Tish


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1. One long chapter.

 

         It was a Friday evening around 6pm and I was on the phone having a highly intellectual conve rsation with Andrea while watching a Padres game on TV.   Andrea: “Are you even listening to me?”   Me: “Yeah, Im listening."   Andrea: "Answer my question."   Me: "I think so.”   Andrea: “You think so what? What did I just ask you?”   Me: “You asked me if your blow jobs are better with the Altoids or without the Altoids.”   Andrea’s voice was partially interrupted by Parker beeping in on the other line.   Andrea: “So yes Altoid, or no Altoid?”   Me: “Yes, Altoid. Hold on this is Parker calling.”   Andrea: “No, I'm not going to hold 'cause I’m not done talking about this.  This is really important to me.”   Me: “Fine, I’ll just call him back later.”   My line beeps again.  It's Parker once again.   Andrea: “OK, I need to know what flavor you like.”   Me: “Flavor?  What do you mean? An Altoid is an Altoid; it only comes in one flavor...peppermint.”   Andrea: “That is not true Mr. Wes.  They come in cinnamon, ginger, peppermint, spearmint-"   Parker rang in for the third time.  My first instinct was that Parker's call was urgent because he rarely called three times in a row.   Me: “Andrea, hold that thought.  I have to go... let me call you back.”  

Andrea: “Ugh, you always do that to me when it’s something important!”

