Due to my injuries I am totally depending on family and friends to care for me. Yesterday, my mother was supposed to come over and help out but she came down with SARS or Ebola or maybe it is the flu, I'm not really sure; at any rate, she wasn’t able to come over. My youngest sister is back in school, my older sisters don't give a crap, nor does my father, and my brother, well, he is too worried about snatch to care, so it looked as though I was on my own yesterday. Thankfully, my mom was able to get one of her friends, Sharon, to come over and help me.
Sharon is an old crush of mine. In fact, she is the first woman I can ever remember giving me wood. As a young lad, I could just see her and instantly be harder than a Chinese tangram. She was beautiful; blonde hair, good face and a nice rack. Her only flaw was a flat(ish) rump.
Sharon is now in her mid-50's, but she is still an attractive woman. She has the slightly wrinkled face, you can tell her boobs are quite saggy, and if not for some dye, she would have a head full of gray hair, but like I said, she is still an attractive older woman. According to my mother, Sharon hasn’t been happy in her marriage for quite some time. I remember when Sharon’s mom died and her husband, Gilbert, went hunting rather than going to the funeral. Sharon stayed at our house for a few days after that ordeal. I don’t even think they sleep in the same room anymore, but they have remained married because of their kids.
So Sharon comes over with several grocery bags full of food and says she is going to cook me a nice meal. Considering, for the most part, I have been living off of Lean Pockets and bagels, I welcomed her offer. She cooked-up a batch of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, gravy and these little drops of delight she called "corn fritters". I ate as much as my stomach would allow. Sharon sat there forking what little food was on her plate and eye-balling me. If she had not been a friend of my moms and just some random chick, I would have thought she was flirting with me, but I just thought that was her way of being nice.
Once I finished, she helped me over to the couch and as she was getting me comfortable, she was bent over and I could see down her shirt and I'm not talking about just seeing a little bra, I saw everything and I'm sure Sharon saw my excitement protruding from my sweat pants. Once I was comfortable, I thought she would leave, but she started giving me a shoulder massage and asking me if that felt good. I'm going to be honest, at this point I felt slightly uncomfortable; almost like she was some sort of child molester. I really can’t explain the feeling I had.
From that point, she walked around and started pulling my sweats down. I just sat there in amazement as she took to blowing my meat whistle and then she starts asking me if "momma is doing a good job". Please understand I am all about some dirty talk. Im cool with calling a girl a bitch, whore, slut, trash; anything she wants. I've even been known to slap a girl around a little when the mood is right for that type of thing, but when a chick starts calling herself "momma" it freaks me out, and considering this woman is my moms age, it was almost as if, at least in my minds-eye, that......I can't even say it and she wouldn’t stop: "Ummm....Momma likes that" "You want Momma to lick your balls?" "Give Momma your milk."
It was a total turnoff, but I didn’t stop her. From that point, she got down on the floor, pulled her pants off and started paddling the pink canoe and I just sat there watching. Her cooch looked old; like a tattered Indian moccasin or Dick Clark's elbow, but still, I sat there watching.
I've never been with a woman post-hysterectomy, so I really don't know if a woman's juices start to clabber once their cogs are removed, but Sharon's was leaking something. I remember one time when I left a jug of milk in my refrigerator for, like, 6 months and it got all clumpy and chunky; that is what this stuff looked like that was oozing out of her chasm. After a few minutes of her doing that, she got up and started riding me, and, honestly, she did it better than I was expecting. Her nipples were a bit hefty and a little on the flappy side, but she was quite enthusiastic in her riding, and, yes, she kept saying the "Momma" stuff which, of course, gave me a mental block.
She got off and I faked one. After she finished, she got dressed, cleaned the kitchen and left. She said she was coming back this afternoon, but I don’t think I am going to answer the door.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
The one that got away
I know some of you like to fish. I am also sure each one of you sportsmen have a tale about the “one that got away”. Maybe it's a 33 point buck, or a 27 pound bass or a turkey the size of a VW Bug. Whatever the case, I'm sure you have that story. Me? I like to hunt chicks. That is my pastime, my recreation. Like each one of you, I, too, have a yarn about the one that got away.
Her name is Nicole. She went to a private school during her high school years, but everyone knew about her because of her beauty and extraordinary body. There were rumors that she was a clairvoyant in the bedroom - like some kind of sex witch. Because of this, most guys called her "Samantha". I never actually met anyone that had been with her. There were rumors of a guy that had been with her, Brandon Logan, and after she discarded him he became so obsessed with her that he stayed in his room masturbating to the thought of her, ripped his pubic hair out with duct tape and lived off Mountain Dew and peanut butter. Eventually, his parents checked him into an eating disorder clinic and he was never heard from again, or so said the rumor. Just when I got up the nerve to ask her out, her parents divorced, she moved to Virginia with her mom and she was gone from my life.
