The Brooklyn Breath (Brooklyn, NY)

April 10th, 2012 . No Comments »

Written by: Sammy

It was a date during the week that turned into a late night so my date offered up his place for me to stay. I had a few drinks and usually carried an overnight bag in my car so I was good to stay over. The next morning came and since my date didn’t  have a normal 9-5 job, I got ready for work as he slept.

I was all done with showering, teeth brushing and all the normal morning routines so I walked over to my date’s bedroom to say good bye. I gave him a little tap on the back, “Hey buddy, I’m all set thanks for letting me stay the night.” He hopped out of bed crusty eyed and breath just splendid (sarcasm) and started ranting about the great night he had.  In an effort to save the relationship I tried my best to look normal since i wasn’t breathing, 30 seconds into the conversation I nearly passed out and had to end this situation, “I gotta go, we will talk later.”

Just as I went to walk away he pulled me in for a full blown make out session. I couldn’t tell you what happened exactly cause I was light headed from holding my breath. The man went in for full tongue action fresh out of bed! (I don’t know why I used the word “fresh” there was nothing “fresh” about this situation).  I held my tongue as far back in my mouth as possible resulting in me choking on it, I then pulled back and gave him an awkward pat on the back and walked ran out of his apartment. He lived on the fourth floor but I was so disoriented that I ran down four flights of stairs as opposed to just taking the elevator. Traumatized.

That afternoon he sent me a text questioning my awkward good bye I told him I didn’t feel the same and haven’t seen him since.

 

TWP Lesson # 38 - Morning breath can ruin a relationship.

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Don’t knock it ’til you try it (New York, NY)

January 25th, 2012 . No Comments »

Written by Andy Moose

For me, sex has only happened conditionally. There’s something in this world that works against me that causes me to rely on some sort of x-factor for sex. I call it the sex factor. Whether it be I was the new guy in town, weed, alcohol, or some sort of arrangement was in play, this was the only way I could “get my D wet.” This playa plays with handicap.

Even with handicap, conditions sometimes work against me.

I was friends with a gorgeous chick, one I’d see every day. I tried so hard to have sex with her but she was one of those fuckin’ girls glued to her phone and used the word “ironic” when it wasn’t applicable. Fact of the matter was she didn’t “get me.”

LOL ur so weird.

Regardless, one day she’s goin’ through her phone and says, “Ugh… My sister needs to get laid.”

Playfully I comment, “I’ll do it.”

Now realize when a guy says that, there’s a big part of him that prays for some inexplicable response.

“Really?” BAM. Yes. That’s the one.

So now the playfulness fades and I take on dickmode. Dickmode is when your reasoning and thoughts become taken over by your cock.

“Yeah, really! She’ll take anyone? When can I do it?”

She hits me back with, “What are you doing Friday?”

It doesn’t fuckin’ matter what I’m doin’ Friday, because I’ll be somewhere if there’s guaranteed tang. So it was done; I got her sister’s number and that was that. However, as I was walking away and regained normal composure I realized her sister was a fat girl I met at a party once.

I think.

I couldn’t pass up the opportunity if I wasn’t 100% sure she was fat. I couldn’t just text her “u fat?” So I decided to take the high road and give myself an ultimatum:

Regardless of her size I would do this. So, if I didn’t enjoy her tubby ass, I could then say, “I don’t like fat chicks,” with reason.

Note: I don’t know if you’ve ever been engaged in a verbal contract of this sort, but when sex is guaranteed there are no filters on the conversations. You can’t really “fuck it up.” So, the days leading up to Friday she was very enticing.

Friday comes and I’m there at the specified time. I walk right in through the front door and look around at a grotesquely kept house. Already I wasn’t thrilled… Please God, make her hot.

When she came into view it was a relief… My memory doesn’t get impaired when I’m drunk; she would be the fattest girl I’ve ever touched. I weigh in around 190lbs. She was me, plus an infant… Who weighed 50lbs.
She wasn’t even one of those chubby cute girls with a nice face and a good personality. She was fat everywhere and it was terrible. But I had to man up, this was the moment of truth for me. Could I truly have sex with the first and only fat girl in my life? Could I get it out of the way nice and early? I could. So I did.

