5. What life lesson did you learn the hard way?
My love for Tiffany was like eating Taco Bell; an awesome idea while you're drunk or high, a terrible, gut-wrenching, vomit inducing one when you sobered up.
Tiffany wasn't exactly what one would consider ugly by any means, but even at a glance there was something off about her. If you were around her long enough, eventually you started to realize what made her 'different' from more girls. Her nose holes were different sizes, for one thing. And I don't mean one was slightly bigger than the other, I mean one was a pebble and the other was a boulder. Next, her eyes were so far apart that it looked like the only thing keeping them from falling off her face was the hair that framed it. Speaking of hair, hers looked far too perfect. You're probably asking me what's wrong with that. The answer I would give you, dear reader, is nothing... if her hair had been real. I always wondered why I never saw a hair out of place, and it always looked so perfect and shiny. Turns out she was wearing a wig. The last off-putting thing was the way she breathed. I don't know if it was due to her abnormal nose holes or what, but she breathed like she was Darth Vader's daughter.
As bad as I'm making it sound, Tiffany's outside appearance wasn't the reason I compared her to eating Taco Hell. At age 16, she actually looked closer to 20. Her eyes, while far apart, were big, beautiful green jewels that sparkled whenever she smiled. Her big, pouty lips overshadowed her abnormal nose, and her very real (and very huge ) breasts more than made up for her fake hair.
I can't say anything good about her insides, though. Like a used car, she looked fine until you sat inside and noticed the missing steering wheel and saw the already deployed air bags. Tiffany claimed she was just bi-polar, but I knew she was full of shit; she definitely had a few other mental illnesses in that noggin.
Example? The first time I met her, it was during home room in High School. She asked for my name, and when I told her it was Vincent, her eyes got wide and she shrieked "Oh my god! I. Just. Love! That name!" She then punched me hard on the shoulder. "I knew a Vincent once. He was so handsom. You are too, by the way!" She gave a high pitched giggle and then punched me again. "Do you like rap music?"
"Uh, I guess?" I answered, rubbing my sore arm.
That's when things went straight to the 9th level of Hell. Her eyes darkened and she frowned. "Oh. Not me." She looked down at her hands, before banging them on my desk and practically screaming, "I. Fucking. hate! Rap music!" She then proceeded to look deep into my eyes and steal my soul.
I eyed the door nervously, wondering if I could out run her. "Well, what do you like, then?" I asked.
Her evil eyes turned back to pure innocence and she smiled real big. "Oh! I just looove rock music!" She quickly rummaged through her backpack and pulled out a Linkin Park CD. "I am obsessed with LP. Do you like LP?"
I feared for my life so I lied. "Totally."
From that day on, I avoided her like a plague while she followed me like one. Depending on the day, she could be extremely happy to the point of hugging me to death, or I could say or do something accidentally that would set her off like Mentoes and Diet Coke. Most people ignored her, and damnit, I tried, but I was too nice and simply couldn't make myself pretend she wasn't there whenever she would talk to me. It didn't help that I (and the few other guys that dared talk to her) was going through puberty and she always brushed her boobs up against me during her talks/threats.
Towards the end of the school year, she had tried many times to seduce me and even demand that I go out with her. Even though her breasts were awesome, they weren't worth risking having my dick cut off. There was a rumor that she had transfer schools because she had cut another student's dick off. I didn't doubt it.
One day, I was invited to a party. It was a typical American Teenage Party; some decently popular student's parents were out of town, so the kid thought it would be a great idea to invite a bunch of horny and bored teenagers to drink and get high. I had never been to one of these parties before and after watching a bunch of movies that made house parties look like fun, I knew I had to go. I pictured drinking, playing spin the bottle, and making out with a cute girl. The last part actually ended up happening, but not in the way I was expecting.
Not at all like I was expecting.
What ended up happening was that no one could buy any beer since they were underage, and no one knew anyone older to get it for them. The only student that everyone knew for sure who would be able to get it was Tiffany. Not only did she look the age, but she also had a very realistic fake ID. No one wanted her to come, but no one wanted to have a party without alcohol either, so we sucked up our feelings of dislike and agreed that she could come if she provided the alcohol.
The party was in full swing and for the most part, everyone ignored Tiffany. Everyone, I should say, except me. I simply couldn't do it, so I was stuck sitting on the couch hearing her ramble while everyone else danced, laughed, and made out around us. I continued to drink cup after cup of stale tasting beer, hoping being intoxicated would make things better. For a while, it did; I felt great and her conversations started making more sense and seem more interesting. I started feel warm and relaxed, and she started to look better with every cup I finished.
