Tuesday, August 02, 2005

3 Sluts

No, not the three sluts from my Christmas Poem - there were only two the guy was just a bitch. No, I am talking about 3 of the most rotten-crotched bitches you would ever want to associate with who went to Eureka College. Granted, I did my share of tail chasing ... and your share, and his share ... you get the point. However, there were 3 there - all friends, go figure - who ... I wouldn't touch them with a dog's dick and blame it on another dog. It wasn't that they were just whores; they were nasty whores with bitch attitudes. The first night I met them was the start of a long running feud that lasted my remaining 3 years of College, but it was more than worth it.

I was holding a party and the three were whoring it up as usual. I knew who they were, but they had yet to meet me. It was Sophmore year, so - basically - every girl on campus had been to my room for a party, after-hours, or after-after-hours. Of course, I was into the latter half of a case of beer (much like most of my stories from this era) when two of them decided they wanted to dance ... with me. Sure it's my room, my party, bass is thumping, but there are like 10 freshman girls who have been there every night and I only had fucked 8 of them. I sure as hell didn't want to blow my chances with the other 2 - or even chances of doing the other 8 a 2nd, 3rd or even 4th time - by hanging on these skeezy bitches.

The more they danced, the more I backed away from them, the more they came after me. Finally, one of the gaping vaginas, managed to get over to where I was at playing DJ before heading back out to the dance floor. I was pissed because I was trying to avoid her and her skank friends, but now I had to be obvious ... which made me a little happier.

"I'm Laura," she said trying to look confident and\or appealing.
"Good for you," I nodded patronizingly. She obviously didn't understand when people look and talk to you like a special olympics athlete who just spelled their name right, it's not a good thing.
"My good friends call me 'doggy'," and with that she pulled in close to me so that her snatch was dry humping my leg. OK, immediate action or I'll be humping my fist later ...
"They should," I said as loud as I could. "Because your face looks like the ass end of an old bulldog I had."

Women - watching this display - erupted in laughter. My best friend Greg (more about him in future blogs) high-fived me. And "Doggy" and her trollups stormed out of my room and hated me the rest of their sure-to-be VD-filled lives ...

Happily ever after. The End.


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