Usually when I’m about to have sex with a girl, I try to keep as many articles of clothing on as possible. I’m pretty reluctant when it comes to undressing in front of women, mainly because they’re usually more attractive than I am. But the fact of the matter here? I was the attractive one and it felt awesome. This was the kind of self-confidence I wish I always had. I literally jumped out of my clothes and flexed; I felt like a Roman God.

Mousouris, the God of Fatties.

So, it was time for oral sex. I had once heard that big girls gave good head, something to do with gravity or the fat in their face giving pressure around your rod.

It’s a lie.

The fat in her face, neck and forehead made it impossible for her to open her mouth enough to keep her teeth off of my carrot. I don’t even have a big penis, so the teeth were unnecessary. What was even worse was the noise. She sounded like someone fat giving head… The guttural grunts and slurping noises a fat person makes when eating a bucket of KFC resounded in the bedroom.

It was at this moment that I felt my shaft loosing firmness, I had to think quick because I didn’t want to insult the girl. I figured it was time to do the do. I pulled down her spandex pants that are common for girls her size and drove it home.

Now, there’s a common problem for meaty girls and guys with small penises. Sometimes your dick flops out, it’s an easy fix too! You just stick it back in and continue without pause.
However.
She isn’t a meaty girl. She’s a fat girl. There’s a big difference. When my dick flopped out, it did the usual upward thrust against her coochie instead of in her coochie (an event I call the safety slide when it happens normally). The deviation here was that I didn’t know I flopped out, because where my penis usually safety slides, there was a hotdogbun-esque formation of moist fat that felt just like a coochie… When she corrected this I nearly died.

There was a brief minute where I was doing okay on her, but then she asked me to choke her. I have nothing against some sensual choking, but I couldn’t get a firm grip around the lifesaver of a neck she had. It was like I was choking Chris Farley.

I couldn’t take it anymore; I wound up laying back in the messy bed and masturbating next to her as she made some weird noises that ranged somewhere between delight and hunger.

Needless to say, I did it and I won’t ever do it again.

 

Lesson # 37: Big girls need lovin’ too, but it’s not always your job.

 

(Think this guy is funny????????????? Check out Laughest.blogspot.com for more funny stories written by Andy Moose)

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Holy Misfire (New York, NY)

January 10th, 2012 . 1 Comment »

Written by Andy Moose

I suppose I should preface this post by saying I’m turning twenty this month – which is another way of saying I know dick about love. On top of that I’m a child of divorce and both of my parents are in terrible second relationships. Needless to say, I have some issues with handling romance.

Despite being under-qualified for love – like every human – I have had my ins and outs with it.

I moved to New York City about a year ago and quickly found out just how lonely such a populous place could be. Without a foothold on any social circles and a fresh comedy career in the works, I was destined to waltz with the frigid winter alone.

Then she came along. You can tell a girl is looking for disaster when she’s the first person to make eye contact – and the first person to give the wry smirk. The ends of her lips curled up and I was done before they parted.

Before I go any further, let me just say that I have no religious standing – nor am I against religion – I’m just not concerned with all that shit. That being said, I am absolutely in love with religious girls. When there’re more rules to break, it makes things a lot more interesting.

I saw her at an open mic, I practically performed my entire set to her – I couldn’t get my eyes off of her. She was laughing the entire time so I knew I could swoop in for a few words. When I finished up I went over the bar and we hit it off almost immediately. Her name was Amy and she was a good ol’ Christian gal from Roanoke, Virginia – one of my former homes. Once the connection was made, the night was on lockdown.

She was still moving into her apartment so I offered her a “place to rest her head” and also a place to potentially have sex. She took to the idea like a cat to cream and we bolted off like Bonnie and Clyde.

When we got to my place I had my strategy worked out. Food, movie, pillow-talk and a “Hail Mary.” Basic stuff, really. She unpacked her necessities from her purse – including a King James Bible which she placed right on my nightstand.

Her goodie-two-shoe personality was attracted to my cynical attitude, she found absolutely everything I said to be hilarious. It’s like I hit the jackpot, she could be wifey material if she kept this pace!

Food. I made her some rice, beans and a fried egg (courtesy of my Brazilian half) – turns out she didn’t like beans. She didn’t like… BEANS. They’re BEANS! Oh, and she also didn’t like EGGS. EGGS? Whatever, I guess she’s a picky eater, I can deal. She wound up having “the tastiest bowl of rice ever!”

