The Squirrel Master and the Pee Snowball

Back in college I was your friendly neighborhood dopeman (This becomes important later in the story).  I was always resourceful when it came to making money the wrong ways.

The college was in a shitty little town in PA.  The majority of off campus students lived a few blocks behind the school.  Kids were always walking up and down the street and hanging out drinking on each others porches.  It was a small school so pretty much everyone knew each other.

Snow days were always the most fun in college.  Snow = no class = total fucking shit show.  When we would hear about snow coming we would stockpile booze and drugs for the next day.  It was like Christmas.  Sort of.  We would start drinking when we got up. Then we would head to the main bar, which was a block from my house, for shitty food and more booze.

Students ran the bar, so on snow days it would open early.  Everyone would flock there by 12-1 in the afternoon. The funniest thing is everyone bitched about the bar, saying how much they hated going there.  But every weekend it would be packed with all those same people.  There really wasn’t anywhere else to go honestly.

This snow day in particular ended up being little more special than usual.  My roommates and I got up, ate and started to drink.  I made sure to eat right away.  As soon as that meal was done I was doing my first ripper.  Eating after that became much more difficult.

The Squirrel Master and my other roommate hit me up for a bag early.  Within 45 minutes they had ripped right through it.  I knew with how hard everyone was drinking and partying they would want more really soon.

About 30 minutes after they finished their first bag the Squirrel Master came looking for another half gram. The only issue is he had no money.  Now, I was huge asshole in college.  I liked making people do shit for my entertainment.  I had the two key ingredients to make that dream a reality in college. Coke and money.

The Squirrel Master really wanted a bag.  I knew he wanted it bad enough to do something really fucked up for my enjoyment.  I told him I would figure out a way for us to barter.  Ideas went back and forth in my head, but nothing seemed worthwhile.  Then I walked outside and saw a guy walking his dog and it hit me.  I ran back inside and told him I would gladly give him the bag if he ate a pee snowball.  Without blinking he agreed.  I decided this was going to be so much fun that I went and invited the neighbors to come watch.

I walked outside and packed a cup full of snow.  I pulled out my dick and pissed on the snow just like you would if you were pouring syrup over a snow cone.  Everyone was outside waiting with anticipation to see if he would go through with this.  I walked over to him and poured the yellow snowball into his tiny little cupped hands.

Without hesitations he took the first big bite.  Everyone watching was gagging, laughing and running around.  As soon as he swallowed the first bite he gagged and spit it up everywhere.  That didn’t stop him though.  He was determined to chow down and get his prize.  People were begging him not to finish.  They were offering to give him the money for the bag if he to stopped.  Every bite he chomped down he gagged and spit right back up until he was finished.

By the time he was done most people had stopped watching.  I guess it was just too much for most people to handle.  He came up to me with biggest grin on his face and put his hand out in front of me.  It was his way of saying “fuck you pay me.”  He stepped up and met the challenge.  I don’t really remember too much else about that day.  But, the Squirrel Masters feat of strength showed his will.  College was the fucking best.

The Instant I Knew It Was Me, Not Them

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In my 20’s and early 30’s I ran around like a maniac.  Fueled by booze, drugs and pussy.  I basically lived off cocaine, steroids, pills and alcohol.  Sleeping with any woman that presented herself as available for me. I racked up a ton of notches on my belt.  I thought I was the fucking man!  However, there was a part of me that always wondered why I couldn’t find a “good girl” to settle down with.  I would bitch about the chicks I met.  Constantly classifying them all as “whores” and “bitches.”  Never once looking at my own behavior or realizing that we attract what we put out into the world.

That thinking literally all changed in one instant when I was 27.  For the next 6-7 years after I still attracted fucked up women with issues like my own.  I just had become cognizant of it.  It was like an alarm went off inside of me.  More like I was hit square in the head with a 2×4.

