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This is a question Desperate Times

Stranded in a hotel in an African war zone with no internet access for two weeks, I was forced to resort to desperate measures. Possessing only my passport and the clothes I stood up in; and the warning "You can catch it shaking hands with a vicar out there" ringing in my ears, I had to draw my own porn in order to preserve my sanity.

Alas, it all came out looking like Coronation Street's Audrey Roberts, but, as they say, any port in a storm.

What have you done in times of great desperation?

(, Thu 15 Nov 2007, 10:10)
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Any Port in a Storm
I had recently turned 19, and was starting yet another shitty job - selling insurance over the phone, cold-calling. Not exactly a life-affirming experience, but the commission was good, and it was pretty fucking easy. You could have trained monkeys to do it - in fact, looking at some of the people I was training with, they may have been giving this a trial run. The training only lasted 2 weeks. 'This is the phone, press this button to answer. Read this script, and if you are called a cunt, say "Thanks for your time." ' Not exactly brain surgery.

Anyways, one of the girls I was training with had taken a bit of a shine to me. I'm normally quite bad at reading the signs, but she made it pretty fucking obvious - batting her eyelashes at me, laughing at everything I said and following me around like a lost puppy. Only problem was, she was a complete dog. Really fucking ugly - imagine, if you will, a cross between Dawn French and a retarded Jimmy Crankie. Fucking her would probably constitute beastiality. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

When the two weeks training were finished, a post-training pub trip was suggested. Never one to turn down a drinking session, I readily agreed, and we all traipsed down the local boozer. The first round was bought, and we chatted about work, football, and other mundane topics over our pints. After we'd finished, one of the lads suggests getting a round of shots in, to liven things up. On reflection, this may have been where it all went wrong..

A round of tequila shots is swiftly demolished, followed by another. At this point, I start chatting to Claire, thinking perhaps I've been wrong about her. She seems nice enough - still ugly, but with a nice personality. She laughs at my jokes, so she can't be all bad...

Another round of drinks. I'm beginning to think my initial judgement may have been a bit hasty. Sure, she's ugly, but she does have tits after all. And, as we all know, there's no such thing as an ugly pair of tits.

Another round. You know, now I come to think about it, she's not really that ugly. Well, I mean yes, she's ugly, but not totally ugly. And she does like my jokes. That's always a plus.

After a few more rounds, I'm becoming more and more convinced that she's actually quite good-looking, and I've just failed to notice it. And her tits are fantastic. Admittedly, by now I'm seeing two pairs swimming in front of my eyes, but they both look great. And who wouldn't love a bird with two pairs of tits. I may be onto a winner here...

After another round of shots, I decide I must kiss her. Fuck knows why - I was really wasted at this point. So I look her in the eyes, lean in...and miss completely. Nowhere near. After adjusting my aim, I manage to connect on the second attempt, and she promptly thrusts her tongue down my throat, almost cutting off my air supply.

After sucking face for what seemed like hours, she suggests getting a taxi back to hers. Stupidly, I agree. The sensible part of my brain told me I'd probably regret this in the morning, but I was drunk, horny, and my beer goggles were an inch thick.

The taxi ride is a blur - I can vaguely remember having my fingers sucked. Also, when we stopped, it took me three tries to open the car door. That tells you what kind of state I was in.

We make our way upstairs, and, on entering her bedroom, I notice there seems to be a lot of cuddly toys littering the place. Vague warning bells sound in the back of my skull, but I drunkenly ignore them. She leaves me to 'freshen up', and I try to get undressed, which is more complicated than normal due to my drunken state. On removing my trousers, I lose my balance, and crash into her bedside table, sending cuddly toys flying in all directions. Lying on my back, trousers round my ankles, surrounded by cuddly toys, I begin to question the wisdom of my actions, when I hear a voice from the doorway.

"Like what you see?" I look up, and behold a mountain of pink lace and tassles, barely covering a female marshmallow man. "Hell yeah" I say, lying through my teeth.

We climb into bed, and thankfully my memory is pretty blurred from here onwards. I like to think it's my brains way of protecting itself, scabbing over painful memories. I do remember going down on her, and almost drowning in the layers of flab. Also, I remembed muzzily thinking that she seemed pretty tight, for a fat girl.

After the deed was done, I collapsed into drunken slumber, unaware of the horrors that would await the next morning.

