By James Holeva
Sometimes bitchy women need to be taught a lesson, and sometimes that lesson could be an adventure.
When a guy takes a girl somewhere as his date, she should at least go through the motions accordingly. I’m not saying fuck, although I don’t see anything wrong with it, but in public she should be social, conversational and put on a good show.
I was hanging out with this chick Lindsay, you know nothing serious. We hung out a few times, hooked up, etc.
She was one of many. And then it came up in conversation that I was going to a friend’s wedding. It also turned out although she didn’t know the groom as well as I did, she also knew a lot of people in the wedding party.
What a small world.
So she basically invited herself to along as my date. Cool. Normally I like to roll to weddings solo for creeping purpose (I’m sure you’ve seen the Wedding Crashers), but she’s fun to hang with… so whatever.
Plus I like the challenge of having multiple creeps going at the same time… it makes for an action-packed roller coaster ride of an evening. And if it blows up, it makes for a better story.
See, I sacrifice to entertain you.
Lindsay and I had groped each other on club couches, and knibbled and grinded on the dance floor, but I had yet to take her to the bathroom stall.
So a wedding should be a layup.
We’re from Northeastern Pennsylvania --- Clarks Summit for me and Wilkes Barre for her --- and the festivities are in New York City at the Ritz Carlton Hotel.
It’s close to two and a half hours away, so I’m getting a room there with her.
So the stage is set for an evening of drunken hedonism, and there’s no need to hang with her too much now.
I wanna keep our experience fresh, and give the lady something to look forward to.
So I keep living life… spreading my skills through the mean streets of Scranton and Wilkes Barre, as well as throwing in the occasional road trip of creepin’.
Either way I’m gonna close Lindsay on wedding night. It’s only appropriate.
Of course, I’m excited. I do love this game, and I play it with a fiery enthusiasm.
Six weeks later the wedding comes around and we’re at the reception… it’s lavish, and luxurious. They’re serving surf and turf, the bride’s father is fucking chunked.
The groom done good.
Despite the extravagant accommodations, Lindsay is being a fucking bitch.
She’s sitting at the table, texting like crazy, being very rude. I quickly put it together she had recently acquired a boyfriend. Which is fine. I had no interest in anything but fucking her anyway, and of I course, I love being the other man.
So now this broad is not living up to her date commitment. It’s very rude not only to me, but to the happy couple chaining themselves to one another like slaves on a ship where some sort of manual labor is required.
I don’t know, the only manual labor I’ve ever done is eating out a fat girl. If you see how soft my hands are you’ll notice I’ve made conscious attempts to avoid real work.
As our lovely full course gourmet dinner spread rolls to a close, Lindsay tells me that she may just drive home early. I say okay and then proceed to ignore her as if she’s a leper, or a cling magnet.
Both are infectious and a true player must make attempts to avoid them.
Lindsay didn’t want to partake in the party, so I’m not gonna babysit her sulking ass… I hope the nasty puss on her face forms crow’s feet.
MY NEXT MARK
I hang out with my friends at the wedding, dance my ass off, and leave Lindsay in solitude to continue her endless stream of texting at the table.
She seems pissed, but at this point that’s what I want. So I bust a’ move with some girls at the wedding, even make out with a girl when we go out for a cigarette.
She was a fantastic kisser, excellent with the lower lip nibble, but she had to leave with her parents.
(Don’t worry, I ended up tapping that at a later date).
POST WEDDING PROM PARTY
Regardless, after the wedding myself, my friends at the wedding – many who are in the bridal party – are partying at the hotel. We’re shooting the shit, getting wasted, and partying like rockstars at the Ritz. It’s a good time.
I hadn’t seen Lindsay since, didn’t particularly care to unless she was planning on apologizing for her rudeness by dropping to her knees like a catcher firing to second, and I figured she jetted home like she said.
I end up spotting this group of hotties on the patio. They’re having beers and passing around a bottle of Vodka on this cool, and clear spring evening.
I feel I must say hello. It would be rude not to be sociable, and I wasn’t raised that way. So I walk to the patio, make an introduction, and endear myself to the crowd. Of course I’m doing well.
These girls are dressed to the nines, sporting fancy, stylish party dresses and gowns, like they were just at a ball.
I took an interest in a beautiful busty blonde bombshell in the group. She had a bimbo look… tanned, tall, and rolling with hair extensions. She had a massive rack, stood about 5-10, and was in good shape but definitely had some curves. She had an ass on her.
Of course, I planned on plowing her. It’s my nature.
ME: “So what brings you all to the Ritz Carlton tonight?”
BIMBO: “Well we got a room here to party. We just had our prom.”
This excites me.
ME: “Oh… that’s nice. It’s a milestone you know.”
(A milestone I’d love to be a part of.)
ME: “Was it fun?”
BIMBO: “Oh yeah, it was a blast!”
ME: “Time goes by so fast, doesn’t it. I mean could you believe you already had your senior prom?”
BIMBO: “Actually I’m a junior.”
This excites me even more.
ME: “Oh… I’m sorry.”
BIMBO: “Why do I look older?”
ME: “You’re just very mature for your age.”
BIMBO: “Cool. Yeah I’m taking my driver’s test next week.”
ME: “Wow. Cool. It took me four times to pass mine… parallel parking is a bitch.”