I was in Australia, visiting some friends.  I met these Aussies a few months prior on a trip to Europe.  After spending some time with them I ventured off on my own up to Queensland. I hung out in Surfers Paradise for a couple days.  While taking some surfing lessons one day I met a few Canadians.  They mentioned a bar crawl that was going on that night in the area.  So I put on my tightest shirt and went out looking to find some pussy down under. I was by myself on this guided bar crawl.  Everyone was drinking heavily.  We all made small talk and got to know each other.  I remember these two goofy, little Australian guys who kept talking to me about gangs because I was an American.  They repeatedly mentioned the “heaps of Crips” they had down under.  Although, not pertinent to the story but Crips in Australia????  Anyway, I ended up breaking away from the bar crawl and went straight to my bread and butter; the strip clubs.

Once inside the strip club I continued drinking.  I went about my usual ways chatting up the girls who were working.  One brunette in particular took a liking to me. She got a kick out of my accent and my “American ways.”  I was a loud, brash, cocky bastard and she was into that.  As the night was wrapping up I invited her back to my hotel room.  She told me she couldn’t leave with me becasuse That was considered solicitation.  If someone saw us we could get fined.  She told me to meet her at Macca’s (its what the Australians call McDonald’s) in 45 minutes.  Then we could go back to my hotel room.

I wasn’t sure she would actually show up, but I had nothing better to do at 4:30 in the morning, so fuck it, I went.  Sure enough she was there.  She grabbed a burger and we went back to my place.  When we got back to the hotel we headed right to the bedroom to have sex.  I don’t recall it being very good.  Looking back I knew jackshit about sex at the time.  Of course I thought differently.

After we finished we were laying in bed talking.  She told me she had to leave to get back to her “partner.”  I was a little confused by the term and why she chose that word over and over again.  I asked if she had a girlfriend.  She then proceeded to tell me “Not exactly; my partner is a tranny and we have 2 kids together.”  You may think that was the moment the alarm in my head went off.  WRONG!

I started to ask questions about her partner and her life.  She told me she was from New Zealand and she had been around transexuals all her life.  Her father apparently pimped them.  She also casually mentioned that her and her sister had done a porno together.  When I say together, I mean together; as in incest!

Out of some sick sense of curiosity I asked if she still had sex with her partner.  She told me her partner was beautiful and they still slept together occasionally.  The stories just continued to go down hill from there.  She said her partner was taking hormones and no longer had testicles.  I asked if he had surgery to remove them.  Without hesitation she blurted out, “Well he came home one night after a long meth bender and he finally got the courage to ask me to cut them off.”  My face dropped.  I thought she was kidding.  But, with a completely straight face she told me cut off his balls with a box-cutter.  Apparently he had to go to the hospital because he almost bled to death!

That’s when it happened. At that very moment I wasn’t even that shocked by the story to be honest.  I was more taken back by the realization I came to about myself.  It was literally the defining moment in my life when I realized I that I was the problem.  All of my crazy relationship issues had one common denominator.  ME!  it wasn’t the girls, its was me.  I brought all of this about because I was fucked up.  Its the law of the universe.  We attract what we put out there.

The next day I woke up a little hungover.  It was a beautiful day so I headed to the beach.  My phone went off as I was getting a bite to eat.  It was the her.  I suppose you can already guess the worst part about this story.  Even after what I had learned the night before I still invited her over and fucked her again.  Pussy is a powerful drug.  Yep; its me not them.

 

Fuck You and Your Knife

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13 years ago my friend Sober Joe and I were walking down the street at my Alma Matter. The bar had closed and we were going back to his house.  Out of nowhere a girl ran out of her house wearing nothing but a blood stained bra and underwear.  This seemed a bit odd, even for that college town.  She was crying and babbling about how some Townies jumped her boyfriend in the alley.

We followed her back to see what had gone down.  About 15 college kids were standing around talking a bunch of shit.  Some had some weapons, like bottles and one had some sort of stick.  I don’t know what the fuck he thought he was going to do with a stick?

They explained what happened and how their friend was beaten up pretty badly.  “Townies jumped him bro,” they shouted.  As with most college towns their is always some Outsiders type struggle between Townies and College kids.

Joe and I decided to get involved in something we had nothing to do with us and lead the charge to go look for these guys.  We found them a block away.  There were 8-10 of them.  We had double their numbers, but I knew damn well 75% of the college kids would never get involved.

