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| I recently got back in touch with an old friend of mine (Jeremy) who had been in the Marines for most of the decade. 2 tours in Iraq and 1 in Afghanistan. He was the drummer of one of many bands I was in through the 90's. We jammed a little and caught up on what all we had missed out on, my divorce and subsequent man-whore-ism, damn near alcoholism, musical projects since before he went away, etc. Most of the catching up was on my part. Being stuck in the desert to kill in the name of freedom (or to protect the interests of the elite, whatever) we both silently agreed, was a pretty narrow topic, though stories of state sanctioned murder and run-ins with prostitutes will keep you occupied for at least an hour. |
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Then we started talking about the good ol' days. Man, we had fun then. Not a care or responsibility in the world. We lived for the 3 P's; Pussy, Party, and Paycheck (though the latter was never priority in so much as a way to score drugs and beer). All we did was hang out and get loaded and play music. We were all barely out of high school, not much was expected of us yet, and I still had hair.
If you ever were part of a party scene then you know what I am talking about when I say that nothing is better than to get with old friends and talk about all of the times you all got fucked up together. I don't care to relive those days ever again, but it's fun to talk about.
Or it was fun to talk about until my friend remembered what was probably the most disturbing (almost) sexual encounter I may have (or may not have) had in my life. Goddamnit, can't we talk about something else?
Ah well. If I can't take a joke, fuck me, right?
The year was 1995. I was freshly 20 and mentally 12. It was a very bad time to be in a metal band. My friend Nick (R.I.P) got Jeremy and I into one of his bands. It was hard to find a gig then and the band we left was about to fold. Nick had a good deal of success on his own doing the grunge thing. I hate grunge, but I love playing gigs more. Nick could get you anything you wanted. Had his life not been tragically cut short sooner by unnatural means, he would have probably joined the lower tier of the 27 club. A great guy despite all of that.
Jeremy scored some pot earlier in the day before practice that had to have been one of the shittiest bags I had ever smoked. All kinds of shake and seeds. He got screwed basically (he never was the smart shopper). After practice we got smoked up, or about as stoned as you can get off of a quarter ounce of shitty home-grown between 5 guys. Even Burt didn't get off on it.
Burt was Jeremy's mom's cat. Burt was a trooper. It was decided by Jeremy a year prior that Burt must do every drug that we do. He even paid with his own money (a scarcity at that age) to have Burt de-clawed so the process of the cat reaching kitty nirvana and possibly seeing kitty Jesus would be a lot less trauma on the person who helped Burt to ingest these chemicals. Burt eventually responded to the aroma of pot smoke like it was cat-nip. To have a better idea of just how much dope Burt consumed, he died peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of 7.
The rest of the guys left, and it was just Nick, Jeremy, and myself. It was usually like that. Everyone in the band got along, but the three of us had more history. We would usually get stoned and talk about our performance that day, watch TV and just hang out, or sometimes we would be motivated enough to go to town and try to pick up girls.
Still bummed about the lack luster quality of Jeremy's latest acquisition, we started talking about where we could score some better dope.
Jeremy: Dude usually has the chronic.
Me: This time it was just chronically bad.
Nick: Hey James, you know where anything is?
Me: Shit, I always get hooked up through one of you or Jay, but he's dry.
Nick: Hey, I know where we can get something else?
Jeremy: I don't snort pills dude.
Nick: I ain't talking about fucking pills. I done told you mother fuckers I don't do that shit no more (lie). I know a dude who has some acid.
Me: OHH NO MAN!!! The last time I tripped with you I wound up half naked in the bathroom wrapped with wet toilet paper because you convinced me I was burning alive. I'll never trip with you again! (I did, new years of 1999, I remember it vividly, and that's a whole other story.)
Nick: *sigh* Fucking pussy. He's got other shit too.
Jeremy: I'm just an alcohol and weed man. Don't wanna fuck with anything else really.
Me: What other stuff?
Nick: He's got shrooms too.
Me: NO! That's practically the same thing.
Nick: I promise I wont fuck with you this time.
Me: You break that promise every time. No....Hell no.
Jeremy: Shrooms make me puke anyway.
Nick: He has some X.
Me: Never done it.
Jeremy: Don't that shit make you horny. I heard about dudes eating X and doing gay shit.
Me: No offense, but you guys aren't my type.
Jeremy: Har Har...seriously though. That's what people say about it.
Nick: Who told you that. That's bullshit. I mean, it might make you wanna fuck if you are around a bunch of chicks but it wont make you gay.
Me: What's it like?
Nick: Oh man....It's kinda like coke only psychedelic. We should totally get some and play some tunes. I love music when I'm on it.
Me: Did it make you horny?
