An Easy Girl

Her name was Hailee.  She had a great body, long legs, nice ass, toned stomach and great breasts.  Unfortunately, Hailee had a face that could stop traffic.  She was in her mid-20’s but she had acne like the worst 16-year-old you’ve ever seen.  It wasn’t pretty.

I hooked up with Hailee one very drunken night when we all wound up at her place after the bar closed.  There were about a dozen people in her tiny studio apartment, playing drinking games until the wee hours of the morning.  Details are extremely hazy because I was drunker than three Indians on payday, but somehow as I was getting ready to leave I found myself making out with her.  (I think I made the first move but I honestly don’t remember.)  I took a step back into her apartment and kicked the door shut on my friends (the international sign for “get lost”) and we stumbled to her bed.

Once in bed I got her top off and discovered that her breasts were even better than they appeared under her shirt.  They were above average size for someone as skinny as she was, and so perfectly shaped I couldn’t be completely certain they were real.  (I consider myself a connoisseur of the breast augmentation business and can usually tell the difference with ease.)  And to top it all off, she had these spectacular eraser tip nipples that stuck out nearly a full inch.

I was so mesmerized by her rack that I was ready to forget about her unfortunate face and dive in… until my hand crept down inside her panties and found a string hanging out.


Well that sucks.  So we made out a little more, I played with her boobs a lot more.  I tried to get her to blow me but she wasn’t having any of it.  So I tried to get her to jerk me off but she was as inept at it as most girls.  So I passed out for a couple hours on her tiny bed before making the mile-plus walk of shame with no coat in the middle of December.

It might have been the coldest walk of my life.

But the story doesn’t end there.  A few weeks later a man named Blackout moved to town.  Blackout and I immediately hit it off and became drinking partners.  A few weeks into his arrival in Utah we were shitfaced at a bar and he was lamenting the lack of available females in this godforsaken wasteland we call home.

“You want some ass tonight?” I asked.  “I can deliver it to your door!”

Blackout hadn’t known me for very long, but it was long enough to know I’m no ladies man.  So he was skeptical.  But as we were piling into our designated driver’s car I pulled out my phone and shot a text to Hailee.  It took about two minutes and three texts to have her lined up.  Our sober driver swung by her place, picked her up, and dropped the three of us off at Blackout’s apartment.

Once there, I helped myself to a beer and hung out for about five minutes, just long enough to make sure everything was going smoothly.  Then I feigned like I needed to get something at my place (I lived in the same complex about a hundred yards away), said I’d be right back, and went home to bed.

The next day I asked Blackout how it went.  “Good, I think.  I don’t really remember.  Don’t think I fucked her, but you’re right, she has a great rack.”

But the story still isn’t over.

A couple weeks after that we once again found ourselves at Blackout’s apartment after a long night of drinking.  This night was an absolute trainwreck; I don’t remember where we were, who we were with, or how we wound up at home with Hailee in tow.

Here’s what I do remember.  Blackout was sitting in his recliner chair, chugging a beer.  I was on the couch chugging a beer.  Hailee was on the end of the couch, between us, chugging a beer.  It was cold out and she had on this long sweater that was almost like a dress, hanging down so low it practically covered her ass.  She had some kind of black tights on that probably would have shown off her ass quite nicely were it not for that sweater.  After the three of us had chilled for awhile, Hailee got up and went to the bathroom.  And when she came back she wasn’t wearing her tights!

I was bewildered.  Hammered and bewildered.  She slid past me on her way back to her spot on the couch, and as she did I could just see under her long sweater that she wasn’t wearing anything else.  Just a bare ass and an uncaged beaver.

So… what do you do in a situation like this?  She didn’t say a word, just sat back down between us and started drinking her beer and staring straight ahead at the TV.

Is this what you're looking for?

A million thoughts were racing through my drunken head.  What the fuck is going on?  Does she want us to take turns on her?  Does she want to get tag teamed?  Is she just totally fucked in the head???

I wanted desperately to confer with Blackout about this situation, but obviously that couldn’t be done with her sitting there.  Even worse, he was so fucked up he wasn’t even aware that she was now sitting in his living room with no pants on.  I was frantically trying to get his attention without alerting Hailee, leaning back in the couch and trying to make eye contact behind her back.

'Cause this ain't happenin'!

Now, I’m not going to say that I was down with the idea of having the wrong kind of threesome.  But I will say that I would have loved to have that conversation.  “So… you want me and Blackout to both fuck you?  At the same time?  Exactly how would you like this to work, which hole do I get?  Oh, and by the way, are you completely out of your fucking mind?!?”

But, alas, Blackout was totally out of it.  Short of me standing up and boldly announcing that there was a pants-less, classless, respect-less whore in his living room, nothing else was going to get his attention.  (In retrospect that’s exactly what I should have done.)

After what seemed like an ungodly length of time (it might have been just 5 minutes, but in my state time doesn’t have much meaning) Hailee huffed angrily, got up and stormed back into the bathroom.  The moment the door shut I whispered, “Dude!  That crazy bitch isn’t wearing any pants!  I think she wants us to run a train on her!’

Blackout stirred the tiniest bit, as if deciding whether this interested him, but then he slouched back in the chair and told me I could have her.  About that time Hailee came out of the bathroom, but instead of re-joining us in the living room she just helped herself to Blackout’s bed and passed out.

“Dude!” I whispered again, “She’s in your bed!  I think that means she wants to fuck you!”

Again, a half-stir out of Blackout, but then he shrugged and curled up in the recliner chair.  “You go for it.  I’m just gonna sleep here tonight.”

Now my bewilderment was making my head spin more than the booze.  “You want me to fuck her?  In your bed?”

“Sure.  I’ll clean the sheets tomorrow.”

To my great shame and embarrassment, I must admit I actually contemplated this.  I stood up, walked into the bedroom, as if to assess the situation.  I might have even called out to see if she was awake, I don’t remember.  But she didn’t stir, certainly didn’t say, “Oh, Single White Alcoholic, come fuck me in Blackout’s bed!”  So I decided the best course of action was to go home to bed.

The next day Blackout had no memory whatsoever of the incident.  When I recapped it for him he was just as intrigued as I had been.  “Do you think she wanted us to gangbang her?  Dude, that chick is nuts!  We should probably avoid putting anything inside her.”