My buddy Joe instantly got into an argument with one of the Townies.  Back and forth they started talking a bunch of shit.  Joe was known for running his mouth so what proceeded escalated very quickly.

The one Townie had a knife in his waistband.  He flashed it to us during the exchange of words.   Kind of like the scene from Boyz N the hood, but much less serious.  I took one look at him and said “fuck you and your knife.”  Smart, right?

Joe dropped his six-pack and charged at the guy he was arguing with.  They started fighting. Then a couple more people joined in on the melee.

I saw the guy with the knife pull it out and charge towards Joe.  As fast as I could, I grabbed the guy and threw him against a telephone pole, knocking his knife out of his hands.  He fell to the ground and I got on top of him, punching him repeatedly.

I felt one of his friends grab me and pull me off of him.  We started wrestling until I was able to hip toss him off of me.  I know, I know… I’m making myself sound like a ninja warrior.  I’m really not that tough.  This is just how it went down.

When I turned back around to the fight, the guy who had the knife swung at me wildly.  His arm went around me and hit me in the back.  I punched him square in the jaw and knocked him down.  As he fell, I saw the blade of the knife pass inches from my face.

All of the sudden the fight just kind of ended.  The adrenaline was pumping.  Everyone was staring at me.  I could tell by their faces something was wrong.  Then I heard a girl say “your back.”

I reached around to my back with my right hand, just inside my shoulder blade.  I felt nothing but wet.  When I pulled my hand back around it was covered in blood.  I looked over towards the guy who stabbed me as he and his friends were running away.  I clearly remember him yelling out “fuck you, I got kids to feed; I told you I’d stab you.”  I have no idea what his children had to do with stabbing me, but he definitely one upped me.

The fact that I had been stabbed started to set in.  I could feel the blood running down my back and legs.  I started to panic.  I decided my best course of action was to run down the street like an asshole, trying to find a ride to the hospital.  I ran into a guy we called Powder. He barely knew me, but when he saw me bleeding he offered to give me a ride.  I jumped into his car and we rushed to the hospital.

I walked into the emergency room yelling “hey I got stabbed can someone help me.”  The nurses saw all the blood and quickly took me back to a room.  They cut off all my clothes and laid me down naked on a cold steel table.

I was super nervous, naked, cold and embarrassed by my exposed shrunken penis.  I made jokes and flirted with the nurses.  I asked them if they liked my ass and promised them I was grower not a show-er.  I was scared, jokes are how I cope.

The Doctor wasn’t pleased with my behavior.  He told I was acting inappropriately and I needed to watch my language.  He went as far as to say that if I didn’t stop he wasn’t going to help me.  Being me at  23 years old I replied  “you have to help me, you took the Hippocratic Oath.”  He liked that even less.

The medical team made sure my lung wasn’t punctured and stitched me up.  The nurses allowed Joe and some friends to come back and visit me.  One of my friends was going through this “gay phase” in his life.  He kept trying to kiss me while I was doped up and defenseless in my hospital bed.  It made the night that much more awkward and uncomfortable.

Joe was crying and kept apologizing.  I was high as shit from the meds they gave me.  All I wanted to do was sleep.  The nurses told everyone they needed to leave.  Joe refused and started to cause a little scene.  I asked them to let him stay so it would defuse the situation and I could finally get to rest.

When the nurses left Joe sat down in a chair and fell asleep instantly.  I on the other hand couldn’t sleep for more than a couple minutes at at time.  Not because I was in pain or uncomfortable, but because Joe snored so loud, all night long.  It was like trying to sleep next to a buzzsaw.

To wrap this story up, Joe pissed himself while sleeping in the hospital and I was released the next day.  Explaining this to my mother was a fun time.  But at least I have street cred now.

 

The Little Asian from Craigslist

I was living in San Diego.    My girlfriend at the time (lets call her RT) lived on the East Coast.  Once a month she would come out to visit. Her and I had a really fucked up dysfunctional relationship. However, In some respects it was a whole lot of fun.  At that point in our relationship sex with hookers, trolling Craigslist for threesomes and doing weird shit like blumpkins were the norm for RT and I.  Also, this may come as a shocker, but I was REALLY REALLY fucked up on drugs.