Movie. Oh… GOD. She won’t shut up. Why do women insist on talking during movies? Or getting up every four seconds to do nothing? I seriously wanted to break her legs so she’d stop moving, then sock her in the mouth to keep it quiet – but I showed restraint… Other than smoking like a thousand cigarettes to keep my nerves at bay. But it’d all be worth it, she was having a fantastic time in her oblivious little Christian world – I knew I’d be a lucky man tonight.

Pillow-talk. If breath could manifest into the tangible, her breath would be Excalibur – slaying my nose with every intimate word she spoke to me. Jesus, if you love your followers – please bless this woman’s breath with an everlasting mint, because this was serious. Hell, I smoke and my breath is incapable of being this deadly. It was warm and depressing… I never had a conversation while holding my air in.

Hail Mary! I grinned and bared, I knew it was coming. The petting was at maximum heaviness. It was time to seal this deal. I initialized “hooking” – all men know the move, where our fingers curl at her beltline and slowly peel away those pesky clothes – but she suddenly slapped my hands away. What… What could possibly be going on? I warmed back into the petting to try again – she shoots me down once more.

Maybe I’m the asshole here but if you agree to enter a young man’s home, eat his food, watch his Netflix AND sleep in his bed all in the same night as meeting him… Aren’t you broadcasting a certain message? I’ll just say I’m the asshole.

So I ask her if something’s wrong and she replies with, “I’m saving myself.”

“From what?”

“FOR marriage, silly.”

“Uh… Saving… Like, everything?”

“Sure.”

“Even your butt?”

I get smacked.

“Well… What about your mouth?”

Gut check.

“All right, all right. But, you know… You got me all riled up here – what am I supposed to do?”

“I mean, if you really want me to – I can use my hand?”

It was something; this innocent young lady was making an effort. An effort that was making me increasingly more sexually frustrated than I had ever been before. But shit, I took what she was going to offer…

I hadn’t properly prepared my artillery for sexual endeavors that night – so my troops were gathered and ready for action… Immediately. The moment her hand wrapped around my… Yanno… I Dante Peaked all over the place – particularly on the King James Bible.

That’s when she screamed out, “JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Unable to handle the embarrassment that washed over me, I ran out of my own apartment in the midst of getting dressed – leaving her in my home to deal with the mess. I took a long, long walk before coming back. She was gone, thankfully, but the bible wasn’t. The bible rest smack dab in the middle of my bed, sure enough open to Ezekiel 16:63 –

“that you may remember and be ashamed, and never open your mouth anymore because of your shame, when I provide you an atonement for all you have done,” says the Lord GOD.’”

Lesson # 36: Thou shall not prey on Gods children…. Or splooge on king James.

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I’m Really Not a Stalker (Paramus, NJ)

December 5th, 2011 . No Comments »

Written by Sammy

If you’re in the dating world you don’t always meet the best people at bars or clubs, usually you meet people through a friend, work or at a supermarket where you can walk over to the cutie reading a recipe card and ask if they need help finding the ingredients. This isn’t my story about my encounters at the local supermarket.

I was prancing around the office one summer morning jumping from cube to cube catching up on office gossip. I stopped at one of my co-workers cubes to chat when I suddenly felt a presence I never felt before, I turned my face in the direction where the energy was coming from and I stood still while my co-worker ranted about typical office frustrations, my boss sucks, I’m over this job, yada yada. My eyes and head followed the tall, dark and handsome creature that was walking through my office, he was following Steph Steinberg, the head of Human Resources. He picked up on my stare and to my surprise he stared back, our eyes locked for what seemed to be an eternity, I wasn’t sure who was going to shoot red laser beams out of their eyes first, it was an intense stare down. The stare down went on until he almost walked into a wall and my co worker snapped her fingers in front of my face, “Hello! Were you listening to anything I said?!” I quickly gave in, she was right I wasn’t listening to anything she had just said and told her I would be right back and I ran to Caroline’s office.

After I busted into Caroline’s office I whispered, “Caroline, there’s this really hot guy walking around this office with Steph Steinberg. You need to find out who he is.” I went to Caroline because I wanted to let her know about the cute guy in the office that could be a potential new co-worker on the office top 5 list, also because Caroline would get the scoop from Steph since they were more friends than Steph and I were.