I awoke with a pounding headache. Someone had glued my tongue to the roof of my mouth, and I couldn't work out where I was. This wasn't my room - it was too pink for one thing, and I'm pretty sure I don't own any cuddly toys.

Then it hit me like a sledgehammer blow. Oh fuck. I hadn't. Tell me I hadn't.

I slowly looked round. Oh Jesus, I had.

My movements must have woke her, for she stretched, causing her flab to ripple, then opened her eyes and turned to look at me.

"Last night was amazing" she said dreamily.

"Mmmm" I said non-commitedly.

"And it wasn't as sore as I thought it would be"

"Yeah...wait a minute, what?"

"Well, you know, I'd always heard your first time was supposed to be painful."

"Your first time? First time having sex? You mean you're a virgin?"

"Well, not any more, silly. And you were great! So, what do you want to do today?"

Oh holy fuck. Holy fucking cunting Jesus fuck. This was not good.

"Emmmm, well, I've got to kind of, um, go. Yeah, I need to get home. Pretty quick in fact. I'm running late, actually. So I'd better, you know, go. Like, now." As I was gibbering, I had sprung out of bed and was dressing as quickly as humanly possible.

"Why? What do you have to do?"

I paused. I was too hungover to think quickly.

"Oh, well, um, I've got to...uh...go to...church. Yeah, I've got to go to church."

"Oh, okay. So will I see you again?"

"Sure - I'll call you"

I rushed out her room, still doing up my trousers, before she remembered I didn't have her number. As I pulled up the zip, I looked up and saw a naked middle aged man staring at me, open-mouthed. Holy shit, she still lived with her parents. This was not good. He looked at me, and I could tell he was still half asleep. Thinking quickly, I gave him a warm smile, said, "Morning" and marched past him and down the stairs. I grabbed my shoes and high-tailed it out the door before he came to his senses and tried to crucify me for deflowering his daughter.

I called a taxi, then caught a train, and eventually made it home, whereupon I headed straight for the shower and didn't emerge until I had scrubbed every last inch of my body. Jesus, that was bad. But at least it was over until Monday. Or so I thought...

You see, at some point the previous night, in a burst of drunken idiocy I had given her my mobile number. The first text came through after I had stepped out the shower. 'Hey, still thinking of you xxx'

"Shit" I thought. "I'd better let her down gently"

So I texted her back, 'Listen, you're a great girl, but I'm not really looking for a relationship right now. Hope you understand'

She texted back 5 minutes later. 'I'm not looking for a relationship either. How about we just keep it casual? xxx'

Hmmm, she's not quite getting it. So I texted back, 'Actually, I'm kind of seeing someone just now. Should have said earlier - sorry' (This was a lie - I just wanted rid of this girl)

"That should do it" thinks I, until another text comes through 10 minutes later. 'That's okay - it can be our little secret xxx'

A bit annoyed by this stage, I text back 'Look, I'm sorry, but we can't do this. It was a drunken mistake.' I can't really be any more clear with her. Hopefully she'll...what's this? Another text. Oh fuck.

'But I think I'm in love with you'

Great. Fucking great. Now, I'm really not an evil person, but I knew I would have to be pretty harsh with her if I didn't want to have a stalker on my hands. So I sent back a message saying 'Look, I don't fancy you, I was blind drunk last night, and if I was sober I never would have slept with you.'

I felt like a prick once I'd sent it, but I didn't get any more texts through. Result.

It turns out she phoned in sick on Monday, and didn't come back to work. I do feel really bad about that. But, at the end of the day, I did give her a shag she would never have gotten otherwise.

In a way, it's almost like charity work. Giving to the needy and all that.

I'm practically a saint...
(, Sat 17 Nov 2007, 23:56, 4 replies)
Been there
Yep, thats how I met the wife
(, Sun 18 Nov 2007, 6:24, closed)
Longest story ever
but definitely worth it.

You poor sod.
(, Sun 18 Nov 2007, 17:02, closed)
Brother, i still have cold sweats and nightmares from one moose who took advantage of me when i was of me trolley. Have a clicky
(, Mon 19 Nov 2007, 13:22, closed)
Have a clicky from me too
Though personally, I wouldn't have minded. Fits my preference...apart from maybe the ugliness. Halfway tempted to hope I've disturbed some people hehe.
(, Mon 19 Nov 2007, 14:36, closed)

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