  I quickly clicked over to see if Parker was alight.    Me: “Hey, what’s up?”   I noticed Parker was driving in his car and he sounded visibly upset.   Parker: “Fuck that bitch!”   Me: “Isn’t that what we are all try to do?”   Parker: "Fucking Carlee.”   Me: “Slow down...What’s going on?”   Parker: “I just walked in her apartment and she was getting hammered by some dude that a full sleeve of tatts.”          Parker was a mess. He was in his first year of law school at the University of San Diego and had just witnessed his girlfriend of three years getting rocked by a Tommy Lee impersonator.  Life sucks sometimes, and apparently so does Carlee.  Parker just had to find out the hard way.            After Parker calmed down a bit, he asked me to come over.  I turned off the game, jumped in the shower and got ready to play psychologist.  When I arrived at Parker’s house, his face was beet red from all of the boozing he had done the past hour.  He sat in his leather recliner sipping on a Miller Lite.  He was like a bad pitch near home plate; down and out.   Parker: “I can’t believe this. Three years of my life and I have nothing to show for it.  The guy was in there drilling her like he was looking for Saudi Arabian Oil.”   I tried my best to lift Parker’s spirits.   Me: “Well look on the bright side, you’re a free man now. 
Parker: “I was faithful.  Three years. Three fucking years!”   Parker in his drunken stupor all of a sudden gained super hero confidence.   Parker: “Let’s go out right now and crush some ass.”   Me: “That's music to my ears.”          Parker got up from his recliner, extended his arm out while holding the Miller Lite bottle and began to pour some beer onto the hardwood floor.     Me: “Parker? You alright man?”   Parker: “Yeah, R.I.P... to Carlee’s puss.  I witnessed it getting murdered today.”   Me: “Snap out of it!  Throw some clothes on, we are going out tonight.”          Parker and I decided to try our luck at a place out in Del Mar, CA called Jimmy O’s bar and grill. The bar was known for having rich Cougars that preyed on younger guys.  The probability of Parker crushing lonely Cougar ass would be great.  Even if we didn't end up with any women by the end of the night, at least Cougar hunting would take Parker's mind off of everything.   Before we got into the car to head over Parker stopped me in his driveway.   Parker: “Hold on second.  I’m only going to this place on one condition.”   Me: “And what’s that?”   Parker: “You have to help me get ass.  I need you to be my wingman tonight.”   I put my hand over Parker’s shoulder.   Me: “Of course. We’re going to have a great time.”   Parker quickly flung my hand away from him.   Parker: “No...No...No.  Look at me in my eye.”   Parker could barely stand straight on his own. I blew him off and started to walk to the car.   Parker: “Wait one minute. I’m not done. Are... youuuuu.... going to be my wingman?”   Me: “Yes, now get in the car.”   Parker: “If you're going to be my wingman then you have to take the wingman alliance.”   Me: “Will just put your drunken ass in the car so we can leave?”   Parker: “Nope. Not until you take the alliance.  This is serious shit dude.”   Reminding myself that Parker had a rough day, I went along with his request.   Parker: “Put your right hand over your heart?”            I adjusted my posture so that I was upright and standing at attention.  Enthusiastically, I placed my right hand across my heart like a second grader about to say the pledge of allegiance.  Parker’s equilibrium was off which made him swivel back and forth in one spot.  It looked like he was playing with an invisible hula hoop.     Parker: “Are you looking at my eyeballs?”   Me: “Yeah man! Come on its cold out here! You got me saying the pledge of allegiance in the middle of the neighborhood. Let’s go--”   Parker: “Shh...Shh...”     Parker tried to use some of his newly acquired law school voodoo jargon on me and tried to get technical.   Parker: “It’s not an allegiance, it’s an alliance!”   Me: “Whatever it is, you need to pull yourself together....”   Parker: “Just repeat after me!  I’m cold, I’m bold and helping others get pussy, will never get old.”   Me: “What in the-"   Parker: “Say it dude.”   Me: “I’m cold...I’m bold and... helping others get pussy, will never get old.”          Parker was satisfied with me fulfilling his prerequisites for being his wingman. We had made it to the car and were finally on our expedition to partake in Parker’s favorite pastime: Cougar hunting.   During the entire drive to Jimmy O’s I had to hear Parker complain about his current situation.   Parker: “Un-fucking-believable.  I spend my Friday and Saturday nights in the law library studying Constitutional Law about how it’s a woman’s First Amendment right to have sex with whoever she wants and this bitch is putting it into practice!”   Parker continued on his tirade and starting giving me personal details about his relationship with Carlee.    Parker: “She is the worst in bed! Half of the time I don’t know if I'm fucking her or a corpse.  She just lays there motionless.  And her blow jobs...don’t get me started.  Speaking of the First Amendment, is it her First amendment right to give horrible blow jobs?”   I decided to answer Parker’s rhetorical question.     Me: “Technically, I think it might be her First Amendment right to give bad blow jobs.  If she wants to express herself as an incompetent dome-oligist, she is well within her rights.”   Parker: “Well she can take the Constitution and shove it up her ass...she likes everything else I shoved up there.”          Parker continued with his rant.  I heard about all the horrible things  that Carlee did the previous three years from her atrocious cooking to the annoying giggling noises that she makes when she cums.          By the time we made it into Jimmy O’s, Parker had somewhat sobered up, only to order more drinks.  Often times when you are dealing with a drunk, time is never measured in minutes.  Time is measured in drinks.            With that being said, approximately two shots and a half past a quarter beer later, we see a perfect 10 coming through the door. Not a ten as in a scale of one to ten.  A ten as in there were two girls.  One girl was an attractive skinny blonde, who was shaped like the number one.  She had legs so long, they made an ass out of themselves.  Her friend on the other hand was a brunette and was shaped like the number zero.  