by Chad Kultgen
I think very briefly about asking Casey what she thinks about all day. Instead I stare at our waitress’s ass as she refills a butter tub and wonder if Oprah Winfrey sucks cock, or ever has for that matter.
some chapter
An Average Sunday
9:21 A.M.
Start jerking off to the bonus gangbang on Cum Guzzlers DVD left in DVD player from last night.
9:24 A.M.
About to shoot my wad, flip the TV to a TiVoed episode of The View I keep for just this purpose and get supreme satisfaction in imagining what any of the bitches from this show would think if they knew I just blew a load into a dirty pair of underwear while watching their program.
9:25 A.M.
Watch MTV for an hour even though I’ve already seen everything aired in that hour.
10:25 A.M.
Try in vain to crack the top ten online scores for Mutant Storm Reloaded in the Xbox 360 Arcade.
11:16 A.M.
Take good shit.
11:22 A.M.
Try Mutant Storm Reloaded again. Quit after getting blown up on level sixty-four.
12:36 P.M.
Check e-mail. Take opportunity while online to download some porn. Best of seventeen downloads is a 1:15 clip with sound called pussstretch.mpg in which a woman inserts a vibrating dildo into her cunt while a guy fucks her from behind at the same time. Loop it on my Windows Media Player and jerk off.
12:50 P.M.
Put on clothes and walk to the LA Fitness in Westwood. Think about the first time I fucked a mulatto girl named Mary Cook as I walk.
1:04 P.M.
Flirt with hot bitch behind the desk at the gym. Imagine fucking her in the whirlpool next to the women’s dressing room.
1:06 P.M.
Hate lifting weights.
2:18 P.M.
Walk to Quiznos. Flirt with hot college bitch while she makes my foot-long Italian on white. Imagine fucking her with her ass in the lettuce bin. Smile at three hot sorority bitches sitting at a table in the back while I eat.
2:33 P.M.
Pass another hot college bitch on my walk back home.
Say hi to her. Think about what it would be like to fuck her in my shower. Consider asking her if she’d like to fuck—no strings.
2:46 P.M.
Take off clothes in preparation for shower. Jerk off standing up over the crapper thinking about fucking Alyna, the girl on the plane, doggie style. Blow load in toilet.
2:52 P.M.
Take shower. Wonder what Casey’s doing. Think about Casey fingering herself. Want a blow job. Wish I was still in college. Regret missed opportunities.
3:02 P.M.
Think about getting a haircut. Wonder who will be the next Nirvana. Remind myself that one day the sun will destroy this planet so nothing really matters.
3:03 P.M.
Lie in bed. Catch a faint whiff of Casey’s pussy in my sheets. Realize the cunt smell is actually on my face. Take a deep breath.
3:05 P.M.
Check empty mailbox.
3:06 P.M.
Watch an old episode of Martin in which Snoop Dogg guest stars as himself and throws a house party in Pam’s apartment. Martin and Gina are too busy arguing to make it to the party on time. When they finally get there, all they find is a note left by Pam, Tommy, and Cole explaining that they all went with Snoop to an after-party on his pimp jet.
3:31 P.M.
Feel balls for lumps.
3:32 P.M.
Get a hard-on. Jerk off to a disintegrated VHS copy of Beautiful Black Fuckers. Blow load to memory of Mary Cook in the sixty-nine.
3:38 P.M.
Hook up the 8-bit Nintendo. Start to play Contra. Get bored. Really want to play Super Mario Bros. but can’t find the cartridge. Turn my room upside down looking for it.
3:47 P.M.
Find Footloose cassette I received from Lisa Franklin for fifth-grade birthday. Wonder what happened to Lisa. Imagine what she looks like now. Imagine titty-fucking her adult version. Think better of it. Imagine fucking her doggie style.
3:48 P.M.
Play Footloose cassette. Imagine being back in the fifth grade. Wonder if anybody was fucking in the fifth grade. Wonder if I could have even gotten a hard-on in fifth grade. Try to remember the first time I got a hard-on. Can’t.
