Stalked - Mr. Jackson Pt 1

(He's 6'7" and creepier in person)

My bff, once I started elementary school, was Sandy. My mom was best friends with her mother as well and our families would take vacations together a few times a year. They camped with us every summer and we would have a blast.

All that changed when I was 15.

I was at the movies with my boyfriend, Josh, and ran into Mr. Jackson in the lobby of the theatre. I asked him where Mrs. Jackson and Sandy were and a strange look came over his face...

...and a mother of one of the kids we went to school with popped out from behind him. I had caught him on a date. I mumbled something and got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

Now, we had heard rumors that Mr. Jackson was cheating, but no one had any proof. I was sick to my stomach that I was the one who caught him red-handed. I let Sandy know what I saw when I got home.

A week later I went to a football game with Josh, our younger friend, Jake, and Josh's dad. It was our high school's playoff game, and the stadium was packed. Josh's dad dropped us off and we agreed to meet up with him after the game. Josh, Jake and I couldn't find seats, so the three of us stood at the bottom of the bleachers close to where the cheerleaders were. I remember scanning the crowd at one point and almost falling over.

Mr. Jackson was there. And he was there with the other woman. At our game. In front of everyone. And his daughters were only one section away. I prayed they didn't see him there.

He caught my eye and the look he gave me was the most frightening thing I have ever experienced. It was evil mixed with glee mixed with triumph. It made my skin crawl.

After the game, Josh's dad drove us all home and I put the episode behind me. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stay that way for long.

The first letter came on November 27th and it was addressed to my mother. It was a story about my "activities" during the evening of the playoff football game. My parents didn't know what to make of it because there was fact (I was at the game, I was with two teenage boys) mixed in with lies (everything else). Luckily, they remembered that Josh's dad had driven us to the game and that fact negated 95% of the untruths contained in the letter.

And here, my readers, is the letter (there will be more posted). The only things I have edited* are places referenced and the name of the football coach (the weird spelling and verbage hasn't been touched). Thanks to Bob Dobalina for helping me transcribe.

__________________________________________

The events revealed below are factual and took place exactly and precisley as told. Do not discount this informaion for by doing so, the situation will certainly become worse and out of your control forever. It took place the evening of Friday, November 20, 1992, at the football stadium of Cleveland State University*, on the highways between Cleveland* and Akron*, and in the back parking lot of JFK Middle School*, close to the stadium stands at that location. No judgements are made except an editorial comment at the end of this letter. The purpose is to inform you of facts, actions, and behavior that you as a parent should be aware of so that if you wish, you may take appropriate action. Unfortunately, there are no photographs or video of the events in my possession. Others may want to share their's with you. However, there is cooperative of the events just as I describe them to you by several hundred, and perhaps several thousand other Akron* and Cleveland* residents who all personally viewed the behavior and actions in the first chapter of this narrative. As to the subsequent occurances, I have in my possession physical evidence (as disgusting as that may be) which willbe shared with you at your request.

That evening, Akron HS* and Marshall HS* played a regional football playoff game. The night was reletively mild for this late in the year and the promising rain had withheld. Ten thousand fans packed the stands, including Akron High* students, players, cheerleaders, band members, their parents, friends, and other Akron* residents. The press and television cameras were all taking note of the action on and off the field.. In front of the stadium stands was an area for walking to the several sets of steps leading to the bleachers. Also, a yellow rope was stretched out to keep the spectators from the field of play. Since the stands were packed full, several people chose to stand along this yellow rope closer to the action. All in the stands could easily see the people along the ropes as this area was floodlit as was the field. Coach Joey Robins* and his fiancee were among those people. Also there was your oldest daughter with two boys of the same age, both with wavy dark hair but one taller than the other. Neither appeared to be ready to shave smooth hairless faces. The shorter of the two held your daughter's coat and purse as she ventured to talk to friends and visit the lady's room. Most of her time however was spent with the boys, laughing, talking, and watching the large crowd of football fans aforementioned above that were behind them. She ran her fingers through each of their hair and along their faces, then put on a public display of wanton sexuallity that certainly embarrassed those around me who made many low volumn comments of disgust.

Your daughter and the shorter boy (we will call him Josh) engaged in acts that should be reserved for married couples in the privacy of their own bedrooms. Heavy petting of chest, breasts, and buttocks was simultaneous with kissing of cheeks, lips, and neck using the tongue in the ears, mouth, and licking of body parts. Her sucking of his fingers prompted an unidentified student to call out loudly "Fuck her, I did". The response by your daughter and the boy was to smile broadly back and for him to say "Later!" and the response from the crowd was groans.

