Cats. She's creaming gallons of female juices. I blast, which leads me to a thought....

Obviously blasting inside of a girl is better than not. But I hate that you can't get an idea of how sizeable your load is. I think they should make a condom with measurements down the side. Not by the bottom though, cuz that would just be depressing. I'm talking by the tip, the cum reservoir. It's genius.

Anyway, we finish. Cleanup. All of the sudden there's footsteps walking around above us.

Me: "Who is that?"
Picasso: "Oh, that's probably my drunk sister. No wait, those footsteps are heavier. That's my dad."

Argggggggggggggh?!?!?

Me: "I thought you said your parents were away?"
Picasso: "Oh, well my mom went away. My dad's going away tomorrow morning."
Me: "Great. So what's he doing up at 4am???"
Picasso: "Well he's got a really bad back so he sleeps on the couch in the living room. He has a trouble getting up stairs."

She's got to be fucking kidding me.

Me: "Okay well I'm going to have a shit fit if I have to sprint out of your house naked."
Picasso: "He probably won't come down here. He'll probably just yell down. Maybe ask who's car is in the driveway. I'll just tell him it's my ex-boyfriend's. His family has 15 cars so he won't know."

So out of nowhere, Picasso, real bitchy, says to me.....

Picasso: "So do you think you're going to keep calling me or something?"
Me: "Well...I guess not."
Picasso: "But I want you to."

Girls are so stupid.

I tell her I have to go. Go-go gadget stealth mode. she sneaks me out the side door.

Fast forward a few days. My crew is hanging out with her crew at the bar. I'm getting smashed.

We all leave around 3:30ish. I drop a few people off before getting to her house. As she kisses me her hands start to unbuckle my belt and peel my pants off. The kiss ends and she's nosediving like a bomber plane that's just taken a hit.

I tell her that doing this in front of her house probably isn't a good idea and I pull into a darkened parking lot down the block. Good, strong blowie. I fire off a nice warning shot into the back of her throat and she swallows like a good girl.

Immediately following my blast she's back at it again.

Picasso: "I want to make you cum again."

I try to explain that I'm not going to be able to cum again after the first one. I mean, I didn't even get any recovery time. She just suctioned right back onto my already very sensitive, post orgasm cock.

Picasso: "I want to satisfy you baby. I wanna finish you off again."

I cringe at the thought of how raw my dick is going to be tomorrow. I know how bad this can get because PT's girlfriend did this to me senior year of college. The girl was so drunk that she didn't realize I unleashed in her mouth and she just kept sucking through it. That second steamer took her over an hour to finish. It's going to be peeled like a fucking banana in a monkey cage.

I physically try to stop her. She won't let me. I try to tell her. She won't listen.

She sucks me off. And sucks. And sucks. And sucks. And sucks. And sucks me off.

It's taking forever. I ponder the fact that as long as I got blown before each filming, I could easily be a pornstar...If i had a big penis.

This is really taking forever. I have to piss. I tell her to stop for a minute because I have to urinate. I get out of the car. I start to pee...FULLY ERECT. Not very enjoyable. I'm pulling my cock forward so I'm not peeing on my chin. It's got the arc of a rainbow. A pretty urine rainbow. I finish up but can't get a little bit out. That's just what happens when you try to pee out of a stiffy.

I get back in and she's already on my dick before I get my second foot in the car. This girl is a fucking leach. As she does this I close my eyes and try to picture anything that help me get this over with. I'm using every resource in my feeble mind. When I picture Marissa Miller spread eagle with two cheeseburgers covering her tits, waiting for me to eat them as I fuck her and I can't jizz, I realize this may never happen.

I start to face fuck her. I hold her head still and thrust like a jack hammer. No difference. She sucks some more. She then starts jerking me off! Whoa! Does she have a fucking piece of sandpaper in her hand. This is not going to fly. I give her the ten pound hand and she's sucking again.

Throughout this marathon fellatio festival, there's been some light conversation here and there. At one point the following tidbits occur:

Picasso: "You're penis is so nice. It's the biggest penis I've ever seen."