Nick: Well, yeah. I mean, I fucked my girl on it and it was fan-fucking-tastic. Makes your whole body feel like a giant G-Spot.
Jeremy: I don't wanna feel like that around you guys. Fags!
Me: You are just saying that because you can't get any pussy.
Jeremy: Fuck you. I got pussy coming over tomorrow night.
Nick: DUDE!!! We should get some and get some girls!
Me: I'm supposed to go meet Linda tomorrow.
Nick: Bring her here! We'll all get zoned out on X and jam and then bring some chicks over and fuck like rabbits.
Me: This appeals to me more and more. It sounds like a plan so long as Heavy D (Donna, Jeremy's mom) ain't gonna be comin' in fucking shit up and Jeremy's date doesn't require inflation.
Jeremy: Mom ain't comin' home til' Sunday night. And I told you, goddamnit, I have a girl coming over. (Jeremy had a bad habit about lying about his conquests).
Me: Who? Do I know her?
Jeremy: I doubt it. She's from Charleston. Her name is Jenny (name changed to protect the local whore)
Nick and me look at each other and chuckle with a knowing nod. At different points in time prior, we had both shot a wad on her.
Jeremy: What the fuck was that.
Nick: I know her. I'm just surprised you do. Never-mind that. Are we gonna do this or what?
Me: I'm in. I have money. I'll pay for me and Linda if I can talk her into it. I don't know how she would feel about it.
Nick: How many do you want?
Me: Fuck I dunno? How many should I get?
Nick: Probably 8 hits. 4 a piece.
Me: OK. I want 4. 2 each.
Nick: What the fuck?
Me: I know you. 4 is probably too much. Plus, like I said, I don't know if Linda is into the shit yet. Gotta talk to her and see if she is even down with hanging here tomorrow.
So we piggy backed it and I talked to Linda and she was receptive to the idea after I convinced her it would make us fuck like porn stars. What a hot little slut. I loved her for months.
The next day we got together and ate our dope. I don't know how many Nick did but I'm sure it was, as usual, too much for one person. His girl was already there and already fucked up from that and probably other things. Jeremy had yet to take any. We spent an hour convincing him. WE HAD A PACT, MOTHER FUCKER....THIS IS THE FRUIT AND WE SEE THAT IT IS GOOD!! EAT IT! I ate one to start with. After a half hour or so, being the first one didn't kill me, I ate the other one. Linda was there at that point and took both pills without hesitating. I am SO LAID ALREADY!!!
Jenny actually showed up, which temporarily amazed us that Jeremy wasn't lying this time.
We jammed out for what felt like 8 hours straight. In reality, it was more like an hour or so. DAMN....Nick was right. Everything I did seemed awesome. Every note started at my ears and went straight to my chest and tickled my heart, speeding it up, causing it to pump liquid confidence through my entire body and surrounding my brain with harmonious candied sexuality that it then sent straight to my cock. Yes folks, my own playing gave me a hard-on. I don't even know if I was actually playing any better, could have been worse. I didn't care. That moment in my brain is fixed there forever and fuck Memorex and reality.
When we stopped playing, we were pouring sweat. We just collectively gave each other that look, the kinda of look, I imagine, the hunters of an Indian tribe gave each other after tackling a Buffalo. There was nothing to say. I never loved those guys more than that moment.
Then goes a while of talking, goofing off, various spontaneous make out sessions that became more frequent. Everyone eventually scurried off to their various dens of lust and Linda and I were left alone, at last, in Jeremy's older brother's old room (he had moved out and gotten married a few months earlier....sucker.)
Linda was a cute girl. She was not the most beautiful girl I had ever had on my arm but she was a lot of fun. We were young and didn't give a fuck. We weren't in love but we were definitely in heat. She was pleasingly thick, not lumpy or dumpy. She was a jeans and blouse kind of girl. She looked as though she was about to pour out of everything she wore and I loved it. And, thanks to our youth, everything stayed where it belonged when I peeled her out of her clothes.
That night, she was never more beautiful. She was definitely feeling the effects of the drugs and I had been rocking for a while. I have to admit, my stamina failed me. She never knew. I went down on her and actually got off in the first 3 minutes....I HADN'T EVEN TOUCHED HER in any other way yet. This was going to be biblical!
She came so hard I checked for a pulse after she collapsed. We stopped to have a cigarette and it was the longest cigarette I had ever smoked. I was already throbbing enormous and it was almost unbearable not to touch her even in the slightest way.
Then, her mother fucking phone rang. It was her mother Of course, not even this could thwart the Jupiter sized erection I was donning.
Linda: Hello, yeah I'm ok. Just hanging out with James and then I was gonna spend the night with Amber. (lie)
Phone: "wa wa wa (2 minutes of Charlie Brown teacher speak) and we need you here wa wa wa it don't look good."
