It's all in the mixture
Before I start, I would like shamefully declare that this story is completely true, it isn't fodder for the badger and I even thinking about my head dips in shame.

It was a balmy night in Sydney, the sky was clear, stars where twinkling over head, an almost full moon shone its pale light over the harbor and the boys and I had headed to the city for a night of drinking and unsuccessfully trying to convince pretty young things to let me do messy things in their inids.

We found our selves at the tastefully named but, not so tasteful pub the Slip Inn. When I first saw her I was smitten as only a drunken early 20 something can be smitten. She was about 5 foot 10, blonde, and thin. Chest assets that where more pert than freshly picked peaches and generously filling a C cup, all wrapped in a low cut sparkly dress that displayed the most glorious of cleavage.

I knew I had to speak to her, and so mustered my courage dutch style with another 4 schooners of domestic beer and half a dozen Jim and cokes while keeping a close eye on her location. A few other very cool young (and perhaps not so young) men had tried to engage her in conversation with little success, and because I was not cool but, suburban offspring I knew I was in with a chance.

I approached, I prepared my best opening line and then my mouth went dry and I flapped my lips and a sort of squeaky hum came out. She looked at me and asked,

"why have you been staring at me all night?"

Oh, fuck she noticed, I thought I was being discreet, (perhaps following her around and keeping within 5 feet of her without saying anything but, watching her every move gave me away or perhaps she was very observant).

"ummm, I think your dress is really nice" I replied.

Her face lit up with a smile, and she thanked me and told me she had made it herself and it was the first time she had worn it out. She asked if I thought it was too slutty, too revealing, too low cut or too short and I assured her that it was perfect in every way.

We danced together, we drank together, I made several trips to the ATM to draining it of funds and with the logic of a pissed idiot, assured myself that I wouldn't need food or petrol for the following week, and that the land lady (who was the money hungriest angry old bitch to ever stalk the earth) wouldn't mind being paid the rent late. And as the early morning hours ticked by, and she became quite pissed I convinced her I was alright and she should take me back to her place.

A reasonable distance in a taxi and my final 35 bucks was exchanged for the fare (she was good enough to pay for a couple of burgers on the way), we arrived at the place she shared with another girl. After a bit of a drunken roll and grope on her lounge room floor we adjourned to the bed room. More kissing and cuddling, more feeling and fondling (well that was mainly me) I removed the sparkly dress and unleashed the funbags from their lacy cage and partook in more kissing and licking but, not of her lips.

I did notice she was wearing a rather largish set of black grundies (for these where beyond the size and shape one would refer to as knickers) and as I attempted to slide my hand down the front, she informed me that the painters where in, the no entry sign was up, the red tide was flowing and her crutch cavern was closed. Being of an intoxicated state and hornier than a triceratops with two heads I suavely convinced her that a suck of the sav was in order (read begged for a blow job) and probably because the booze I had fed her had stripped away her inhibitions (or was that self respect) and after removing my own jeans, and shirt she moved her face to my groin and started the delightful process of gobbing.

The thing was, being fairly well blind, that although getting a horn was no problem, using it to its full completion was an issue and unfortunately, she was not the most competent cock sucker I have met, things where taking a reasonably long time.

So there was me, lying back on her pillows, arms behind my head, watching her pony tail bobbing up and down like an old maccas wrapper on a not so calm sea (I even thought about having a smoke) when I felt the warmth spread over my knob, onto my stomach and even a bit down between my legs.

“That's funny”, I thought, “I didn't know I was going to cum, and it didn't feel like a normal spluffing, no tingle, no jolt up the spine, just feeling of hot cum on my shaft, guts and some running over my sack and groin but, she is sitting up and wiping her mouth so I must have, and (big grin to myself) that must have been a fair load to get everywhere it has but, why is she apologizing to me”?

Then I realized, the booze, the burger, the 15 mins of bobbing had triggered her gag reflex and she has spewed on me.

SHIT............. and I haven't even issued the baby batter!

As she lay back looking a little green, I sat up on my knees and started pump my tackle like a contestant in the Tour De France with two flat tires. Not many people would know this, and I should be more ashamed than I am that I do but, a mixture of part digested burger, bile and booze mixed in the stomach is better than any store bought lubricant you can buy.

So there I was, furiously wanking over her body, no doubt spraying specs of her own vomit over her tits and face, cross eyed, tongue probably poking out the corner of my mouth, using her intestinal juices as lube and then shooting a fair amount of spunk onto her face but, mainly into her right eye and then (oh the shame) using her sheets to dry myself down.

Spent, I lay back down on the bed (on the opposite side to where the wiping took place) and had a rather one sided conversation with her (I talked she said nothing). Realizing that the trains had started running by now but, the ticket collectors probably hadn't I got up to leave. As I dressed I asked her for her phone number but, she replied "just leave" so I offered her my phone number, which got the response "please fucking leave now".

When I arrived home 2 and a bit hours later. (The stinker could have told me it was a good hour’s walk to the nearest station) one of my house mates was already up.

"Bad Advice" he said "you smell like you have rolled in 2 day old vomit"

"Oh Yes I do" I said, and gurning like a loon took myself off for a shower and bed.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 3:09, Reply)