Kill_em_All
11-28-2005, 11:31 AM
As old age creeps up on me like a Special Ops troop, readying himself for his first kill, I find myself revisiting memories in my head of events that were defining moments in my life. Events such as my first kiss (an utterly embarrassing event, which is typically foreshadowed by the ugliness of the skank with whom I shared the kiss with), my first cross-country road trip, and the time I shit in the hot tub at the Mariott in Denver. These are the events, which are shining examples of why I am the way I am.
In keeping with this mentality, I have recently found myself pondering the day I lost my virginity, and what affects that first time pounding the poon has had on my long-term sexual activities. Let me explain this: I attribute most of my present-day sexual mannerisms to my early sexual experiences. For example: I don’t like blowjobs very much. I know that violates many of the laws of manhood, and I expect a good amount of jokes about it, but it’s true. It’s not that I DISLIKE a pair of lips wrapped around my schlong, because I do, it’s just that I freak out sometimes when I get them. I’ve determined that it’s psychological. My first blowjob was horrid. After about ten minutes of having this girl’s teeth scrape across my dick head like an ice-scraper removing a night’s worth of frozen rain from a windshield resulted in me donkey-punching this broad on the top of her skull. Since then, I’ve developed a particular fear of having my dick scraped by teeth. Get where I’m going with this?
Anyway, what follows is an actual account of my first sexual experience. I’ve told this story many times, but never have written it out. I’m fairly confident that I haven’t left out any details, although the entire situation revolved around extreme alcoholic overkill and there may be tidbits of information lost with the brain cells that I destroyed that particular evening. Either way, it makes for a fucking good story and it’s entirely true, so read on.
My friends all started nailing sluts at an early age (at least they claimed to be nailing sluts. Chances are, I was just gullible, and bought into their bullshit). By age 13, most of my friends were already somewhat versed in sexual activity, while I had just arrived at learning the basics of masturbation, so I automatically had a complex. It wasn’t that I was not capable of getting laid, because I was a junior player in my early teens. I had girlfriends by the handfuls, and most were older and more experienced. I was (as most teenaged virgins in the late 80’s were) scared. AIDS was a full-blown epidemic, V.D was typical as condoms weren't actively pushed to my generation, and most of the girls at that age were vapid sluts, with little morality or virtue. Not exactly perfect conditions to just whip out my cock and poke the first thing with indoor pipes (which is ultimately what I ended up doing, anyway). Nevertheless, by the latter part of my 14th year, I was sick of hearing my buddies yap endlessly about their escapades, while I was still trying to find ways to sneak porno mags past my mother so I could rub one out. My time had come, and I was on the verge of a night that would go down in history among my friends as one of the shining moments in sexual history.
For you to truly understand the nature of the evening, I have to go back in time a little bit and tell you about my alcohol addiction.
I have always liked booze. I had to. My family has a blatant history of alcoholism, so I was doomed years before I was even born. I started drinking at an early age, and drank hard. My lifestyle as a young punk-rocker in the late 80’s required it. The problem with my teenaged alcoholism was that I drank the equivalent of donkey piss. As long as it had an alcohol content that was greater in number than my oldest, living relative's age, I would consume it. Therefore, it was of no consequence to me when my friend, Mike the Christian, and his cousin, Rob-C invited me to a party they were throwing, which the beverage of the evening was to be a 30-gallon aquarium filled with Jungle Juice.
Now, for those of you fortunate enough to have never experienced Jungle Juice, I’ll clue you in as to what it is.
Jungle Juice is the end result of mixing 190 proof grain alcohol (the equivalent of moonshine) with Hawaiian Punch, 7UP, and diced portions of fruit. What it leaves you with is a euphoric drunkenness that generally involves capping off the evening with a twenty-minute vomit session, followed by a comatose-like sleep.
Mike the Christian (who was coined such because he had a Jesus bobble-head statue on his dashboard) was older than me, a lot older. He had a girlfriend who was a lot older than him, a lot older. By comparison, his girlfriend, theoretically, could’ve been my mother. But she was attractive. She had the common appearance of a woman in her late 30’s; some very subtle wrinkles, a certain rasp to her voice, and the ability to drink a fucking shitload of booze.