Every time RT came out to visit we would look for girls that we could bring home to party with.  If we didn’t find someone at the bar, or I couldn’t convince a stripper from my favorite club to come home with us we would hit the internet.  Most times this would devolve into the two of us calling escorts until we reached one that actually would show up at that time of night.  Sometimes what showed up was horrifying.  But that didn’t ever stop us.

On this specific visit My best Friend Erik came out with RT.  Literally 3 hours from the time the plane landed he and I ended up in handcuffs.  We had a little altercation with a couple guys at a bar in Pacific Beach.  That set the tone for their visit.

Before they came out RT and I posted an ad on Craigslist looking for a girl who was interested in a threesome.  A tiny Asian girl (lets call her LA) replied to the ad.  She sent pictures of herself and a description of what she was into.  We set up a time to meet at her place.  She told me to bring my best friend a long as well.

The three of us went over to LA’s apartment.  When we arrived she had laid out a fruit and cheese plate for us and paired it with some wine.  This blew my fucking mind for some reason.  We made small talk and decided to hit the hot tub in her complex.  LA quickly sat on Erik’s lap and started jerking him off and kissing him.  RT and I were a little disappointed because we wanted her for ourselves.

When we went back into her apartment, RT went and changed back into her clothes.  LA stopped RT and asked her why she was putting clothes on.  At this point LA went full on turbo.  She pulled my pants down and starting blowing me in front of RT and Erik.  Having been in the water my dick looked rather pitiful from the shrinkage.  I didn’t let that stop the show.  We took a couple of steps from the living room into her bedroom.  RT and LA started taking off each others clothes and feeling each other up.  Erik was standing in doorway watching.  That was a bit awkward and creepy because we never saw each other naked before.

I was fucking RT from behind while she was going down on LA.  At this point LA invited Erik into the room and she started blowing him.  It was rather uncomfortable seeing my best friends dick and his fuck faces.  Finally LA decided she wanted me to fuck her while she went down on RT.

When we switched position things came to a crashing halt.  Erik took a sideline view at this point.  When LA noticed this she pulled her face up from RT’s pussy, looked at Erik and said “put your dick in her mouth and suck on her tits!”  He had a look of horrified confusion on his face that I will never forget.  Erik looked at me as if asking what to do.  I threw my hands up and gave him a face of “hey whatever you want to do.”  He looked at RT, immediately got very flustered and muttered “uhhhhhh we have more of  high five type of relationship” then he ran out of the room.

After Erik left; LA, RT and I really stepped up our game.  It turned into a full on hardcore threesome that would make Bonnie Rotten blush.  Candidly, It was amazing.  LA was just as nasty as RT and I combined.  There was nothing she wasn’t down for.  The whole ordeal was full of sweat, spit and bodily fluids.   It was almost like Gilbert Gottfried’s version of the the aristocrats.

When we finally finished LA looked at us and said “I feel bad for Erik, should I go out and see if he wants to fuck me?”  I was pretty certain he would say no after knowing what went down.  She asked him anyway and he passed.

We were starting to get dressed and ready to leave.  Then LA had one last request.  She wanted to take pictures of our tattoos.  Apparently that is one of her other hobbies/fetishes.  Im not going to lie,  for some reason having her catalog our tattoos seemed like the strangest part of the night.  She took some photos and we went about our way back to my house.

The Saddest Man at Spring Break

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It was Spring Break 2003.  I was 23 years old and equal parts drunk, horny and stupid.  My friend invited me to go Cancun with him and his brother.  His parents had a timeshare at a high end resort that we rented for the week.

Staying at the resort wasn’t the best idea for college kids.  They were sticklers about noise and security guards were all over the place.   Bringing girls back to our room was like trying to sneak them into the White House.  Bribing the guards was nearly impossible.

For the most part, the trip was your typical spring break experience.  College kids everywhere drinking all day and night.  Hanging out at the pool and the beach.  Bikini contests and shots of shitty tequila everywhere we went.

