GIRL 61
ALL LEO ALL THE TIME GIRL
Girl 6, the fabulous Alayna, had been a Leo. Leos were the sluts of the zodiac. The last girl had not been slutty enough. It stood to reason that perhaps I should concentrate on Leos.
My Leo search engine was coming up flat. So I opened up the distance a bit.
And All Leo All The Time Girl came up. Gorgeous copper auburn hair, Irish, sales girl, independent, bitchy, my kind of girl - if it were ten years ago, maybe. I'd outgrown the shrew thing. God knows why I'd loved the challenge of bitchy females, but at Annapolis I'd developed a bad reputation for dumping every lovely thing who was nice to me, to the dismay of my friends. And the bitchy ones were so hard to get in bed, but when you did, you felt like you had accomplished something.
There was that crazy upperclassman, Kilgore. His storied girlfriend at the Academy was named, "The Bitch." He talked about their dates a lot. "Then The Bitch says," as if it were truly her name. I met her once. She had a chest to die for, just aching to plop out of that tight sweater, nice hips, long legs, bubble ass, cute face. Not a trace of meanness to her. I wondered why Kilgore had always called her The Bitch. I asked her what her real name was. She smiled, the smile of an upperclassman's girlfriend to a plebe. "The Bitch," she said. At least she knew the deal, I thought.
If I remembered right, it was Kilgore who incited the trouble the year before. In the days before women arrived at the Naval Academy, if a midshipman got a dear John letter, custom dictated he pin it to the bulletin board with blank sheets of paper for the other mids to comment. Comments like, "oh, man, when she was sucking my cock Homecoming weekend I KNEW she was a cunt, man, you shoulda dumped her ages ago." When all the crude comments were collected, they would dutifully be mailed to the girl by the dumped man's roommate. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the midshipmen. One poor guy got accused of being too much of a stalker to his girlfriend, and to make him go away, she sent him a Polaroid of her sucking her new boyfriend's cock. There was the beloved beautiful face of his girlfriend with a huge hard dick in her mouth, herlips wrapped around the veiny shaft. He was crushed, but handed the letter and the Polaroid to his roommate to post on the back-shaft bulletin board. Kilgore's comment on it was the one that made history. He penned, "Send it to her mother." Oh my God, the dear-Johnned midshipmen, with his judgment clouded, took the suggestion. All hell broke loose! The mom called the administration, and the admiral-in-command was furious. Dear John Boy got called in to see the admiral, he almost got kicked out, and only a political connection saved him from dismissal. All because some cunt decided to push him away not by telling him the relationship was over, but by creating intense feelings of jealousy.
Remember, men, when jealous thoughts burn in your heart, they were placed there very carefully by the woman you love. That's her cowardly way of getting you to leave. She's counting on you dumping yourself. Make sure you dump her, and fast, but avoid emailing her mother any of the X-rated pictures you took.
So as I realized that All Leo All The Time Girl was a controlling bitch, I should have stayed away, but I drove out to the Morton's Steak House out in King of Prussia off the PA Turnpike. A gentle snowfall had developed, but nothing to worry about.
I met her in the bar. I'd asked her on the cell phone to order me a scotch. She didn't. It seemed to take forever to get waited on. I looked at All Leo Girl. She looked awful. I shrugged mentally, thinking you can't win them all. Two strikes, I thought.
But over dinner something happened. She pulled the same Hollywood trick that Girl 57, Secret Garden Girl, did. She took off her reading glasses, undid her bun, and that copper auburn hair cascaded down to her shoulders. She took off a thick sweater, which had made her seem fat, and she was actually slinky with big tits. There was a different female in front of me.
But she was still a bitch, even though she seemed to like me.
When coffee came, she got out of her booth bench and sat down next to me, her hands probing my crotch as I drank coffee.
I suddenly realized I was in trouble. I'd saved a Viagra dose, and she was a bitch. The former had become a requirement for a first date. My traitorous penis, Tyrannosaurus Rex, was fine when I took him for a walk. Just pop in that DVD of the black haired girl taking three cocks at once and he could sprint like when he was 20. But take him out of my pants on a first date - particularly if there were a bitch involved - meant trouble. A third of the time, even when dosed up with the hardening stuff, he'd pretend to be asleep. It was humiliating, but it was his way of voting on the woman he wanted as the girlfriend.
So there I sat in All Leo Girl's car, a beautiful new Maxima, leather everywhere, so covered with snow that though we were under the street light, we could have gotten naked. She took off her coat, her sweater and her blouse, and there was the most beautiful pair of tits I would see until the first time I removed the bra of Bat Girl months later. They were Playboy Bunny tits, the old politically incorrect breasts, with huge implants that made them perfect spheres, with gorgeous erect nipples.
Naturally I plunged in, and it wasn't long before her pants - yes, gentlemen, she had worn pants, but at least she'd also worn high heeled boots - were around her ankles, and I had two fingers deep into forbidden territory, a gushing wet, throbbing, tight pussy, surrounded in a halo of short, downy copper pubic hair.
"I want to suck your cock," she moaned.
Uh oh, I thought. This could be trouble. I watched her red-nailed long fingers undo my belt buckle, and she pulled my pants down to reveal absolutely nothing.
I could hear the faint noise of Rex's snoring.
Rex, buddy, wake up! We've got company, man! Come on, up boy! I felt her cool fingertips on my cock, usually a fire alarm that makes Rex jump up and see what's going on.
But nothing.
I'm sorry about him, I said. Sometimes he has a mind of his own.
I kissed the disappointed woman good-night, then trudged through the snow to my truck.
Amazing how it doesn't matter if you treat the woman to a double-C-note dinner and treat her like a princess. If she wants the cock and you ain't got it, you're dead to them.
But dammit, who would have thought I would literally charm this woman out of her thong? I wasn't prepared.
On the drive home, there he was, acting like nothing had gone wrong. Fuckin' Rex. Sitting there in a smoking jacket and ascot, like he was Hugh Fucking Hefner.
Nice, I said. Way to go.
He smirked. Hey, she was a bitch, he said.
No, Rex, I shouted, pounding the steering wheel. She was a slut, who only acts like a bitch! She wanted the whole nine yards. I looked at him. You didn't even give her nine millimeters.
He shrugged. He didn't care, he said. As long as the date's a bitch, there will be no joy.
Fine, I said, but you're changing the girlfriend specifications. Before she just needed to look sexy and be a slut. Now, suddenly, she needs to have a heart of gold?
That's right, he said. No more bitches.
Okay, fine, I said. You want a woman who's sexy - not too pretty - just sexy, who's a slut, right?
I don't like china doll perfection in the face department, he said. Give me a girl who looks a little rough, who's got slut written on her forehead. Give me a girl with a tattoo.
Tags: sex, love, romance, dating, women, girls, hundred girls
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