Mike the Christian had a MILF. Mike the Christian was lucky.
So the party kicked off and we bathed ourselves in The Ramones, tortilla chips, and excessive amounts of Jungle Juice, washed down with Corona beer. I just want to clarify something here: Mike the Christian’s house and the party going on inside of it were proof that there is a Prince of Darkness. The house consisted of two floors. The first floor looked like one of those houses that the police raid on “Cops”. It was littered with years of empty beer cans, pizza boxes, “Juggs” magazines from years past, and smelled of piss, vomit, and stale beer. The walls were covered in graffiti, and had messages like “I fucked your sister here” and “Who farted” written in permanent marker. The furniture consisted of a couch and a king-sized bed, along with some wire spools that were used as tables. The upstairs was no different, with exception to the furniture which included a bunk-bed set, and a stereo that would power a fucking Kiss concert.
It was a cesspool. It was my kind of place.
As the party raged on, the Jungle Juice took more effect. I was starting to slip into a destructive state of drunkenness, and could feel the urge to damage some shit start to kick in. Luckily for me, there was no shortage of shit to damage in this house. Now I haven’t confirmed this with anybody other than Rob-C, but apparently, I decided to melt a series of “Snicker’s” bars in the microwave. I then took the melted, black candy with peanuts and started flinging it around the house yelling, “I just shit in my hands, have some!”. It was at this time, the forty or so people in attendance began searching for another place to party. I can’t say I blame them. If I were at a party and some drunken, fourteen-year-old kid with a powder-blue semi-mohawk started throwing what I believed to be feces with peanuts around the room, I’d have left, too.
This left myself, Rob-C, Mike the Christian, and Mike the Christian’s girlfriend to consume the remaining portion (and it was no small fucking portion) of Jungle Juice. This point is where the details of the night begin to disappear.
If memory serves me correctly, we decided to play strip poker. I’ve confirmed this portion of the story with Rob-C, and it makes sense if you consider the outcome of the night. During this time, Mike the Christian decided to order pizza, which we quickly forgot about upon discovering that Mike’s girlfriend wasn’t a very good poker player, and ended up fully naked within a half-hour or so. Okay, for being in her late 30’s, she had a pretty tight body. She had a great set of tits with huge, Chef-Boy-R-Dee meatball sized nipples, and an ass that wouldn’t quit. I was pleased with the visual.
Around this time, Mike’s girlfriend decided that the night wouldn’t be complete unless she was served a big helping of cock. Mike, unashamed of receiving oral in the presence of his fifteen-year-old cousin and fourteen-year-old friend, was fully comfortable obliging her. She leaned over and slobbered on Mike’s rod for roughly a minute or two. This was the first time (but wouldn’t be the last) that I was in the immediate presence of someone getting head, and although I was shit-housed, I still felt a bit weird about it. Nevertheless, in a matter of moments, she was wiping her lips and suggesting that the four of us venture into the next room to the bed. Now I really felt weird. Rob-C had no problem jumping up and running for the next room like a fucking NFL quarterback looking for the goal line, as Mike didn’t, either. I, on the other hand, was nervous. But honestly, did you think I was just going to sit there with my dick in my hand, wondering what was going on in the next room? I mean, I was young, but I was still Kill_em_All.
Upon entering the room, I found Mike the Christian on the end of the bed, doggy-styling this broad in the pooper with a camera in one hand, and a bottle of Corona in the other. Lying on his back, was Rob-C, who was being ridden by the MILF-slut. The only natural orifice left for me, and the obvious choice for insertion, was the mouth. Now as you might remember, I’m no fan of the blowjob, and although this would prove to be my first time destroying pussy, it wasn’t my first dance with respect to getting my cock slobbered on.
Mike the Christian, in typical fashion, was laughing hysterically as he flexed his girlfriend’s sphincter, snapping photos of the event with his camera (which ended up not having film in it. Thank God), and dousing himself with grain alcohol and pieces of fruit. Rob-C wasn’t having as much fun, as after a few moments of this positioning, he began complaining that Mike’s balls kept hitting his. This generated an extreme case of hysterical laughter on my behalf, which turned into coughing, and resulted in me puking next to Mike’s bed while still receiving oral. I’ll tell you, nothing is more hysterical than puking and getting head at the same time. The laughter quickly ceased when I felt teeth scrape across my cock tip.