Later, she sat her cup on the coffee table and leaned closer to me. "Hey, wanna go upstairs?" she purred into my ear.
I finished off my cup and looked at her. At that moment I didn't know why I ever thought she looked weird or why I found her annoying; she looked so beautiful with her silk raven hair and her bright, green eyes. Her lips were slanted in a coy smile and her pale boobs were so full they looked like water balloons about to burst right out of her small black top. She was a Goddess, and I, a mere mortal. And there she was, asking me if I wanted to go upstairs with her. I would be a fool to turn her down, so I grabbed her hand and let her drag me up the stairs.
Although my friends thought I had already had sex in my 16 years of existence, in truth I was still a virgin. When me and Tiffany ended up making out some stranger's bed, I started to get extremely nervous at the thought of actually having sex for the first time. I knew that this makeout session was heading in that direction, because Tiffany was grinding up against me and trying to work me out of my pants while simultaneously trying to take her shirt off.
Besides my nervousness, things were going as well as a drunken romp can go. She was an awesome kisser and I had fun groping her breasts. However, things ended abruptly when I ran my hand through her hair. In my drunken state, I had totally forgotten it was a wig, and I accidentally pulled it off her head. She screamed and broke away from me like she had burned herself. She tried to fix it before I could see anything, but it was all for not; I had seen the horrors underneath the wig. She was bald in some spots and had short, blond hair in others. Later, I would find out that it was due to a condition that caused her to rip chunks of her hair out every time she got angry.
After her wig was fixed, she went back to kissing like nothing had happened. I tried to forget about what I had seen and just enjoy making out, but the image stuck and I now saw her as extremely unattractive. She kept trying to rub me through my boxers but Vincent Jr. wasn't moving. I already had trouble keeping him awake before I had seen her real hair, but now it was like he had gone comatose. I tried to think sexy thoughts but it didn't help one iota. By now it was like Tiffany was playing with shedded snake skin instead of the actual snake.
Eventually she noticed this, and she was not pleased. She rubbed harder. "What's wrong?" She asked. "Doesn't this feel good?"
Through clenched teeth I grunted out "Yeah."
She stopped rubbing and folded her arms, looking me in the eyes with a frown. "Then why aren't you hard?"
I shrugged. "Too much beer?"
That's when she dramatically put her hands over her face and started sobbing. "I'm ugly!" she wailed.
Not sure what to do, I just stayed where I was at and didn't say a word or make a move to comfort her. I was drunk as hell, I felt raw down stairs, and I was starting to feel sleepy. I just wanted to pass out and never speak of this again.
After some time had passed, she stopped crying and stood up, fixed her clothes and hair, then proceeded to throw anything she could find at me. "Fuck you, Vincent!" She shrieked. "You don't love me! You just love how I look!" I dodged a pillow and a small book. "FUCK. YOU. VINCENT." She then left, slamming the door behind her.
I was in a daze, and I couldn't really contemplate what had just happened. I simply closed my eyes and decided, fuck it, might as well get some sleep. I don't know if I was about to pass out or if I had been passed out for some time. All I know is, one minute it I'm riding the blissful, warm waves of alcohol, on the verge of falling sleep. The next minute, she's straddling me, crying and saying "I'm sorry Vincent! I just want to fuck you, okay?"
I blink a few times, completely confused. "Bluh?"
She dramatically rips her shirt open and lifts her bra up, showing me her glorious breasts. "FUCK. ME. RIGHT NOW."
I didn't even have time to react before she takes my flaccid dick out of my pants and sits on it. She starts bouncing up and down on it, causing me to wonder if she knows how sex works or if she's just hoping if she hops hard enough I might get hard again. Either way, it fucking hurt and wasn't sexy at all, so I pushed her off of me. She yelped as she hit the ground and her wig went askew. She looked up at me like she was about to murder me. "Why did you do that?!"
I was still shit faced but my adrenaline was pumping enough to give me a small break of clarity. I quickly put myself away and zipped up my pants, then ran down stairs. I was terrified that she was going to rape or murder me, hell maybe she would do both. I didn't even tell anyone I was leaving, I simply ran out the door and ran a mile all the way back home, locking every door and window in the house.
The next morning, I had a huge hangover and ended up puking a couple of times. To add insult to injury, word got out to the school that me and Crazy Tiffany had fucked, and apparently she had to spank me to get me off. That false rumor is still believed to this day, unfortunately.
