Playing it Smooth

It’s midweek and I get home at 11:45 pm from an evening of rambunctious, inebriated fun.  I’m drunk.  I’m hungry.  And I’m horny.  As soon as I step in the door I pull out my phone and message every tinder contact and local floozy who has the grave misfortune of sitting in my contact list.  After casting out ~10 lines, I feel a nibble.  I had been chatting with this girl since the prior evening and hadn’t gotten past the usual pleasantries.  But tonight I was going to lay it on thick.  I was going to bury my nuts before the coming winter.

So it’s 12:00 am and I’m sitting at home in my underwear eating microwaved ramen and tuna out of the can (both doused in garlic salt).  I spent about 30 minutes chatting with this girl, desperately trying to gauge her interest in getting out of bed, putting on clothes, and coming to a stranger’s house at 1:00 am on a weeknight to get plugged.  Alas, on her tinder profile, she specifically states “no fuck boys.”  However, tonight, I’ll scale the Empire State building just to get some puh.

After the pleasantries fell on deaf ears and fat thighs, I am determined to take a different approach.  Beginning around 12:25 am, I start with the dirty texts.  I spend 12 – 15 minutes getting as raunchy as humanly possible.  Again, deaf ears and fat thighs.  I realize I’m wasting much time with little progress.  Then it occurs to me – she studied and works in theater!  Boom, I know my next move and text her the following (literally one of two lines from Bill Shakespeare I still remember from my high school days):

Smooth 1

Smooth 2

Within 10 minutes she was getting dressed and calling a cab (Cleveland: a cab is something where someone picks you up and drives you to your destination and you pay them; this technology will come to your city in time).  I’m feeling like a fucking rock star.  Smooth as shit.  A true player.  A cross between Sterling Archer and Sean Connery as James Bond (for those of you who don’t know, Sean Connery’s chest hair is my spirit animal).  Real fucking smooth.  Looking good, Billy Ray!  Feeling good, Louis!

My date arrives at 1:30 am and within ten minutes I have her naked on the bed.  Real smooth, playing it cool.  Feeling like a boss.  We stay up until 5:00 am, banging it out like PJ Funnybunny.  I doze off knowing that I’m the smoothest cat in the history of cinema.

At exactly 6:15 am, we abruptly wake and shoot up from the mattress, simultaneously.  What was it?  I ripped rank ass with such intense fervor that it’s still rolling off the cheeks as my eyes met the morning light… then hers.  And with that salty rip, my whole smooth player status went up in flames.  No matter!  I’m about to get it in again after three and a half hours of extremely loud and boisterous fun not two hours ago.  We spend the next hour bumping uglies as we listen to my neighbors leave for work in the building.  After we finish, I get up and walk to the bathroom, still questioning just how smooth I truly am after waking up to the bellows of my own anus.  On the walk to the bathroom I look over.  The door to the hallway is wide open.  All night and all morning, as my neighbors walked by my door heading into work, they could hear the moaning, groaning, and violent pud on pud action.  Seems I’m not quite as smooth as I once thought.

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