I wanna take a moment to apologize to everybody. I think it's been about 2 months since my last post. I meant to post much more frequently but I just got so busy. I may have lost some fans because of it, and for that I really do apologize, but I hope I can get them back. I'm going to try and post once a week. Thank you for all the positive feedback on Heckler trailer. It should be coming out in the not so distant future. I also wanna say what's up to Northeastern University. Thanks for reading.
Now, the next few stories might make me look a little desperate. They all involve things i did to get sex. What you need to understand is that these are stories from when I was younger. Am I proud of some of the things I did or suffered through? No, but that doesn't mean they aren't the truth or that they aren't exactly like the things every other guy out there has done when he was young in the service of getting his pencil wet. But I'm older now so I do my best not to stoop to old tricks to get girls in the sack. I've matured and realized that direct honesty is the best way to avoid long term negative consequences. That's why now when I meet a hot girl I want to sleep with all I do is pull out a copy of Malibu's Most Wanted, point to her lips and point to my face on the cover. DESPERATE!!!!
These are the confessions of a future ex-scumbag.
THE FAT GIRL UPSTAIRS
When I first moved to LA, I was pretty lonely. I spent all of my time trying to fit into the mold of the typical Californian (I haven't quite been able to figure that one out yet) and get acting jobs (which were non-existent), and no time on my love life (which was never-existent). Unfortunately, at 17, my penis was painfully optimistic. Every morning, like clockwork, it poked its head up and did its whole "Go get 'em, today's the day!" thing. I don't know why I'm telling you this; I guess because it's a good long-winded way of justifying the fact that I porked an incredibly fat chick. I know that sounds shallow and un-pc, so let me be more clinical in my description. She was "morbidly obese." I don't want to reveal this woman's identity, though, so let's call her Fatina.
Fatrina lived in my building, directly upstairs from me. She was... well, fat... and word on the street was that she was real slutty. I didn't know her and I had only met her once or twice in passing, but people in the building complained about hearing her all the time. Apparently, the walls reverberated with tales of her libidinous behavior. Personally, I suspected the sounds were just her eating funyuns.
One night she came down to my apartment eating a pop-tart and said "lets go to a club!" Like I said, I was lonely and my social life was non-existent, so I agreed to go. She took me to some hole in the wall and we "danced." I don't know if you could really call it dancing, though. It was more just me standing there frightened and her spastically gyrating around me. To make matters worse, she was nearly a foot shorter than me, so her swirling globs of boob flab and back fat kept hitting me in the ribs. To get away from her and avoid injury, I tried to dance by myself, saying "Sorry, I need to practice my moves." Still, she always seemed to waddle her way over. With her like 5'3" and 258 pounds, and me 6'1" and starved Somalian skinny, we looked like Big Bird and Snuffalufugus on the dance floor. When she tried to hug me, we looked like a lower case "b". After a couple of -glasses of vodka from the bar, she pushed me up against the wall and said, "Im gonna fuck your sweet little ass tonight."
I said "Please, God, no," but my dick pricked up its ears and said a resounding "Yes." Despite my internal and external protestations, despite my claims that it would ruin our friendship, and despite my good intentions, I started getting a boner. I didn't want it, but it happened. I was so young and horny I practically lived in a perpetual state of reluctant wood anyway - the type of wood that doesn't quite reach full mast. It sort of guiltily starts bending at the ¾ mark as if to say "I know this is a terrible idea, but goddammit, I'm on standby if you need me."
She dragged me back to her place, and began to do something to me. What's the word? ... oh yeah: rape. She threw me around like a rag doll, pushing me against the wall, into chairs and onto the couch. My erection just got more and more pronounced with each slam into a piece of furniture. I kept looking at it through my pants thinking "How is this POSSIBLE? Really?" Finally, she got on top of me, ready to just jam me in, when suddenly she jumped up, went into the kitchen, called Pizza hut and ordered 2 large stuffed-crust meatlovers pizzas. I shit you not.
She came back into the living room from the kitchen with a condom in her hand. Why she kept them in her kitchen, I will never know. Maybe they were edible. Either way, I definitely wasn't surprised. Before I could put it on she got down on her kankles and began sucking on my shmekl like she was trying to get the cheese out of a piece of stuffed crust. Before I knew it, she rolled on the condom and began her blubbery crawl back up on top of me. Somehow my wang found an opening. Maybe it was just a fat roll with a great angle, but it was wet and slippery, so I let it fly. I felt like I was fucking Jabba the Hut. When she lowered down onto me, I thought my nuts were gonna pop out of my scrotum like the eyeballs on a stress toy.
I wrestled my way out from underneath her after like 5 seconds and started to have sex with her from behind. I came in about 8, no 7 seconds, and wanted to go home. Fatrina wouldn't let me. She said, "you're not leavin' 'til we fuck again, faggot!" I was scared shitless. I was a teenager who had just moved 2500 miles away from his quiet suburban neighborhood to be an extra. The last thing I would have wanted was for my mom to have to bury her youngest son because he suffocated under the weight of an angry, sex-crazed blimp. So I stayed. In about 4 minutes of a war of attrition between my brain and my balls, I got hard again, and we started where we left off. I just remember doing her doggy style and thinking that I was fucking an elephant. My hands had to be close to six feet apart. But I was so horny I couldn't stop. I kept marveling at the scene; like I was watching one of those nature shows on National Geographic HD where they slow the film down during a kill sequence or an elaborate mating ritual. The second time lasted about 1.5 minutes.
I feigned exhaustion after that and told Fatrina I wanted to go back to my apartment. She said, "Just stay here. Let's wake up together."
I got to go," I said.
Then she said, "C'mon, let's just wake up together, motherfucker." It went back and forth like this for a while. She would bounce from being loving to angry, to really hungry. "I'll give you a little treat in the morning, too," she'd purr.
Finally, I stood up and said, "No. I really got to go,"
She looked at me with daggers in her eyes and screamed "fine, no pizza for you!"
Almost on cue, the pizza man rang the doorbell. She angrily took both pizzas, paid, and slammed the door on me and the pizza man. They smelled so good and I was so poor and so hungry. Through the front window I saw her throw them on the counter in disgust. I didn't even get a slice.
Every once in a while, for the rest of the time I lived in that building, I would hear her having sex as I walked in the stairwell at night. It never got me horny, but it made my stomach growl something fierce.
I know, I know--two months and all I got is a story about a fatty?!? Sorry more to come.
jfk
Posted by Jamie Kennedy at 8:12 AM