This is the article in Gawker that made me famous, relatively speaking, now reproduced in its entirety. RIP.
Tuesday, March 07, 2017
Monday, March 06, 2017
The Player vs the Biker
While we were walking into the motel room, a biker caught up with us and demanded, "I want to have a threesome."
Now you can imagine how hot my girls are. Do you remember the time when I brought the 19-year-old Rapunzel with ass length straight blond hair into a roadside convenient store buying condoms and asking for the direction to the nearest motel? The teen boy storekeeper looked at me like I was a god. This girl was her friend. Instead of Disney hot, she was biker hot.
She had a teen skinny body and she could paint herself into a Princess with the box she carried. I didn't like her much because she always pretended to be low mileage high maintenance when I knew she was the opposite. But she was a good fuck. I got wild when I got her tiny teen body under me missionarily, pumping her pussy and sucking her mouth non-stop. When I took my breath she asked, "Are you done yet?"
The phrase could destroy any erection but I'm the Player. What do you expect? I got even wilder and we mated like a pair of dolphins. I was on top and didn't need any help. She could be hiding her pleasure when she turned her face away, refusing to let me suck her. But I wasn't offended and praised, "You are sooo tiny!". She made me feel like I didn't pay her enough for what I did or the pleasure I had. With her, I always felt I was the mark. If I ever got hooked on her she would cost me dearly one way or the other.
I always wanted her to be Princess Nasty. She got the body and the face. If only she could blow me bare, unload completely in her mouth, spit out or swallow. That would be priceless at the time.
Being the Player, I calmly gave the biker a firm no immediately, even though he looked the part with all the right gears; even though I might have seen his bike outside of their room ten yards away. Yes, it is "they"; he was not alone.
The biker turned his attention to my girl, thinking that she might be street wiser. But the answer was the same. She treated him as if he's a nuisance and crazy and shut the door undramatically. I never thought about it ever since the door was closed until I binge watched the Son of Anarchy.
The motel did have a little inland California feel because many girls hanged out a bit away from the coast when they are not working; the rent is cheaper.
Honestly, the biker wasn't threatening. He was more fat rather than big. He seemed to be more like begging than demanding. And he knew he sounded crazy when he asked. Above all, I didn't know anything about the biker culture. Only until a couple of years ago, I don't know that they are capable of a shooting war between over a hundred people.
I could tell by his face he was sex craved, needing to jerk off immediately like any men. I am sure I would look the same when the right porn moment hit me. His stimulation would be my hot girl walking into the motel room with me, obviously going to have sex the moment when the door close, in a hot desert afternoon. That was why he looked silly instead of threatening.
I was drawn to the series but I am not planning to watch more than a season or two. It would be different if I live in a more rural area closer to the settings.
I was impressed when the doctor came back to her hometown to hide from her stalker, only to be protected by the biker and his arch enemy the deputy sheriff. They all went to the same high school. The gangster mom held fundraising events for the school, just like for any other school in the land, long after her kids left.
And when the undertaker agreed to help to supply two dead bodies, instead of money he wanted the girl he had a crush on since high school. And the biker delivered.
I went to the neighborhood school for a brief time, about a year for elementary school. It was similar to schools with just a number, or just the street name. But actually, I was quite happy there. The good students knew that I was transferred from an expensive private school. Having a business over there, others might know that my dad had to handle the underworld and survived.
It was totally different for high school. Students were from all over so there was no local attachment anywhere outside the school. All the memories left of the place were that of looking for affordable restaurants with least terrible lunches.
I was treated like royalty in elementary school without knowing it. The gangs would leave me alone. When I wanted to play wrestling at recess, they would let me jump the line, roughing me up enough but not hurting me at all even though I was a lot smaller than the other guy.
Even though everybody lived nearby, there was zero chance of meeting others outside school because of the population density. But since I lived there long after elementary school, I remembered I saw a guy who must have been initiated into a gang, selling snacks on the street. He didn't remember me or he pretended not to. I saw a girl selling vegetables in the local farmers' market. She must have remembered me because she went to hide and sent somebody to take her place. I pretended not to have spotted her to save her the embarrassment. I could imagine that over the years, many old classmates would have seen me, remembered me but wouldn't bother to greet me as I must have gone on to do great things while they barely hung on.