I eventually left Caroline’s office and went back to my desk. I did my typical day to day stuff and had forgotten about the morning encounter. Before the day was over Caroline walked to my desk and threw a business card in front of me, “What is this?” Caroline responded, “You told me to find out who he was and I did, here you go.”  How did she pull that off I wondered then said, “what am I supposed to do with this? I’m not just gonna call some random guy who didn’t give me his number, or is not expecting my call, I don’t know if he’s single or not?”

I got up from my desk and followed Caroline to her office where we discussed whether I should call or not and in the midst of the discussion Steph walked in, “Hey Caroline, so are you gonna call him?” Caroline looked over at me as an indication that I should take over, so I asked Steph, “Does he know that Caroline is going to call? Is he single?” Steph
stopped me before I could continue, “Who is this for? You or Caroline?” Caroline interjected, “Its fair game Steph so just give us the scoop.”  Steph explained to us that  he was not going to be a new co-worker, he was the real estate leasing agent for the company, he would be in the office again the next day and she’d find out more.

The next day I saw him waiting in the waiting area and then saw him walk out with Steph. When Steph got back she walked over to my desk and said, “He said to call him.” I responded, “Wait! what happened? What did you say?!” Steph answered, “Well first,  I really didn’t realize he was good looking until you said something but he’s actually really cute, he smokes a lot of a cigarettes though but if your okay with that he seems like a decent guy. He said that he’s ‘very single’, not exactly sure what that means but I told him that some of the girls in the office thought he was cute and wanted to reach out and he said it was okay to call him.” I told Steph I’d keep her posted and I took the business card  and held onto it for about a week with no course of action taken.

I finally grew the balls to send him a friendly email (email just seemed so much less invasive) that went a little something like this: Thought you were cute, got your contact info from Steph, hopefully you don’t think I’m a stalker, if you do oh well! if you don’t let’s get a drink, here’s my website and what I look like.

A few hours later I received a response got the digits and a date for drinks!

TWP Lesson # 35- It’s very rare that people become so enticed by someone else without ever speaking a word to them if you see something you like, go get it!

 

Posted in I’m Really Not a Stalker
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B.O.D (Boston, MA)

December 1st, 2011 . 1 Comment »

Written by Sammy & Chet

We all have those drunken nights when everything is a blur and we try piecing the puzzle the next day with what people tell us, credit card receipts, and if we’re lucky our memory will serve us with flashbacks throughout the day.

This story is from one of my guy friends, Chet,  who just had one of these nights and this is what he gathered:

Last memory of the night: I left with a girl who had on a cute pair of heels and deep purple nail polish (The fact that my straight guy friend picks up on these things is questionable).

Fact 1- Woke up with a pounding headache in a place I had never woken up before.

Fact 2-  Girl walked in with blue hippo print tee shirt holding a knife and a spatula.

Fact 3- I passed out again.

Fact 4- Woke up again to a girl slapping my chest “Jason, I thought you were dead!”

Fact 5- My name is not Jason.

Fact 6- She told me she found me naked on her kitchen floor in the middle of the night eating a frozen dinner.

Fact 7- Dinner was still frozen.

Fact 8- Don’t know her name or if we had sex.

Fact 9- Girl called me few days later and I had my sister pretend she was my wife.

Fact 10- Girl never called again.

TWP Lesson # 35- Don’t take someone home who is annihilated it just makes for awkward mornings, Sorry Chet!

 

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Captain Obvious (Towson, MD)

November 30th, 2011 . No Comments »

Written by Guest Writer: Tracy Dye

On the heels of almost a YEAR of bad dates—one of these being with a man who decided to “relate” to my pursuits in health education by indulging me in a story about his past bout with Chlamydia and ANOTHER including a Don Juan who attempted to lure me back to his apartment by citing that he needed help finishing a bottle of wine that was “about to expire”—I managed to find myself out with a man foul enough to make those other guys seem like quintessential Casanovas.