Tuesday, March 11 - I was in KB Toys doing some shopping and I ran into Nicole. She was with her son and as luck would have it, she remembered me and started a conversation. Man, she still looks like a Victoria’s Secret model and I could not take my eyes off of her tits. She was wearing a really tight t-shirt and I guess she lost her bra somewhere because she wasn’t wearing it at the time. I bought her son a cheesecake brownie from Great American Cookie and Nicole and I sat in the food court talking about our lives. Turns out, Nicole got a divorce a couple of years ago and moved back to Alabama so her father could help her out. Her mom passed away a few years ago and she didn’t have any family after her divorce. She is a massage therapist at a local spa and teaches a Taebo class at a gym in the area. We talked until her son grew bored with sitting there and quickly became a pain in the ass. Nicole gave me directions to her house and told me to come over on Thursday.
Thursday, March 13 – Nicole and I had a nice meal and continued the conversation we started in the mall. Her son, Gordon, who, btw, is 10, really took a liking to me. I whipped his ass in every video game he owns and then I destroyed him in some living room football. He told me about his trampoline and how he can do a front flip. Big deal I thought and then I two-upped him when I told him I could do a one-and-a-half front flip and a back flip on a trampoline. He begged me to go out and show him, but Nicole informed him it was his bed time and that maybe we could do that tomorrow. After Nicole put Gordon to bed the talking Nicole and I were doing turned into kissing and soon enough we were in her bedroom doing a lot of heavy petting. Her tits are what John Keats was talking about in his poem “A Thing Of Beauty”. They are perfect in size - about the size of Demi Moore’s in “Striptease” - and feel. While her ass looked great in a pair of pants, it looked even better in a thong. She has a “JJ” ass. You know the type of ass that makes JJ scream Dy-no-mite! Just as I was about to put a finger into pumpkin blossom, she broke from our kiss and said she would be right back.
She went into the bathroom and started the shower. I thought she was in there taking a shower, but soon she was back in the bed with me and the shower was still running. I didn’t know what she was doing, but by this time I didn’t care. A few minutes later, she got up, took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom. Cool. We are going to shower together I thought. I was wrong. The bathroom was steamy; almost like a steam room. Her shower is separate from her bathtub and after she got naked, she stepped into the empty tub, bent over and told me she “needed it”. I climbed in, got behind her and started railing on her. My Dirk Diggler style hammering coupled with the steam from the shower had us sweating like Jeremiah Wright at a Klan rally. It felt like we were two Howler Monkey’s going at it in some far off rain forest. Not just from the sweat, but also from the howling that Nicole was doing. I was in a zone; like Michael Jordan was when he lit up the Trail Blazers or David Copperfield when he walked through the Great Wall of China. Every move I made was perfection, and Nicole let me know it with her moans and slut talk. I pumped her for what seemed like hours. Once we had drained each other, we jumped in the shower and cleaned up. I ended up going home around 2 in the morning.
Friday, March 14 - I went over to Nicole’s house early to show Gordon just how talented I was on his trampoline. Now, please keep in mind that I have not been on a trampoline in years. If I had to guess I would say at least 16 years, but when I was in my prime, I was the Raymond Babbit of Sun Valley (my parent’s neighborhood) when it came to the trampoline. I could do front flips, back flips, pretty much any kind of flip there was, but, again, that was at least 16 years ago.
Over the years, trampolines have changed quite a bit. I remember my trampoline as being large. It was so big that we used to play Royal Rumble on it. It was nothing for us to land on the metal frame and bloody our nose or crack our head open. I remember when Skitch Bryant knocked half of his front tooth out during a heated game of “Smear the Queer”. Gordon’s trampoline is small. It has padding covering the springs and as if that wasn’t enough, he has one of those big safety screens around it to keep him from falling off. I informed him that he was jumping on a girl’s trampoline and that I didn’t think I could show him all my tricks on such a girly piece of equipment. In reality, I was nervous over the fact that I had built myself up and didn’t know if I could follow through.
Of course, being the man that I am, I manned up and climbed on. Do the front flip Gordon shouted. I did and nailed it. My confidence grew. Do it again! he demanded, and again I nailed it. It was as if I had never left the trampoline. Do the back flip Gordon shouted. This one took a minute, but I finally nailed it. I was 13 again and loving it. Pretty soon a small crowd of neighborhood kids started to gather around the trampoline to watch my Bart Conner like display and then I heard it – He can even do a one-and-a-half! Gordon said to some of the watchers. No one can do the one-and-a-half said one little kid who looked a lot like Sunshine Sammy. Yes he can said Gordon. Stump, do the one-and-a-half.