Right about this time, the doorbell rang. We all thought it was the police, coming to break up the party which ended an hour ago, when actually, it was the pizza guy. All of us came to this realization simultaneously, and rushed for the door like Carl Lewis on steroids. Unfortunately, in our drunken stupor, we forgot to put our clothes back on.
I don’t remember much from this point in the night, but the look on the pizza guy’s face as three, erect, nude men and one nude girl with slobber coating her lips answering the door will be burned into my memory for life.
None of us had money on us to pay for the pizzas, but the guy was cool, and in what was obviously an effort to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible to run and tell his pizza delivery buddies about what he just saw, gave us the pizzas free of cost.
Rob-C and Mike the Christian were engulfed in consuming pizza. I, on the other hand, was wanting to get laid, as was Mike’s girlfriend. She proceeded to grab me and pull me into the bedroom again, quickly throwing me on the bed and molesting me (I say molesting, because it was literally molestation. I was 14 and she was like 35. Her mom must be proud).
This was it! I was in some pussy for the first time, and it was the shiznit. After a few minutes, Mike had re-entered the room and promptly stuck his cock in her mouth. I was lying on the bed, she was on top of me, and Mike was to my left with his nuts bouncing off this chick’s chin, not a foot from my face. I was not pleased with this. In an effort to eliminate man-balls from my face, I suggested flipping her over and doggy’ing her. She accommodated.
Disclaimer: Get your puke bags ready.
So I aligned myself properly and positioned my cock for optimal insertion. That’s when it happened.
Any of us who have pounded some broad from behind know that the natural instinct when fucking doggy-style is to grab the ass of the woman you’re giving it to. Unbeknownst to me, just before the pizza-guy knocked on the door, Mike the Christian blew his load on this girl’s ass. Common sense would’ve told her to wipe the nut off afterwards, but we’re talking about a chick who’s three-way’ing it with her boyfriend’s fifteen-year-old cousin and fourteen-year-old friend. I think that common sense had obviously taken a back door (no pun intended) to witnessing me puke for a second time (which is exactly what I did).
Seconds seemed like hours as I pondered what, exactly, it was that my hands were being exposed to, and the realization of the fact that it was man chowder hit me like a Mack truck. I quickly found myself projectile vomiting, Linda Blair style, all over this chick’s ass. Jungle Juice, Corona beer, Snicker’s bar, tortilla chips, and pieces of partially digested fruit flung from my mouth onto Mike the Christian’s girlfriend like the floodwaters of New Orleans after the levees broke. None were very pleased. I couldn't stop laughing.
I passed out not much later, but only after refilling on more Jungle Juice and pizza.
When I awoke the next day, most of what had happened the night before was a blur to me. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and rolled out of the upstairs bunk-bed barefoot into a pile of my own vomit. Tripping over empty beer cans, pizza boxes, and a myriad of other trash, I trekked to the bathroom to clean the vomit off my feet. When I looked in the mirror, I discovered that I had black streaks all over my face. I glanced down at my hands, and to my surprise, realized that I still had Snickers bar all over them. Hopefully, I thought, the candy provided a protective layer against my hands actually making contact with Mike the Christian’s man juice. “Not likely”, I thought, as I puked again. After vomiting, I happened to glance at my dick, which now had a huge scrape on it from this broad's teeth. Fucking Christ. I made my way back into the bedroom to discover Mike’s girlfriend, still lying in vomit and passed out on her stomach with black handprints on her bare ass. I laughed so hard that I vomited again. Rob-C was passed out on the couch and had pissed himself, and Mike the Christian was gone. I dressed and left, uncertain of if I should consider this my first time or not.
Many years have gone by since that experience and I have put it on many sluts since, until my marriage. However, to this day, Rob-C denies the experience ever took place, but the irony is that his wife doesn’t like me much for some reason. I haven’t talked to Mike the Christian in over ten years, but wonder what he’s up to, and if he’s still with the same chick (who would be in her fifties by now). It was a fucked up night that has had detrimental effects on my modern-day activities (I rarely, if ever grab my wife’s ass when doing it doggy, and I hate fucking Snicker’s bars) but it was definitely a night that I’ll never forget without years of therapy and medication.
