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.