I laugh as this girl tries to placate me.

Picasso: "No seriously. You've got the biggest fucking dick I've ever seen."
Me: "So you've seen one penis in your life?"
Picasso: "Haha, no. You've got a really nice penis. Sex was almost unenjoyable the other night because it's so big."

That's the first and last time I will hear that sentence in a serious manner. A little part of me dies knowing that I didn't have that on tape. Are you supposed to propose to the first woman who says that in a serious matter? I don't know.

But let's get real. My penis is tiny when flaccid. When erect, it's an average length. I'm fucking dying of laughter on the inside as I picture her ex-boyfriend that she always mentions. He must have the penis of a four year old girl.

This has become a mission of mine now. I won't be happy if I have to throw in the towel.

After God knows how long, I finally shoot. Great orgasm but weak blast. I really can't even call it a blast. A miniscule load sort of just seaped out of my eurethra. I drive down the block and she gets out.

As I drive away my penis is absolutely throbbing. I can see it now...it's going to be like pissing samurai swords tomorrow morning. Fuck. I ponder apologizing out loud to my cock.

I pull up to my house. I look for my phone in the car. I find it...along with her phone...and her bra. Ugh. Check my watch.....it's 6:45am. I decide that I need a haircut desperately for the weekend. He opens at 7. I walk down the block and get a haircut. I stumble into work fifteen minutes late. My jewish Hitler of a boss gives me an evil eye and ignores me as I say "good morning" to him. Whatever. This faggot probably hasn't gotten his dick sucked for a total of over two hours in his entire life. I just got it done continuously.

I'M BACK! (again...)

This site was all but dead. Even I don’t visit every week anymore, save for one or two stories that Looty had posted that were gravely amoral, but wickedly amusing. I finished graduate school in May, having written an estimated 300+ pages in 2 years, with about 120 of them coming in the spring of 2008. As you can imagine that’s a lot, and I just could not will myself to write anymore. Also, I ran out of blog topics and it got real nice out – aka drinking outside weather, and we all know how that goes. Well, I have some good news – I am back with lots of stories that have transpired over the last few months. This time around I don’t have any lofty goals of posting every day or 3 a week, but am going to take a new approach – when an idea strikes I am going to write.

So using the school analogy – its going to be a hell of a fall semester for the Drunken Polar Bear. Just a preview of what will come:

Phillies, Fat Girls & a Ride Home from Officer Mike (a riveting tale)
Kenny Chesney – my ultimate wingman…
The rule of B’s…
Bar Golf – the quest for an Olympic sport

So lets give it one more shot. I am on a weeklong vacation through upstate NY and Canada trying not to watch any TV so its either blogging or reading books. Who knows if the actual writing will be good or amusing, but at least it will give me something to do….

Brrr…Beer (enjoy the pic of the girl from Chuck)

Phillies, Fat Girls & a Ride Home from Officer Mike (a riveting tale)

To get people reading the blog again, I had to lead off with one of my best stories. Being a huge Mets fan and friends with many folks who have made the unfortunate choice to root from the Phillies, I try and make it to as many Mets – Phils games as I can, regardless of city. Well, it just so happened, that on July 5th, a long weekend, the Mets were playing the Phils in a nice Saturday night game. Never one to turn down a good tailgate and baseball game, I saddled up the Silver Surfer (Tuna Titan’s car) and headed on down to Philly. And by saddled up I mean – asking Tuna Titan if he wanted to go so I could get a ride down to Philly.

