A Nightmare of a Wingman
I sat there, on that bed, starring at something that... I couldn't quite make sense of. The physics behind her fat ass legs were, literally, astounding. How in the hell did this girl stand up? I was curious as to how the cellulite on the back of her legs made the patterns that they did, and i tried to make sense of them, looking for designs that may appear to be familiar in the real world. Kind of like how you look for chickens and rabbits in the clouds. Only this time around I was looking for knives and vacuums, so that I might cut this bitch open and then suck all the fat from this silo and then donate it to some anorexic 14 year old who's life is "so depressing" that she wears black every day, watches anime, and slits her wrists for the attention, not because she actually needs help. Everyone hates an anorexic 14 year old and/or ending up with a woman at the conclusion of a drunken night who's more acquainted with Little Debbie than Maybelline. How did I get myself into this situation in the first place? More importantly, how am I going to get out?
It was a Friday, and being a member of the homo sapien species, it was time to indulge myself in bingeful drinking habits to celebrate another week gone by. I had met up with people who wished to accompany me on my journey through the lands of intoxicated, and in no time we were on our way to the fraternity house, KA, where which we would hold our plans of festivities amongst many other people who had the same agenda. A few shots (Bacardi, Vodka, someone had offered me Jagermeister at one point thats hard to remember) and a fair amount of beer-bonged Budweiser had set the mood to a night of nights that seemed most promising. Karma, the keeper of that promise, had broken what it had said it would deliver. Instead, it gave me this story that i share with you now.
As you can imagine, I was fucked up beyond all consciousness in the time it takes a girl who doesn't wear make up to do her make up (damn near instant). I could be compared to a wandering blob of space who does nothing but hit on anything that carries around curves of about 34B and above. I had danced with many, and one asian who comes to mind was, frankly, hot for an asian, as well as someone who I should have invited myself to go home with. But we all make mistakes and have losses. The fact is I danced with her. I'm a Fucking idiot.
Jed, my accomplice in crime and all that which should not be spoken of, had invited a friend of his, who invited friends of hers. This, generally a situation of positive outcome, was one that I welcomed with open arms and an erect penis. She, Jessie, had provided, and it was good for the most part. They ranged from hot to not, which is expected, all women need a friend that they can 100% out preform, it's part of their culture. It was at this time that I had met the one that karma, the bastard spoken of earlier, presented me as its gift. For personal purposes that will remain untold, we will call her Pimp Daddy Stank Nasty (PDSN).
PDSN wasn't necessarily horrendous. She beheld the curves afore mentioned, therefore, she made the cut for my intoxicated desires. As I acquainted myself with her female anatomy, she told me her name that I immediately forgot (do not be mistaken, I did not rename her PDSN only because I forgot her name, but for a far more deeper purpose than that). I had not even so much as spoken a word to her before she had declared dibs on me. And me, completely oblivious and unaware of what laid before me, had wished that she never did lay before me...
It was a good party. Nothing to jot down in the history books of parties, but a party held and a party done, nonetheless. So, as it was time to return home, PDSN and Jessie had invited Jed and I back to her place for the remainder of the night. Jed, looking to hopefully tap some ass, gave me the role of the indisputable WINGMAN, which to this day he has yet been forgiven for. We made our way back to the middle of Bum-Fucking Egypt, where Jessie resided. It was there that everything took place.
We all went inside. I was starting to sober up at this given moment in time, and starting to become less, and less, and Fucking less attracted to this behemoth who would not leave me the hell alone. I found my way to the most uncomfortable chair in the residents and fell asleep for a short period of time. Jed, that fuck head of a "person" (i put person in quotes because anyone who suggests the following should not be declared an individual, more over a complete jackass who should be no more and no less than 6 feet below my feet) awakened me with a text that said this: "She's in there waiting for you dude."
I had, indeed, forgotten all about PDSN. I sat there debating what I should do. What the hell? A lay is a lay. Ladies and gentleman, I am here, b'Rock, to tell you that a lay is NOT a lay. Some lays can be disastrous. This is a warning to you, humanity.
I entered a room that I now have night terrors over and frequently compare to scenes that would be found in horror movies such as "Saw" or "Hostel." It was dark, and there was a futon. I, not sure if i wanted to sleep or get some, just laid down in the bed, and awaited her next move. If she went for it, I'd be alright with it. She did. So I turned my head to kiss her, which is where it all started. As I went in for a kiss, she let out a small breath, one that I can never forget. Alzheimer's could not erase that which smelt so dreadful that, as it entered my lungs, was rejected by my body in the form of a cough and a small regurgitation of food once ate hours ago. Needless to say, we kissed once all night, I simply could not find it within all my willpower to have her tongue shoved down my throat with that breath that smelt of brimstone and asshole.
Her boobs were nice. That's all this girl had going for her. She was wearing a jacket that night, one which emphasized her busty nature and completely eradicated her obesity. Her stomach could be quite easily compared to the Rocky Mountains: enormous, and the cellulite provided many crevasses and valleys for small villages to arise. Having said this, it can be concluded there was only one position that would be allowed in this situation... Doggy. I did not want to have to look at this.
Alas, flipping her over so that I would not have to witness that which disturbs everything from God to small children presented another dilemma. Supposing that her breath smelt like an asshole, her asshole smelt of asshole squared. I was ready for insertion, when the though of very old, unattended dingle berries entered my mind. This butthole was rancid beyond anything you or I have ever dreamed. Thankfully, she was a very dry person, which lead to me not being able to penetrate (WITH a lubricated condom...), which concluded that epidemic I was experiencing.
I fell face first into the pillow and announced "This isn't going to work." And this is where my pay back was to begin. This is where I bit Karma in the ass, for once. She turned to me and said "All we need to do is lube you up," hinting at the occurrence of a blow job. Instantly, it came to me. She went down, doing that thing that girls do when they give blow jobs. When the time came, I had not told her, not warned her, just flipped her over, said "I'm cumming" and sprayed all of that which makes a man a man in her face, hair, and left eye.
I laid back down, and slowly drifted away. Cries for help and "get me a towel" were heard, processed, and indefinitely ignored. I awoke the next morning to slip out of bed, put on my converse, and see her, with an expression that said "whats your number?" I left her with two words that said it all, two words that said alot more than what they did, two words that plainly gave her the middle finger and stated "You're not getting my number, wipe your butthole."
Those two words were:
"See ya."