In keeping with this mentality, I have recently found myself pondering the day I lost my virginity, and what affects that first time pounding the poon has had on my long-term sexual activities. Let me explain this: I attribute most of my present-day sexual mannerisms to my early sexual experiences. For example: I don’t like blowjobs very much. I know that violates many of the laws of manhood, and I expect a good amount of jokes about it, but it’s true. It’s not that I DISLIKE a pair of lips wrapped around my schlong, because I do, it’s just that I freak out sometimes when I get them. I’ve determined that it’s psychological. My first blowjob was horrid. After about ten minutes of having this girl’s teeth scrape across my dick head like an ice-scraper removing a night’s worth of frozen rain from a windshield resulted in me donkey-punching this broad on the top of her skull. Since then, I’ve developed a particular fear of having my dick scraped by teeth. Get where I’m going with this?
Anyway, what follows is an actual account of my first sexual experience. I’ve told this story many times, but never have written it out. I’m fairly confident that I haven’t left out any details, although the entire situation revolved around extreme alcoholic overkill and there may be tidbits of information lost with the brain cells that I destroyed that particular evening. Either way, it makes for a fucking good story and it’s entirely true, so read on.
My friends all started nailing sluts at an early age (at least they claimed to be nailing sluts. Chances are, I was just gullible, and bought into their bullshit). By age 13, most of my friends were already somewhat versed in sexual activity, while I had just arrived at learning the basics of masturbation, so I automatically had a complex. It wasn’t that I was not capable of getting laid, because I was a junior player in my early teens. I had girlfriends by the handfuls, and most were older and more experienced. I was (as most teenaged virgins in the late 80’s were) scared. AIDS was a full-blown epidemic, V.D was typical as condoms weren't actively pushed to my generation, and most of the girls at that age were vapid sluts, with little morality or virtue. Not exactly perfect conditions to just whip out my cock and poke the first thing with indoor pipes (which is ultimately what I ended up doing, anyway). Nevertheless, by the latter part of my 14th year, I was sick of hearing my buddies yap endlessly about their escapades, while I was still trying to find ways to sneak porno mags past my mother so I could rub one out. My time had come, and I was on the verge of a night that would go down in history among my friends as one of the shining moments in sexual history.
For you to truly understand the nature of the evening, I have to go back in time a little bit and tell you about my alcohol addiction.
I have always liked booze. I had to. My family has a blatant history of alcoholism, so I was doomed years before I was even born. I started drinking at an early age, and drank hard. My lifestyle as a young punk-rocker in the late 80’s required it. The problem with my teenaged alcoholism was that I drank the equivalent of donkey piss. As long as it had an alcohol content that was greater in number than my oldest, living relative's age, I would consume it. Therefore, it was of no consequence to me when my friend, Mike the Christian, and his cousin, Rob-C invited me to a party they were throwing, which the beverage of the evening was to be a 30-gallon aquarium filled with Jungle Juice.
Now, for those of you fortunate enough to have never experienced Jungle Juice, I’ll clue you in as to what it is.
Jungle Juice is the end result of mixing 190 proof grain alcohol (the equivalent of moonshine) with Hawaiian Punch, 7UP, and diced portions of fruit. What it leaves you with is a euphoric drunkenness that generally involves capping off the evening with a twenty-minute vomit session, followed by a comatose-like sleep.
Mike the Christian (who was coined such because he had a Jesus bobble-head statue on his dashboard) was older than me, a lot older. He had a girlfriend who was a lot older than him, a lot older. By comparison, his girlfriend, theoretically, could’ve been my mother. But she was attractive. She had the common appearance of a woman in her late 30’s; some very subtle wrinkles, a certain rasp to her voice, and the ability to drink a fucking shitload of booze.
Mike the Christian had a MILF. Mike the Christian was lucky.
