This past weekend I met up with my buddy and his friends from college who were all swimmers and many of them Olympians. We started our day by hitting the pool party at the W. We were just hanging out, when these older bros, who were having a bachelor party, randomly guessed my friends were Olympic swimmers. They were buying us drinks all day and said we should come to their bottle service they had at a local spot.
Fast forward to that night and my buddies and I hit a different bar. After getting shitfaced on every kind of alcohol (and a couple lines), we decide we should focus on getting girls for the night. I ended up striking out and on the way back to the hotel room, I run into the guys from the pool. They recognize me and tell me they're going to the strip club and practically throw me in the cab to go with them.
I'm the club for about five minutes before these two strippers come up to me and say they only do their private shows together. The ringleader of the bachelor party then tosses the strippers his credit card and tells them to “Give him everything he can handle.” These girls waste no time in getting fully naked and fingering each other. They then proceed to blow me at the same time and I finished on the one with the fake tits. I got that one's number and got a ride home with her from the club at 6 A.M.
By far the wildest night of my life. Thanks random bachelor party dudes. I've already scheduled an STD test.
I’m what you might like to call an anomaly. I’m a 25-year-old undergraduate. I’ve been thrown out of college three times: twice for failing and once when my ex-girlfriend’s mother reported me to the school for smoking weed in my dorm room. I have three tattoos down my thighs and I pierced my own nipples. I’m 5’3 and weigh about 110 pounds.
And I’m confined to a wheelchair.
This makes it difficult for me to get women (I fuck men sometimes), but I manage. I went to high school with a 300-pound black chick named LaQuanda. My parents are well-off; hers weren't, so I couldn’t tell my family about her. But more importantly, LaQuanda is crazy as fuck. They put her on Seroquel when she threw 40-lb. dumbbells at her personal trainer after he told her she didn’t squat right. She’s getting her degree in an outpatient program and her mother places her curfew at 6:30 at night.
I was home for the summer and called her.
LaQuanda showed up outside my house wearing tight orange leggings with plastic jewels on them. I asked how she was and she said she just got out of the psych ward not too long ago. I told her that was perfect. She likes to fuck Crips, so I wrapped it up.
She jumped on top and rode me like she was fleeing the funny farm. Her pussy was wet, her thighs slithered against my hips and her booty undulated like corn pudding. She was even better at giving head because she was hungry. I cooked her an omelet afterwards in gratitude.
But I put some beans in it. LaQuanda hates beans. So with my 110-pound body secured under her 300-pound one, LaQuanda grabbed my belt, flipped me over, and whipped my ass.
We kept this up for a couple of months. One day in August I called LaQuanda and she started screaming at me.
“Fuck you, white man!” she spat.
“I thought you liked helpless little white guys,” I said.
“You’re oppressing me!” she hollered. “You’re trying to bring down a strong black woman!”
“Don’t you ever fucking call me again! I’ll have Tyrone beat your ass!”
LaQuanda had met a black supremacist named Tyrone. He has an impressive regional pull; 7,000 people follow him on Twitter. He was fucking her and everyone else in his cult. I never saw her again.
Maybe I should be relieved in a way. On the one hand, she proved that there are women willing to accept all of the following: I’m scrawny; I’m an alcoholic; I’m a masochist; I have a 1.5 GPA; I’ve never had a job; I fuck men. And I’m in a wheelchair.
On the other hand, I am hoping that not all of those women are like LaQuanda.
Because to her, my ultimate flaw is that I’m white.
I go to IUP, which if y'all aren't from Pennsylvania or the East Coast is Indiana University of Pennsylvania. We're a pretty damn good party school for a D2 college.
So story time. I used to run track here and the track houses are known to be that of legend. Something good is always happening. My 21st was on a Sunday, but we started partying on Friday night for it. Two of my dudes from home come to visit and party for the first time. We had a small kegger, probably 75 people, and had a pretty damn good time.
Then Saturday rolls around. Five more of my dudes come up from home and we're ready to get rowdy. We throw a little pre-party at my place, with about 100 people and we're having a great time. All of the sudden, I hear my mom's voice. She and my dad decided to show up to party with us for the night, which pumps me up even more. I'm an only child and really close with my parents, plus they act like 21-year-olds on weekends, so even my friends are stoked they're there.
Anyways, after minimal pregaming in order to not die at the bar, we head up to the bar at midnight for the first time. I never had a fake, so this was legit my first time being in a bar up here. I walk in, and my one dude immediately hands a Four Horseman and a Long Island. Great way to start (pause…NOT). I put down who-knows-how-many-more and then this girl I'd been hooking up with walks in. She buys me three shots, then starts taking shots with my mom. We leave to head to another bar, and my parents head back to their hotel. I remember pretty much nothing after this.
I wake up in the morning naked next to her. I figure there was no way I could have gotten it up, so I didn't have to worry about anything. I sit up, and am pretty pissed because she let me spill water in my bed. Then I take a deep breath. And I smell it. It wasn't water. I pissed the bed. And all over her. Golden shower to the max. I run out of my room, still drunk out of my mind, and head downstairs to make sure my dudes are all alive.
We all start talking about the night, and they say they had a great time. She walks downstairs and asks if I can ride her home. I say, “Bitch, does it look like I can drive right now?” So she just asks for a jacket to walk back in. I respond, “You have piss all over you. Get out of my house.” I then feel bad because I consider myself to be at least a decent dude.
My mom calls me, asks if I'm alive, then gives me the greatest news ever. My dad pissed the bed too. And all over my mom. Like father, like son. I don't think he's ever been so proud of me. Oh, and the girl called me later that day. I apologized and she invited me over for birthday sex. All's well that ends well… in a golden shower.