Linda is welling up with tears. I still have Peter North nervous.
Linda: Okay. I'll be right there.
"James, my granny just had a massive stroke. They're calling the family in."
NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was defenseless. I cannot compete with a dying grandma. I'll bet I would have felt really bad for her had I not been simultaneously experiencing a throbbing powerhouse boner and blue balls while lightly hallucinating all at the same time.
I tried my best to seem consoling. I had never met the grandma but I suppose they were close. So, there we stood. Fully dressed on the patio. She's hugging me and crying in my arms, apologizing. And, there I stood, pants uncomfortable as hell, brainstorming to find a way to get the head of it in like a sick sex deviant. There was no way around it. We said our goodbyes.
So, I tried to make the best of a bad situation. I'm sure those of you reading this are thinking "you went to the bathroom and beat your dick like it owed you money, didn't you?" and I would say...you are goddamn right!
I walk down the hall and have to pass the two other bedrooms on the way to the bath. All I could hear was fucking, VERY LOUD FUCKING. I couldn't stand the 3 seconds or so it might have taken to get into the bathroom. This was the most uncomfortable hard-on I'd ever had. I'm pretty sure I had my pants undone before I closed the door. I barely had to work at it before I decorated the guest towels with rope after rope of man goo.
On the way back, I started feeling sick. I was sweating and hot all over. I felt like my veins were pumping lava. I made it to the balcony outside the living room door and puked all over my car that was parked below. What a terrible feeling. I spent the next hour thinking that I had gotten up several times to get a glass of water only to come to my senses and realize I was still sitting on the chair in the living room.
After finally having a real drink and feeling a little better I returned to the chair to sulk. I was so disappointed with how the evening had gone. I felt bad that the only thing I could think of while Linda's Grandmother lay dying was fucking her. I felt bad for whacking all over Donna's good guest towel. I tried to call Linda but no answer. Rightfully so. I was probably the least of her worries right now. I tried to relax. I couldn't shake the hallucinations. Every time I closed my eyes I thought I was being flung off the planet by the earth's revolutions.
The only consolation I had at this point was Burt. Burt had jumped into my lap and was rubbing me with the crown of his head as cats do. What a pretty cat. His fur was so soft to the touch. I began petting him and thinking. Trying to get the sounds of everyone else fucking out of my ears. I thought about how good Linda felt in the bed with me. How good she looked. How badly I wanted her. I contemplated whether it was just the dope or whether there was actually something more to it. And I pet Burt as he purred in my lap. He rhythmically dug his imaginary claws into my leg with each stroke. We were still there. We had each other. Good ol' Burt.
I began to wonder if Burt had partaken of any pharmaceuticals. It would be funny if the cat was all horny too. We're in this together. I can't get no pussy and he has no balls. It's like we were brothers.
I rocked and petted and rocked. Burt's fur was so soft. I began petting him harder. He seemed to enjoy this. My hand had never felt softer fur. It was velvety and warm. I pulled him closer to me as it felt like he was sliding out of my lap. And pet and pet and pet. "Just you and me against the world buddy....It's just us."
At some point Burt and I must have went together to visit each of our respective Gods. I envisioned him going off to a little kitty paradise and being filled with the wisdom of ages. He should return one of the most zen and enlightened cats in his little kitty world. After seeing him off to his personal heaven I venture off to see my own creator. So many questions I had. Why can't I be with you always my lord? Why do you not come to us on earth and forgive us and let us all live together in peace and harmony forever? What is my test here and why is it necessary?
Upon passing through what can only be described as gates made of clouds of energy and light I heard the voice of my spiritual father call out to me. He said in a loud but familiar and strangely common WV accent;
DUDE! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY CAT?
In nanoseconds I was thrust out of this ineffable bliss to see Jeremy in his boxers holding a beer and looking confused.
There I sit, Burt in my lap, struggling to get free. I have him by the back of his neck and had been apparently stroking him in such a way that could only be described as trying to peel a potato with your bare hands. Burt had lost A LOT of hair. As I let go he jumped out of my lap and ran out of the room so fast he literally slid across the kitchen linoleum to escape me.
As I got out of the chair I realized 3 things.
1. I was bleeding. Burt still had his hind claws.
2. I had, at some point, vomited all over myself.
3. I had a raging boner.
I swear I did not fuck this cat, but, I was perplexed. Did I want to fuck the cat? Why did I still have a boner? Did anybody notice?
YES! Of course they did.
There I stand, covered with vomit, cat hair, and blood with a hard-on in front of Jeremy, Jenny, Nick, and Tammy.
Do you know how bad it is to be called cat fucker for two years? GODFUCKING DAMNIT...Don't do drugs kids. |
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