.
You've heard about my glorious tales of triumph and filth for over a month now. Let me hear what kind of crazed, deprived, horrific acts have you pulled off? I know they won't be as heinous as mine, but I'd sure love to hear about them.| Superman Soars Over NYC |
| Friday, 28 September 2007 | |
 This is one of my more regrettable tales, and, I sadly admit, it did not happen very long ago. My ability to consume monstrous amounts of fire water like I did almost nightly in college was tested recently when my buddy Brett and I decided it was a swell idea to go bar hopping in Manhattan. After a few not so great places filled with boisterous, overly perky glamazon chicks (see, "Stuck up chicks piss me off) we came upon a tiny hole in the wall crapbox that advertised 25 cent beers. It was like Manna from heaven. This nasty, watered down sludge actually didn't taste so bad after I had invested $2.75 (do the math). It was a very dark bar filled with highly questionable people. Since I only concentrated on pouring booze down my throat like prohibition was imminent, I did not get a good look at who else was in the bar other than Brett, who was equally as sloshed. What I'm trying to say here is, I had beer goggles that were about as thick as double plated glass, and things were about to get ugly. "Beer goggles," of course is a term reserved for times when you are so intoxicated you would stick your sex stick in a car door (see "Thaaar she bows! Plowing a fat chick) if it showed affection. This was probably the worst such instance of beer goggles since Eddie Murphy porked Scary Spice. My one eyed monster is actually becoming a one eyed earthworm right now as I think about it. Brett introduces me to a couple of woman who looked like hot Asian chicks at the time. I have since learned they were poster children for lifting the international ban on whaling. Brett is all about this one chick, and they leave the bar and go for a "walk in the park," even though Central Park is about 40 blocks uptown. Brett never was much for numbers. I am left alone with this woman who I will dub "Cindy." Cindy may have been her real name for all I know, maybe she can email if that's correct of I just pulled this one from my anal cavity. Cindy told me she lives close by, and does something that involves touching feet for a living. I pretended to be enthralled. One thing lead to another, and once I had invested $5.50 into this place Cindy was hammer-jerking my beef bayonet under the bar with the vigor 8 cylinder engine. I decide to go back to her place. I could find my friend in the morning. We get to her place and I am immediately stunned at the sight of young children's toys everywhere. I am so piss drunk I can't formulate the nation that Cindy might have kids. She takes me into her room and we start getting busy. As shes slurping on my man stick like a cum flavored tootsie roil, I begin to sober up a bit and realize she is not terribly attractive, and doesn't want to take her shirt off. This is strange, but I go with it because I'm a firm believer that anything worth doing is worth doing right. That being said, if you're in the position to pummel a rotund domineering Asian mastodon mother of three, you might as well finish the job. Missionary is kind of hard with a big girl because it's hard to find the honey pot under the globs of cellulite. So hard, in fact that I decided to flip her over and just stab like a Manson Disciple at her anal/vag/taint region until i finally found something that I could hump. I ran into another problem when I realized she was not only chunky, but kind of tall. Being a pretty short guy, I couldn't get my man piston into her without loosing my balance, or having to stand up. I realized I had to dangle my legs up in the air and hold onto her back to support this maneuver. I took her shirt off (finally) and saw something completely horrible. Her back was covered in some kind of lesions. Almost as if the creature from Michael Crichton's "Sphere" had attacked her, and, from the looks of her, she probably ate it after kicking it's ass. "I should've told you about my psoriasis," she said. I was speechless. This was horrible. Hindsight being 20/20, I should have ran for the hills and never looked back- who cared if I couldn't find my clothes. But, I was still at full mast, and my man member was still ready for some nasty time. Of course, given the circumstances I've laid out for you, this was going to be somewhat difficult. So, I ended up penetrating this chick with my legs and arms bout outstretched into the air, as if i was flying through the air. In reality, the only thing I was flying towards was shame and degradation. I later told Brett about my experience over eggs the next morning. "Damn son, you done Superman'ed that ass," Yes, Brett. Yes I did.                       |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
