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Join Date: Nov 26, 2011
Location: Dallas
Posts: 3,828
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Review : The Reason No One Should EVER Drink For Hours And Eat From A Street Cart Vendor Before A Session
Alright, I want to clarify a few things up front. First, this is not an actual review. At least, not one that I am writing on my own behalf. I have a buddy that is currently serving our country overseas and this story comes directly from a letter (not an email) that I received recently. I thought that the lessons he learned from his encounter might help the rest of us make better choices.
MODS - Please do not give me credit for this review and, for the love of God, please do not attach it to my list of reviews. No one will ever want to see me again.
Date: Early May, just about the time that the late afternoon temperatures reached 90 degrees
Provider: Not a provider, per se, but it was certainly a quid-pro-quo arrangement. We'll just call her Olga for the sake of argument.
Phone: I am not sure she even knows what a phone is
City: It's a very small town in a distant land
State: N/A
Address: Downtown-ish
Appointment Type: Picked her up at a local bar and went to her place
Did the Appointment take place at the agreed-upon time?: Yes, but it lasted way too long
Activities: We both drank A LOT, had supper at a local street cart vendor, a very long walk to her shack, I guess we can refer to some of the activities as water sports, some of the dirtiest nastiest BBBJ/BLS/Rimming I've ever experienced, way too many bodily functions to list, MPCFS, shame, disgust, another long walk back to a taxi stand, a rash, some serious blisters, and a story that I'll never forget.
Session Length: Took place over a six hour period of time
Fee: $150 worth of shots and foreign beer, $3 for the street cart vendor's mystery meat, and a $15 pair of socks
Hair Length and Color: Long Brown
Age: 22
Smoking Status: No, but she would have done anything I wanted for a pack of American cigarettes
Ethnic Background: A complete mystery to me
Physical Description: She was fairly short, I'm guessing 5'1" tall. Olga weighed close to 100#'s. She had dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark complexion. She was very pretty, but needed braces badly. I tried not to make her laugh...she looked better when she frowned. She was wearing hand-me-down clothes and a pair of old flip flops. She may not have showered that day.
The Rest of the Story: Well, buddy, I took your advice and tried to enjoy some down time. Katy's last letter hit me hard and the thought of her with some new guy has really been weighing on me. So, I went off base with a few of the guys to a local bar and tried to have some fun.
I met this little local lady named Olga. She wasn't much to look at, but I've been here long enough to make anyone look good in the right light. I sure do miss those Texas ladies. But, acting on your advice, I decided to see where the night took me...throw caution to the wind as you might say.
I spent a couple of hours at the bar drinking and laughing it up with the guys...and Olga. She seemed to really enjoy my company, and the free shots. Did you know that they call a shot of Jack Daniels mixed with a shot of Tequila a 'Mother Fucker'? There's a good reason for that. No worries though, I chased it down with warm shots of Jäger and gin...what a great idea that was.
I felt like shit. I hadn't eaten that day, so Olga showed me where the locals satisfy their appetite after hours. It was sorta like the 'No-man's-land' version of Taco Bell. I don't know what the fuck we bought from him, but it did manage to keep my stomach from growling. I'm pretty sure that this place doesn't have an adequate health department inspections program, but I might be jumping to conclusions.
Anyway, Olga asked me if I wanted to come with her to her place for some play time. She wanted to show me her appreciation for the endless stream of warm alcohol and questionable cuisine. I remembered how you told me to let myself enjoy the company of another woman...not to dwell on my lost relationship with Katy. So, I went with Olga.
It was a long, hot walk to her place. My head was spinning and my guts were beginning to churn. I don't think the bowl of monkey shit I just ate sat well in my stomach. Maybe it was just the Jäger and Mother Fuckers? Either way, I was searching for a toilet. As it turns out, public infrastructure isn't this country's strong suit either. Not a public bathroom in sight.
Olga promised we were close to her place and that I could use her 'pot' when I got there. We have very different definitions of what a bathroom 'pot' is, me and Olga. I think of a toilet bowl, her...not so much. But, I'll get to that. Right now I'm just trying to follow your sage advice and enjoy my time in a foreign land.
We finally get to Olga's apartment. Again, as it turns out, Olga and I don't quite speak the same language OR have the same general concept of words like 'apartment' or 'bathroom'. But, fuck it, at this point I'm sweating like a borrowed mule and I have to shit like a race horse. I'm pretty sure Olga has noticed that I'm grabbing my gut and walking like I'm trying to smuggle a penny in my ass crack, but I'll get to that later, too.