She was plump and juicy like a Thanksgiving turkey in The Hamptons.   Parker’s attention immediately went to the skinny blonde.   Parker: “You see the tall one over there?”   Me: “Yep and I also see her hamburger shaped helper.”   Parker: “Smash or pass?”   Me: “Smash on the skinny one. Pass on the calorie collector.”   Parker tried to put his law school jargon on me once again.   Parker: “Remember dude, you took the wingman alliance.  If you violate its terms, you will have bad luck with pussy for the next seven years.”   Me: “But she looks like the Michelin Man!”   Parker: “Even the Michelin Man has needs...”          I remembered the wingman alliance, took a deep breath and reluctantly approached both women.  I will never know why I always attract the “healthy” ones.             When I got over there, the fat girl was looking at me like a piece of meat.  I wasn’t sure if she wanted to put me in her fridge as a to-go-plate or put me in her bed to get her in shape.  Regardless, she was hungry for me.            I introduced myself in order to initiate first contact.  The tall blonde told me that her name was Amanda and she was a model.  In the state of California when a girl tells you that she is a model, 90 percent of the time that translates to: “I’m unemployed.” Everyone thinks they are a model.  Unfortunately, reality is a dose often under prescribed.  The bigger girl’s name was Tish.   Tish: “How is your night going so far?”   Me: “It could be better.  Do you ladies see that pathetic guy over there standing near the bar with his head hanging down?”    Amanda: “Yeah he looks so sad.”   Me: “Well he caught his girl cheating on him a few months ago.  She was the love of his life.  He is  very much heartbroken and he still hasn’t gotten over it. I actually had to drag him out tonight. This is first time that he has been able to go to a bar in months.  He doesn’t even remember how to pick up a woman because its been so long.  I think he is scarred for life.”   Amanda: “Aww, I feel so bad for him.  He is kinda cute!  What girl would want to cheat on such a nice looking guy?  Tell him to come join us.”   Sympathy.  It’s the one emotion that will cause a woman’s legs to split in opposite directions.          I waived Parker over from afar to come join us.  He and Amanda were hitting it off.  Meanwhile back at the fat farm, I kept Tish entertained.   It wasn’t too difficult because we just talked about our favorite foods and restaurants.  Asking a plump girl about food was like asking the Kardashians what is was like to date a black man; it’s what they do all day.          A quarter beer later, Amanda invited us over to her place.   Everything was going as planned at the expense of my ego.  Parker was getting closer and closer to crushing ass.  On the other hand, I was so far below my expectations that my pride was screaming “code blue.”          We took two cars on the way to Amanda's house.  Parker rode in the car with Amanda and I sat in the other car with Tish.  When we ended up at Amanda’s apartment, thankfully she only had a one bedroom.  This meant that I would not be getting seduced by the Tish.          Soon after entering the apartment and hanging out for a bit, Parker and Amanda headed for private session in Amanda’s bedroom.  I was left on the couch with Heavy T.    After about 5 minutes of dead silence and twiddling our thumbs, Tish and I could hear moans and groans coming from the bedroom as if it was haunted.   Tish: “Wow, someone is having fun in there.  Wish I could say the same thing for myself.”          Did I just get called out by a 200 plus pounder?  I couldn’t risk the embarrassment of Parker walking in on me and giving Tish some of my frank and beans.  However, Tish tried her best to corner me.   Tish: “So why are you holding back.  You don’t like big girls?”   Me: “It’s not that I don’t like big girls, I just have a lot on my mind. They say when you’re stressed; the sex drive goes away."   Tish: “If stress is your issue then I’m sure I can alleviate that problem.”   Me: “Thanks but I think I'll pass. I’m just going to chill tonight.”   Tish decided to blackmail me into sleeping with her.   Tish: “Well, if you’re not going to be doing anything then I’m going to knock on Amanda’s door so you guys can leave.”   I recited the wingman alliance in my head.  I'm cold, I'm bold and helping others get pussy will never get old.   Me: “OK whatever you do, don’t knock on that door.”   Tish: “You should just let me show you how a big girl does it.”   Me: “School me, big girl.”          Tish smiled and attacked my belt buckle.  She then unzipped my pants.  The Thanksgiving turkey was headed for my cucumber, gobble gobble.  My fear of getting seduced by a fat girl had lapsed because the fear was no longer there.  It was actually happening. I was now getting Domer Simpson on Amanda’s couch.            She gave me head like an action movie; riveting, fast moving, violent and thought provoking.  I was about to jump out of my seat.  I let out a big moan. Tish must have thought I was a doughnut because she sucked every bit of crème filling out of me.          Fifteen minutes after Tish had just sucked the life out of me, Parker walked out of the room and into the living room.     Parker: “You ready to get out of here?”     Me: “Sure am.”         Parker gave Amanda a hug, Tish gave me her number.  I thought letting Tish give me head was enough giving for one night.  By the time Parker and I reached the car, her number had already been deleted from my phone. My conscious had just suffered emotional shock.  My pride was going to need some serious rehab and physical therapy.   When we got into the car, Parker was a new man.      Parker: “I could do this seven days a week!  She was so hot!  The mission was to crush ass, mission accomplished.  Fuck Carlee!  I just crushed Amanda's ass and I didn’t have to hear an annoying giggle when she came.”          Parker was so caught up in the excitement; he almost forgot to get a progress report and thank his wingman for "taking one for the team."   Parker: “How did it go with Tish?  She seems like a really cool girl.  You didn’t try to bone her on the couch?”   I acted like I didn’t hear him.   Parker: “You’re not responding.  OMG did you hook up with big Tish on the couch?”   Me: “Let’s just say I’m cold, I’m bold and helping others get pussy just got old.  This wingman now has limits.”
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