The first night we went out to a club called Daddio’s.  I met this blond chick there who was a school teacher from Michigan.  We hit it off quickly in the VIP section.  I decided we needed to move to somewhere more private, like the corner of the packed club.

A couple minutes of kissing and groping quickly lead to her bent over with her skirt up.  A couple minutes later I came on her back.  She didn’t ask me to wipe it off or clean it up.  She simply pulled her skirt down and we left together.

The week proceeded along in this fashion until our second to last night in Mexico.  The night didn’t start off particularly different than the other nights.  Lots of drinking, loud music, dancing, and girls.  When things were winding down I wasn’t ready to go back to the hotel.  I was far too coked up to call it quits.  A friend and I decided to go out and hit up a local strip club.  Odd how many of my stories involve strip clubs.

We took a cab out of the main part of town to a very sketchy destination.  There in the middle of nowhere stood a strip club like a mirage in the desert.  As soon as we got inside the girls flocked to us.  They could see we were easy marks.

A young, attractive girl talked me into an private dance.  She kept saying “you so handsome” and kissed me while putting her boobs in my mouth.  She was trying to offer me sex and I was trying to accept, but The language barrier made things awkward.  She became nervous and frustrated speaking to me in English and ended up walking away.  Yes, I was turned down by a hooker.

As soon as she left another girl took her place instantly.  Her English was much better, but her looks were much worse.  At that point I was so fucked up and horny It didn’t matter to me.  She lead me up the stairs, past the guards holding guns (just in case someone acts up) to a bedroom.  Once we got into the room I did a line and we got started.

Now some of you reading this may know how coke can effect a mans ability to perform.  I remember the look of sadness and disappointment on her face as she pulled down my pants and went to blow me.  All she saw was a shriveled up, limp dick looking back at her.  She looked up at me and only said “ohhhhhhh.”   I could tell she was embarrassed for me.

That embarrassment triggered me to make one of the top five worst sexual decisions in my life.  I grabbed her, picked her up and put her on the bed.  I removed her panties and without hesitation went down on her.  I didn’t just lick it quickly and move in for sex.  No sir.  I ate her pussy and licked her ass while I furiously masturbated until I built up something resembling a hard on.

I quickly put a condom on and gave it her the best I could with 3/4 of an erection.  After about 5 minutes of her making fake sex sounds we both were bored.  I wasn’t going to be able to cum with a condom on.  I knew where this was heading.  I had to break out my signature move at the time.  I jerked off while I made her lick my balls.  After a couple of minutes of I came.

Afterwards we talked for a few minutes.  She asked why I came to a place like this and why I went down on her.  Then she took a piss into a bucket and we went upon our way back downstairs

I started to sober up and realized what I had done.  The realization I went down on a Mexican hooker’s pussy and ass came rushing in like a tidal wave.  All I wanted to do was get out of there as quickly as possible.

I was pretty certain at that moment I had most likely contracted AIDS.  I had read an article on CNN.com describing how lemon and lime juice could possibly be used to prevent AIDS in Third World Countries.  I quickly grabbed as many lime and lemon wedges from the bar as I could and rushed to the bathroom.  I was squeezing lemon juice into my mouth and swishing it around praying to kill the diseases I was sure I had.

I even went as far as to squirt the lemon juice into my dick hole.  It wasn’t an a pleasant experience I would recommend, but I was hoping this would somehow save me from diseases.

As we left in a taxi the sun was coming up on the horizon like a big fuck you from the universe to me.  I was half in tears thinking about what I had done a couple minutes beforehand.  When we arrived at our room I took a xanax and went to bed.  I woke up the next day and I was extremely remorseful.  I had to tell my friends the story of what happened.  They all look horrified by my actions.

The last day I moped around refusing to drink or party.  I went out to the bars, but I didn’t indulge in anything.  I made foxhole prayers.  I begged God “Please don’t let me get AIDS; I promise I wont drink or do drugs tonight as penance.”

Thankfully I didn’t get AIDS and I’ve been able to go about my life continuing to make poor sexual decisions.