So the party kicked off and we bathed ourselves in The Ramones, tortilla chips, and excessive amounts of Jungle Juice, washed down with Corona beer. I just want to clarify something here: Mike the Christian’s house and the party going on inside of it were proof that there is a Prince of Darkness. The house consisted of two floors. The first floor looked like one of those houses that the police raid on “Cops”. It was littered with years of empty beer cans, pizza boxes, “Juggs” magazines from years past, and smelled of piss, vomit, and stale beer. The walls were covered in graffiti, and had messages like “I fucked your sister here” and “Who farted” written in permanent marker. The furniture consisted of a couch and a king-sized bed, along with some wire spools that were used as tables. The upstairs was no different, with exception to the furniture which included a bunk-bed set, and a stereo that would power a fucking Kiss concert.
It was a cesspool. It was my kind of place.
As the party raged on, the Jungle Juice took more effect. I was starting to slip into a destructive state of drunkenness, and could feel the urge to damage some shit start to kick in. Luckily for me, there was no shortage of shit to damage in this house. Now I haven’t confirmed this with anybody other than Rob-C, but apparently, I decided to melt a series of “Snicker’s” bars in the microwave. I then took the melted, black candy with peanuts and started flinging it around the house yelling, “I just shit in my hands, have some!”. It was at this time, the forty or so people in attendance began searching for another place to party. I can’t say I blame them. If I were at a party and some drunken, fourteen-year-old kid with a powder-blue semi-mohawk started throwing what I believed to be feces with peanuts around the room, I’d have left, too.
This left myself, Rob-C, Mike the Christian, and Mike the Christian’s girlfriend to consume the remaining portion (and it was no small fucking portion) of Jungle Juice. This point is where the details of the night begin to disappear.
If memory serves me correctly, we decided to play strip poker. I’ve confirmed this portion of the story with Rob-C, and it makes sense if you consider the outcome of the night. During this time, Mike the Christian decided to order pizza, which we quickly forgot about upon discovering that Mike’s girlfriend wasn’t a very good poker player, and ended up fully naked within a half-hour or so. Okay, for being in her late 30’s, she had a pretty tight body. She had a great set of tits with huge, Chef-Boy-R-Dee meatball sized nipples, and an ass that wouldn’t quit. I was pleased with the visual.
Around this time, Mike’s girlfriend decided that the night wouldn’t be complete unless she was served a big helping of cock. Mike, unashamed of receiving oral in the presence of his fifteen-year-old cousin and fourteen-year-old friend, was fully comfortable obliging her. She leaned over and slobbered on Mike’s rod for roughly a minute or two. This was the first time (but wouldn’t be the last) that I was in the immediate presence of someone getting head, and although I was shit-housed, I still felt a bit weird about it. Nevertheless, in a matter of moments, she was wiping her lips and suggesting that the four of us venture into the next room to the bed. Now I really felt weird. Rob-C had no problem jumping up and running for the next room like a fucking NFL quarterback looking for the goal line, as Mike didn’t, either. I, on the other hand, was nervous. But honestly, did you think I was just going to sit there with my dick in my hand, wondering what was going on in the next room? I mean, I was young, but I was still Kill_em_All.
Upon entering the room, I found Mike the Christian on the end of the bed, doggy-styling this broad in the pooper with a camera in one hand, and a bottle of Corona in the other. Lying on his back, was Rob-C, who was being ridden by the MILF-slut. The only natural orifice left for me, and the obvious choice for insertion, was the mouth. Now as you might remember, I’m no fan of the blowjob, and although this would prove to be my first time destroying pussy, it wasn’t my first dance with respect to getting my cock slobbered on.
Mike the Christian, in typical fashion, was laughing hysterically as he flexed his girlfriend’s sphincter, snapping photos of the event with his camera (which ended up not having film in it. Thank God), and dousing himself with grain alcohol and pieces of fruit. Rob-C wasn’t having as much fun, as after a few moments of this positioning, he began complaining that Mike’s balls kept hitting his. This generated an extreme case of hysterical laughter on my behalf, which turned into coughing, and resulted in me puking next to Mike’s bed while still receiving oral. I’ll tell you, nothing is more hysterical than puking and getting head at the same time. The laughter quickly ceased when I felt teeth scrape across my cock tip.