I met this man—we’ll call him BananaHammock to keep his true identity a secret—in a typical fashion.  I was at a bar and he asked for my number.  Bananahammock was tall with the brawn of a lumberjack worthy of Bounty Paper Towel modeling paired with a boyish face and a curtain of lashes fringing coffee-colored eyes.  Being that I am both a caffeine addict and enjoy a man who looks like he knows his way around a forest, I divulged my digits with alacrity.  Let it be noted that although Bananahammock was of a sturdy build, he had a layer of jelly masking any washboard abs, probably the result of good ole ale.  Being that I feel a spare tire makes a much better pillow than washboard abs, his slight chub around the middle only added to his appeal.

I was dressed to the nines on the night of my date, wearing heels that pinched my feet to the extent of such pain; I knew they had to look good.  I was keyed up with excitement to see my date, and even more thrilled to sit down being that the shoes were beginning to choke off my circulation.  Bananahammock arrived at the fancy restaurant of his choosing looking even cuter than I remembered.

“Hey there,” he said flashing his pearly whites.  “You want to go sit at the bar?”

My heart had been spurred to rapid thumping due to his cuteness, so I was delighted to remedy my situation with some liquor.  I ordered tall rum and coke, thinking in terms of Starbucks lingo where tall means small.  Apparently, however, tall at a bar means tall and my drink was delivered in a glass that could compete height-wise with a 7-Eleven Big Gulp.  A grin spread across Bananahammock’s face at my drink’s arrival and a twinkle of “this girl’s going to get wasted” glimmered along his irises.  Little did my suitor know, just because I am pint-sized does not mean I don’t know my way around more than a few pints of booze.  Papa Dye blessed his flame-haired daughter with an iron stomach and Irish tolerance—it would take at least a few shots more along with my drink before my words started to get slurred.

“Did you reserve a table?” I asked, taking a large gulp.

“Oh…” Bananahammock’s smile dimmed.  “Um, actually I had a meal before I got here.  I thought we were just drinking.”

I immediately slowed the pace of my swigging.  I’m Irish, but I still prefer to have some food on my stomach to aid in the absorption.

I didn’t quite understand why Bananahammock had chosen such a fancy establishment to simply sit at the bar.  To make matters worse, one of the waitresses kept rotating between the bar and tables, carrying delectable entrees with her.

“Wow,” Bananahammock mused at one particularly enticing plate of pasta something-or-other.  “The food here always looks so good.”

You don’t say??

It quickly became evident that Bananahammock’s intentions were to get me drunk as he kept urging me to order more supersized beverages and allowed his hand to flutter along my knees.  Feigning a twitch, I swatted the hand away like a mosquito and attempted to have a mature conversation.

“So you went to Towson University?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied, wrenching his eyes from my chest at the question.  “How much longer do you have there before you graduate? Are you working?”

“I have about a year and a half.  I do freelance writing outside of school.”

“Oh…uh…yeah!  Writing, that’s really cool.  So do you like books and stuff?” he asked.

“Yeah, I read a lot,” I responded, resuming my guzzling of liquor in an attempt to make Bananahammock more interesting.

“I’m really into books,” he announced with pride.  “Some days I’ll just grab a book by, like…you know…Socrates or some s**t because that’s just how I roll.”

“That’s fascinating,” I deadpanned and signaled for the bartender.  “I’ll just have a water please.”

Bananahammock’s gaze sank to the space between my knees.  “I like your dress…”

Sober, I allowed Bananahammock to walk me to my car.  The date hadn’t been completely terrible, but it certainly wasn’t what fairy tales are made of.  I decided to offer him a hug good night and a kiss on the cheek.  However, immediately when I turned around for a perfunctory “thanks, I had a really good night,” Bananahammock thrust his lumberjack physique upon me and sucked at my face like I was hiding the secrets of the illuminati in my esophagus.  His one hand patted across my chest like he was a cop searching me for cocaine.  He began to gyrate like a fish out of water and I suddenly felt the crack of a hand against my behind…twice.  That’s right folks!  In the middle of a well-lit parking lot outside of a classy restaurant I had just been spanked…SPANKED!  Thankfully his thrusting ceased soon after as I am pretty sure he had just come in his pants.

“Um…er…GOOD NIGHT!” I sputtered and wriggled away quickly into my car.

Bananahammock called me two weeks later and told me that he was “in between jobs” so he could not afford to take me out on another date and asked if he could come hang out at my apartment.  I promptly hung up and have not spoken to him since.