So there are a bunch of us heading down to the game and thus characters in this day-long tale: Myself, Tuna Titan, Trackpants, Trackpants’ little brother, Jesus, Red Rider, Worlds Best Grandpa (WBG) and supporting cast. Truly a ragtag crew. So Tuna Titan and I get to Philly at the predetermined time (around 3ish) to tailgate, and shocker Trackpants is late. Everyone finally shows up, and beers start getting downed like a freshman college basement party with a little cornhole (Bag-O) to boot. As the sun goes down on the city of brotherly love, the BAC of the group goes up. One in particularly rises to the occasion – Trackpants’ little brother who we will call Crazy Legs. Crazy Legs is just as big as a Phils fan as I am a Mets fan, and the Phils were currently a few games up on the Mets so me wearing my David Wright jersey/t-shirt did not go over well on several occasions, but none more hilarious then this:

[Setting: I am playing cornhole, and Crazy Legs being a sprinter is drunk already and proceeds to interrupt the game]
Crazy Legs: DP, HOW DARE YOU!
DP: How dare I what? You’re drunk.
Crazy Legs: HOW DARE YOU WEAR A METS JERSEY. DON’T YOU KNOW YOU ARE IN
PHILADELPHIA GODDAMIT!

This conversation occurred at least 10 or 12 more times in which Crazy Legs tried to get several random Philly fans to kick my ass for being a Mets fan. It even got so bad, that after a Philly home run, and subsequent taunting of me, Crazy Legs was asked by security guards to leave, but WBG was a smooth mofo and got him out of trouble. The rest of the game included a horrendous brawl between about 8 guys that were all over 6 feet and some sandwich called the Schmitter which is fantastic when drunk, but I would never want to know what was in it.

Fast forward now – time to leave the stadium. Tuna Titan and I are on our way out and some girls are handing out large SOBE energy drinks which are like a cheaper version of Red Bull. I ask for two, and she walks four over the car – some excellent jet fuel for the evening’s activities. Fast forward again – we get back to Trackpant’s new apartment, get changed and head out to a bar which was about a mile walk. Having been tailgating and drinking during the game everyone has a good buzz going on, but still feels the need to pound lots of shots and beers – always one for peer pressure I give in. Every time I turn around, Red Rider is handing me some sort of shot – the kind of shot I never turn down. Everyone is drinking, but here is where the hilarity ensues…

Before I go any further I have one waiver – I am not Brad Pitt, nor do I have a six pack, but am in generally OK/bulky shape for mid 20’s, so I call girls fat it is in all jest (and truth). So there we all are drinking and notice two girls playing photo hunt. You know the game where you have to find the differences between the two pictures. Almost every time you play this it is erotic photo hunt and it is comparing two naked girls. So the two girls playing it are nice, but packing a little weight on them. As I glance at the photo hunt I see they are stuck pm one last match they can’t get. I reach in, tap the screen, effectively saving the day. The girls are happy with my advanced photo hunt skills (years of bartending) and invite me to play. Little do they know, that by inviting me, they are inviting the drunkards I came to the bar with. Over the next half hour, me and 3 of the group take over the game and almost crack a new score. When there are no credits left in the machine, we all effectively turn around and talk amongst ourselves. This is where I start getting into trouble.

With a little prodding from Tuna Titan, I feel bad about playing photo hunt with these girls and then just ignoring them when the game is over, so I strike up a conversation with the skinnier/more attractive one of the group. I am drunk, so I have the most confidence in the world. I proceed to talk to the one girl for about 30 minutes in which I am convinced she thinks I am the most charming person ever. The group starts to leave, and in my drunken state I tell Tuna Titan I am going to stay and talk to fat girl because I want to – he laughs loudly as he walks out. Needless to say because I started to sober up (that’s the excuse I am using), and she stood up there was no shot of me going home with fat girl (learned from past mistakes). I walk out of the bar with her and her friend (fatter girl) and we say our goodbyes after which I have a phone # for fat girl – which will probably only be used in case of a drunken emergency. Before the two large ladies disappear across the horizon, I have a fantastic thought, which I did not filter out in my mind…

DP (with a chuckle): [Fat girl], next time I am here will you hook up with me?
FG: Sure, sounds like plan.
DP: Score!

I take this as a victory, laughing wildly as I start the mile walk home. However, it was not an easy walk home. I am good with numbers/address so I knew where Trackpants new apartment was by address and paid attention on the walk over, but was a little drunk and had no clue where to go. Being a guy, I figured I would use landmarks to navigate home, except that everything in Trackpants looks the same and he lives parallel to a railroad which could really screw me up. So I start walking, about 15 minutes in I am worried, because I am nowhere near his apartment, and it is a quick walk. I am starting to get worried, meanwhile it never occurs to me to use my cell phone to call for help.

