you ever come across a clitoris so big, you thought it was
a dick? How did this make you feel? Were you scared, or did
you like it? I am reminded of what has to be one of the tackiest,
tasteless, nights of my life. Ah, who am I kidding, it was
just another night out.
This was the night of my high school reunion, bringing Brazoswood
High School’s Class of 1991 together to wallow in the
mire once again. There were a shitload of us partying Brazoria
County style at a river house just outside of Richwood. The
house belonged to Darrell Evans, who is father to Will, of
Affordable Sound fame. When I first moved up here to Austin
from the coast to go to college, the last thing Mr. Evans
had told me was to have fun, but to call him if I ever got
arrested. Since then, I’ve been arrested over a dozen
times, and haven’t called him once.
Anyway, I was absolutely starving, hanging out in the kitchen
with Will while he made me a huge pot of Chef Boyardee Ravioli.
Over in the living room, the call was sounded. One of Brazoria
County’s most beautiful
and notorious women had finally had enough, screaming “Fuck
you, you motherfuckers, fuck me!” as she tore off her
shirt, threw it across the room, and fell onto the couch in
a passed out heap. What followed would have best been viewed
in slow motion. Myself, in the kitchen, and Darrell
Maudlin, out on the patio, both immediately sprung into action.
As the shirt still hung in the air, we were both in a full
sprint, me rounding the kitchen counter and Darrell barging
in through the sliding glass door. We were on opposite sides
of the house, heading to an equidistant point in the middle.
As the shirt landed, I hurdled the coffee table and laid out
in a swan dive for the spot on the couch next to our fallen
angel. I could feel Darrell in the air, sailing towards me.
We both crashed onto the same spot on the sofa
like two linemen pouncing on a fumble, jockeying for position.
I somehow outmaneuvered him and snuggled up next to my date,
laughing hysterically in victory. She had passed out in a
half laying, half sitting position at the end of the couch.
As it was, she was way too drunk to be coaxed into laying
out lengthwise, allowing me to lay beside her, filling the
couch to capacity. “No, no you fucker, I’m not
going anywhere.” Darrell announced, spooning up behind
me. The siege had begun.
the rest of our high school friends partied on into one of
the best night of their lives, Darrell and I remained on the
couch, opting for a high stakes battle of wills. We both knew
that sooner or later, in the wee hours of the morning, the
house would lay silent, allowing the victor of our deadly
at least a half hour’s pleasure with our quarry, who
should be just waking from her stupor by then. To the loser...
Nothing. Nothing but the lifelong knowledge of having blown
off your high school reunion in some fucked up “one
in the hand is better than two in the bush” type of
scenario. Neither of us realized how bad it would get. Darrel
struck the first blow. Having finished slaving over a huge
pot of raviolis, Will came into the living room and made a
disturbing announcement. Will was in love, you see. He and
his fiancé were living together in sin up in Austin,
and much of the furniture at the river house had been bequeathed
to them, including the couch, which the missus had taken a
particular liking to. She didn’t want anyone eating
on the couch and Will, in a sickening display of weakness,
the decree. In order to eat my raviolis, I was going to have
to get up, relinquishing the upper hand to my opponent. Darrell,
on the contrary, was free to come and go as he pleased, so
long as I was not able to lay out
prostrate with my sweetheart. He got up, sat across the coffee
table from me, and ate the whole pot, right in my face. He
kept saying shit like “Mmmm, these are the best fucking
raviolis I’ve ever had in my life!” as he licked
the sauce off the spoon. Upon finishing, Darrell snuggled
back up behind me. Three dominoes, lying toppled over on each
other, we looked like a love triangle gone bad. The party
raged on around us.
Darrell and I fell asleep. As the party dwindled, at about
4 A.M., we both awoke to find that our hostess had pissed
her pants. Through the process of osmosis, everything was
completely soaked in piss: her clothes, my clothes, Darrell’s
clothes and, most importantly, the precious sofa.
Shedding layers of clothing and flipping over couch cushions,
Darrell and I tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible.
Even our little princess had begun to stir a little, stripping
down to her g-string and smiling at
us briefly. “Hey baby.” she cooed, right before
falling back asleep. She probably thought she was seeing double.
