Two years ago I had a roommate that would bring over the filthiest girl ever. He'd always fuck her at 11 pm, and he would do it in the most obnoxious, irritating way possible. That wasn't really bad, though, since I could jack off to the sound of them fucking while I looked at my porno magazines.
What was bad was how she always left the toilet. After every visit, the fucking thing mysteriously had blood, urine, and pubes all over it, and she ALWAYS clogged it up with her poop.
I fucking hated that girl.
This might seem like a gimmick post, cause of my handle, but it's not. I'm serious.
Today, I was at work and it was a particularly hard, hot day there. By the time I was done doing what I had to do, I was seriously dehydrated, so I went to the lunch truck and bought two vitamin waters, which I drank back to back. Then I went into the main building and took a few large gulps of water from the fountain, and got a bottle of water out of the fridge and drank that. I drank another bottle of water on the drive home and got a large diet coke from McDonalds too, which I drank most of.
I got home, and I was sitting here reading the frontpage article on Man Vs. Wild, when I tried to fart and damn near shit my pants. So I ran to the bathroom, blew out a large chunk of shit which came out like a cannonball, followed by a river of brown liquid. And I don't mean liquid like it was chunky and wet, I mean it was pure liquid.
I should mention that there wasn't any cramping or anything like that, it sort of came out of nowhere. My stomachs kinda gurgling right now so I don't know if it's done with me yet.
But my question is, was it the large amount of liquid I just drank that caused this? Or could it be something more serious? It was no more than an hour, hour and a half tops between when I started drinking and when the hershey river started flowing, it seems like that wouldn't be a long enough time for the fluid to get through my system.
I had this cloth jester puppet that I liked to use to entertain my little cousins. One day I was just idly fiddling with it in my bedroom when a brief thought came to mind: "Wouldn't it be funny to puppet play with your dick?" So after looking through a few magazines I had stored under my bed, I placed the fellow 'pon my erect member. It was actually pretty boring, but at this point I realized I had a decent vagina substitute. It needed to be lined with tissue on the inside to prevent friction from burning my fellow up, but after some lotion application, it worked just fine.
So there I was, humpin' a puppet while squeezing its midsection as if my life depended on it, when I hear a knock at my door. I begin to say "just a minute" when my dad walks in. He's frozen in place for a moment so I just scream the first half-excuse that comes to mind.
"Jeez it's chilly in here!"
He turns around and slowly leaves the room, quietly muttering that Kerry (a friend I had a crush on at the time) was waiting for me on the porch. Finishing up, I fix myself up and dazedly wander out onto the porch. She wants to talk about something going on at her house, but I'm on the verge of tears in shame. My stomach is twisting and turning and I notice that sour feeling in my cheeks before I can do anything but make a futile attempt to relieve myself in a non-humiliating way. I lean in to her face and quietly say while she's mid-sentence, "I've got to fucking throw up."
I then try to run into my house, end up slipping on the rug inside, and fall right on my stomach. I throw up (though it was actually pretty small and mostly liquid as I hadn't eaten much that day) and start sobbing afterwards. She's just staring at me, and I can tell she half wants to comfort me and half wants to run away. My dad has come into the hallway where he could see me and is just standing there and looking at me with pure shame. I just kept sobbing.
On a positive note, I ended up selling the puppet at a yard sale to a really sweet autistic kid who lived in the neighborhood, so hopefully someone now has fond memories of that thing.
I suck at noticing things so consider this thread an act of God.
I was at my favorite pool place shooting some stick by myself waiting for my friends to show when I made a particularly difficult shot. Proud of myself, I turned and bumped into a reasonably pretty girl in her mid/late 20's.
"Would you like to play pool with my dad?" she asked.
I had noticed her and her "father", a man in his 50's watching me play. I'm a reasonably good player but I was kind of dorking around so most anyone watching would think they could beat me.
I told them I would like to play but I don't play for money and that was cool with them.
Juliette, as she called herself, cheered her father in an uncomfortable, deliverance-ish kind of way when he made a good shot and cursed me when I sunk a ball.
Her dad was pretty good so when he was on a longer shooting run she had some time to spend with me. The time elapsed between introductions and her starting to grope me was about 4 minutes. Not long after that she admitted that this guy wasn't her father even though she continued to call him various derivatives of "daddy" throughout the night...Creepy, but now I'm guessing the dude paid for it.
I mentioned this at the beginning but I'm probably in the top 5% of the most clueless people on the planet but even I was able to understand what was going on.
A whore was playing with my balls (pool only). This was confirmed later by multiple patrons and staff.
I've seen whores on COPS before but I've never seen one up close. I even did my best to let the guy win so his "lady" would treat him right...more bang for the buck.
I honestly think I handled myself pretty well for my first face-to-face hooker experience but I would be interested to hear from any hookers or hookees about the people you've met or the things you've done or the price that you've paid (cash or otherwise).
Helldump Version: Hookers Suck! but not as much as GBS
I was betrayed by the bernio bros, the cougars, and this guy from back page I hired to keep me from jumping out a window at the DNC.
TOTAL WRECK - crazy-eyed hound is covered in cobwebs, has a vespiary on back, graffiti on side and savage thirst for boat fuel. Frankly, I'm in over my head. He's in room 115 at Motel 6, yours free. 555-2851
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