So keep in mind – it is around 2:30AM, and I am wondering around a quick neighborhood drunk and lost so it is no surprise that a cop stopped me and we had
the following discussion:

Officer Mike: Son, are you OK?
DP: Yea, I am pretty good – yourself?
Officer Mike: Ok, do you know where you are going?
DP: Yea, [insert Trackpants address]
Officer Mike: Ok, so…
DP: But I forgot how to get there.
Officer Mike: Were you out at the bars?
DP: Yes sir.
Officer Mike: [Chuckles] Ok I am going to give you a ride – get in.

I proceed to get in the backseat of the cop car because he has his laptop and a shotgun in the passenger seat – which is badass. Nervous at first, I talk to Officer Mike about the Phils game, the bar and am about to go into the fat girl stories when we get to Trackpant’s apartment. The ride took all of 4 minutes, but if you haven’t ridden in the back of a cop car – it is interesting. There are no seat belts and its hard plastic seats so you are sliding all over the place during turns – like a meaner version of Slip-n-Slide. Even better – when we finally got to the apartment, he had to get out of the car and let me out the backdoor, and I feel
like a cool criminal…

All in all a great night where Tuna Titan and other miscreants stole a large sign in put it in Trackpant’s apartment as a housewarming gift. Awesome and thank you Officer Mike wherever you are for the ride.
Brrr….beer.

The Shadow

Forgive me if this story isn't coherent and/or well written. I didn't go to bed at all the night this story occurred, then went straight to softball and out later in the evening.

So Friday night I crushed some pitchers while bowling and went out afterward. Got home at like five in the morning. With an 8am softball game Sunday morning, I really didn't plan on going out Saturday night. But after sitting in my basement for a good fourteen hours straight, needing to get out of the house desperado, I penciled myself in for a last minute spot start.

I met up with the Croatian Sensation, the Cheeseburglar and Bullet in New Jersey for some random's birthday party at a bar. While at this party I met some broad who went to college with me. Never heard of her, met her or saw her at school. We'll call her the Shadow.

After about fifteen minutes of trash talking my nemesis and the two of us bonding over it, it was clear that she was laughing at all of my terrible jokes and was getting very drunk. The two foremost things I look for in a girl. Now I felt I might be able to capitalize on the situation but had no idea just how quickly.

This next little tidbit might seem very random but keep in mind it ties in to not only the story in a little bit, but also the title. At one point, when the Shadow was talking to the Burglar and Bullet, CS points out the fact that her arms are hairier than both of ours....probably combined. I tell him that given my track record, that obviously wouldn't bother me.

After several more drinks and some other bullshit, we decide to walk down the block to another bar. While at said bar, CS receives a text from the Shadow claiming she wants to make out with me. Of course she does. She has a vagina, doesn't she? I know what you're thinking at this point...let's hope so.

So she comes to join us at the new bar. She's smashed. Shortly after CS and the Cheeseburglar leave, I tell the Shadow I'm leaving and that I'll walk her to her friend's place. We get to the corner outside and she tells me that she doesn't want me walking too far and that she'll be fine. Awesome. I didn't want to walk her home anyway. That was simply a ploy to pretend to be a decent guy, thus getting me laid further down the line. But she won't leave. I can tell she's dragging this goodbye out as long as possible because she wants my piece.

Shadow: "Sooooo......"
Me: "So I guess this is where we make out."

We proceed to make out on the street corner for a good fifteen to twenty minutes. Now I hate being that douchey asshole, Johnny Make Out Sesh, but sometimes it's just gotta be done to lock up some serious tail for the future.

During this sesh, she continues to jokingly ask me if I really live as far as I do, clearly upset at the fact. She probably only asked me 30 times. Obviously, due to her desperation, she wants this to go further. I invite her back to CS and Beemer's apartment. She jumped on the invitation like a black dude dunking.

