Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Doctor Feel Good Chronicles - Pt 1

I was shopping around for a new general practitioner and flipping through the phone book. I settled on a female doc with a generic sounding name and went in for my appointment.

As soon as I opened the door, I started getting flustered. Not because the doctor's office freaked me, no, no.

There was the most hunky Cuban boy behind the counter. I stammered out my name and he winked at me and told me it was a pleasure to meet me.

His name was Marco and he RADIATED sexual energy. It was just pouring off him in waves and waves. He worked for the lady doctor as her physician assistant and also did EMT work.

After a short wait, Marco led me back to the exam room. I told him he could just skip the whole getting my weight part because, really, what girl wants to hop on a scale in front of some dreamy guy?

We flirted the entire time he took my history and somehow got on the topic of smoking marijuana. We then decided it would be a totally great idea if I went over to his house some time to sample his bud.

Uh, huh.

We exchanged numbers and didn't Marco call me the very next day. I had no desire to actually date this boy; he was going to be a strict booty call. The invite was for 11pm and he told me he was going to show me a good time.

I walked in and he whipped out a bong he kept in the fridge that was filled with ice. I smoked a teeny bit and was feeling pretty relaxed. He then asked if I wanted to watch a movie.

And wouldn't you know it, the VCR in the living room was broken, so we had to watch it in the bedroom.

Bom-chick-a-bom-bom...and you know the rest.

Marco was 6'4 and built like The Rock. Time with him was hot and sweaty and I loved the way he threw me around the room. Our booty calls were frequent and amazing.

And we couldn't get enough of it, so we took it to the next level.

I had been having some irregular heartbeats, so it was suggested I go get some EKG's done. This turned out to be great, because it gave me an excuse to visit Marco at work every week. And since Marco was the one who did the EKG's in the office, it gave us an excuse to close the door. It also provided a good reason for my shirt to be off.

But no matter how we racked our brains, there really was no good excuse for his pants to be down around his ankles.

He'd hook the electrodes up to my bare chest, we would be very, very dirty, and lo and behold, my heart would be pounding and the test results would look EXTREMELY abnormal. The doctor would insist on follow ups to recheck the results and for 6 weeks we kept this up.

Yeah, it was fun. And my insurance covered every dime.

I sent my sister to this same doctor because it was close to her work. She was blown away by Marci's sexiness, but said she could never go back. The entire time she was there, she kept wondering if she was sitting in the exact spot where her big sister had just gotten her lovin on.

After a few months, I met a boy I actually wanted to have sex with AND date, so my time with Marco ended.

And so it goes.

***I should mention that the last time I saw Marco, he was very excited about some dental work he had done. For some reason, he thought it was a good idea to have a diamond chip put on to front tooth as a decoration.

This made not seeing him anymore much less painful. A diamond in your tooth, seriously, wtf?

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Drunk Dials and Prank Calls

I was inspired by Doorknob Dan to add a CALL ME feature to my blog.

This lets you call Ginormous Boobs for free! Pretty cool, right?

I truly love drunk dials and saucy messages. I encourage everyone to pick up their phone and give me a ring a ding ding (you can do so and still keep your number private). And I promise to call anyone back who leaves a number.

Maybe I'll make it a point to return calls from the bathtub after a fabulous Tabbie martini.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Self Love On a Plane - Masturbation Chronicles Pt 1

I adore meeting people from all over the world and there's really no better place than at an airport or while sitting on a plane. Everyone has a story and I'm just the gal to listen to it.

In January of 2001, I was traveling back on a redeye to Los Angeles after spending my Christmas and New Year in the Midwest. The flight was full and I was seated with a business man on my left and a man named Chuck on my right.

Now Chuck was an interesting fellow. He immediately introduced himself to me and told me he was flying to Oxnard to attend a Christian acting camp. I found that mildly entertaining so I continued to chat him up for a few minutes. He seemed nice enough at first, but shortly after take off, he took out his bible and began to question my relationship with Jesus. I tired of the preaching after about five minutes, feigned sleep and eventually ended up nodding off.

But my slumber was short lived.

I was awoken by something rhythmically hitting my right arm. I opened my eyes and turned toward Chuck.

