A bunch of us in the office are big Met fans and will sometimes go to a game as a group. This smoking hot chick, Chesty, is a huge met fan and always goes with us. Chesty had already been flirting with me briefly for a week through Outlook. I decide to pull off one of the most brilliant scams in my life. Mike Piazza was coming back to town for the first time since leaving the Mets. I knew this was the perfect opportunity. I previously had asked some of my homeboys if they'd want to go but they all had plans. Knowing Chesty was too die hard to miss the game, I pounce like a lion on the idiot wildebeest who thought it would be a good idea to leave the herd. I send out a group email to the usual suspects and what a surprise, they
all respond back that they can't go........except Chesty! I tell her that I'm going to get tickets so if she still wants to go even though no one else from the office is (of course she does, I'm an adonis), to let me know if I should get her a ticket. Chesty quickly shoots me a reply, "Hell yeah I do! You'd be gay if you didn't want to see Piazza come back?!?". I ponder marriage.
I tell her I'm bringing a crew (Bullet's desperate to get out of his house of sodomites so agrees, The Croatian Sensation agrees never to be seen at the game and turns his cell phone off like a dick, and Beemer is too poor to hit the "send" button on his cell phone when it rings) and she tells me she'll bring a friend or two. I know it's going to be a one man battle with only Bullet by my side, so I pray the whole day she brings a smoking hot friend who has personality to entertain him.........she was morbidly obese and weird. I apologize Bullet, as I have before. Other than Bullet not saying one word to the girls and texting his Jewish princess the whole time with things like, "I can't wait to give you a pedicure when we watch Oprah tomorrow", the game went swimmingly.
It's Monday. I now had my "in". She starts to work overtime on the Outlook flirting. Somehow it comes up that she could beat me at Beirut (beer pong to queers). It becomes her little joke (seriously, has she not heard of me?) and challenges me to a game on Thursday night. Done. My penis might as well be in her vagina as soon as she types these words, it's over. She's trapped in the spider web and there's no way out. I tell her to think of a place to play and let me know when and where. Since she lives with her parents as I do myself, there really isn't a place to play and she knows this. So Thursday rolls around and she says to me, "I can't come up with anywhere to play, why don't we just go out for some drinks?" GAME ON.
It's Thursday. Knowing it's on, I've prepped like a doctor for surgery. Pubes trimmed. Balls shaved. Handful of connies, one in my pocket, the rest in the car. A fat roll of cash. She leaves work at 5 to go home. She's obviously going home to doll herself up because she told me she didn't want to wear work clothes. She clearly knows she's getting railed tonight too.
We go out to a nearby dive and continue to drink 9 to 12 beers a piece. We're wasted. She brings up Beirut again. If only we had somewhere to play. The following exchange takes place:
all respond back that they can't go........except Chesty! I tell her that I'm going to get tickets so if she still wants to go even though no one else from the office is (of course she does, I'm an adonis), to let me know if I should get her a ticket. Chesty quickly shoots me a reply, "Hell yeah I do! You'd be gay if you didn't want to see Piazza come back?!?". I ponder marriage.I tell her I'm bringing a crew (Bullet's desperate to get out of his house of sodomites so agrees, The Croatian Sensation agrees never to be seen at the game and turns his cell phone off like a dick, and Beemer is too poor to hit the "send" button on his cell phone when it rings) and she tells me she'll bring a friend or two. I know it's going to be a one man battle with only Bullet by my side, so I pray the whole day she brings a smoking hot friend who has personality to entertain him.........she was morbidly obese and weird. I apologize Bullet, as I have before. Other than Bullet not saying one word to the girls and texting his Jewish princess the whole time with things like, "I can't wait to give you a pedicure when we watch Oprah tomorrow", the game went swimmingly.
It's Monday. I now had my "in". She starts to work overtime on the Outlook flirting. Somehow it comes up that she could beat me at Beirut (beer pong to queers). It becomes her little joke (seriously, has she not heard of me?) and challenges me to a game on Thursday night. Done. My penis might as well be in her vagina as soon as she types these words, it's over. She's trapped in the spider web and there's no way out. I tell her to think of a place to play and let me know when and where. Since she lives with her parents as I do myself, there really isn't a place to play and she knows this. So Thursday rolls around and she says to me, "I can't come up with anywhere to play, why don't we just go out for some drinks?" GAME ON.
It's Thursday. Knowing it's on, I've prepped like a doctor for surgery. Pubes trimmed. Balls shaved. Handful of connies, one in my pocket, the rest in the car. A fat roll of cash. She leaves work at 5 to go home. She's obviously going home to doll herself up because she told me she didn't want to wear work clothes. She clearly knows she's getting railed tonight too.
We go out to a nearby dive and continue to drink 9 to 12 beers a piece. We're wasted. She brings up Beirut again. If only we had somewhere to play. The following exchange takes place:
Me: "Well, to be honest with you, I'm way too drunk to go home. I
don't want to sound sleazy and I don't expect anything to happen but I
think I'm going to get a hotel room....so if you want we can play
there."
