Wow… P in her V

“About a year ago, I met Oscar while I was giving a speech at this program I had completed a few months earlier. I felt really frumpy that day, and I couldn’t show any cleavage (obviously), so I wasn’t even thinking of attracting anyone.
At the bus stop, he stopped me and “spit his game” (his words). He wasn’t really my type - gangsta, pants below his waist, and obviously into mainstream rap…bleh. But I try not to stereotype and besides, after he stopped trying so hard, we began talking about Sylvia Plath, Keates, so I was intrigued.
The first time he came over my house, he told me his whole life-story about how he was in the foster-care system, growing up in the “ghetto,” and other unsavory things. It was sort of touching that he trusted me enough to share those things, but I was kind of put off by it; not really first date material.
We go into my house, and after some intellectual seduction on his part (which always gets me…damn!), we started making out furiously for about 4-5 hours…I REALLY like kissing. So much so, that when we come up for air, he had missed his bus home. He crashed on my couch, and at 4 in the morning, I walked him to the bus-stop, where he recited some poetry for me, and went on his way.
First date = a solid A-!
The next date…not so much. He came back the next day, and met my family, well almost, we immediately proceeded to go to directly to my room, where we had a scintillating religious debate followed by more violent face-sucking, when all of the sudden, things start to get a little more…juicy.
…and not in a good way. The sheer amount and viscosity of his spit allowed so that at one point, I had to stop, and drop a healthy loogie-sized gob of it onto my rug. My face was absolutely COVERED in slime, and it didn’t help that he grabbed my face…and licked it…like a cow. Not the sexy Gwen Stefani “South Side” style - COW-STYLE.
After going to the bathroom and vigorously scrubbing my face, I return to my room, making sure to sit on the faaar opposite side, so he wouldn’t be tempted to drown me in his saliva again. I attempted to start a new conversation and it somehow ventured into “what’s-your-fantasy” territory…never good. Wherein, he started telling me things that began innocously enough, but soon began to reach depths you should never ever tell anyone…ever:
- “I want to have a threesome.”
- “I’ve always wanted to try something with food.”
- “I have a foot fetish…can I paint your toenails?”
- “My cousins are really hot…so is my aunt. She’s pretty old, but she’s really busty…I’ve always fantacized about have this big orgy with them.”
- Oscar: “Can I suck on your tits and drink your milk?”
Me: “What?!”
Oscar: “They’re so luscious…”
Me: “…but…I’m not pregnant.”
Oscar: “So…?”
Me (flabbergasted/disgusted/hysterically amused look on my face): “Girls don’t have milk unless they’re pregnant!”
Oscar (you’re-fucking-kidding-me face): “Nuh-uh?!”
…and the kicker… - “Amorous, I’ve always wanted to try something…you know the feeling when you’re having sex with someone and it’s all warm and wet, and stuff? Well, I’ve always had this fantasy of making it even better. If we ever got to that point, you know…having sex. Do you think I can…pee inside you…while we’re doing it?”
I thought I was going to die. Literally. I was laughing…SO HARD, I almost made a version of his fantasy come true and pissed MYSELF.
I was done at that point, but I was enraptured in this macabre fascination with this guy that I just had to let him stick around for at least the rest of the day to see what else he could possibly do.
And it turned out to be nothing…except be exceptionally rude to my mom and aunt, curse in front of them on the ride home on his cell-phone, saying he was with this “Hot-ass chick,” and ask me to touch his dick…just once.
The sad thing is, this isn’t the WORST date I’ve ever been on.”

-Anonymous

Dude went from 0 to R. Kelly in one date. That might be a record.