And lo and behold, my proselytizing Christian buddy was masturbating right there in the seat for the whole world to see. No jacket on his lap, no discreet blanket covering him up. He had his dick out blowing in the breeze and his left arm was getting quite the workout (and invading my space - it was this arm bumping into mine that woke me up).

Chuck caught me glaring at him, but made no effort to stop. I finally had to say something.

"Chuck, can you please put that thing away?"

It must have been the nice way I asked, because Chuck finally become a little embarrassed and apologetic.

Now, most people probably would have called the stewardess over at this point and demanded a seat change. I did not. We had a row of little girls in front of us and the flight was full. There was no way I wanted to subject Chuck to anyone else. I figured I could deal with his behavior better than most and one day I'd turn his little pleasure session into a scene in one of my films.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. I exited and called my mom to tell her about my lovely seatmate. She was horrified and demanded I go to the Continental counter and tell them what happened. I finally relented and recounted my story.

Each person thought the tale was hilarious and would grab me to bring me to a co-worker and have me repeat it. This went on until I had told the story to four different people.

And here's why I heart Continental.

The last person I spoke to was a supervisor. And that supervisor felt so bad for me that she gave me a free roundtrip ticket and a $500 travel voucher. SWEET!
Ahhhh...if only someone would jack off next to me on every flight. Have you seen the price of tickets these days?

Friday, February 22, 2008

Yes, They Are Mine

Tabbie and I like to go bowling. We often frequent a bowl-a-oke night (bowling and karaoke all mixed into one). However, we add a little incentive to the mix.

Each game, the loser has to send the winner a dirty cell phone photo. It doesn't have to be nekkid, but it's got to be a bit racy. Anyone who bowls with us is invited to partake in the process. The only exception is if we have two family members competing - they get the option of paying another team member $5 to send a photo in their place if they lose to someone they are related to.

We also have one rule. The picture you get as a winner cannot be posted or sent anywhere. We did have one incident a year ago when the loser (a boy) sent the winner (a girl) a picture of his lovely hairy balls. Said girl then used that picture as her myspace photo for a week. It was hilarious, but her punishment was stern.

I took my banner photo for saucy reasons and had planned to use it at a bowling event I went to a few weeks ago in case I lost. Tabbie, convinced that she was too gimpy to participate in the cell phone fun, scrapped our contest for the night. And so this poor little picture never made it to the winner (I bowled bad, very very bad).

***If anyone is ever in Cali and feels the need to get their bowl on, give me a ring. I also take pinball bets as well.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Best Boob Compliment Ever

For some reason, I seemed to attract churchy boys when I was in college and high school. Freshman year of college, I ended up dating two guys who would attend weekly Campus Crusade for Christ meetings.

The first, Seth, had long hair. I knew everytime he was going to try and make a move on me because he would grab a rubberband and tie his hair back in a ponytail. Mighty generous of him.

The second, Mr. Texas, was darling. He had a syrupy accent and came off kind of shy. We would spend hours in our dorm rooms watching movies and making out. Mr. Texas was enamored with my breasts and would often sit there with a shocked look on his face while he fondled them.

And one day, this lovely gem came out of his mouth:
I love your breasts. They feel like warm jello in a silk stocking.

I thought it was cute, so I let him taste them. Just as a test, really, to see if they actually did taste like geletin.

But even the man who gave me my most favorite breast compliment ever had to be put out to pasture. As the year progressed, he became more and more torn between pleasing the church and being a regular old college student with a *GASP* sexual appetite. He began going to his weekly meetings and coming to my room energized by the Lord.

And then he would beg for a blowjob.

And then he would get mad when I turned him down.

And then he would tell me I was the devil for tempting him.

Yeah, for some reason this just wasn't working for me. I can be devilish, sure, but THE DEVIL! That's a bit harsh.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Creepy Guy Strikes Again - Pt 4

He's bacccccccckkkkk.

After our steamy IM conversations, Creepy Guy was convinced I was hot, hot, hot for him and couldn't wait for an afternoon car escapade. In order to entice me, he sent me a link and a password to his super secret website. There, I found clips he had edited together from various homemade porns he had shot.

I like porn...scratch that...I LOVE porn (especially ameateur stuff). However, this guy managed to make my vagina shrivel a little.

