Wet

I have a problem.

Women seem to like me.

Now, before you go thinking (again) that I’m an arrogant little asshole, hear me out.

I am polite and well spoken. Technically speaking, I am educated. There is nothing threatening about me. (Fuck sakes, I have a cat!) I work out. I have a full-time job and own a house. (Brag much?) I can do some things other guys can’t. I can tell sexually explicit jokes and get away with it using a natural, non-offensive delivery with hilarious inflections. Some women react to these as if I just recited a beautiful sonnet. Women tell me their problems and I respond in a positive, affirming manner. I may hold the record for listening to stories about baby daddys and black eyes.

“He crazy!”

One thing I’ve learned about baby daddys. They crazy. They all crazy. Most of these baby mamas are coo coo for cocoa puffs themselves, but whatever.

Women love safe, friendly and funny. They may not necessarily want to fuck it, but they still love it. Some women have a physical attraction to me, and some don’t. I prefer to concentrate on the ones that do.

And therein lies the problem. I have an attraction to any woman that has an attraction to me. It doesn’t matter what she looks like. She could be Chewbacca’s sister and waterfall gonorrhea down her leg, it wouldn’t matter. I’d still give her a shot.

I like to hear what they like about me. I have to know why I’m attractive to them. What a narcissitic fuck I am, but I can’t get over it.

One night, it nearly did me in. I’m sure I would’ve made the local paper. It may have even been picked up nationally. The media wanks love the out of the ordinary. I deserved to be shamed. Perhaps it even would have saved me in an odd sense. Changed my life for the better. But it never happened.

And Officer McAlister…I’m still sorry.

I didn’t even want to go. I was tired from working 60 hours the previous five days (corporate drone). However my friend Mark was persistent, and I didn’t have shit to do that night anyway. I had the next two days off and there was no reason not to let loose a little. Once I had a couple drinks in me I’d perk up and have a good time. Or maybe just make an ass of myself and let everyone have a good laugh at my expense. It didn’t matter if they were laughing with me or at me, they were laughing weren’t they?

Elizabeth was a sweet girl. She was smart, studying to get her Master’s Degree in something. She was Mark’s friend and we had hung out on a couple previous occasions involving a lot of whiskey. She could drink and so could I. Evidently, I’m a charming bastard when drunk because Elizabeth loved her some Jeremy.

Now Elizabeth was a big gal. Imagine your average big gal. Now dial it up two sizes. Now go two sizes bigger. Square that by three. Now imagine you’re front row at the Macy’s Day Parade and Stay Puff the fucking Marshmallow Man is floating over you with Jabba the Hut laying on his shoulders. Paul Bunyan and his blue ox bang buddy are winking right behind. (How dare you say that about Paul Bunyan!?!)

If someone had introduced her to you as “Hey, this is my friend Colossus,” you’d have believed it.

That was Elizabeth. Bless her heart, but this gal had me covered. Quite literally. She was modestly cute, but her size was cumbersome. This is nothing against larger women, but form meets function at some point…right?

We sat at the bar for the better part of three hours, draining a liter of whiskey and having a great conversation.

Well, maybe. For all I know, we could have been talking about how Ronald McDonald and Mayor McCheese never caught the Hamburglar. Hello! Hamburglar always taking shit in broad daylight in front of EVERYBODY. Can we get some justice in McDonaldland? Hamburglar got a set of nuts I’ll give him that.

I was fucked up. But I do know I made a bunch of stupid jokes which she laughed at genuinely. That will always charm me.

We also had talked about what each of us wanted to do with our lives (her: I don’t remember; me: something more than this). The place was packed and alive. A band wailed cheap rock covers and the air hung smoked. Christmas was near and the mood was festive. Strangers patted me on the back simply for nudging away and giving them a slot on the bar to order from.

Close to last call, Elizabeth laid it all out.

“I’m leaving soon. I’m taking a job in Texas and don’t know when I’ll be back.”.

I had heard this. She in fact was leaving soon. I didn’t think it had mattered. I was used to temporary friends.

“I was wondering if you’d like a night of fun?” she cooed.

“What do you mean? Like fuck?” I responded. Valedictorian shit right there.

She rolled her eyes at me. I could tell she was trying to be as subtle as possible and me blurting it out embarrassed her.

I realized she was serious. And she had been planning this. I knew it was going to come to this, hence my problem.

I’m not gonna lie. It kinda turned me on. Her confidence. I wasn’t used to the forwardness. And really, this gal was completely into me. Not just physically. Why would I begrudge that? She saw something in me, and that was great in itself.