I might do the same if I spotted my old high school friends that were successful. But then we knew each other for at least half a decade and that we had a happy childhood. Indeed I met a friend on the underground. He just returned after university from abroad and got a high paying finance job. We were never close but I was still having his books at home that he asked me to sell before he left!
The fact was, we didn't have anything to say! I am always a man of few words. We didn't do much together. I was down but not out while he must be having his great moments. He was always the underdog in high school but now he turned the table. I didn't think he was rude to me nor he was trying to ignore me. I was always humble and nice to everybody and popular. I thought he was used to old "friends" trying to reconnect with him now that he was successful. And that he found no use for them anymore and ignored them for a change. I would think I was different; we just have nothing to say and he had a lot in his mind.
Indeed, all of the high school was supposed to go on to great things, even for the average underdog. But I didn't see myself sitting down in a clinic to see miserable patients all day long. If only I thought about the money and the women. The fact was if you tried to buy an umbrella near the school, the craftsman having spotted your broken one would insist on repairing it for you on the spot, free of charge.
I didn't know if my dad was short of money, sending me to the neighborhood elementary school. Or he knew that there was affirmative action for public school kids or a bit of both. He found the excuse to send me out of private school. Of course, I graduated top of the class for once in my life, probably setting the record for the highest achievement ever since at the school. But no one believed when I told them my ordinary scores while getting into the public high school that no money can buy.
But I wasn't doing too badly myself. I drove dad on cross country road trips in brand new luxury cars and SUVs, across the channel, and across the desert, along famous roads, highways, and streets that the average tourist can never dream of such local experience. In hindsight, dad would have been happier sightseeing cities and monuments that he had heard of. But I know he was happy enough and couldn't stop talking about it. My cousins told me that how happy he had been in his last years.
I am a bit surprised by so many familiar faces in the series. Can you believe it, "married with children"? Come back after so many years?
If they wrote in a hot biker girl permanently I might watch all the seasons. I am also happy to turn on the TV on schedule. But with the whole Netflix to choose from, I'll pass for now.
Now you can imagine how hot my girls are. Do you remember the time when I brought the 19-year-old Rapunzel with ass length straight blond hair into a roadside convenient store buying condoms and asking for the direction to the nearest motel? The teen boy storekeeper looked at me like I was a god. This girl was her friend. Instead of Disney hot, she was biker hot.
She had a teen skinny body and she could paint herself into a Princess with the box she carried. I didn't like her much because she always pretended to be low mileage high maintenance when I knew she was the opposite. But she was a good fuck. I got wild when I got her tiny teen body under me missionarily, pumping her pussy and sucking her mouth non-stop. When I took my breath she asked, "Are you done yet?"
The phrase could destroy any erection but I'm the Player. What do you expect? I got even wilder and we mated like a pair of dolphins. I was on top and didn't need any help. She could be hiding her pleasure when she turned her face away, refusing to let me suck her. But I wasn't offended and praised, "You are sooo tiny!". She made me feel like I didn't pay her enough for what I did or the pleasure I had. With her, I always felt I was the mark. If I ever got hooked on her she would cost me dearly one way or the other.
I always wanted her to be Princess Nasty. She got the body and the face. If only she could blow me bare, unload completely in her mouth, spit out or swallow. That would be priceless at the time.
Being the Player, I calmly gave the biker a firm no immediately, even though he looked the part with all the right gears; even though I might have seen his bike outside of their room ten yards away. Yes, it is "they"; he was not alone.
The biker turned his attention to my girl, thinking that she might be street wiser. But the answer was the same. She treated him as if he's a nuisance and crazy and shut the door undramatically. I never thought about it ever since the door was closed until I binge watched the Son of Anarchy.
The motel did have a little inland California feel because many girls hanged out a bit away from the coast when they are not working; the rent is cheaper.
