Previously, on Jack’s TMI Blog, we left off with Galina pushing one of my “buttons”, thus very much requiring that furious, drunken sex be performed. The point of no return had been crossed.
After licking on and whispering in my ear, Galina nonchalantly stood back up, stretched her arms into the air with a yawn, and announced that she was ready to pass out. The way that her long, red hair hung concealed what she did while she was leaning down towards me, so her giggly, lightweight roommate was none the wiser. Galina dove into her bed, her roommate said her farewells, and I locked the bedroom door after showing her out.
The picture used in my post on sluts got me thinking of my past experience with jailbait (funny that the girls in the slut post look more jailbaity than the ones I’m using for this post), and I thought I should share it.
This was back when I was still working with the crew mentioned throughout the “Christina Saga”. My buddy “Fred” and I were on the job late one Friday night, driving stuff back and forth in our work vehicle—which happened to be a massive, turbo-charged truck—when this all went down.
While waiting at a red light, a little Honda Accord pulled up two lanes over from us…and it was chock-full of chicks. So I smack Fred on the shoulder and call him over to my window. “Bro! Check it out…” Fred leans over to look, and his eyes widen. “Uhhhh, hello? What the fuck are you waiting for?! Honk the horn!” So I hang my left elbow out of my window, and give the horn two good presses with my right hand. The girls all look over, and in unison, let out a “WOOOH!” while shooting their girly little fists into the air.
“WHATSUP?!”, Fred shouts across the way…
“WHERE’S THE PARTY AT?!” one of them shouts back…
Some of these girls look a little young to play the part, don’t they?…
Seeming that I’ve used the term at least once or twice, I thought I should get around to sharing my thoughts on it. This can be a very divisive subject, but I have a bit I’d like to say about it.
My definition for the word “slut” is simple: A woman* that (seemingly) sleeps around indiscriminately.
*(More on this in a bit…)
Not as easy to follow, it seems, is when I state that my use of the word “slut” is descriptive, not normative. In other words, I’m not making a moral judgement when I use the term. In the past, I’ve had people jump down my neck when I’ve used the term, screeching that I’m a “slut shamer”, “sex negative”, or whatever the hell else kids are saying these days, but that’s based on their notions of the term, not mine.
I mean, wouldn’t it be a bit out of character for a guy that benefits from women’s looseness to be out to make them more sexually inhibited?
Let’s address that asterisk, though. So, why do I—unless I’m joking—reserve the term “slut” for women? The short answer is that I accept reality. Here’s the longer version:
In keeping with the theme of my last few posts, I wanted to share a story about a time in which my adventures with “taken” women actually went less than stellar. Navigating the seas of women can be rough, but never as much as when the other man is a friend, and the woman is a dunce.
The girl in question—we’ll call her “Caprice”—is what I’d call a social climber, though in this instance, she was more of a social lateral mover. Caprice met my friend, whom we’ll call “Duane”, after one of her girlfriends was invited to hang out by a co-worker of ours. I wasn’t around when this went down, but by the time I met her, Duane and her were already dating…more or less (more on this later).
It was at another social gathering with the same group of friends that I first met her. For Caprice, I think it was pretty much lust at first sight. I would have needed to be partly blind to miss the fact that she was eye-fucking me the entire night.
(Jeebuz! What is it with me always attracting sluts? Does my resting asshole face also read as an “I love sluts!” face?)
When the night wound down, and I was getting ready to split, Caprice asked to borrow my phone. Apparently, she’d left hers out in her car, and “needed” to call it to check her inbox. Now, maybe I have too much sex on my mind (it’s true), but I totally took this as her making a move on me. If you’re not convinced by the things that sex-crazed Jack tells himself, though, then consider that Duane was nearby, and his cell phone was sitting on the coffee table right in front of him. If you’re still not convinced about my assessment, then…keep reading.
It’s all fun and games until the clown pipes your dame
(Or, “On The Moral Implications Of Sleeping With ‘Taken’ Women.”)
This is something that I’ve wanted to speak about for a while now. Some of my crazier misadventures have involved me hooking up with women that were in relationships, so it’s something that I thought I should address.
I recently wrote about my views on infidelity, from how I define cheating, to who’s more likely to cheat, and in that same post, put forth the following idea: It is up to couples to agree upon what behavior will and will not be permissible in their relationships. These relationship terms are a bit like business contracts; they are about mutual benefit. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours. You don’t fuck anyone but me, and I keep paying all of the bills.”
I’ve done my fair share of dumb shit while drunk. Usually, I remember, but sometimes…..not so much. I’m often able to track down and harass friends and acquaintances for information, so I can reconstruct the previous night’s events, but it’s not like I can guarantee that what I’m being told is accurate.
For example, just a few days before I’d first hooked up with Liz, I went to a huge party with co-workers and had a bit much to drink. When I came to I was on a couch, with some dried blood in my nose, and the only person present was a co-worker’s wife. When I asked her about my bloody nose, she claimed that her and I tried to make out, and my co-worker got really pissed and punched me in the nose.
She seemed like a slut, and she was cute, so I took her word for it, apologizing profusely to my co-worker when he arrived a little later. According to him, though, she’d made that all up, and I’d simply tripped and hit my face. His wife insisted that her story was real, but I thought his version was more plausible (and it didn’t make me as uncomfortable), so I went with it instead. A few months later they split up though, and he told me it was because she was a huge slut, so some doubts persist.
But then, there are times where I believe the night was unremarkable and I don’t bother trying to learn more…
Those were the words I uttered while getting my dick stroked and sucked by two chicks at the same time…
…while I was driving on the highway…
…at 80+ miles per hour…
…while slightly intoxicated.
Alright. Ok. So, take note, because this’ll be one of the few times that I will ever admit to this: That was probably a very reckless thing to do. But what was I supposed to do? Go “No, STAHP”? I suppose that would’ve been the sensible thing to do…
I’ll share a little background before jumping into the circumstances leading up to the scene described above. So, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it yet, but Giovanna is also into girls. Recently, she introduced me to this friend of hers, we’ll call her “Tess”, and we’ve been working towards setting up a threesome. She seems to be down for it, but thus far obstacles have only allowed us to have drunken, three-way make out sessions.
Tonight was a little different.