TWP Lesson # 34-  If a man makes it obvious that he’s not interested in you as a person only as a sexual object, unless your down for the same cause, keep it moving.

Posted in Captain Obvious
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Online Dating FAIL

November 21st, 2011 . No Comments »

This dude looks like hes a boxer by his obvious boxer pose and gloves, somesone’s a hit in the head away from Special Ed.

Online Dating Email Fail #2

 

 

Here’s the thing we don’t condone making fun of special people and special people need loving too. Heck! I’ve dated special people but to give it away on first interaction isn’t a very effective way to get a date.

I don’t know what kind of “moves” hes into and I personally don’t like going out and only having one “drinking”.

 

TWP Lesson # 33- Not being able to form a civilized e-mail on first interaction makes you Un-dateable. Have your friends proof read and just use the same email on every girl/guy you want to contact.

 

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Online Dating FAIL

September 28th, 2011 . No Comments »

If your not familiar with online dating consider yourself lucky. The way some of these sites work is that you put a profile that details the things your into, how you have a toe fetish and you like to take long walks on the beach. Post your best picture and wait for people to “wink” or send you emails and start getting to know each other. This will be an ongoing post of the emails received within the online dating world.

Online Dating Email Fail #1:

Although I am impressed with his ability to brush his teeth with his feet, unfortunately that is not something I’d like my future children to inherit. Can he slap his own face “equally and effectively” with both hands? I sure hope so.

TWP Lesson # 32- Circus like skills makes you Un-dateable

 

Posted in All Stories, Online Dating Fails
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Island Drama Part 2: Threesome Under the Sun (USVI)

September 23rd, 2011 . No Comments »

Story Written by: Sammy

To catch up on the story click here to read Part 1- http://thewickedpink.com/2011/08/10/island-drama-part-1-i-wear-my-sunglasses-at-night/

I was waiting for the moment that Mary-Beth would walk away so I could have a serious talk with Jude about what the fuck was going on. Mary- Beth walked away and went to the bathroom and I immediately asked Jude, “What the fuck is going on?” He quickly calmed me down and said, “Listen, my girlfriend is a lesbian I’m the only guy she’s ever been with and we pick up girls at bars so that we can both have sex with them.” The only logical questions I had to ask were, “Was I just one of your victims last night? Where was she last night? Aren’t you guys supposed to be doing this together? How is she a lesbian if she’s sleeping with you? You are a guy? right?!” 

Jude responded, “You were not one of our victims I actually really like you and she was away for work yesterday. I didn’t know how to tell you that I have this kind of weird situation going on.” So I asked him, “What the fuck now?” He said, “Well, the second you walked into this place Mary-Beth spotted you and said she wants you. She walked away to the bathroom and asked me to take you  home with us, so for now don’t mention last night and just be cool. I will  tell her you’re not interested.”

Mary- Beth returned from her “bathroom break” and started chatting with me, touching me, holding my hands to dance with her and I followed. I was feeling a little loose from the drinks and I thought “I’ve never done this before, screw it!” Before you knew it, I was getting sandwiched by Jude and his girlfriend. They were all over me and I liked the attention.

I glanced over at Nate and Eva they were on the stage dancing and then Nate fell off. Yes, he fell off of the stage in the middle of some intense dance moves. I pointed over to the bottom of the stage and told Mary- Beth and Jude, “I think my friend is hurt, I have to go.” I went running over to Nate and they followed. Nate had crushed his thumb and we had to leave. They asked my friends and I, “Do you guys need a ride to the hotel? We can take you.” We all immediately agreed because we were too frugal to pay for anymore cab fares.

We found Caroline getting close to a Navy Seal and had to wisp her away and get in to the 1989 powder blue Geo Tracker.

Once we pulled up to our hotel it was quite difficult to get Nate out of the car so Mary Beth and Jude offered their help and we let them take full responsibility for Nate. They banged his head a few times against the car door and somehow even Jude got out of helping Mary-Beth, the poor girl pretty much carried Nate to our hotel room by herself. By the time we had gotten to the front of our door the straps of her sandals had popped off from the straining of carrying Nate.

Once we got into the hotel room Mary-Beth tossed Nate onto the couch and Caroline had to give her a pair flip flops. Jude picked Nate up and started to unbutton his shirt because after the fall Nate had spilled his drink on himself, he was soaked and Jude was trying to help.  All of a sudden, Nate arose from the dead and yelled, “Sammy! Who is this boy and why is he undressing me?!”