Maybe it was over-confidence. Maybe it was the three beers and two margaritas I drank before starting. Maybe it was because I wanted to impress Nicole who was watching from her back deck. I don’t know what exactly it was, but something inside me told me I could do it…………..
I remember feeling out of control in mid-flip. I knew something was wrong. The voice in my head screamed for me to cover my face. The last thing I can remember is crashing through the protective netting that surrounds the trampoline. I don’t remember my ribcage landing on the metal frame. I don’t remember my feet touching the back of my head just before I fell onto the ground. The only thing I do remember is coming to, tasting blood in the back of my throat and feeling a blinding pain in my side. Several kids were asking me if I was alright. I couldn’t talk. The only thing I could do was fight for air. I knew I was dying, and, to be honest, I looked forward to death because then I wouldn’t feel all the pain that was racing through my body. I closed my eyes and said my goodbyes.
The next time I came to I was an ambulance. The EMS worker was telling me I was going to be alright. I could no longer feel the pain; I was going to live.
Saturday, March 15 – I woke up in a hospital room. My mother was there. Nicole was there. They told me I broke 5 ribs, punctured my right lung, broke my collar bone, dislocated my right shoulder and fractured my right eye socket.
They released me on Sunday. I have been on a lot of pain medication and, as of yesterday, I have lost 19 pounds, but I am alive. To kill time, I have been watching basketball, lots of movies, and listening to Tom Petty. Nicole has come over once since I have been home. A friend of mine said he saw her at The Fish Market with some guy. I'm sure she is screwing him and it looks as though she has gotten away.....again
Her name is Nicole. She went to a private school during her high school years, but everyone knew about her because of her beauty and extraordinary body. There were rumors that she was a clairvoyant in the bedroom - like some kind of sex witch. Because of this, most guys called her "Samantha". I never actually met anyone that had been with her. There were rumors of a guy that had been with her, Brandon Logan, and after she discarded him he became so obsessed with her that he stayed in his room masturbating to the thought of her, ripped his pubic hair out with duct tape and lived off Mountain Dew and peanut butter. Eventually, his parents checked him into an eating disorder clinic and he was never heard from again, or so said the rumor. Just when I got up the nerve to ask her out, her parents divorced, she moved to Virginia with her mom and she was gone from my life.
Tuesday, March 11 - I was in KB Toys doing some shopping and I ran into Nicole. She was with her son and as luck would have it, she remembered me and started a conversation. Man, she still looks like a Victoria’s Secret model and I could not take my eyes off of her tits. She was wearing a really tight t-shirt and I guess she lost her bra somewhere because she wasn’t wearing it at the time. I bought her son a cheesecake brownie from Great American Cookie and Nicole and I sat in the food court talking about our lives. Turns out, Nicole got a divorce a couple of years ago and moved back to Alabama so her father could help her out. Her mom passed away a few years ago and she didn’t have any family after her divorce. She is a massage therapist at a local spa and teaches a Taebo class at a gym in the area. We talked until her son grew bored with sitting there and quickly became a pain in the ass. Nicole gave me directions to her house and told me to come over on Thursday.
Thursday, March 13 – Nicole and I had a nice meal and continued the conversation we started in the mall. Her son, Gordon, who, btw, is 10, really took a liking to me. I whipped his ass in every video game he owns and then I destroyed him in some living room football. He told me about his trampoline and how he can do a front flip. Big deal I thought and then I two-upped him when I told him I could do a one-and-a-half front flip and a back flip on a trampoline. He begged me to go out and show him, but Nicole informed him it was his bed time and that maybe we could do that tomorrow. After Nicole put Gordon to bed the talking Nicole and I were doing turned into kissing and soon enough we were in her bedroom doing a lot of heavy petting. Her tits are what John Keats was talking about in his poem “A Thing Of Beauty”. They are perfect in size - about the size of Demi Moore’s in “Striptease” - and feel. While her ass looked great in a pair of pants, it looked even better in a thong. She has a “JJ” ass. You know the type of ass that makes JJ scream Dy-no-mite! Just as I was about to put a finger into pumpkin blossom, she broke from our kiss and said she would be right back.
