I’m not in love with a stripper…

Spot: W on 30th and Lexington
Chic: 26, Native American/Scottish
Occupation: Stripper

Now this isn’t my first foray with a stripper outside of the clubs, but it was definitely memorable. I picked up the scent of a gold digger when I spoke to her earlier that day. So I figured I would wine her, dine her and of course 69 her (that is a side note).

I get to the hotel bar, I picked her out from behind, great legs and a nice posture. Decided that tonight I was going balls to the wall, all out.

Eased up behind her and whispered “can I buy you a drink” into her ear, while gently resting my hand on her hip.

Without flinching to my touch she says OK.

First off she has that annoying central Jersey Accent, imagine being on a date with Fran Drescher the Nanny.

Now I have never done coke, but been around many that have, so I can usually tell when someone is coked out or coming down.

Anyway we are drinking, I’m still deciding if she is worth me getting a room at the W. She is telling me that it is pretty hard working in the strip clubs, being on your feet for hours on end (beats laying on your back like a whore) these days because none of the bankers are coming in. It’s called a recession you stupid cunt!

Here is where it really went downhill for me;
1. She had no etiquette
2. She slurps
3. Her pictures were hot and she wasn’t
4. Her lips were minuscule, to the point where like other women she made them bigger with her lipstick. (Ladies you know who you are, get fucking collagen)

All of the above made me do one thing, drink!

Goose after Goose she started to look better and better till after my fifth or sixth drink she was Bo Derek from 10.

Decided that she isn’t worth the headache of talking to anymore, our wait for the check consisted of Yes or NO conversation on my part. And she wouldn’t shut the fuck up!

Finally the check comes and like every other chic in NY she sits there like a paraplegic, just looking at me pay the bill. (before you bleeding heart mother fuckers say anything, I have nothing against paraplegics) Really? It’s not like I would even let you pay, but the simple “act” as if you would try to pay goes a long way.

Being the whore she truly is she invites me to her place for a drink or 2, thoroughly drunk I agree. Get back to her place her room mate is laid out on the couch with a half bottle of Absolut left and seriously stunning.

This chic tries leading me to her room, but how could me of all people, be rude to her room mate and not sit for a bit to chit chat. First question, how do you know her, the room mate says, oh we work together. That was the answer I was looking for, 2 strippers under one roof. We continue to talk and she is actually smart, goes to Law School on the side. All of a sudden we hear “Oh fuck” so we got up to check on my “date”, turns out she gambled and lost.

For those of you who know me, well you know what that means.

For those of you that don’t, she basically tried farting but some shit came out.

She jumps up and starts freaking out, runs to her bathroom, I go to the living room and start drinking more with her room mate, within minutes, the room mate and I are under the blanket on the couch playing tonsil hockey.

My x-date comes out to catch us and says I don’t usually mess myself.

I say, I don’t hook up with chics that shit themselves.

Apparently stripper number 2 decided to grow a conscience and take her friends side.

Figured that it was better to cut bait and leave.

I walked out and haven’t heard from her….

Note to self, maybe I should start walking around with wet wipes?

Worst make out line from a chic ever…

Spot: Blue Owl
Chic: 37/Indian
Body type: Fit
Occupation: Teacher I think

I’m on my second Match.com date for the night.

We are meeting at a bar around Union Square, nice spot, drinks are good, people are hot, I guess they just didn’t let ugly people in.

I get there about 10 mins early to settle in and make friends with the bartender (the bartender can be your best friend if you want to get laid with the chic or ditch the bitch) and claim my spot at the bar.

Eventually she gets there, orders a Tanqueray and tonic, she sits on a bar stool, pulls me closer so her knee is in between my legs (I’m standing). We are talking about why we are on match, she says I’m her first date, I tell her she is prob somewhere between my 100th and 125th date maybe off of match.

The refreshing thing is when she asks if I’m a womanizer I say yes, and this is where its starts to get interesting.

Her knee brushing up against my cock, she keeps leaning in sand smelling me. Finally her drink gets to her. After a sip she hops off of her stool while saying “How tall are you?”, before I could answer she lunges for my mouth and starts kissing me, my kind of woman, no effort at all.