Chesty: "Good. Seriously, I was thinking it and wanted to but didn't
want to mention it."
Me: "OK....Let's get out of here"
[We proceed to leave. I am in such a rush to get a hotel room with this smoking hot broad that I am pretty sure we walked out on a check that was 4 plates of appetizers and at least 18 beers. A crucial stop is made at a 7-11 to get beer, Solo's, and ping pong balls. 7-11 does not have ping pong balls so I make due with a platic baseball that goes on a car antenna.]
We walk into the lobby of the Marriott Hotel. She takes the cups and ball and sits on a couch. I throw my 12 pack of silver bullets on the marble counter and tell the dude working the night shift that I need a room. The following exchange ensues:
Hotel Douche: "Name, sir?"
Me: "Looty"
Hotel Douche: "I'm sorry sir I don't see anything in the computer for
that name."
Me: "Yeah because I'm not in the computer. I need a freakin' room."
Hotel Douche: "Umm...Alright sir, just to let you know, that's going
to be $249.99"
Hotel Douche: "Name, sir?"
Me: "Looty"
Hotel Douche: "I'm sorry sir I don't see anything in the computer for
that name."
Me: "Yeah because I'm not in the computer. I need a freakin' room."
Hotel Douche: "Umm...Alright sir, just to let you know, that's going
to be $249.99"
The following thoughts immediately dash through my drunken head: [That's fucking absurd. This guy is a little weasel who's out to get me. There's no way I can not get a room at this point. I will look like a total chump and most importantly I might lose my chance at fucking this girl]
The exchange continues:
Me: "You're kidding right?"
Hotel Douche: "No, sir. I'm not."
Me: "You and I both know you're not going to sell this room tonight. You're not charging me $250."
Hotel Douche: "I don't have a choice, sir."
Me: "You're just trying to take advantage of me because you know I'm annihilated."
Hotel Douche: "Sir, how about I upgrade you to a suite? Would that help?"
Me: "Done."
Hotel Douche: "No, sir. I'm not."
Me: "You and I both know you're not going to sell this room tonight. You're not charging me $250."
Hotel Douche: "I don't have a choice, sir."
Me: "You're just trying to take advantage of me because you know I'm annihilated."
Hotel Douche: "Sir, how about I upgrade you to a suite? Would that help?"
Me: "Done."
I snatch the bullets and crack one. I beckon Chesty and we head to the elevator.
When we get to the room we realize the table is too short to play. So I set up only one side of cups and we both shoot from one end. At this point were both very wasted (and yes I drove her car to the hotel, which I don't condone kids) and I really don't want to play this stupid shit. I want booty! So after every make.....and miss, I chug a beer. The cups are gone. She claims she wins. Whatever. Come get your prize.
As we're fooling around I'm still drinking beer. She tells me that she "would hate for me to spill that beer anywhere on my body because she'd have to lick it off".
"Anywhere?", I ask.
"Yup" she says.
"What about if I spill it all over my cock?"
"Well then I guess I'll just have to lick it off."
"Yup" she says.
"What about if I spill it all over my cock?"
"Well then I guess I'll just have to lick it off."
I immediately pour the remaining beer in my can all over my cock and balls.
As you can imagine, this whole scenario is off the charts. This chick is wild. This isn't helping my performance. It's weak and pitiful. After only 11 minutes (max!) I'm blasting. I must look like the biggest chump. I quickly regroup and start things up again. Only this time I can't come close to finishing and realize I might not. After a while, Chesty gets up from the bed and is walking to the other room. I ask her where she's going and she tells me she has an idea.
Sitting in the middle of the side room is a large, round table. On the table rests a large tray with water bottles, glasses and the ice bucket on it. I follow her into this room. She looks at the table and looks at me. I look at her and look at the table. My arm is suddenly clotheslining everything off the table sending it all smashing into the wall. Broken glass everywhere. I bend her over the table and then she lays on top of it. Eventually we finish crushing, pretty solid performance I might add, and just chill for a little. She tells me, "Don't think we're not having sex tomorrow morning because I am totally raping you". She eventually passes out.
My buddies had previously bet me that I couldn't take her down and if I supplied proof they would buy me two nights of all you can eating/drinking. As she lays there passed out, I talk to her and shake her. She doesn't wake up. She is fucking out. I take out my phone and take some videos and pictures to capitalize on my bet. After I finished my evidence gathering, I wasn't falling asleep and I was bored. Being the sick, peverted drunk that I am, I decide to stick my finger in her ass. This entertained me greatly. Yes I know, I'm a cretin.
It's morning. I ask her if she's going to go to work. She calls in sick and I do the same. We bang again. Admittedly, a subpar performance. Who cares, in my book I'm already the man.
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