Twenty to thirty minuites of this behavior greeted halftime at the game. Shortly thereafter the trio left the stadiam and I followed. With the taller boy driving and your daughter and the shorter boy in the rear seat, the aforementioned activity continued with great passion down Euclid Ave.* and north on Rt. 271*. At one point near W 58th Street*, your daughter's head lowered down below the seat back level. I was not close enough behind to see everything and it was dark, but the boy's head arched back above the rear seat back and remained in this position for several minuites. At the Rt 90 W exit, she emerged back from below seat level to begin kissing and caressing his still motionless head.

Having lost contact with them entering Portage County* on Rt 6*, I proceeded to exit at Rt 6*. Their car passed immediatly infront of me going south on Main Street*. Again following, they led me to the rear of the parking lot behind JFK Middle School*. I was located behind the fine arts section of the school building out of sight. An argument of some sort ensued wherby the taller boy started walking away toward and behind Center Elementary*. I drove across Main Sreet* without lights to avoid detection. There, I remembered my high power binoculars in the back seat brought to better view the football game. I now had an excellent viewing of the action in the car. Your daughter and the boy were engaged in sexual intercourse with her mounted on the sitting boy and facing me through the rear window glass of the car. She was clearly naked on top but the car obscured my view below that. Modesty, embarrassment, and morals prevented me to watch any longer and I was prepared to leave immediatly. But prior to starting my car, the taller boy suddenly reappeared, agitated that he was sent off. Their voices could be heard from that distance. Your daughter quickly put back on her top without reapplying her bra and the boy threw something toward the chain link fence guarding the stadium. All three drove off going south on Main*. My investgation of the area around the parked location and near the fence revealed physical evidence-- a still moist condom, partially folded back to expose semen fluid. Not wanting to touch the article, I picked up the wet condom with a pencil and placed it in an air tight sandwich bag which just previously held my uneated game snack. DNA testing on the inside and outside body fluids would prove a union between your daughter and this boy.

These careful and indisputable detailed facts may help you to take appropriate action. Do not go through a denial-- Help your daughter understand the dangers to her reputation, health, mental stability, and well being, not to mention the eternal damnation from God and the Church for conducting these mortal sins of premarital, lustful sex and promiscuous acts. Ask yourself if she was raised this way and who set the example for pure living. If you want the used condom, just mention it yo your acquaintences at the schools and the church. I will get the message and deliver it to you.

The Big Cheese

UPDATED:
Ok guys, here's the recipe:

Rustic herb bread
Herb and garlic cheese spread
Extra sharp cheddar
Mozzarella
Grilled up in garlic infused canola oil


(the award winning sammich)

(Tabbie and I being interviewed for a documentary while cooking up the goods)

For those of you who don't know, Tabbie and I (along with Bob Dobalina as one of our runners)competed in the 1st 6th Annual National Grilled Cheese Invitational a couple weeks ago. There were over 100 competitors in 4 categories and we placed 3rd in our division. There were 50+ professional chefs (from restaurants like The Foundry, Clementine, etc.) competing with us, so we're pretty proud of ourselves .

It was a seriously awesome event and we had a ball grilling up sammiches. AND we now have a rockin trophy gracing our kitchen counter.

Can't wait for next year!!

Martinis and Grilled Cheese, Oh My

I have been a total blogging slacker this week. I've been kind of preoccupied**, so I do apologize for not having had the chance to read a lot of your blogs, add you to my roll, etc.

Tabbie and I are hosting a Grilled Cheese and Martini shingdig this evening at the beach house. Partly because we want to try out recipes for the Grilled Cheese Invitational we are competing in next week and partly because, hey, who doesn't love a martini.

We will have about 6 bloggers here as part of the festivities. If any more of you are local folks, feel free to drop me a line and I'll send you an invite.

I am gathering up cell numbers as well and will be adding them to the drunk dial list. Don't be left out! Send yours too!

ALSO - I do believe I will be setting up a webcam in one of the rooms. If you have one as well, I'd love to see your smiling face. But please, not until I've had a few drinks...come on...I want to remember you fondly.

This is all probably a very very bad idea.

**Buying and selling your friends as pets on Facebook has eaten up nearly 18 hours of each day

Probably Not in Her Job Description

Years ago when I was working at a lame talent agency, the owner decided to rent out some extra office space to a production company for a month. This gave us a new group of people to socialize with at work, one of which was a boy my age.

***Now I don't make it a point to date people I work with. The only exception I have is if the person is on their way out the door. If I know they won't be around in 30 days, I'm all for it.

So this boy was very cute and I found him to be quite entertaining as well. He talked in this pimp voice and I thought it was a riot. We enjoyed slipping away for a few minutes in the afternoons to make out in the stairs or do a little groping in the elevator.

He invited me over to his place one night and insisted on showing me his favorite movie, Jackie Brown. I don't really remember much of it because he spent the entire time quoting lines from the film.