She sits back down, chuggs her drink and says lets go back to her place.

Me, willing, ready and able decided I’ll make to trek to fucking Brooklyn for a piece of her ass.

Get to her place, we are fucking, I’m probing her ass with my finger to see if she would be into anal, and no resistance from her or her ass. I’m thinking this is fucking awesome, I had never fucked an Indian chic in the ass.

Side note: She sucked at giving head and kissing.

After about an hour of fucking we fall asleep, have to give her credit, she wasn’t a cuddler.

Don’t ask me what time, but her fucking dog jumps on the bed and I wake up to something licking my thigh, I’m thinking OK she wants round 2. I turn over and I see her little mutt licking me and I push it away.

I tried going back to sleep, but the mutt kept jumping on the bed, then I realized the entire place smelt like dog.

Thinking that karma gives you back what you give out. I wake up the chic and tell her to drop me home, I mean how many times have I had to walk out into the cold to drop a bitch home.

Almost to my place, she says that she wants me to add her on Facebook, being a nice guy this time I ask her if its Sarah with an H or without an H? She hits the brakes (thank god for seatbelts) and the car skids to a stop on the exit ramp of the Brooklyn Bridge. in Manhattan. All I heard was “who the fuck do you think you are, that you can fuck me and not even know my name?”

I really thought her name was Sara(h), apparently it was Sandra. Honest mistake right?

She starts going on and on about guys just wanting to use her for her body. So I told her, why buy the cow if you are already getting the milk for free.

I guess that was the last straw because she basically kicked me out of her car.

Few hours later, I get a friend request on Facebook from her, so I politely declined sending her an email saying I didn’t want milk for that cow anymore.

She texted me everynight after to meet up with her, but I guess the chase was better than the catch…

Whats your name?

Spot: Her place
Chic: 34/???
Body type: Great ass
Occupation: ???

This story starts off at a New Years Eve party.

Long story short, was talking to a chic and she had to leave.

Basically left there with my dick in my hand, I decided to start texting the chics in my phone, for those of you that know me and know how to really use a blackberry, I have a group in my contact list of women I can just mass text/email.

Finally I get a hit from this “woman” to come over. I say woman because she is 34.

Side note: Know this chic from match, was supposed to meet her a few times, but i was never that into her, so I just stood her up a few times without even a call to say piss off you stupid cunt. And as usual, up until this point I hadnt spoken to or even met her.

She is texting like a fiend, are you drunk, do you really want to spend the rest of nye with me and all the other bullshit some lonely self depricating insecure older piece of twat would say because they were alone with their dog for NYE, could have been worse, she could have been a cat lady.

I do what I usually do to women. LIE!!!

Make my way to Hacken-fuckin-sack New Jersey from the city, and she meets me in the lobby of her condo building. Get up to apartment and she cracks open a bottle of cheap ass white wine, would have been better drinking wine out of a box.

Let me tell you, she had a great fucking ass, the thing was big, round, firm and well you get the point. We start making out, and tearing eachothers clothes off, I’m fucking her, everything is all good. Eventually we pass out.

Wake up the next morning with the wrath of god descending on my head (hungover and possibly still drunk) I look over and this once pretty hot woman was a solid fucking 5 if that. Trying to sneak out her fucking mutt starts barking and wakes her up.

Here is the little mutt!

She is walking me out while I’m asking how I got there, she stops, looks at me and says, do you even remember my name?

I’m like yeah your Natasha right?

She starts flipping out saying her name is *******, then she starts crying, that I don’t care about her and all the other stuff a woman feels and thinks of when she realizes that she is a slut.

Seriously? You never met me before and invite me over for the night and you expect me to respect you, much less know your name. (I did remember her Match.com username) Then they wonder why they are on the receiving end of the shitter.