Right about this time, the doorbell rang. We all thought it was the police, coming to break up the party which ended an hour ago, when actually, it was the pizza guy. All of us came to this realization simultaneously, and rushed for the door like Carl Lewis on steroids. Unfortunately, in our drunken stupor, we forgot to put our clothes back on.
I don’t remember much from this point in the night, but the look on the pizza guy’s face as three, erect, nude men and one nude girl with slobber coating her lips answering the door will be burned into my memory for life.
None of us had money on us to pay for the pizzas, but the guy was cool, and in what was obviously an effort to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible to run and tell his pizza delivery buddies about what he just saw, gave us the pizzas free of cost.
Rob-C and Mike the Christian were engulfed in consuming pizza. I, on the other hand, was wanting to get laid, as was Mike’s girlfriend. She proceeded to grab me and pull me into the bedroom again, quickly throwing me on the bed and molesting me (I say molesting, because it was literally molestation. I was 14 and she was like 35. Her mom must be proud).
This was it! I was in some pussy for the first time, and it was the shiznit. After a few minutes, Mike had re-entered the room and promptly stuck his cock in her mouth. I was lying on the bed, she was on top of me, and Mike was to my left with his nuts bouncing off this chick’s chin, not a foot from my face. I was not pleased with this. In an effort to eliminate man-balls from my face, I suggested flipping her over and doggy’ing her. She accommodated.
Disclaimer: Get your puke bags ready.
So I aligned myself properly and positioned my cock for optimal insertion. That’s when it happened.
Any of us who have pounded some broad from behind know that the natural instinct when fucking doggy-style is to grab the ass of the woman you’re giving it to. Unbeknownst to me, just before the pizza-guy knocked on the door, Mike the Christian blew his load on this girl’s ass. Common sense would’ve told her to wipe the nut off afterwards, but we’re talking about a chick who’s three-way’ing it with her boyfriend’s fifteen-year-old cousin and fourteen-year-old friend. I think that common sense had obviously taken a back door (no pun intended) to witnessing me puke for a second time (which is exactly what I did).
Seconds seemed like hours as I pondered what, exactly, it was that my hands were being exposed to, and the realization of the fact that it was man chowder hit me like a Mack truck. I quickly found myself projectile vomiting, Linda Blair style, all over this chick’s ass. Jungle Juice, Corona beer, Snicker’s bar, tortilla chips, and pieces of partially digested fruit flung from my mouth onto Mike the Christian’s girlfriend like the floodwaters of New Orleans after the levees broke. None were very pleased. I couldn't stop laughing.
I passed out not much later, but only after refilling on more Jungle Juice and pizza.
When I awoke the next day, most of what had happened the night before was a blur to me. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and rolled out of the upstairs bunk-bed barefoot into a pile of my own vomit. Tripping over empty beer cans, pizza boxes, and a myriad of other trash, I trekked to the bathroom to clean the vomit off my feet. When I looked in the mirror, I discovered that I had black streaks all over my face. I glanced down at my hands, and to my surprise, realized that I still had Snickers bar all over them. Hopefully, I thought, the candy provided a protective layer against my hands actually making contact with Mike the Christian’s man juice. “Not likely”, I thought, as I puked again. After vomiting, I happened to glance at my dick, which now had a huge scrape on it from this broad's teeth. Fucking Christ. I made my way back into the bedroom to discover Mike’s girlfriend, still lying in vomit and passed out on her stomach with black handprints on her bare ass. I laughed so hard that I vomited again. Rob-C was passed out on the couch and had pissed himself, and Mike the Christian was gone. I dressed and left, uncertain of if I should consider this my first time or not.
Many years have gone by since that experience and I have put it on many sluts since, until my marriage. However, to this day, Rob-C denies the experience ever took place, but the irony is that his wife doesn’t like me much for some reason. I haven’t talked to Mike the Christian in over ten years, but wonder what he’s up to, and if he’s still with the same chick (who would be in her fifties by now). It was a fucked up night that has had detrimental effects on my modern-day activities (I rarely, if ever grab my wife’s ass when doing it doggy, and I hate fucking Snicker’s bars) but it was definitely a night that I’ll never forget without years of therapy and medication.