Mar 24, 2011
Everyone loves when a good girl goes bad. That special moment when daddy’s little girl transitions into Plan B’s biggest customer.You girls know what I’m talking about. You remember that exhilarating feeling you got when you let go of your inhibitions for the first time and just did what felt right. It’s usually quite sexy to witness. Unless your name is Mary Beth.
I was unfortunate enough to be a part of this moment for six women…all named Mary Beth. Now I don’t know if there is a correlation between the name and a significant lack of sensuality, but I’m one bad handjob away from hiring that guy from Freakonomics to investigate the trend. Just to clarify, these events did not all happen at the same time (although I can’t determine if that would have been better or worse), but these happened YEARS apart from one another. And I shall take you through them, case by case in this new mini-series.
Part One: The Early Years
2002: Mary Beth Junior
I shit you not. She was named after her mother and was referred to as ‘junior’ growing up. Now, this probably should have been my first clue that her vagina had been serving a nineteen year sentence in solitary confinement, but I was a college sophomore and just wanted to get laid. Usually, one wouldn’t have to leave the confines of the campus to get some ass, but Jr. had blue-balled me twice at this point and I had to pull out the big guns. I took her to this shittiest college-town dinner I cold find then hot-tailed it back to her dorm room. And it worked.
Usually when the make-out session headed towards boobville she would protect her A-cups like the Swiss Guard. But not tonight. She was into it. So into it that she even took her own shirt off. And here. We. GO.
I motor-boated so loud the girls across the hall asked us to quiet down. But I didn’t give a shit. That’s when Captain Middle and his first-mate, Pointer, made their maiden voyage down the pants. Now, I like to think of my fingers as a cat’s whiskers; evaluating the size of the crevas it is about to enter and determining if everything can fit. For the first time in my life, they reported back with a hearty, “No can do, sir.” So, I had two choices; have an evening of awkward virgin sex with old J.R., or try to catch a blow jangles and call it a night. I went with the later.
I took off my boxers, laid back, and assumed she’d figure out the rest. That’s when it happened. My dick ceased to be a dick, and became a science experiment. A series of poking, prodding, bending, and flicking ensued. Mary Beth had never seen a penis before. Not on TV, not in a magazine, not even on the internet. But apparently, what she had seen was an arcade game. She joysticked my meat for a good two minutes before I had to give her a do-over; tapping on the balls, and pressing her thumb on the head expecting to advance to the next level.
The look of confusion and horror on my face made her self-conscience and she asked me if it felt good. Being polite, I suggested that she “try an up-and-down motion.” In retrospect I probably should have used the word “stroke,” because she took my direction and made it her own. Grasping the bottom of my shaft, Mary Beth started to uproot my penis, tugging it in an upward motion without loosening her grip. My dick regularly sees a counselor because of the flashbacks to that moment.
At this point, I switched positions with her, ripped her panties off and went for the condom I had in my jeans. This is when she abruptly stopped me and undoubtedly recited a step by step anti-sex guide she got from her church. She hyper extended her arms, pushing my chest straight back, locked eyes with me, and said, “Jeff. I will NOT have sex.”
Too amused to be mad, I put my clothes on, went back to my dorm room and told all of my friends what happened. One of them could smell the concentrated smell of vagina emanating off my fingers from down the hall. I never lived it down. And now, it’s on the internet. Sometimes I wonder if Mary Beth Junior is out there, abusing innocent dicks around the country. I guess only time…and Facebook, will tell.
2004: Mary Beth and the Deathly Swallows
It was the summer of 2004 and I decided to give online dating a try. I’m not gonna lie, it worked out nicely. With a little effort and moderate sense of humor, you can go from browsing to banging in no time. Usually I’d play the two or three date game before I go for the gold, but on this particularly rainy day, I made it my goal to say that I saw, I conquered, and I came within a twelve hour period.
After half an hour or so of searching, there it was; the single picture profile of Mary Beth. Now, for those of you who aren’t privy to the ways of internet canoodling, know this: you want to go for the girl with the most photos. These tend to show her in every angle and in every light possible so that you can get a good idea of what she actually looks like. But the girls who just have one photo should alert you that you must proceed with caution.
Note: if the photo is of her top half and the tits are accentuated, then she’s fat and she’s showcasing her best asset. However, if it’s JUST the face and it’s the ONLY picture she has…well, then she’s fucking weird or crazy or both, and she will probably stray from all of those unspoken rules of dating. These are the ones you go for if you just want to get your dick wet and have a sense of adventure.
So, we went from emailing to talking on the phone within a few hours and locked down a meeting spot for that evening. I put minimal effort into my wardrobe and met her at a local dive bar. When I first saw her enter the establishment she was somewhat cute; blonde hair, green eyes, petitie. It may have ended up being an okay night if she didn’t decided to bring her personality. But unfortunately, she did.
She came armed with a nervous tick, a gnawing overbite, and sense of humor that could only be appreciated middle-aged Mormons. She twitched and giggled and failed to wipe the food from her teeth for the remainder of our date, and when it came time to throw her ass in a cab and bid adieu, I decided to abandoned my standards and bring her back to my place.
I avoided kissing on the lips like a hooker with a heart of gold, and jumped right into the undressing. She stopped me before I could get her in her birthday skirt so sex was out of the question. That’s when I flashed back to 2002, leaned back, and assumed that the rest would go down smoothly. But she didn’t.
Yes, the overbite added more teeth to the mix than I had hoped, but it wasn’t your typical cheese-grater head, this, this was something special. For some reason, Mary Beth thought giving a blow job meant that you clench down on the shaft of the peen with your teeth, then move your head around in circles while slurping your own spit up before gravity would allow it to lubricate the man’s penis.
So, let me break this down for you. Not only was this the driest knob-washing in the history of mankind, but she was basically treating my dick the way an alligator treats its prey; clenching down with it’s massive jaw and swinging it around in attempt to get it to stop moving. After a few moments of this, she looked up and said to me, “I just don’t know how to please you.”
“Well, you can start by not trying to rip my dick off,” I shouted. Not quite feeling like giving an oral lecture at that moment, I simply told her to put the head of my dick in her open mouth and jerk me off into said mouth. Yeah, it wasn’t technically a blow job, but let’s face it, neither was her previous attempt.
This actually went well. Maybe she was the George W. Bush of blow jobs; she couldn’t multi-task, but when you give her something to do she was totally focused. So, things were looking up for old Jeff. Being the gentleman I am, I informed Mary Beth that I was about to cum. When this happened, she immediately bit down on my dick and jerked me off faster. This hurt, but it felt pretty good at the same time, so I didn’t stop her.
Then it came…well, I came. And as it hit her throat, she started to choke up, so she dug her teeth even deeper into my cock and started to inhale, sucking the air through her teeth into her lungs. It felt like only the jaws of life would be able to get her to release her death grip. Screaming, kicking, crying; I tried it all, but to no avail.
I started gyrating around to loosen her grip and even resorted to slapping her on the top of her head a few times. Finally, I pulled the same trick my grandma would pull on me when I wouldn’t spit the candy out of my mouth; I held her nose closed.
This forced her to open her mouth and I pulled my dick to safety. Needless to say, I kicked her ass out and we never crossed paths again. Is she too out there, lurking in the waters, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting dick and give it the old lockdown? Who knows, but just in case she is… consider yourselves warned.
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