Honestly, the biker wasn't threatening. He was more fat rather than big. He seemed to be more like begging than demanding. And he knew he sounded crazy when he asked. Above all, I didn't know anything about the biker culture. Only until a couple of years ago, I don't know that they are capable of a shooting war between over a hundred people.
I could tell by his face he was sex craved, needing to jerk off immediately like any men. I am sure I would look the same when the right porn moment hit me. His stimulation would be my hot girl walking into the motel room with me, obviously going to have sex the moment when the door close, in a hot desert afternoon. That was why he looked silly instead of threatening.
I was drawn to the series but I am not planning to watch more than a season or two. It would be different if I live in a more rural area closer to the settings.
I was impressed when the doctor came back to her hometown to hide from her stalker, only to be protected by the biker and his arch enemy the deputy sheriff. They all went to the same high school. The gangster mom held fundraising events for the school, just like for any other school in the land, long after her kids left.
And when the undertaker agreed to help to supply two dead bodies, instead of money he wanted the girl he had a crush on since high school. And the biker delivered.
I went to the neighborhood school for a brief time, about a year for elementary school. It was similar to schools with just a number, or just the street name. But actually, I was quite happy there. The good students knew that I was transferred from an expensive private school. Having a business over there, others might know that my dad had to handle the underworld and survived.
It was totally different for high school. Students were from all over so there was no local attachment anywhere outside the school. All the memories left of the place were that of looking for affordable restaurants with least terrible lunches.
I was treated like royalty in elementary school without knowing it. The gangs would leave me alone. When I wanted to play wrestling at recess, they would let me jump the line, roughing me up enough but not hurting me at all even though I was a lot smaller than the other guy.
Even though everybody lived nearby, there was zero chance of meeting others outside school because of the population density. But since I lived there long after elementary school, I remembered I saw a guy who must have been initiated into a gang, selling snacks on the street. He didn't remember me or he pretended not to. I saw a girl selling vegetables in the local farmers' market. She must have remembered me because she went to hide and sent somebody to take her place. I pretended not to have spotted her to save her the embarrassment. I could imagine that over the years, many old classmates would have seen me, remembered me but wouldn't bother to greet me as I must have gone on to do great things while they barely hung on.
I might do the same if I spotted my old high school friends that were successful. But then we knew each other for at least half a decade and that we had a happy childhood. Indeed I met a friend on the underground. He just returned after university from abroad and got a high paying finance job. We were never close but I was still having his books at home that he asked me to sell before he left!
The fact was, we didn't have anything to say! I am always a man of few words. We didn't do much together. I was down but not out while he must be having his great moments. He was always the underdog in high school but now he turned the table. I didn't think he was rude to me nor he was trying to ignore me. I was always humble and nice to everybody and popular. I thought he was used to old "friends" trying to reconnect with him now that he was successful. And that he found no use for them anymore and ignored them for a change. I would think I was different; we just have nothing to say and he had a lot in his mind.
Indeed, all of the high school was supposed to go on to great things, even for the average underdog. But I didn't see myself sitting down in a clinic to see miserable patients all day long. If only I thought about the money and the women. The fact was if you tried to buy an umbrella near the school, the craftsman having spotted your broken one would insist on repairing it for you on the spot, free of charge.
I didn't know if my dad was short of money, sending me to the neighborhood elementary school. Or he knew that there was affirmative action for public school kids or a bit of both. He found the excuse to send me out of private school. Of course, I graduated top of the class for once in my life, probably setting the record for the highest achievement ever since at the school. But no one believed when I told them my ordinary scores while getting into the public high school that no money can buy.
But I wasn't doing too badly myself. I drove dad on cross country road trips in brand new luxury cars and SUVs, across the channel, and across the desert, along famous roads, highways, and streets that the average tourist can never dream of such local experience. In hindsight, dad would have been happier sightseeing cities and monuments that he had heard of. But I know he was happy enough and couldn't stop talking about it. My cousins told me that how happy he had been in his last years.
I am a bit surprised by so many familiar faces in the series. Can you believe it, "married with children"? Come back after so many years?
If they wrote in a hot biker girl permanently I might watch all the seasons. I am also happy to turn on the TV on schedule. But with the whole Netflix to choose from, I'll pass for now.
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