We get up to their apartment. Once CS goes into his room, we start the making out and heavy petting. I take her clothes off, then my own. Now the Shadow isn't terrible looking but she is chunky. She also does have diesel tits. Usually chicks with her body type have saggy and/or flapjack boobies, but hers were solid. As I do what I do, I start to slip my fingers downstairs and play with her. She throws a flag....offsides. Are you fucking kidding me? Why even come back with me if you're not even going to let me fingerblast you. This has gotten disaster written all over it.

As we're fondling each other and kissing, I keep persisting with the finger fucking. Finally she gives in. Things are looking up. But once again, she stops it after a few minutes. We continue this little dance for a good half hour. For some reason she can't decide if she should be doing this. We all know the answer is 'no' but we also know where this is going. Finally she stops the charade and surrenders her puss to my hand. She's going buck wild.

Shadow: "OMG. Who are you and where did you come from?"

Okay, I may be getting you off with my alien like fingers but you're making it sound like I'm some mythical creature from a far away land or something. I ignore this idiotic sentence and continue my business. Yet two minutes later.....

Shadow: "Who are you? Where did you come from?"

Relax, sweetheart. I chuckle out loud and picture myself magically appearing from a mysterious lamp and telling her that I'll grant her three wishes. God forbid she say something cool like, 'Wow I'm going to cum really hard', or something like that. Is that too much to ask for?

After fingerblasting the Shadow for a long time, she starts to suck my throbbing cock. It wasn't the best blowie, but who am I to complain about a mouth pumping. I tell her that we should have sex. She tells me that she doesn't want me to get the wrong idea about her.

WHAT?!?

It's four in the morning, I've known you for five hours and my penis is in your mouth! I've already got the wrong idea about you. We all know how I feel about this topic and I'll resort to my 'go to' theory......would your father rather see my cock in your mouth or your vagina? I always feel it's gotta be the puss. One day I'm going to write a book about this topic.

So after fucking her face for a while, I blast in her mouth. Very large blast.

Now here's the weird part that I skimmed over earlier. While we were making out and I was fingering her, my face brushed against her chin. The chick had a fucking five o'clock shadow! Not fucking kidding. I felt stubble on her chin! I know you're probably sitting there reading this and not believing me. I FUCKING SHIT YOU NOT. Does she fucking shave or something?!? The amount of time she spent jerking me off and blowing me probably totaled over an hour. Normally this wouldn't be the case but the whole time I just kept picturing her lathering up her face with some shaving cream and going to work on it. I flashed back to CS pointing out her hair arms. I cringed. This girl must shave. I've never felt anything like this on a broad before.

So the Shadow gets up to go to the bathroom. When she comes back she's sniffling a lot. I can't tell if she got a runny nose or if she's crying over the fact that she just blew me. I'm guessing it was the oral.

Come 5:30, I start to go into stealth mode and try to slip all my clothes on while not waking her. Doesn't work. She wakes. She starts to get dressed. I reluctantly kiss her and tell her that I have to take off. She doesn't say anything.

As I'm walking to the train I ponder the fact that I just got sucked off by a girl who can grow a better mustache than I can.

Rubbers....Who Needs 'Em?

So I've been mired in a terrible cold streak lately as I'm sure most of you know. Sure there's been a few make out sessions with fat chicks here and there, but nothing really noteworthy...until this weekend.

I had a family function to go to Friday night. Sitting me in a private room with all of my family members and an open bar is never a good idea. You might as well hand a bottle of sleeping pills and a plastic bag to someone thinking about committing suicide.

So after downing about three bottles of wine at the party, I decide to go out with my brother [Ya Ya], my cousin [Her], her boyfriend [Party Boy], and her friend [Roomie]. I figured it would be a great night to bust out of my slump because I was beyond smashed. When I'm that drunk I'm pretty much willing to do anything.

So when we get to the bar I start crushing Tanqueray & Tonics. I'm in the zone. We're all sitting at a table out on the back patio of the bar. A girl my brother is crushing [Melons] shows up. That makes two couples and Roomie and myself. We are sitting next to each other and begin to chat and flirt more and more as the night goes by as we are ignored during a late night, drunken lovey dovey mush parade by the others. We mock them.