She went into the bathroom and started the shower. I thought she was in there taking a shower, but soon she was back in the bed with me and the shower was still running. I didn’t know what she was doing, but by this time I didn’t care. A few minutes later, she got up, took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom. Cool. We are going to shower together I thought. I was wrong. The bathroom was steamy; almost like a steam room. Her shower is separate from her bathtub and after she got naked, she stepped into the empty tub, bent over and told me she “needed it”. I climbed in, got behind her and started railing on her. My Dirk Diggler style hammering coupled with the steam from the shower had us sweating like Jeremiah Wright at a Klan rally. It felt like we were two Howler Monkey’s going at it in some far off rain forest. Not just from the sweat, but also from the howling that Nicole was doing. I was in a zone; like Michael Jordan was when he lit up the Trail Blazers or David Copperfield when he walked through the Great Wall of China. Every move I made was perfection, and Nicole let me know it with her moans and slut talk. I pumped her for what seemed like hours. Once we had drained each other, we jumped in the shower and cleaned up. I ended up going home around 2 in the morning.
Friday, March 14 - I went over to Nicole’s house early to show Gordon just how talented I was on his trampoline. Now, please keep in mind that I have not been on a trampoline in years. If I had to guess I would say at least 16 years, but when I was in my prime, I was the Raymond Babbit of Sun Valley (my parent’s neighborhood) when it came to the trampoline. I could do front flips, back flips, pretty much any kind of flip there was, but, again, that was at least 16 years ago.
Over the years, trampolines have changed quite a bit. I remember my trampoline as being large. It was so big that we used to play Royal Rumble on it. It was nothing for us to land on the metal frame and bloody our nose or crack our head open. I remember when Skitch Bryant knocked half of his front tooth out during a heated game of “Smear the Queer”. Gordon’s trampoline is small. It has padding covering the springs and as if that wasn’t enough, he has one of those big safety screens around it to keep him from falling off. I informed him that he was jumping on a girl’s trampoline and that I didn’t think I could show him all my tricks on such a girly piece of equipment. In reality, I was nervous over the fact that I had built myself up and didn’t know if I could follow through.
Of course, being the man that I am, I manned up and climbed on. Do the front flip Gordon shouted. I did and nailed it. My confidence grew. Do it again! he demanded, and again I nailed it. It was as if I had never left the trampoline. Do the back flip Gordon shouted. This one took a minute, but I finally nailed it. I was 13 again and loving it. Pretty soon a small crowd of neighborhood kids started to gather around the trampoline to watch my Bart Conner like display and then I heard it – He can even do a one-and-a-half! Gordon said to some of the watchers. No one can do the one-and-a-half said one little kid who looked a lot like Sunshine Sammy. Yes he can said Gordon. Stump, do the one-and-a-half.
Maybe it was over-confidence. Maybe it was the three beers and two margaritas I drank before starting. Maybe it was because I wanted to impress Nicole who was watching from her back deck. I don’t know what exactly it was, but something inside me told me I could do it…………..
I remember feeling out of control in mid-flip. I knew something was wrong. The voice in my head screamed for me to cover my face. The last thing I can remember is crashing through the protective netting that surrounds the trampoline. I don’t remember my ribcage landing on the metal frame. I don’t remember my feet touching the back of my head just before I fell onto the ground. The only thing I do remember is coming to, tasting blood in the back of my throat and feeling a blinding pain in my side. Several kids were asking me if I was alright. I couldn’t talk. The only thing I could do was fight for air. I knew I was dying, and, to be honest, I looked forward to death because then I wouldn’t feel all the pain that was racing through my body. I closed my eyes and said my goodbyes.
The next time I came to I was an ambulance. The EMS worker was telling me I was going to be alright. I could no longer feel the pain; I was going to live.
Saturday, March 15 – I woke up in a hospital room. My mother was there. Nicole was there. They told me I broke 5 ribs, punctured my right lung, broke my collar bone, dislocated my right shoulder and fractured my right eye socket.
They released me on Sunday. I have been on a lot of pain medication and, as of yesterday, I have lost 19 pounds, but I am alive. To kill time, I have been watching basketball, lots of movies, and listening to Tom Petty. Nicole has come over once since I have been home. A friend of mine said he saw her at The Fish Market with some guy. I'm sure she is screwing him and it looks as though she has gotten away.....again
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Confused
I was sitting around the house yesterday hanging out with Luke when I got a call from Melanie (a “friend” of mine). She informed me that her dishwasher was leaking and asked if I could come over and repair it. Please, before you start asking me how to repair appliances and whatnots around your house, understand that Tom Kraeutler I am not. I am just someone who gets lucky from time to time with some things around my house.