I don’t blame her for pissing herself; it had been a
long night with lots of drinking. I myself had to piss so
severely that I grabbed a Big Gulp cup within arms reach on
the coffee table and filled it to capacity. There was no way
I could surrender now, too much had been sacrificed. Too much
had been lost.
an hour later, violent pounding on the front door awakened
all three of us. It was the type of knocking reserved only
for police officers and maniacs, neither of whom you want
to talk to at five in the morning. Everyone else in the house
had finally passed out, and the three of us, closest to the
door, were default favorites to answer it. Lying on top of
me, Darrell knew I wouldn’t be able to get up unless
he got up anyway. Victory was mine.
a drunken neighbor had shown up at the door, threatening to
kick everyone’s asses. My lover and I giggled to one
another, stretching out comfortably on the couch, listening
to the brow beating Darrell was taking out on the porch. “You
sons-abishes, making goddamn racket all night, drinking and
driving shit all around the goddamn shtreet....” It
was a classic case of adding insult to injury. She and I fell
into a deep embrace.
Ok, before I continue, I must address the fact that I’ve
taken quite a brow beating over the years for eating homegirl
out after she pissed her pants. I have no regrets about this
whatsoever, and feel like there is plenty to support my case.
First of all, she had already pissed all over me anyway. Secondly,
people seem to have the false impression that just because
a girl gets up, goes to the restroom, takes off her pants
and pisses in a commode, all of a sudden her pussy is as clean
enough to eat off of, no pun intended. Most importantly, this
girl is fine as all hell... always has been, always will be.
She could have SHIT in her fucking pants, and I still would
have gone down on her. In the end, we fucked and sweated and
came all over the pissstained couch that Will had tried so
hard to protect, while Darrell lay helplessly uninvolved on
the living room floor. Revenge, indeed, was a dish best served
Looking back on the article to this point, there’s one
thing I would like to clear up. Because I opted not to use
the lady-in-question’s name, I feel there is an overall
tone of objectification taking place when I talk about her.
The fact that she was passed out most of the night might also
lead one to think she was taken advantage of. It’s important
to me to point out that she is a very good friend of mine,
one of my favorite women of all time in fact, and we’ve
been close for about fifteen years. She was even married to
one of my best friends at one point. I didn’t use her
name because I never mention women’s names under these
situations, not wanting to kiss and tell. Anything that came
off as chauvinistic or rude towards women in general or this
girl specifically was completely unintentional.
Thing is, she has this huge fucking clit. I mean the thing
is gigantic... like three or four inches long. I was able
to wrap my hand around it and suck it like a fag. When it
swole up, I wanted to sit up on it and ride it. It was fucking
great. After I got up, she used her clit like a mussel’s
foot to dig her way down into the couch cushions.
Now that that little bit of unpleasantness is behind us, I’d
like to take a look at the recent developments in the world
of football, both high school and college. For starters, The
High School Playoffs have begun, ushering in one of my favorite
times of the year. Do I like the High School Playoffs? Well,
instead of going to Slayer on Friday, I drove down to San
Marcos by myself to see the San Marcos Rattlers play the Schertz
Clemens Buffaloes in opening round action. On the heels of
several red-zone turnovers, San Marcos suffered a disappointing
loss in front of the home crowd, bringing an end to a season
that had seen them go 9-1 up to that point. Far and away,
the highpoint of the game was the Rattler band playing Breadfan.
Can you believe it? BREADFAN!! Numerous perennial powerhouses,
including Texas City, Denison, Duncanville, Euless Trinity,
Grapevine and Sealy saw early exits from the playoffs this
weekend. With The Longhorns being off
next weekend, I expect to take in two, if not three second
Speaking of The Longhorns, my Uncle Ronnie came up for the
Texas Tech game this weekend. Couple of things here. First
of all, Texas’ defense looked absolutely shitty against
Tech. I don’t give a fuck about the
“high powered” offence they’re running in
Lubbock these days, several teams, including Colorado, have
managed to keep Tech in check this year and to let the Red
Raiders come into Austin and go apeshit like that is truly
despicable. Secondly, Mack Brown’s call to bench Vince
Young for Chance Mock on the last drive of the game makes
him one of three things; a genius, an idiot, or a maniac.
Having never heard him called a coaching genius, and seeing
him do too much for the program over the years to call him
an idiot, I have to assume we have a maniac on our hands.
As we speak, Mack Brown has gone completely fucking insane.
Oh sure, his call won the game, but what does it say about
the way he has handled the quarterback situation this season
up until this point? I have no idea. Insane, I tell you!
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