What I still don’t get is why they call it Hooters when half these chicks don’t have boobs. I know from experience. Three of the Hooter girls I had been with wore extra padded, double bras, filled with gel thingys. So, when we’d get down to business, they’d go from hooters to straight up, bird-chested sparrows. But oh course; I still smashed their guts. What kinda hornball do you take me for?
Anyways, being as good looking as I now know I am, I figured I had more to gain than Billy Bob and cousin-wife-brother Frank and took every opportunity to be as crass and low-life as possible. Plus, again, from experience, I knew these tricks had low self-esteem and had a high tolerance for self-deprivation. That, or they just didn’t get it. Sometimes a waitress either wouldn’t catch-on to my sarcasm or would simply blow me off and just have to deal with it to get a good tip. Or so she’d think.
I had never been to this Hooters before, though. Yet, I knew Tasha worked here through a mutual friend. I told Lance our history of how I did her wrong and cheated on her with her own friends.
Our last argument, she was accusing me of fucking the new girl who had just transferred to our school because she caught wind that I had gotten this girl’s number in health class. I did get her number, but I hadn’t gotten the chance to bang her at that point. I never did actually. Damn it! She had a nice ass, too.
The scene she caused was more of a headache than weaseling my way out of a rumor that wasn’t entirely/completely a lie. We had just left the movies when the girl had walked by and smiled at me. Tasha stopped and had a field day with me in front of all our friends. During her rant, I could only sputter, “C’mon”, “Baby stop”, “You’re exaggerating”, the whole time trying to control my temper. As she drew more attention, I looked around at all the couples and families in the area now looking at us. The other two couples we were with shied away and headed home. Realizing how much of a bitch I now looked like, I took her by the arm (gently) and started speed walking to the car.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she cried.
My eyes felt strained and my brow was burying into the bridge of my nose. All I could think about were the countless times she’d done this before and the countless times Javi offered to negotiate with her to retrieve my testicles back.
I stopped in the middle of the parking lot and got nose-to-nose with her, “Look you stupid fucking bitch, I haven’t fucked that girl but, YES, I plan on it.” I continued on by telling her how fucking ignorant and blind she was not to notice that I had been fucking all her friends behind her back every other night after I left her house. And how she was too fucking worried about me fucking random bitches that she didn’t think about every time she told her friends how good of a fuck I am, in detail, that what she was really doing was advertising me. It felt good to say all that and clear my conscious. You might have thought the cops would have came and tried to get me for some kind of harassment, threatening, whatever bullshit law there was for kids involved in public disputes, except for the fact that I was half-crying through this rant like some punk-ass bitch.
Tasha’s tone changed, “You didn’t fuck my friends. They’re not like that.” She was convinced I was lying since two of the friends I was referring to had just left with their boyfriends.
“Then why don’t you call them to come pick your dumb ass up?” As I marched to my car, she remained standing there, yelling after me, questioning me to prove I had indeed slept with most of her friends and whether I really was going to leave her. I drove off and hadn’t talk to her since. It made it awkward when I passed her in the hallway for the last three months of high school.
Seeing me in a new light, Lance called me a prick and laughed, exposing that bear trap of a mouth. There you are, Sharky. When we entered, I immediately spotted Tasha leaving a table. The hostess asked us how many. I said two as I kept my eyes on Tasha heading to the bar. Lance corrected me; we would be a party of three. I forgot about Dex. Whatever. I was ass-focused. Her ass had gotten really thick. Wow! Like, Coco meets Kardashian thick. I wish I could fuck her, again.
“Can we have a table in that waitress’ section?” I pointed Tasha out to the Hostess.
“Candy? Sure.” The hostess grabbed us some menus. Candy? I guess everyone has a stage name these days. We sat down and Tasha… I mean Candy asked us what we wanted to drink. And then she realized who I was.
“Oh... Hey,” she said mundanely, but kept her phony Hooter smile.
“What’s up?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. So you still fucking your girlfriend’s friends?”
Bless her scorned heart. She still hasn’t forgiven me, which only means she still cares. Lance grimaced when she validated my story.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I informed her.
“I’m shocked,” she stated unconvincingly. “You have a hard time being alone. You know, with the fact that you seem to be in love with being in love.”
Ouch. Burn. Okay, I see how this is going to be. Lance giggled his annoying giggle. He has a soft spot for scorned women. That soft spot is in the middle of his bed, where the mattress sinks in, according to him.