The video looked like some kind of seedy snuff film. It was black & white and looked as if it had been shot via hidden camera. I crossed my fingers and prayed a masked man didn't suddenly appear with duct tape and a machete.

I wasn't able to download the video, but I did grab a screen shot. You can all thank me later for passing along this shuttersome picture.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Valentine's Day Tale


You know what's sad?

I'm sitting here, late afternoon on Valentine's Day, longing for a flower or a card or a trinket of some kind.

But then, the sound I've been waiting for...a heavy truck pulling down my street, the brakes squealing as it stops in front of MY house. And yes, yes a man wearing brown about to ring the doorbell.

I bolt off the couch, the computer crashing to the ground yet again. I make for the door with breakneck speed. I get near the bottom of the stairs, hit a dog toy and go careening the rest of the way.

But I make it. I open the door and there it is...the box I have been waiting for.
I shake it and bring it upstair to open, dancing all the way. Once in my room, I tear into it. Like a mad woman, I use my teeth to rip open the tape and throw the stuffing around in a frenzy.

And there in the box was...
the Avon order I had placed a month ago.

yeah, it's a cruel, cruel world


All's well that ends well - I received these around 7:30pm :)

My Most Favorite Celebrity Valentine

I worked as an assistant at a talent agency a few years back. This particular place seemed to cater to out of work television stars from the 70's and 80's and we never knew who was going to grace us with their presence.

I was sitting at the front desk one day and heard the door open. At first I thought it was a ghost because no one appeared. And then I heard a voice.


I peered over the edge of the counter and there stood Gary Coleman, that's right, Gary Friggin Coleman. He came around the desk to say hello to me and extended his hand in what I thought was going to be a handshake.

But I was wrong.

He went right for em. Took his teeny little hand and grabbed my left tit. And not only did he grab it, he squeezed it and actually said, "Honk! Honk!"

I was dumbfounded.

He then told me how stunning I was with my long hair and sexy boots and sauntered away.

I was still dumdfounded.

Valentine's Day was the following week. I had given up hope of receiving any kind of gift that year when lo and behold, a box of chocolates appeared on my desk. Attached was not a card, but a post it note. It was decorated with a mishapen heart, a phone number and the following sentiment:

You are very pretty. Will you go out with me sometime? Love, Gary

Though I knew what a GREAT story my date with Gary Coleman would have been, I declined. I was dreadfully afraid a sneaky paparazzi would be lurking nearby, snapping away. And the last thing I needed, was to be pegged as What Willis Was Talkin About.

Happy Valentine's Day!!


Wednesday, February 13, 2008

My First Time

Mike was my very first serious boyfriend. I was 13 when we met – my uncle was engaged to his sister (no, we were NOT about to become relatives you sick sick perverts). He was gorgeous and funny and a wonderful dancer/performer and I had a huge crush from the moment I saw him. Under constant teasing from the family, we finally exchanged phone numbers and for one year, we spoke on the phone every night. Neither one of us had a license, so we relied on relatives and friends to drive us the 50 miles to one another’s homes.

And of course, we saw each other at family functions ;)

Our normal meeting place was the mall by his house. I could usually convince one of my aunts to do some shopping while Mike and I made out in every store. I remember kneeling down behind the shelves in a bookstore and experiencing my first extended French kissing session. I, um, liked it a lot.

I’ll never forget the time he brought ME a rose after one of his performances. Nice touch, right? While the family was visiting in the basement, he laid me down in the living room and kissed me so tenderly I wanted to melt. When I felt his weight on top of me, I knew it had to be love.

He taught me how to give a handjob. His instructions were to hold it, move my hand up and down and squeeze ever so lightly. I made the mistake of telling my girlfriends this I was forever known as Squeeze Cock (this ryhmes with my last name).

Mike was also the recipient of my first ever blowjob. Our families had gathered at a hotel to celebrate a birthday and we took a walk outside. We ended up in the bushes on the outside of a glass wall that bordered the indoor swimming pool. I was so engrossed in trying to coordinate my mouth and my hands that I didn’t notice my cousins yelling our names, trying to find us. Mike grabbed me and held me still until they passed a few feet from where we were hunkered down. We waited a few minutes and sheepishly crept back in to the party. I stuck to giving out hugs instead of kisses to my grandparents when we left.

