Making sense of my adventures with women, one disaster at a time.



These mini stories weren’t good enough to make into a full-on blog. They were worth writing because they did have a small punchline or two, but are best said in a paragraph rather than a long drawn out story.

Kate was a 33-year-old ex-Arizona Wildcat cheerleader. I met her at Sutra. As I walked by her, I caught her smiling at me while she was sitting on a couch. I didn’t hesitate. I drifted over to her and sat on her lap. Two hours later we ended up at her place where she instantly took her dogs on a walk. She just left me in the house. When she came back, her hair was mysteriously all frazzled and she was holding a plastic bag full of shit. She tossed the shit away and led me to her room. We fucked, but something didn’t feel right about her pussy. After finishing, I turned on the lights to look for my clothes. Horror overtook me. There was blood all over her sheets and two distinct blood handprints on her ass from when I fucked her doggystyle. In addition, there were several smears on her and me. I ran to the bathroom to wash the blood off my horror movie hands and peeled the now red condom off my dick. I said goodbye and left. 



Christy was a 35-year-old brunette I met on Catalina Island. We made out two of the nights I was there, but she refused to do any further sexual activities because she wasn’t “down with tents.” The beach was too dirty for her too. She needed someplace comfortable. A week later, I drove down to her place in San Diego. We did everything. We had sex. We had buttsex (no poop). She gave me a rimjob. Good times. Before I left, she told me to bring clippers and a razor next time because she wanted to shave my ass. A week later, I brought them over, put my legs in the air, and let her shave my ass. It tickled, but it was worth it I suppose. After she finished, she told me to take a shower. In the corner of my eye I saw her sniff her hand. Two seconds later she said, “Make sure you wash your ass with soap.” I washed up, used soap, and received a rimjob of epic proportions. 



My buddy Napolean brought three girls over from work. Joanne was one of them. She was a blimp–Goodyear. But I liked her boobs. There were three girls and three guys. The situation was ideal, but I somehow got stuck with fatty. Rex and I were roommates at the time, so we had to strategically take turns in the room. He went first. I went second. I brought Goodyear into my room and maneuvered my way around her so I could stick my dick inside. Halfway through our session, Napolean’s girl began banging on our door. Napolean was obviously doing a terrible job of keeping her occupied. She even tried coming in, but the door was locked. She sat against the door and cried, “Joanne what are you doing?” Joanne was on my team. She said, “I’m almost done.” The villain cried, “Hurry up, I’m tired.” She continued with, “Come onnnnnnnnn.” Then she began to pound on the door. This chick was irritating the shit out me. I had enough. I yelled back in fury, “We’re almost done!!!!” She stopped. Peace belonged to us.



Barbara was a 31-year-old Republican. We’d met the previous night at a bar, but she couldn’t take me home because she came with her judgmental friends. She told me to call her tomorrow, and we could fool around at her place. The next day I came over at 2 p.m., sober. She’d prepared for this. Her tiny one-bedroom apartment was illuminated with about thirty candles, and she was wearing a purple lacey nightgown. We sat on the couch for twenty minutes and acted like we gave a fuck about each others’ backgrounds. We then retreated to the bedroom where we fucked. She was a paranoid freak. Apparently two of her friends had gotten pregnant from one-night stands, so every three minutes she would remind me to “make sure I pulled out.” It was a turnoff hearing it so many times. She was already on the pill, I was wearing a condom, and yes, I was going to pull out. She probably had a diaphragm in too. Every time I’d moan, she’d assume I was ejaculating, and she’d yell, “Pull out!” So we fucked in silence. The sex sucked. She had somehow become the unfortunate victim of her friends’ reality. How dumb.



Mara was a traffic girl on some FM radio station. I met her at a bar in Newport. She refused to make out with me at the bar because she didn’t want to be “one of those girls.” She later told me that she’d only have sex with a guy that she was dating (the last guy she dated for SIX months, and she still didn’t sleep with him). But she was moving to Minnesota in a couple weeks, and I had no strings attached. I considered my chances “legitimate.” Besides, every prude has a breaking point. I took her out for sushi a week later. I paid for the food, and she paid for the alcohol. It was a deal. We went back to my place and made out on the couch. Then we went to my room. She was hot enough to go down on, but after fingering her, I secretly smelled my fingers (a test I always do before going down on ANY girl). The results were not good. She went down on me instead. Then we fucked. A week later she moved to Minnesota and then quietly added me on myspace to justify her unconventional act. 



Vanessa was a 22-year-old blonde that looked like a pornstar. She had fake blonde hair, one-inch long acrylic nails, long tan voluptuous legs, an amazing ass, and a silly giggle. We met on Halloween through her friend who was dating Punchline. Vanessa was supposedly dressed up as a “sheriff.” She thought her toy gun was cute. I thought it was lame. I “accidentally” stepped on it when she wasn’t looking. We went to Woody’s, and she made me dance with her. Her fake hair smelled like Elmer’s glue. I led her outside, and we made out. Soon after, we walked back to my place and went straight for the bed. Everything was great until during our second go-around, she implied that my penis was too small. She said, “Your dick isn’t that……nevermind.” She was the first girl to tell me this, but I didn’t focus on the topic of penis size. Instead, I put her on her back and attempted to fist her. If my cock couldn’t do the job for her, this surely would. I was right. I got all five fingers in but couldn’t get past my knuckles no matter how hard I pushed. At one point I began to think I was hurting her, so I had to check my fist to see if there was blood on it. There wasn’t. I stuck my fist back in and she started to scream again. Being the pornstar she was, she squirted a small puddle of juice onto my bed. I continued to fist her some more. She deserved it.


One Response to “Quickies”

  1. You talk about women like a total cunt

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