I know guys who will slag ladies that are into them but aren’t quite up to speed in their eyes. I’ve never understood this. She likes you. She wants to be with you. Why discredit this, as if something is wrong with her for wanting you?

I know one thing: Every girl I’ve ever been with has been hot as shit. I wouldn’t even know what an ugly girl looked like.

Elizabeth wasn’t ugly, but damn sure was aggressive. She grabbed both of my hands and smiled.

“I was hoping you’d say yes!”

Yes? I didn’t say anything. I stared at her in complete silence. Somehow, she interpreted this to my heart having a yearning desire for her love.

She leaned forward for a kiss and I turned away. Disappointed, she asked what was wrong. I told her that I don’t do public displays. Wrong move.

Elizabeth took this as a challenge. “Oh yeah? FEEL MY TITTIES!!!”

The bartender stared straight at me. I looked away. Seriously she may as well have taken an ad out in the Sunday newspaper. Everyone heard it. But as much as I didn’t want to kiss Elizabeth, I do like boobs. (Boobs? Crack a thesaurus.) Next thing you know I’m groping a woman thrice my size in front of a table of 10.

“Oh man!”

“That ain’t right!”

“Milkin cows are ya Fuckhead?”

“Nooo! You’re better than that!”

A woman screamed the last one. What a traitor. When you hear those things immediately, you are doing some wrong shit.

Getting called “Fuckhead” should also be a clue.

It didn’t matter at this point. I was committed. I asked if Elizabeth was ready to go and I’ve never seen a big girl move so fast. I smiled at my table of detractors and left the bar with my sweetness. She probably could’ve given me a piggyback ride no sweat but we had garnered enough attention.

Looking back, I wish she would have. I mean, if you’re gonna go, go big right? Oh wait, I did.

Elizabeth was hot and bothered, and I was a witting accomplice. There was one problem. There was no place to go to forge her carnal desire and my subconscious handicap.

“Let’s get in your car!” Elizabeth howled.

As of a sudden, it hit me. I was going to have to fuck her. I really didn’t see how this was going to work out. I didn’t have a condom, and if her crotch was half the size of the rest of her she wasn’t even going to feel me inside her. Once again, she was a sweetheart. An incredibly horny sweetheart. Just so large. I didn’t know what to do.

Luckily, fate would take care of the rest.

She hoisted herself in into the passenger seat. I climbed into the driver’s seat. The doors were shut, windows up and the air was moist and heavy. We just stared at each other for a second. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. I don’t know what the hell she was thinking. Then she reminded me.

“I just want you to pound it!”

Really? C’mon girl I need a little more romance than that. I’m sensitive. I was about to fuck a 350-lb. acquaintance in the passenger seat of my car in a dank parking lot a week before Christmas and I had an epiphany.

I needed to make some changes in my life. Jesus wasn’t looking down on this. And if he was, he was definitely squinting.

Elizabeth tore down her pants and OH MY GOD. Large thighs. Tight pants. Hot bar. Three hours of sexual anticipation. Add it all up and suddenly my car smelled like the monkey house at the zoo.

Oh well. I had come this far so let’s just get on with it. I slipped my jeans to my knees and turned onto her. Then, something magical/shameful/miraculous happened. My Little Man Tate frumpled there on strike. Flopped over on her leg, she witnessed his droopy frown.

“What’s wrong? I don’t turn you on?”

She sounded so forlorn. I’ll never forget her disappointed sigh. I was upset myself. Whatever she expected, I wasn’t delivering.

This is the part I should’ve given up. Apolgized and been on my way.

“I’m sorry Elizabeth. My dick is obviously scared shitless and your gaping canyon isn’t going to reconcile this situation anytime soon. Have fun in Texas.”

This is where Pride got in my way. Always gotta think you’re better than what you are. I had a reputation to protect. If my man wasn’t up to the challenge, I was going to have to take care of this myself.

Have you ever drunkenly gone down on a behemoth in the front seat of a car? Wait, what the fuck kind of question is that? You’re most likely a decent human being. Of course you haven’t. Well let me tell you, it’s overrated.

Down I went, diving in with no mercy. I’m not even sure what happened at this point. I pretended I was wading through a swamp, just to get stuck in quicksand at the end. She liked it. I think. Maybe. Probably not. I don’t know if I ever got her off, but I received an ‘A’ for effort. I usually like to use details in my storytelling. Not this time. I can’t go back to that place.

I came up for air and she seemed (moderately) satisfied.