Ya Ya and Melons vanish. Later on we find out they were crushing in her car in the parking lot. He must be taking notes. But at the time we had thought they left. So as the bar is about to close we decide to head to 7-11 to grab beers and head back to my Aunt's house since she's in Europe for several weeks. We're hanging out in the backyard crushing beers and cigarettes. Yes, I was that drunk, smoking cigarettes. We bring the festivities into the basement. Her and Party Boy are tired and head upstairs to go to bed.

Roomie and I are listening to music and drinking. We start making out. A cash register sound goes off in my brain. It's on. She tells me that we should pull the bed out of the couch. I agree. It's doubly on. As I rip all of the pillows and cushions off the couch like a tornado ripping shingles from a roof, a sudden rush of panic, fear, disappointment and blue balls hits me like a shovel. I've got no rubbers! I always carry at least one with me! We're talking about the guy that has a connie in his pocket when he goes to drop a letter in the mailbox down the street. You just never know when some totally desperate-for-cock vixen is going to sidle up to you, lift her skirt and go all spread condor on your ass.

After hating myself for several seconds, we're on the pullout bed peeling each other's clothes off, locked in an intense make out sesh. I decide that I'll have to punt and try to settle for a blow job. Of course there's nothing wrong with a good old fashioned Steamboat Willie, but I don't get to tack another victim up on my resume. Lesson learned. Pack heat everywhere, even if you're headed to a family function.

We're now naked and I'm on top of her. There's some heavy petting involved. We're fooling around, molesting each other. She grabs my johnson again but instead of buffing the bad boy up, she slips it right inside of her...RAW. Me likey.

Christmas just came early my friends, and so will I!

I'm shocked and astonished. I mean, I've known this girl for a long time, but shouldn't that give her more reason not to let me slay her raw dawg???

But I'm also psyched. I haven't had an order of sausage, hold the bun, in ages. Probably a good six to eight months at least. That excitement, plus the extra sensation is absolutely killing my performance. Out of nowhere she says she has to go to the bathroom. God, what luck.

She starts to walk up the stairs. As soon as she's out of sight I jump to my feet. I'm rushed and panicked. I start to run in one direction, than the other. Then I notice the door of the laundry room open. I run through it and look around. Thinking quickly on my feet, I decide to jack off as fast and hard as I can into the sink. I hear water running through the pipes in the ceiling above me. That's the toilet flushing! Fuck! She'll be back any second. I miraculously get the job done. Shots fired! Oh my, what a blast. Probably the biggest of my life. And not just a nice quantity, I got some powerful pumps. No time to bask in the glory...I ninja my way back onto the bed. Back in business. We get back at it and I slip it right in while I'm still hard. I throw down but don't finish again. I don't remember how the session stopped and there's a very good chance I just blacked out on top of her.

We wake up the next morning and she tells me she needs a ride home. I grab her hand and put it on my cock. She starts to tug it. My command center is telling me to launch a second attack so I slip it in again. Terrible performance. At the point where I'm about to climax I pull out and start to finger her. She thinks I'm just switching it up but I'm actually orgasming. But I held the hounds back, didn't fire the shot, so she wouldn't know. I slipped it in again. This time I couldn't keep it hard. Here I am, on top of this chick, with my penis turning into a limp noodle. I mean, it's not completely soft yet but I'd be lucky if I was flying it at half mast. I pump desperately trying to revive it like an EMT pounding on a dying person's sternum. No luck. We've lost him. The combination of previously orgasming and my heart saturated with red wine and gin did not help the cause. I wave the white flag.

As I'm driving her home, which is only a few blocks away, I'm recapping all the events in my head to an Avril Lavigne song that came on the radio. God Avril doesn't get enough props. I ponder why. Who knows. Roomie's been talking but I've been too wrapped up thinking about the aforementioned issues. I suddenly realize I never cleaned my cum out of the sink. It probably got dry and crusty over night. Oh well.

I may have lost the battle...but I did win the war.