I quickly reacted, got Jude off of Nate and put Nate down for the night. Sooner than later I was left alone with Mary-Beth and Jude.

We sat on the balcony where Mary-Beth was persistent about having a threesome and I straight up told her, “Listen, I’m not a lesbian which means, I’m not touching you, which means you would be watching me have sex with your man and I don’t think you’d like that very much.” She said, “That’s what gets me off is watching him fuck other girls in front of me.” Then I said, “Well, good for you.” I was already sobering up and the whole threesome idea was beneath me and Mary-Beth’s feet were so dirty that it turned me completely off.

Mary-Beth said to me, “Can you at least watch the sunrise with us?” and I said, “Sure, I’ll watch the sun rise with you.”

There I was in the lamest threesome experience ever. I was standing next to Marybeth and she had her arm around my waist and Jude had his arm around her and we watched the sunrise. I would have never guessed that the night would have ended the way it did and after sunrise I walked them to the door and we said our good-byes. 

TWP Lesson #30- If a girl has dirty feet she definitely has a dirty vagina

 

Posted in All Stories, Island Drama
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The Butt Cracker (Jersey City, NJ)

September 12th, 2011 . No Comments »

Story written by: Sammy

After a long week of work Eva and I were pounding down shots at the bar like we were trying to forget something. We were feeling extra friendly so we were mingling with anyone that would talk to us. People were buying us drinks left and right, the bartender was making us drinks on the house, the forecast was looking like clear skies and a $20 night. At some point, some dude was trying to get the attention of the bartender behind us signaling to the bartender to make Eva and I drinks.  He had a pretty heavy accent so  I turned around and asked him, “Where are you from? Where is your accent from? “ he so kindly replied, “Ireland”. He was cute. He had that whole scruffy, unkempt look going on so I did not decline his drinks. He introduced us to his friend and Eva and I continued conversation with the foreigners as they continued to buy us drinks. Two hours after, they were our new boyfriends and we were inviting them to our best friend Nate’s Surprise Birthday Party the next day.

The next day I ran around all day with a sick Eva beside me who threw up every time we made a stop. We headed over to Caroline’s house to start preparing for the party, and we ordered Eva Chinese food cause somehow that makes her feel better.  Throughout the day we updated Caroline on the events of the previous night and laughed about how we had invited the foreigners to Nate’s birthday party. Eva mumbled, “Sammy, but what if they really show up?” and I responded, “They are not going to show up, we were so drunk who actually takes the invite of two strange girls who were obviously incapable of making rational suggestions?”  

Later on that day I received a text message from Irish Man asking me if the invite was still on the table. To my own surprise I responded yes and gave him the address. The party happened, the Irish Men showed up, the surprise happened and Nate was in bed two hours into his own birthday party.

We were all drunk playing card games and gambling with the Irish Man’s money (don’t judge he was an international soccer player he could afford a few bucks) and we were having a blast. It was pretty late and dark out, we needed candles on the table because the outside lighting was dim. The setting was just right for Irish Man and I to get close.

He started caressing my legs under the table, made his way to my lower back very softly and very subtle started making his way to the top of my ass. We kept playing and interacting with friends so no one was made uncomfortable. I bent over to throw a card down and he slipped his hands right down my butt crack and started sliding his finger up and down my crack. I was trying to get Eva’s attention across the table with my eyes but she wasn’t picking up on any of it. I tried looking over to Hope but she just kept smiling at me not realizing what I was trying to tell her with my eyes was ,”can you please do something my butthole is being fingered as I stare at you!”

I did not know what to do, my chocolate starfish was getting raped as I played cards with my friends. There were a lot of things going through my head, first, it was dead middle of the summer and his finger was not going to smell very good. Secondly, it was quite difficult to have full blown conversations with my friends, strategically play this game, smile and sip on a beer all while my asshole got felt up. I just took multi tasking to another level.    

The Party in my pants slowly but surely came to an end. I walked Irish Man to the car said and yes to his request for “an evening out”. We went on a date and the butthole incident was never brought up.

TWP Lesson # 29- Crack is wack  

 

Posted in All Stories, The Butt Cracker
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