I knew I wanted to lose my virginity to Mike, so I found a friend with a car and headed down to Planned Parenthood for birth control pills and condoms (as I'm sure every 13 year old does). At home, I hid them inside a telephone-shaped pillow I had made in home ec.

I was obviously no slut, so I waited until I turned 14 to actually do the deed. While the adults were at a daytime event, Mike and I were left at my house under the supervision of my 12-year-old sister and my 15-year-old best friend. Being more concerned with watching the Hangin Tough New Kids on the Block video than keeping an eye on us, Mike and I were able to sneak up to my room.

It was goofy and awkward and OH DEAR LORD, the pain. It felt like someone took a knife to my down belows. But I was in love, remember. I overlooked the misery and Clarence Carter”s “Stroking” playing in the background, kissed Mike’s forehead and told him how wonderful it was.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Payback is a Bitch

Just promise me you'll watch through to 1:13 minutes...

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Oh Baby, Lick Me, Lick Me

I recently went on a trip to Vegas. Our plans, of course, included dancing and liquor and staying out all night long.

We somehow ended up at a club at MGM we had visited the year before. It was a rip roarin outing and in fact, was the first time I had ever been drunk before.

(side note: That means I was 30 years old before I lost my drunk-ginity Please keep this in mind because any subsequent stories where I act foolish were most likely done stone cold sober.)

So after waiting in a ridiculously long line and dealing with the most hated form of doucebag, the BOUNCER DB, we were finally in.

I immediately saddled up to the bar and ordered my $13 Alabama Slammer. I have a fascination with people watching, so I spent the first hour sipping my drink, ordering another and checking out the natives.

The next half an hour was occupied by smoking cigarettes and sitting on a couch near the restrooms. I took a perverse thrill in watching every guy there walk in the ladies bathroom by accident. I never pointed out their mistakes when they walked in, but I did recruit a few women to sit with me and watch all the stumbling, drunk fools run out highly embarrassed a minute later. I am easily entertained.

The alcohol was finally kicking in and I actually felt like joining my roommates on the dance floor. Tabbie was highly engrossed in an English dude we'll call Curly. The Spaz was shaking her thing with one boy, while trying to inch closer to a brawny personal trainer she was intent on going home with that night.

I was dancing near the Spaz, actually starting to enjoy the bad music, when I felt an erection lovingly press itself against my ass. Hands grabbed either side of my waist and said erection was now grinding into me so hard I felt like I was going to have an interesting bruise to explain the next day.

I was then spun around and before I could even get a look at the guy attached to the offending penis, I froze in horror. All I could see was a GIANT TONGUE coming straight for me. I turned my head, more shocked than anything, and the tongue (thankfully!) landed not on my mouth, but on the side of my face. It slipped along my cheek and left a grotesque path of thick saliva all the way to my nose.

And here is where it got really bad.

The guy had obviously been drinking plenty that night. He also must have thrown up a time or two because this trail across my face was tainted with the stink of vomit. I immediately shoved him away and started heaving. I made a break for the bathroom before I left my own puddle of vomit on the dance floor. I was desperately trying to run and dig in my purse for perfume at the same time - I needed to smell anything besides the horrible stench that was clinging to my face and billowing up from under my nose.

Tabbie saw me in a panic and tried to grab my arm as I flew by. But there was no time to explain and I shook her off.

I managed to blindly arrive at the restroom just in time. I spent a good 15 minutes washing my face and recovering before I felt settled enough to brave the club again.

As soon as I rejoined my friends, Vomit Guy was back. I sat on a nearby couch and pretended to be engrossed in my phone. Unfortunately, he was not deterred. He continued to try and talk to me and pull me up to dance with him. I could not even turn my head in his direction because I knew I would be overcome by the waves of his pukey breath. I resorted to shaking my head and holding a "stand back" hand out to prevent him from coming any closer.

I was finally rescued by a lovely gentleman who sensed my distress and planted himself firmly between me and VG. Thank goodness for heroes.

Friday, February 8, 2008

Creepy Guy Strikes Again Pt. 3

So I've decided to mix things up a bit and ask people to suggest story lines they might like to incorporate into my steamy IM sessions with Cupid is Stupid. Anything goes, anything at all.