We enter her place through the front curtain...no, there wasn't a door. She points me toward the 'bathroom' which, as it turns out, is a corner of the bedroom with the aforementioned 'pot' laying on the floor. I had no choice and, against my better judgement, I took a shit in the 'pot'. It was a humbling experience, but one that I'll remember forever.
My head is spinning from the Mother Fuckers, jäger, and gin. I was able to unload most of the monkey shit I purchased from the street vendor, but I was sweating profusely. I searched everywhere for some toilet paper, but none was to be found. I panicked a bit and ended up wiping my ass with one of my socks. It was one of those wool Army socks...not quite as plush as the Charmin you're used to, but it'll do in a pinch. And, this was a pinch.
Oh, guess what? No trash can. The 'pot' is just that...a fucking pot. So, no flushing. I had no idea where to dispose of the shitty sock, so I just folded it up and threw it in the corner of the room. I'm not proud of it, but where the hell was I supposed to put it? More importantly, what does Olga use when she shits? I'm beginning to question my decision to go home with her.
Olga greets me in the doorway of her bedroom. I'm sweating Mother Fucker and gin...I can smell it. I can also smell the pot full of liquid monkey shit in the corner, or maybe it was the sock, I don't know or care at this point. I'm not feeling well. The room is spinning and Olga starts kissing me. Is this fucking happening?
We lay down on her sheet. Nope, no bed, no mattress, no comfy blanket...it's a sheet on the floor. Does that mean we should call this room a sheetroom instead of a bedroom? You can explain it to me when I get back. For now, I'm just laying on the sheet with little Olga's tongue down my throat. I can taste her portion of street vendor monkey shit when she kisses me.
I remove my soaking wet shirt, pants, underwear, and sock (just the one sock...the other is steaming in the corner of the sheetroom). Olga removes her clothes and spreads her legs wide for me. I get between them and the room starts spinning.
This is where things took a turn for the worse...if you can imagine something worse. Thanks again for the great advice. But, I digress. Olga looked up at me with such a loving look in her eyes, just as the vomit spewed from my mouth. It hit her dead to rights, directly between her A-cup titties. We were both in shock.
Hey, buddy, have you ever sneezed and farted at the same time? Well, oddly enough, when you have a gastrointestinal illness caused by street vendor monkey shit food and a belly full of Mother Fucker, a good hard projectile vomit causes a similar reaction. You see, when I threw up, I also shit myself. Well, it may be more appropriate to say that I shit ourselves. It was all over me AND poor Olga. She didn't know it yet, because she's trying like hell not to swallow a mouth full of regurgitated street vendor monkey shit, but little Olga is covered in shit.
She took it well. In fact, it still amazes me how well she took it. She just wiped the two of us down with the shitty sheet and threw it in the corner...on top of the sock. I guess my decision to throw the sock in THAT corner wasn't a bad one after all. Now, she'll just think that the sock got some shit on it and ended up there as a coincidence, right?
I laid on the floor in a pool of my own sweat and what remained of the shit. Olga sat beside me to comfort me. The room was still spinning and I was humiliated. She just ran her fingers through my hair and asked me if I was okay. She began to kiss my neck and tug on my filthy penis. Surely she doesn't want to fuck still, right?
Yep, Olga still wanted to fuck. However, I have a serious case of drunk dick. The tugging and rubbing wasn't going to work. So, like the trooper that she is, Olga went down for some BBBJ, BLS, and rimming. Yep, I said rimming. Even after I shit in the 'pot', wiped with a sock, and sharted on her legs, Olga still sucked my cock.
When I reached full mast, Olga produced a condom, opened it, and applied it with skill. Nope, no fucking toilet paper, but she had a goddamn rubber. I fucked her for at least an hour. It was some of the craziest, sweatiest, nastiest sex I've ever had.
When it was time to pop, I peeled off the rubber and straddled Olga's chest. I aimed right for her crooked little teeth. I started to cum just as she pulled away with a disgusted look on her face. "I no like the taste of cum" she said. Can you fucking believe that? She just licked five-mile-walk sweat off of my ball sack AND there's no way she didn't get a little shit in her mouth, but cum is where we draw the line!? Weird, huh? Oh well.
After I half-cummed on her tits, the mood was sorta ruined. I was starting to lose my buzz too. Olga escorted me to the front curtain and pointed me toward the taxi stand. It was a mile away. I walked the entire way with one sock and combat boots. The blisters on my right foot are still killing me.
Well, I just wanted to reach out and let you know that I took your advice. I ended up puking and shitting on a very sweet girl as a result, but, like I said, the memories will last forever.
By the way, you owe me $15 for the socks. Tell Katy I said, "Fuck you!" See you soon, buddy.
Recommendation: Fuck Ya
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