So what life lesson did I find out the hard way? Don't try to hook up with a clearly crazed individual.
*This story is a work of fiction, thank god!*
As bad as I'm making it sound, Tiffany's outside appearance wasn't the reason I compared her to eating Taco Hell. At age 16, she actually looked closer to 20. Her eyes, while far apart, were big, beautiful green jewels that sparkled whenever she smiled. Her big, pouty lips overshadowed her abnormal nose, and her very real (and very huge ) breasts more than made up for her fake hair.
I can't say anything good about her insides, though. Like a used car, she looked fine until you sat inside and noticed the missing steering wheel and saw the already deployed air bags. Tiffany claimed she was just bi-polar, but I knew she was full of shit; she definitely had a few other mental illnesses in that noggin.
Example? The first time I met her, it was during home room in High School. She asked for my name, and when I told her it was Vincent, her eyes got wide and she shrieked "Oh my god! I. Just. Love! That name!" She then punched me hard on the shoulder. "I knew a Vincent once. He was so handsom. You are too, by the way!" She gave a high pitched giggle and then punched me again. "Do you like rap music?"
"Uh, I guess?" I answered, rubbing my sore arm.
That's when things went straight to the 9th level of Hell. Her eyes darkened and she frowned. "Oh. Not me." She looked down at her hands, before banging them on my desk and practically screaming, "I. Fucking. hate! Rap music!" She then proceeded to look deep into my eyes and steal my soul.
I eyed the door nervously, wondering if I could out run her. "Well, what do you like, then?" I asked.
Her evil eyes turned back to pure innocence and she smiled real big. "Oh! I just looove rock music!" She quickly rummaged through her backpack and pulled out a Linkin Park CD. "I am obsessed with LP. Do you like LP?"
I feared for my life so I lied. "Totally."
From that day on, I avoided her like a plague while she followed me like one. Depending on the day, she could be extremely happy to the point of hugging me to death, or I could say or do something accidentally that would set her off like Mentoes and Diet Coke. Most people ignored her, and damnit, I tried, but I was too nice and simply couldn't make myself pretend she wasn't there whenever she would talk to me. It didn't help that I (and the few other guys that dared talk to her) was going through puberty and she always brushed her boobs up against me during her talks/threats.
Towards the end of the school year, she had tried many times to seduce me and even demand that I go out with her. Even though her breasts were awesome, they weren't worth risking having my dick cut off. There was a rumor that she had transfer schools because she had cut another student's dick off. I didn't doubt it.
One day, I was invited to a party. It was a typical American Teenage Party; some decently popular student's parents were out of town, so the kid thought it would be a great idea to invite a bunch of horny and bored teenagers to drink and get high. I had never been to one of these parties before and after watching a bunch of movies that made house parties look like fun, I knew I had to go. I pictured drinking, playing spin the bottle, and making out with a cute girl. The last part actually ended up happening, but not in the way I was expecting.
Not at all like I was expecting.
What ended up happening was that no one could buy any beer since they were underage, and no one knew anyone older to get it for them. The only student that everyone knew for sure who would be able to get it was Tiffany. Not only did she look the age, but she also had a very realistic fake ID. No one wanted her to come, but no one wanted to have a party without alcohol either, so we sucked up our feelings of dislike and agreed that she could come if she provided the alcohol.
The party was in full swing and for the most part, everyone ignored Tiffany. Everyone, I should say, except me. I simply couldn't do it, so I was stuck sitting on the couch hearing her ramble while everyone else danced, laughed, and made out around us. I continued to drink cup after cup of stale tasting beer, hoping being intoxicated would make things better. For a while, it did; I felt great and her conversations started making more sense and seem more interesting. I started feel warm and relaxed, and she started to look better with every cup I finished.
Later, she sat her cup on the coffee table and leaned closer to me. "Hey, wanna go upstairs?" she purred into my ear.
I finished off my cup and looked at her. At that moment I didn't know why I ever thought she looked weird or why I found her annoying; she looked so beautiful with her silk raven hair and her bright, green eyes. Her lips were slanted in a coy smile and her pale boobs were so full they looked like water balloons about to burst right out of her small black top. She was a Goddess, and I, a mere mortal. And there she was, asking me if I wanted to go upstairs with her. I would be a fool to turn her down, so I grabbed her hand and let her drag me up the stairs.
