I gotta hand it to Opher and Stone! For once, a topic is introduced that transcends just about anything and everything on this planet - adolescence! Just about everyone is in agreement that being a teenager generally sucks; however, life in general sucks a gigantic, rainbow-hued ass, so why complain? For me, and many other teenagers out there past, present, and future, there is usually one, single, overpowering thing that guides each and every move....FUCKING!
The bad part about fucking is that it usually takes two to, well, FUCK, but teenagers are at a special disadvantage because they're mostly like dogs chasing a car; once you catch it, if you even do, what to do with it? I still laugh to this day whenever I catch a glimpse of unbridled, unrequited, and infinitely worse, un-deposited and frustrated youthful cum-slinging males and/or cum-hungry females. Don't worry youngsters, you'll catch up real, real soon!
Anyway, here are some of the tragicomic standouts of the summer of my 17th year that usually didn’t result in me engaging in ever-elusive sex:
Some (over 21) buddies decided to take me to a local strip joint. One of them suggested that I wear my ROTC uniform (from the previous year), because military dudes were frequent customers and they probably wouldn’t bother carding me. I put it on, and off we went. Sure enough, we were waved in without a fuss. After having a couple of beers, a particularly acrobatic stripper got on stage. She was a hot red head, and she did a headstand, spread her legs as wide as she could, turned, walked on her hands, and then put her crotch in my face. She clearly liked a man in uniform. A dollar bill on each side of her g-string got me a face full of boobs. It was going well until another stripper on the other stage got a pool cue up her ass from a drunken Mexican asshole, which resulted in pandemonium and me not getting any further with the stripper. Whenever I hear the XTC song “Helicopter”, I think of her and those rotor-like legs.
The MILF Cougar
In a neighboring town, one of my buddies and I wound up at a large house party. There were dozens of people there, several kegs, a lame-ass hippy acoustic band playing inside while a band playing very good Rock and Roll covers was outside. It was definitely a target-rich environment, and I was scoping something out when suddenly a very attractive and petite brunette appeared out of nowhere, introduced herself, and immediately took a liking to me. She was obviously much older than me, but she was hot as fuck, so I didn’t care one bit. After several minutes, she asked me to accompany her to the bathroom, which I did. Not knowing what to expect, I was surprised to see her retrieve a large amber jar from her purse, which was filled to the brim with high-grade cocaine. After doing a couple of pencil-sized lines, we sat for a moment and then spontaneously started making out. The line to the bathroom started to become restless, so we exited and went back to the party for a little bit. Much intermittent kissing compelled us to find some privacy, but where? I know…the car! I had just started getting to third base when all of the sudden, my drunken buddy, panting and clearly obliterated out of his mind, flopped along the side of the car and fell on his face. Shortly after that, the cops showed up in force to break up the party. Mrs. Coke Jar re-set her wardrobe and vanished into thin air, leaving me horny as fuck and also trying to make good my escape, with my wasted buddy in tow. This story has two post-scripts. The MILF turned out to be the mother of a bitchy girl I went to school with; I couldn’t resist giving her a smile like Otter did to Dean Wormer in Animal House. The other one was a subpoena to appear as a defense witness for someone else who attended the party. That’s been kind of a standard ever since; you know you went to a hell of a party when you eventually have to testify under oath in open court for something that went down that night.
The Big-Titted Acid Chick
While attending another house party, I met a big-titted Italian chick, and we got really friendly, really fast. The main “course” at this party was a large punch bowl of something along the lines of a giant 500-octane Long Island Iced Tea, which some charitable soul (who remains mysterious to this day) slipped a considerable quantity of LSD into. As I was beginning to mack on Ms. Italy, I felt a strange yet good feeling which she also began to feel; word starting to get around that the punch had a “secret sauce”. OK then! While continuing to explore Ms. Italy’s ample terrain features, I felt something hit my head. I turned, looked, and saw in slow motion an orange, which proceeded to make a direct hit on my forehead. Another girl there who apparently disapproved of our amorous activities launched a fruity assault on us, but by then we were too fried to care. We made our way to a bedroom, but I was LAUGHING too much! She was horny as hell, but I couldn’t stop laughing and giggling! Finally, around dusk, I settled down enough to do the dirty deed….but still kind of giggling.
This is getting kind of long. For those interested in some more of my twisted teenage tales, I also have:
The Only Job I Was Ever Fired From
The Punk Chick and the Cinematographer's Wife
My First Thermonuclear Blow Job