Clearing the chamber…

Spot: Target/Restaurant/Home
Chic: 32/Italian
Body type: Fit/ Great ass
Occupation: DABA Girl

I’m doing laundry and I realize that I’m missing boxers, t-shirts a few hoodies. First thing I think is they are in the laundry. Wait I’m doing the fucking laundry! Then it hits me, every time a chic comes over, I “lend” her clothes but I never see them again.

Decided I need to re-up on the necessities for the walks of shame.Head over to the nearest Target to get some cheap clothes for my future guests. I’m walking thru the aisles and who do I see? The cunt from the previous post. Let’s call her “Baby Voice”.

This chic gives the term bubbly a whole new meaning; she is basically bouncing off of the walls. Eventually she drops the bomb, she want to do dinner tonight. Thinking with my cock I say ok. The mind numbing conversation over dinner wanted me to again slit my throat. Like seriously, what the fuck makes her think her sons well being is my concern, I’m not the little runts father.

Side note: She was buzzed on 2 glasses of wine so I drove her to my place.

We get to my place, now usually I would actually make an attempt at foreplay, but tonight was going to be all about me. Needed to clear the chamber of a couple rounds, you know get the cobwebs out. After that, it is whatever.

Or so I thought.

Now in my experience whenever a chic tells me “I don’t usually give head,” she inevitably ends up being a champion cocksucker. The ones who say they never do it, do it the best. However, Baby Voice was the exception. By far, she gave the worst blow job I have gotten, she had no technique, her teeth felt like a cheese greater on my shaft, never felt her tongue unless she was licking my cock like it were a fucking lollipop.

I never understood why she was bad at giving head, I mean she was a great kisser…

The first few times she had given me head she made it clear that I couldn’t cum in her mouth, I can respect that, afterall I wouldn’t want to cum in my mouth. So in the past I would give her a tap on the head when I was about to cum.

All of a sudden, she starts with the fucking baby voice again. You have to be a fucking pedophile to enjoy a chic sucking your dick while saying “do you like it baby, does it turn you on?” in a fucking baby voice!

That was enough, I couldn’t take it anymore, it was a moral imperative (if you know what movie that line is from ill give you an autographed t-shirt) that I blow my load in her mouth.

As soon as I came, she let out a little yelp like a wondering mutt and looks up at me. Imagine her calling me an asshole while she still has a mouthful of cum dripping down her chin.

Me, being me, started laughing my ass off, like any other chic She got pissed and spat my cum back on my face, grabbed her clothes and said she was going home.

Still laying in my bed trying to get over the fact that my cum is all over my face, she walks back into my room and has the nerve to ask me for a ride to her car.

Being the gentleman I am, I said no, that’s what they have cars for.

Eventually the cab comes and she leaves.

When I hopped into the shower, I broke down laughing at the fact I was now washing my spunk off of me.

Its true what they say, karma is a bitch!

Target Identified, going in for the kill! (GOD BLESS NEW FUCKIN’ JERSEY!!!!)

Spot: Office building
Chic: Age unknown/Italian
Body type: Fit
Occupation: Unknown

********Update to post. After a few friends convinced me of possible legal action resulting in the posting of these pics, I decided to not punish any of you by taking them down, but rather blot out her face. ******

First off this post is going to be short, actually busy at work.
So I get to work early today, walking through the hallways to get to our offices when I see this little guidette.

Tanned, petite, fit, dark hair and an ass you could fuck all night long.

What is a guy to do? Ask her if she wants to get pizza and fuck? Nah, way too early in the day and I am not drinking. I do what i think any “gentleman” would do, start talking to her. Its amazing, how easy they are when they actually think you are listening to them.

After a few minutes of mindless convo I ask her out to lunch at this Thai restaurant next door (literally a Tao knock off) and she agrees.

Its now about 9:34 AM and we are chatting on aim, this girl (only 19 years old, hey she is legal) is a skank, take a look at some of the pictures she sent me.

Judging by the pictures I think I’ll be getting some afternoon delight! And maybe, just maybe I’ll take my own pictures of her and post em up on here, if I get her naked. Thank you Blackberry for putting cameras in the phones.

Stay tuned.
Oh and by the way, like every Italian girl, her name is Christina.