Although my friends thought I had already had sex in my 16 years of existence, in truth I was still a virgin. When me and Tiffany ended up making out some stranger's bed, I started to get extremely nervous at the thought of actually having sex for the first time. I knew that this makeout session was heading in that direction, because Tiffany was grinding up against me and trying to work me out of my pants while simultaneously trying to take her shirt off.
Besides my nervousness, things were going as well as a drunken romp can go. She was an awesome kisser and I had fun groping her breasts. However, things ended abruptly when I ran my hand through her hair. In my drunken state, I had totally forgotten it was a wig, and I accidentally pulled it off her head. She screamed and broke away from me like she had burned herself. She tried to fix it before I could see anything, but it was all for not; I had seen the horrors underneath the wig. She was bald in some spots and had short, blond hair in others. Later, I would find out that it was due to a condition that caused her to rip chunks of her hair out every time she got angry.
After her wig was fixed, she went back to kissing like nothing had happened. I tried to forget about what I had seen and just enjoy making out, but the image stuck and I now saw her as extremely unattractive. She kept trying to rub me through my boxers but Vincent Jr. wasn't moving. I already had trouble keeping him awake before I had seen her real hair, but now it was like he had gone comatose. I tried to think sexy thoughts but it didn't help one iota. By now it was like Tiffany was playing with shedded snake skin instead of the actual snake.
Eventually she noticed this, and she was not pleased. She rubbed harder. "What's wrong?" She asked. "Doesn't this feel good?"
Through clenched teeth I grunted out "Yeah."
She stopped rubbing and folded her arms, looking me in the eyes with a frown. "Then why aren't you hard?"
I shrugged. "Too much beer?"
That's when she dramatically put her hands over her face and started sobbing. "I'm ugly!" she wailed.
Not sure what to do, I just stayed where I was at and didn't say a word or make a move to comfort her. I was drunk as hell, I felt raw down stairs, and I was starting to feel sleepy. I just wanted to pass out and never speak of this again.
After some time had passed, she stopped crying and stood up, fixed her clothes and hair, then proceeded to throw anything she could find at me. "Fuck you, Vincent!" She shrieked. "You don't love me! You just love how I look!" I dodged a pillow and a small book. "FUCK. YOU. VINCENT." She then left, slamming the door behind her.
I was in a daze, and I couldn't really contemplate what had just happened. I simply closed my eyes and decided, fuck it, might as well get some sleep. I don't know if I was about to pass out or if I had been passed out for some time. All I know is, one minute it I'm riding the blissful, warm waves of alcohol, on the verge of falling sleep. The next minute, she's straddling me, crying and saying "I'm sorry Vincent! I just want to fuck you, okay?"
I blink a few times, completely confused. "Bluh?"
She dramatically rips her shirt open and lifts her bra up, showing me her glorious breasts. "FUCK. ME. RIGHT NOW."
I didn't even have time to react before she takes my flaccid dick out of my pants and sits on it. She starts bouncing up and down on it, causing me to wonder if she knows how sex works or if she's just hoping if she hops hard enough I might get hard again. Either way, it fucking hurt and wasn't sexy at all, so I pushed her off of me. She yelped as she hit the ground and her wig went askew. She looked up at me like she was about to murder me. "Why did you do that?!"
I was still shit faced but my adrenaline was pumping enough to give me a small break of clarity. I quickly put myself away and zipped up my pants, then ran down stairs. I was terrified that she was going to rape or murder me, hell maybe she would do both. I didn't even tell anyone I was leaving, I simply ran out the door and ran a mile all the way back home, locking every door and window in the house.
The next morning, I had a huge hangover and ended up puking a couple of times. To add insult to injury, word got out to the school that me and Crazy Tiffany had fucked, and apparently she had to spank me to get me off. That false rumor is still believed to this day, unfortunately.
So what life lesson did I find out the hard way? Don't try to hook up with a clearly crazed individual.
*This story is a work of fiction, thank god!*
2 comments:
I thoroughly enjoyed this. It was easy to get into and had good flow. When describing Tiffany at the beginning, that could use some fine tuning (pebble/boulder nostrils are too contrasting to give a definite image). But all told, I'm frankly surprised you think you 'kinda suck at it' — you don't. I look forward to reading more. cheers.
Thanks for reading this! And thanks for the critique. After reading your suggestion, I went back and re-read it and you're right, I definitely need to work on that. I know what she looks like in my head but anyone who reads this does not, and I didn't really give any words that paint a clear picture. Definitely something I struggle with a lot.
And thanks for the kind words, it means a lot! :)
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