“Water is fine. Actually, do you have bottle water? I don’t want you spitting in my drink.”
“No, but I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. I’d rather piss in your beer.”
“I’ll have water too. And is it possible to change that TV to the Semi-finals,” Lance interrupted.
“What Semi-finals?”
“NBA. It’s on TNT. You work in a sports bar and don’t know about sports?” Yes! Lance also had a soft spot for ignorant women, too. He loved any opening to degrade them.
“I don’t pay attention to that shit.”
I was glad that she was outnumbered two to one with assholes like me. Dexter walked up as we were finishing up our drink order. Make that three to one.
“Hey girl, can you bring me a Bud Light?” Dexter asked.
“Is your mama named girl?” She walked away with a fake smile pretending to be unperturbed. At least she stopped at the TV and changed the channel to TNT.
“The fuck is wrong with that bitch?” Dexter asked.
“That’s Alex’s ex,” Lance caught him up to speed. Since I knew she wasn’t going to flirt back due to certain circumstances, I planned to be as sarcastic and rude and offensive as possible. What did I have to lose? Even if she did spit in my food it wasn’t as if I hadn’t had her bodily fluids in my mouth before. More on that later… what? Did you think this story was all cock and no tail?
As Dexter and Lance started talking about the pussy they had conquered in the previous days, I began to think of the first time Tasha and I had sex. She was only my second. Actually, it was the second time I had sex, too. Since my first time was lousy and a fell asleep, I wanted this time to be a little more memorable. I had considered myself a born again virgin. I annulled the first experience.
Tasha and I had met through a friend of mine who was dating one of her friends. Unfortunately, she wasn’t one of the friends I got to fuck. This friend moved before I got a chance to fuck her. Anyways, I told my friend that I thought his girl’s friend was cute and to check if she was single. She had just broken up with her boyfriend and thought I was cute, too. See how easy it was for me not to have to have game?
We all met up one night at my house to watch some movies. My friend and her friend started making out. So I took my queue and told her to come upstairs because I wanted to “show” her something. I hadn’t planned on pulling the brakes on her in particular, just the next girl I’d end up “making love to.” I had replaced the 75-watt light bulb in my ceiling fan with a blacklight, in the weeks past, I had made a mixtape of the sexiest R&B songs. This was back in the mid-90s. So think Color Me Bad and early Blackstreet. I had it ready to play in my tape deck strategically placed on the stand next to my bed. I also had baby oil next to my bed on the floor for said occasion. I occasionally used it to jerk off, but I usually preferred going raw hide. I have soft hands.
When we got to my room I flipped on the switch and we started to kiss. Her white shirt glowed under the black light. She had full, soft lips and I was focusing on kissing her for a long time. I was nervous and still fresh to this sex with someone-other-than-myself game, so I didn’t know exactly when to make sub-sequential moves. I eventually got her to the bed and began to undress her.
I let her take my shirt off and I helped her with my jeans after she had unbuttoned and unzipped them. I hit the play button. “Knockin’ Boots” was the first song on the tape. I started to kiss every corner of her body, massaging her breast and licking her nipples. I was a novice so it was more like slobbering. As I worked my way to go down on her, I thought to myself, I had never eaten pussy before. However, I had watched enough porn to get the gist of it. Except I thought I could add more class and sensuality to it rather than the dagger tongues from “Hardcore Mother Fucker 7.” I don’t blame them; I wouldn’t want to eat porno pussy, either… though, I’ve seen some puckered starfish assholes I wouldn’t mind tongue drilling.
I remembered a trick I had read about in one of my dad’s Playboy when I was like 9. I snuck two fingers in and slid them in and out as I twirled her clit in a counter clockwise motion, and then clockwise, and then the alphabet, and then numbers. I started spelling my whole birth name, and then hers. I only knew her first name at the time, so I went back to the circles.
My first impression of having some snatch sandwich was that pussy tastes kind of metallic. It was interesting. I was expecting it to be a little salty, bitter even. Kinda like sucking on a thumb… that had a slit on it… that secreted thick liquid stuff… and was eerily close to an anus. I knew I impressed her because her back arched, pushing her vag further into my mouth.
I spread her roast-beef lips and continued sliding my fingers deeper inside. I thought I had reached the back of her uterus when my fingers bumped into a blockage. I pushed harder to get a reaction out of her and when my fingers slid in, up, and deeper, she gave a loud moan. Aha! The G spot. I found it on my first try!