I informed Melanie that I could not help her due to Luke. That is when she offered her younger sister’s services. Her sister, Kayla, is very attractive and if she were not 17, I would have already tried to roger her. Honestly, if I knew no one would find out, I would have already tried, but seeing as how I don’t think I would do too well in prison, I have ignored my animalistic feelings toward her. To make matters worse, Melanie has informed me that Kayla thinks I am “hot” – damn that age thing. Kayla has babysat for me before, and while she is expensive ($25 an hour), Luke really seems to enjoy her and she is saving up her money to go on her senior class cruise. Seeing as how both of these women needed my services, I agreed to help.
Once they arrived at my home, of course there was the awkward eye contact with Kayla and Melanie didn’t help matters when she grabbed my cack and then kissed me (yes, she is a tramp).
When Melanie and I arrived at her house, I soon realized when she said her dishwasher was leaking, she really meant her moose lip was leaking and she needed me to plug it. Kayla has her faults, but due to her having an oversized clitoris (my theory); she has a very impressive sex drive. She has informed me that it’s nothing for her to rub one out 2 or 3 times a day. A couple of my friends have dated her and eventually broken up with her because they can’t keep up, or they find out she has been sluttin’ around on them. For the next few hours we tussled in her bed, on her kitchen table, and in her bath tub. By the way ladies, if any of you happen to have one of those jetted tubs in your home, it seems to really do the trick on the highest setting if you know what I mean.
Anyway, once we finished, we headed back over to my place. It was late, so Luke had already gone to bed and Kayla was watching ‘Flavor of Love’. We finished watching it and as they were getting ready to leave, Melanie started looking through Kayla’s purse (Kayla was in the bathroom) for some gum. It’s at this point where I got confused.
I’m fixing myself a Lean Pocket and am clueless as to what is going on around me. I hear Melanie say: “What is this, Kayla?” Kayla screams out: “Why are you going through my purse?” and then she starts crying and runs out of the house. I look around and Melanie is holding a pair of my underwear. She looks at me, throws my underwear down on the counter and dashes out the door. I don’t know if Kayla put a pair of my underwear in her purse; if Luke may have put them in there or Melanie did it as a joke, and I don’t want to ask because I imagine it will be a very uncomfortable conversation. To top it off, I didn’t even pay Kayla the $75 for the babysitting.
I informed Melanie that I could not help her due to Luke. That is when she offered her younger sister’s services. Her sister, Kayla, is very attractive and if she were not 17, I would have already tried to roger her. Honestly, if I knew no one would find out, I would have already tried, but seeing as how I don’t think I would do too well in prison, I have ignored my animalistic feelings toward her. To make matters worse, Melanie has informed me that Kayla thinks I am “hot” – damn that age thing. Kayla has babysat for me before, and while she is expensive ($25 an hour), Luke really seems to enjoy her and she is saving up her money to go on her senior class cruise. Seeing as how both of these women needed my services, I agreed to help.
Once they arrived at my home, of course there was the awkward eye contact with Kayla and Melanie didn’t help matters when she grabbed my cack and then kissed me (yes, she is a tramp).
When Melanie and I arrived at her house, I soon realized when she said her dishwasher was leaking, she really meant her moose lip was leaking and she needed me to plug it. Kayla has her faults, but due to her having an oversized clitoris (my theory); she has a very impressive sex drive. She has informed me that it’s nothing for her to rub one out 2 or 3 times a day. A couple of my friends have dated her and eventually broken up with her because they can’t keep up, or they find out she has been sluttin’ around on them. For the next few hours we tussled in her bed, on her kitchen table, and in her bath tub. By the way ladies, if any of you happen to have one of those jetted tubs in your home, it seems to really do the trick on the highest setting if you know what I mean.
Anyway, once we finished, we headed back over to my place. It was late, so Luke had already gone to bed and Kayla was watching ‘Flavor of Love’. We finished watching it and as they were getting ready to leave, Melanie started looking through Kayla’s purse (Kayla was in the bathroom) for some gum. It’s at this point where I got confused.
I’m fixing myself a Lean Pocket and am clueless as to what is going on around me. I hear Melanie say: “What is this, Kayla?” Kayla screams out: “Why are you going through my purse?” and then she starts crying and runs out of the house. I look around and Melanie is holding a pair of my underwear. She looks at me, throws my underwear down on the counter and dashes out the door. I don’t know if Kayla put a pair of my underwear in her purse; if Luke may have put them in there or Melanie did it as a joke, and I don’t want to ask because I imagine it will be a very uncomfortable conversation. To top it off, I didn’t even pay Kayla the $75 for the babysitting.
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