The One-Night Stand That Almost Got Me Killed

Siblings of Mark Wahlberg9 years ago

The following story is loosely based on a story that was submitted by one of our insane readers.

It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m as broke as Greece but nursing the kind of buzz that makes female eye contact suggest “Hey, you want to do the dirty?” Pretending we’re on the tropical Cabo getaway overwhelming our snap feeds, as half of the Greek system left us to freeze back at home, we’ve decided to have our own Mexican adventure at the one local Latina loving bar.

I walked in ready to find the taco for my meat, in my own mind throwing winks and sexually suggestive expressions towards all suspected females. I meet a solid 6.5/7 — a fat ass but the kind of face that warrants nothing but doggie. We danced the night away — by dancing I mean I was a full finger deep in plain sight — when the ball dropped and she was ready to leave.

She was insistent, however, that we go to her place instead of mine, saying she had the place to herself. I assumed she was referring to a campus apartment, but as the Uber continued its trek, I realized quickly we were entering an impoverished area. I was either getting robbed or she lived with her parents. Either way, this is fucked.

But as is so often the case, I was hammered and the lactating mammaries begging to be wrapped around my dick had me forgetting my severe lactose intolerance and better judgment. We pulled up to this shanty on the outskirts of town, and to my horror, we had arrived.

I expressed some concern as soon as we entered the supposed abandoned home, but her instant oral fixation and papaya-sized lips calmed my nerves in more ways than one. She removed the obstruction from her throat and lead me up the stairs, finding her childlike room fit with pink walls and stuffed animals. Contemplating an ID check, I remembered my father mentioning his client’s “plausible deniability” and decided ignorance truly was bliss as she released her caramel-covered cans from the tyranny of her bra.

Fortunately, her 2013 high school diploma above the bed provided reassuring scenery as I grabbed the headboard for increased leverage. I was jackhammering her from behind like she was a human fleshlight, her face buried in the pillows as she moaned indecipherable languages. Apparently, my A- in second semester Spanish wasn’t good for much.

I put her through the standard motions: several extremely fast pumps, pause to prevent unforgivably premature ejaculation, request for another BJ, several more pumps, “accidental” upper torso explosion. I like to call myself the four-minute man, as after reading Men’s Health claiming the typical guy lasts two and a half, this is the first moment in my life I can claim my abilities as solidly above average.

She worked herself into such a frenzy, requesting hair pulls, spanking, even some shit I couldn’t understand nor was comfortable with, and she passed out almost immediately after the customary sock/shirt/pillow clean up. Completely naked and requesting “Wake me up soon, Papi.”

Realizing we had the house to ourselves, and her willingness for repeated porn-style sex I can’t believe she actually enjoyed/suggested with a total stranger, I set an alarm for an hour to allow my soldiers sufficient time to rebuild and settled in for some shut eye.

As I was drifting away towards a post-orgasm drunken stupor, I swore I could hear some sort of activity back on the main floor. Assuming this was nothing more than the remedial construction quality of the homes of poor people, as my life in the suburbs had completely shielded me from, I let myself fall deeper until I was Inception asleep.

*SMACK*

I was awoken to searing pain in my face.

“What the fuck, Carlos??”

My chili pepper had awoken to my bleeding nose.

“Esmerelda, who the fuck is this white boy?!”

*SMACK*

He hit me again as I buried my head in the pillow, now covered in my own blood and dried cum.

*SMACK*

“Please, Carlos stop!!”

“WHO IS HE??”

He was unloading on me like a Kimbo Slice backyard brawl (RIP) as I covered my head, hoping to prevent the blunt trauma leaving me in a Terry Schaivo state.

“Please!”

“I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I’m so sorry!”

“Boyfriend?”

“Carlos!! Please!!”

Quickly I realized that two men had entered the room, both her brothers, to find me ass naked with my dick elephant-walking their “baby sister.”

“I’m going to kill this motherfucker!”

The second brother proclaimed this as he charged the bed with flailing fists, looking to make me a tear tatted on his cheek.

As Esmerelda, ironically the only way I found out her name, begged them to stop, I was able to finagle my pants back on and roll out of the bed.

“Seriously, I’ll leave now. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect. Please, Just let me go.”

“Let you go?”

Carlos approached me.

“Sure, man. Why not.”

He punched me in the stomach so hard I thought my intestines were about to shoot out my mouth as I doubled over on the floor.

“We’re going to have some fun with you, motherfucker.”

I stammered to my feet, noticing the window behind her bed.

“Not as much fun as I had with your sister’s pussy.”

Knowing I’ve guaranteed my own death barring escape, I make a run for the window I could only hope was made of prop or ghetto quality glass. I jumped, shielding my face and the next thing I knew I felt the snow engulfing my body. I had escaped.

In nothing but my boxers, covered in blood from the shards of glass, I was Usain Bolting down the street moments from losing my extremities (aside from my dick conveniently warmed by the residual fluids of Esmerelda) screaming like an ongoing prostate exam when I saw headlights.

I ran to the middle of the road, waving my arms wildly.

“Help! Please help! Help me!”

The car stopped in front of me. I ran to it before a man stepped out. In full uniform.

“Son, what in the hell are you doing. Are you okay?”

The officer said this as he subconsciously chuckled at my resemblance to an escaped victim of Jeffrey Dahmer.

“Get in, now.”

That night my parents found me wrapped in a police blanket with glass lesions looking like I’d gotten in a fight with a clawed rodent, explaining my near death experience to a Minor In Possession author also known as Officer Williams.

My mother, horrified by my propensity for “random encounters” and “reckless behavior,” advocated removing me from school, forcing me to go home, and “seek therapy for what is obviously a lack of maturity and common sense.” Terrified, I sat alone in the back seat when my father, who had responded affirmatively to my mother’s tirade, turned to look at me, winked, smiled, and nodded his head approvingly.

In that moment I realized the truth: Doesn’t matter, had sex..

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