“Now it’s your turn!”

Oh fuck. I was ready to call it a night, but Elizabeth was going to make sure I got mine. And really, why wouldn’t she? Once again, what a sweetheart.

“You have a beautiful penis!”

Yep, she said penis, but that’s okay. I felt pride. No one had ever said that to me before. I was proud. Like my boy belonged in an accelerated reading program or something. Elizabeth made it sound like my cock could be in the Smithsonian. She just stared in wonderment at it before, well…

Ladies you want to make your man feel good? There you go. Elizabeth made me feel like I could’ve slanged my cock onto the Mona Lisa and people would’ve commented on Mona’s wondrous mustache. Hell, they probably would’ve sold plasters of it in the gift shop.

It took far too long (whiskey dick) but she finally finished me and left with a simple, “Thanks! Maybe see you again when I’m in town? Goodbye”.

So much for her liking me. I guess she just used me for my nerfy cock.

I was shirtless, pants around my ankles and 30 minutes from home. I had nowhere to stay and felt sober enough to make the trek home. I put the key in the ignition and began my journey. Stupid.

Luckily, it was a straight shot along some pretty desolate, rural Alabama highways. About halfway home though, I had to piss bad. Whiskey bad. I couldn’t stop. Having an officer ride up on a pissing guy on the side of the road was an automatic night in jail. This way, I was still safe. On a county road in a nowhere slate of Alabama, I made a snap decision.

I was already covered in more fluids than conceivable. I had finished on my chest and had god knows what all over my face. (Yeah I know but I go all out). Half-drunk, half-sober I let loose. I felt my stream hit my ankles. I reminded myself of my earlier decision.

I really needed to make some changes in my life.

Pissing all over my legs, I looked up to see flashing blue lights in my rearview mirror.

“Oh fuck.”

This was not good. I pulled over onto the grass on the side of the highway while my bladder was still emptying all over myself and the floorboards. Enough time had passed I thought I would be safe on the breathalizer. However, I was still pissing my shoes when Officer McAlister apporached. Nevermind the jizz covering my chest and Elizabeth’s pussy jank all over my face.

“License and registration, please,” Officer McAlister said.

I had to reach into the glove box to get my proof of insurance. The interrogation began immediately.

“Son, you been having a good time tonight?”

There was no point in lying. It was 3 a.m. and I had bounced white ounces all over myself. The lagoon of urine all over my legs was the least of my problems.

“I was at a party, but I got tired so I was just on my way home.”

“Why is your shirt off?”

Officer McAlister hadn’t noticed. Yet.

“I got hot.” It was the middle of December.

“What is that all over you?”

The flashlight was directly in my face, so he was referring to Elizabeth’s jungle juice.

His flashlight finally took in the entire scene. My pants were around my ankles covered in piss. I had semen all over me and my face looked as if it had been smeared across tree sap.

“Son what in the hell have you been doing?”

I decided to tell him the truth. I’ve gotten in more trouble telling the truth than I ever have lying, but I was waving the white flag at this point.

“I met a girl sir, and she was really nice. Really nice sir,” I meekly responded.

“Jesus Christ!” Officer McAlister exclaimed.

I had made a good Christian man take the lord’s name in vain. That’s not a good sign in Alabama.

“I should take you in right now!”

“Please don’t sir. I live right down the road and I promise you I will never do this again.” That was true. I will NEVER piss all over myself at 60 mph after mouth-fornicating with a woman twice my size in the passenger seat of my car again in my life. At least I hope I don’t. I shouldn’t make any promises.

I could tell he wanted me in handcuffs but he didn’t come equipped with a hazmat suit. It just wasn’t worth it to him. I can’t blame him. If I’m in his shoes I just walk away.

“Where do you live?”

I gave him my address.

“I’m going to follow you home, and I swear to everything holy you swerve once you’re coming with me,” Officer McAlister threatened.

Jesus isn’t good enough Officer McAlister? Gotta be EVERYTHING holy? That’s probably a lot. Geez. (I’m a dick).

By this time my buzz had gone away completely. Sure enough, Officer McAlister followed me to my driveway. I turned in, pulled my pissy pants up and got out of the car.

“Son, if I ever see you out on the road again I will arrest you for the slightest infraction. Do you understand me?”

I thanked him sincerely. Going to the county jail smeared in jizz can’t be a good first impression to the other jailbirds. They might get the wrong idea. And I’ve got pretty lips.

I’m thankful I have never run across Officer McAlister since that night. I have a feeling he’s even more thankful for that.