BIMBO: “When did you get your license?”
ME: “Umm… Nine years ago.”
BIMBO:” Really… so you’re….”
Some would lie themselves down, but I think that’s stupid. Well if legalities, authorities and statutory charges surface then lie your ass off, but as for drunken hookups… high school chicks, girls in general, dig older guys.
That doesn’t mean you want to be “creepy old” like the girl’s parent’s age, but twenty five is still so young that it gives off a stigma of seductive maturity.
BIMBO: “Does it matter that I’m 16.”
ME: “I thought you were mature.”
(The Bimbo giggles)
ME: “Does it matter that I’m 25?”
As usual, I know the answer.
BIMBO: “It’s hot.”
ME: “So what, no prom date?”
BIMBO: “I just broke up with my boyfriend a few weeks ago, so I just went with my friend Justin.”
ME: “Oh cool.”
BIMBO: “Yeah it was fun.”
ME: “You know, though, there’s a certain way you’re supposed to close your prom night.”
ME: “I mean, it’s a big night.”
BIMBO: “Yeah it is.”
ME: “It’s tradition.”
BIMBO: “Do you have a room here?”
ME: “Woah, woah, woah… what makes you think I’m that kind of guy?”
ME: “About what? I am that kind of guy… Let’s go to my room.”
PROM NIGHT TRADITION
On the walk to my room I learned that my date was a cheerleader (no surprise there), and third in line for prom queen.
I was pumped. I mean I was ready to mount royalty. She saw something in me, a simple commoner and now my penis and face (she seemed clean enough) was going to be used as her throne.
We made our way down the hall, passionately making out, throwing each other against the wall. She was unbuttoning my shirt and unzipping my pants as I struggled for my key card, and we quietly crept in. I turned the light on, and we noticed something on the bed.
My date Lindsay appeared to be asleep. This could be problematic.
I turned the light off.
PROM ROYALTY: “Who is she?”
ME: “She went to the wedding with me, but it’s nothing… she has a boyfriend.”
PROM ROYALTY: “Why would you bring me back where she was sleeping?”
ME: “It’s my room, and she said she was going home.”
The prom royalty kissed me, and I opened the door to our spacious bathroom.
ME: “Come on.”
I pulled some towels off the counter, and laid them down on the floor. I structured them nicely. I have to say I did well at assembling a bed on a bathroom floor. It was like building a teepee or setting up camp. Although the first thing I did was pitch a tent.
It was on. The bathroom brought out the best in this broad.
The prom royal and I mauled each other on the floor, ripping each other’s clothes off, sweating like dirty zoo animals.
It was a lovely exchange that we shared.
As the aftermath left us sweaty and dirty, we simply cleaned each other up in the shower, where we fucked again.
It was a nice evening. After all the dancing, drinking and fucking – I mean it was prom night – we earned a good night’s rest.
So we walked over to the bed. Lindsay was spread out in the middle of the bed, taking up space. Even asleep she’s an inconsiderate bitch.
I slid her to the left, and took every pillow I could find and constructed a pillow wall in the middle of the bed.
My girl from the prom is giggling through all this. My kind of girl.
Prom royalty and I slept on the one side of the pillow-laden fortress, with Lindsay on the other.
Myself and the Prom Royalty passed right out. It was a well deserved rest.
A few hours later, I felt my girl from the prom feeling me up. She was grabbing downstairs again, and I let her do her thing. She ended up blowing me, and I found myself firing my load into her mouth as the daylight seeped through the shades.
It’s hard to resist a blowjob… especially when you’re barely alive as it is.
As the Prom Royal is showcasing her skills --- she was good for a youngin’ --- Lindsay awoke… SCREAMING!
LINDSAY: “What are you doing!?”
ME: “What does it look like?”
Prom royalty raised her head.
PROM ROYALTY: “Hi.”
ME: “You could keep going honey.”
And she did.
LINDSAY: “I can’t believe you.”
ME: “What… I built a pillow wall.”
LINDSAY: “Fuck you!”
ME: “Don’t be so rude! We have a guest. – And I already got fucked. -- Say hello to Courtney, she did it.”
My cock’s still in the Prom Royalty’s perty mouth.
Lindsay is silent.
ME: “You said you were leaving! -- Frankly, I can’t believe you’re disrupting me and my friend here. We’re trying to have a moment. You’re being downright uncouth.”
LINDSAY: “I’m leaving! (She screamed as if it would disappoint me).”
ME: “Well that would be the respectful thing to do… we enjoy our space.”
Lindsay grabbed her shit, and stormed off.
(Joke’s on her though, she left her ITouch video Ipod which is now mine baby! I deleted all her shit to make room for my stuff. She’s called me a few times since, leaving me messages asking if I’d seen it. I didn’t respond. I love my new Ipod.)
So after Lindsay left, Prom Royalty continued the lip service.
ME: “I apologize for her rudeness.”
PROM ROYALTY: “That’s okay,” she exclaimed as she came up for air with a slurp and a wipe of the mouth.
ME: “Finish up dear.”
And Prom Royalty went back to work. I returned the favor, and thanked her for her goodwill.
Her situation was both well-kempt and tasty. Then again she was royalty.
That was a prom night, and a wedding the three of us will never forget.
And the moral of the story is, have no morals… but don’t ever let anybody stifle your adventure.