Her pussy gushed and I felt her wetness splash around my mouth. God it was so disgustingly wet. I heard in too many movies and songs that women aren’t always being pleasured enough in bed. I ate her out for 30 minutes. And I didn’t spit out the juice. I didn’t know the cunnilingus etiquette and back then, I cared about a girl’s self-esteem.
“Let’s Get It On” was now playing when my jaw locked. I moved my way back up her body. She grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards her. She started kissing my neck and I reached for the drawer of the night stand and pulled out a condom, that I had already torn the corner off of in advance to eliminate any awkward pause, to fight opening the wrapper right before sex. I felt the wetness around my lips drying up now. It felt sticky. So, while I slipped the rubber on, I found her thongs next to the pillow and wiped my mouth. I didn’t think it’d be too polite to make her kiss her own vagina smoothie.
After the condom was securely fastened, I entered her slowly. She moaned again. She was tight. Her last boyfriend probably had a small dick. You ever stuff a hotdog down a straw? I felt that good. She felt good. I felt good. I started to think about the ugliest football players I’d ever seen to avoid cumming too early. Mean Joe Green, Dick Butkus, Decan jones, a lot of the older players from the 70s. I thought it was strange to think of grown men during sex, so I tried multi-tasking. I fondled her titty and tugged at her hair. I nibbled on her lips and sucked on her neck.
The whole time I pumped away, feeling her moistness all over my sack. It felt better than that time I had smeared half a tub of Vaseline in between my mattress and boxsprings to see how it would be to fuck a virgin. Hey, I used a plastic bag for a condom; I practiced safe sex.
We went at it for the whole length of the A-side of the tape. I stopped for a second just to flip the tape while I was balls-deep inside her. We resumed. Marvin resumed; “Sexual Healing” was now sailing through the room. Classic. I bet she was thinking I was a natural Don Juan. Either that or she thought I had done this many times before.
I came during “Twisted” by Keith Sweat. His nasally wine interrupted my concentration and I focused on how wet Tasha continued to be. I thought she must have came three or four times, easily. She sure arched her back a lot and I felt her constantly squeezing my waist with her legs.
We kissed for a few more minutes before I rolled off of her. She noted that she felt dirty since this was the first time we hung out. I said the only consoling thing I could think of, “It was meant to be.”
She asked me to hand her her thongs, which were somewhere strewn on the floor, smeared with snot and panty gravy. I reached for the lamp on the nightstand next to the small Casio. I found her thongs peeking from under the bed. I handed her her bra that I fished from the foot of the bed, as I walked around my bed to my dresser to get some shorts.
I looked at her through the mirror with her back towards me as she pulled up her pants. I looked at myself again to study my after-sex glow. This was a moment I wanted to remember forever. I felt great; I had stayed awake, pleasured her well… many times, and I found the G spot, which caused her to flow more than Niagara.
I looked at my hair first. I needed to wet it and comb it. After pulling on it so hard, she had it standing up to the point I looked like Kramer. And then, something on the bed caught my eye.
“What…the fuck?” I muttered.
I turned around and saw the sheets had reddish-brownish stains on them. It was blood and it was all over the bed. It was concentrated in the center where we had just laid. My bedroom went from a capsule of sensual loving to looking like a crime scene. How was I going to wash that shit out?
I looked at Tasha, who was curled up on my black, leather beanbag in the corner of the room. She was holding her stomach. Even then, I still thought I had banged her guts out nicely.
I didn’t know exactly how, but I asked, “Are you.. on your… period?”
She turned away towards the wall. “No.”
I sensed I had offended her, but I didn’t give a fuck. It looked like something from Interview With a Vampire up in this motherfucker.
“Where did all this blood come from?” I asked as if I was expecting her to say her hangnail had ripped off in the heat of passion. I was also expecting to hear that I was so big that I scarred a few uterus tissues.
“I never did it before.”
The fuck is she talking about, I thought to myself. I turned and examined myself again. I didn’t really know what “it” meant, although we all knew what “it” referred to when we were pre-pubescent hornballs.
“I was a virgin,” she confirmed.
This brought a slight smirk to my face. It would have been a full-blown smile, except that as my eyes adjusted to the light, I could now clearly see that around my mouth there was dark reddish staining. Blood red.
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