After the movie, we started a hot and heavy get down session. We were both nekkid in his bed when it slowly dawned on me that this pimp act he had going on wasn't really an act...his mac daddy talk was actually him trying to be all hardcore sexy.

I should have stopped right there. But I did not.

It was time for the condom and he put it on and went to go do the deed. I felt a little poke down below, but not much else. I told him it wasn't in yet.

But it was in!

In order to quell the embarrassment his ultra small peen had just caused, I wiggled underneath him a bit and proclaimed that it hadn't been ALL the way in before. He bought it and continued his playa playa routine.

Not two minutes later he made a sound like a strangled rooster and hopped off me. Before I could utter a word, he ripped the condom off and proceeded to ejaculate on the clothes in his open closet.

Like a fireman with a (very teeny) hose, he shot his wad all over everything. He made sure to aim up and down and side to side in order to coat all of his shirts, pants and ties.

Now, I've seen some weird stuff in my day, but this was the weirdest. After the shock wore off, I asked him why in the hell he wanted to jizz all over the clean clothes in his closet. And he answered...

...because the maid was coming the next day.

I don't know about you all, but I try not to leave unnecessary cum covered items for the maid to deal with. And just because she is coming over to clean doesn't mean one needs to purposely make extra work for her, right?

I hightailed it out of his house and was able to avoid him for the remaining four days he was part of our office. I accidentally left my jacket at his place, but after the horrors I witnessed there, there was no way I was asking for that thing back.

GB Gets a Little Serious

No sexy time posts . No weird dating stories. No boob shots. The GB side of me is kind of on the back burner for today (though I guess I did manage to post a shot of 3 ladies in bed).

Out here in California, there are 4 of us girlfriends who are tighter than tight. This group includes me and my dear roommates, The Spaz and Tabbie. The fourth member is our wonderful friend, Leslie.

Today, Leslie is having an alien (aka tumor) removed from her abdomen (we've named it Gwyneth). And you thought my boobs were ginormous? Well, Gwyneth is the size of a CANTELOPE!!!

We found out a few weeks ago about the cancer and have been on pins and needles ever since. We are trying to stay positive, but today is very very scary.

The doctors aren't really sure what they are going to find when they go in there.

So please send some positive thoughts out to Leslie. And if you feel like leaving a drunk dial for me or sending a wacky email or picture, today would be the day to do it. Mama needs distractions and some big hearty laughs.

Boots and Boobs

Tabbie and I ended up doing touristy stuff on Hollywood Blvd. this weekend. A few blocks past Mann's Chinese Theatre and all the street performers, a glorious thing happens...

The souvenir shops filled with star maps and t-shirts are replaced with stripper stores full of sexy little outfits and ridiculously awesome shoes.

Tabbie and I saw these beauties on sale (2 pair for $45) and knew we needed them. I got red and she got gold. It didn't matter that we had no place to wear these beauties; we were excited just to put them on and parade around the beach house in them.

So if you visit our place, make sure you request a show. Who knows...maybe we'll throw a little dance in there as well.

***********
On another note, I wanted to thank everyone who voted in the Boobie Wars. I know a lot of you had comments that didn't show up (or other issues with the contest) and I apologize for any problems that arose. Your support was overwhelming and the majority of the traffic to the site came from my blog and Tabbie's.

Boobies rule!

Meet the Parents - My Mom the Unwitting Perv

I'm a little sassy if you haven't noticed.

So it surprises people out here in Cali when they meet my parents, Mary Lou and Joe. They've been married for over 35 years and are the most upstanding people you'd ever meet. They've never done drugs, pay all their bills on time and a wild night out consists of a wine cooler with dinner.

My father, a retired Fire Chief, works a couple of part time jobs just to keep busy. My mother, voted most organized of her senior class, still makes his lunch sandwiches the night before.

This works well, but only if my sister and I aren't visiting. We've ransacked the fridge a time or two after a late night out. My parents would wake up to smears of ketchup on the shelf and little else.

My sister would always claim we didn't know it was Dad's WORK sandwich, so my mother got a little crafty. She started labeling Dad's food with post-it notes so we couldn't feign ignorance. This seemed to do the trick for a while.

So one day, Mom was grocery shopping and had just gotten her hair cut. She noticed people checking her out and smiling and thought they were appreciating her new hairdo. She was practically dancing a jig behind the cart and feeling on top of the world.

Until a man stopped her. He wasn't just smiling, he was laughing at her. In fact he couldn't even speak he was laughing so hard.

Instead he just pointed.

To her left boob.

And there, upon Mom's breast, was one of the sticky notes from the fridge. And it read:

Don't touch - Joe's lunch!!!

My New Ink

Finished product

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 out...no, 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?

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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

UPDATE:

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!!

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.

Payback is a Bitch

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

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.

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.