3:50 P.M.
Think about the girls I could have fucked in junior high.
3:53 P.M.
Think about the girls I could have fucked in high school.
3:57 P.M.
Think of all the hot bitches from high school that I never fucked who are now married. Wonder if I’ll ever fuck a bitch who’s unbelievably hot.
3:59 P.M.
Wish I was famous.
4:00 P.M.
Wish I was rich.
4:01 P.M.
Decide not to make bed again. Check eBay for Street Fighter II arcade game. Bid $10.00 on 1983 child’s-size medium Skeletor Halloween costume. Bid $12.50 on Hypercolor “like new” size large T-shirt. Bid $2.00 on naked lady lighter.
4:17 P.M.
Log on to World of Warcraft Proudmoore server and play my Tauren Hunter. Farm gold in Burning Steppes because there’s nothing else to do.
8:34 P.M.
Lose connection to server. Get call from Casey. Receive command to go to her house.
9:06 P.M.
Get to Casey’s house. Force her to watch UFC Unleashed with me. Want to fuck the round card bitch.
10:01 P.M.
Watch the news. Want to fuck the news bitch. Look at Casey. Wish she had tits like the news bitch.
10:37 P.M.
Wonder if any bitch actually really likes to be titty-fucked. Probably.
10:40 P.M.
Take off my clothes and go into Casey’s bedroom.
10:42 P.M.
Lie in Casey’s bed naked. Watch MTV. Seen it all this morning. Watch it anyway.
11:00 P.M.
Watch Leno/Letterman.
12:30 A.M.
Watch Conan/Kimmel.
1:07 A.M.
Get head.
1:16 A.M.
Wish Casey was the round card bitch from UFC while I fuck her.
1:32 A.M.
Bullshit way through overly emotional post sex conversation about future of relationship while trying to stay awake. Hope for memory of conversation to stick in case she ever references it again.
1:48 A.M.
Hear I love you, say I love you.
1:52 A.M.
Welcome dreamless sleep.
chapter five
Groundlings Party
After a phone conversation with my friend Todd in which he tells me to rent The Gift because Katie Holmes is nineteen in it and she shows her tits, which are slightly hangy but still great C cups, Casey calls me. She says, “My improv class is having a party tonight and it’s on the west side so you have to drive.”
I pick Casey up and realize that she looks better for this party than she did on our first date. I wonder if there’s a guy in her Groundlings class she wants to fuck, or maybe has fucked already. I don’t ask her.
At the party—
The place is nice, the booze is free, and to my surprise there are actually some pretty hot bitches roaming around. It seems tolerable. I see Casey talking to some people in the living room so I head to the opposite end of the house, where I approach the hottest bitch I can find and instigate the following train wreck:
“How’s it going?”
“I’m Julie.” She puts out her hand.
I shake it, say, “Nice to meet you,” and notice she smells fucking great—clean.
“I haven’t seen you in class. Are you in intermediate?”
“I’m actually not in Groundlings.”
“Well, what do you do?”
“Nothing interesting or important.”
She laughs one of those laughs that says Will & Grace is her favorite show. Then she says, “Oh, that’s so funny. You must be in class…or maybe…are you a Groundling
trying to come to this party on the DL? Coming here to scout? You know, I’ve gone through intro and basic and now I’m in intermediate and I didn’t even have to repeat once. My teacher, Tim, said Phil Hartman is the only Groundling who never had to repeat a class. But I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Tim told me I’m kind of a cross between Victoria Jackson, Molly Shannon, and Ellen Cleghorne. What do you think? Here, I’ll do one of my characters.”
She puts on a bad Russian accent and says, “I try to git vith ze man from Amerika, but all he vants ees ze sex vith eighteen-yer-uld.”
She bows. “What do you think? It’s like a Russian mail-order bride who’s too old and ugly to get an American guy interested in her.”
“Ouch!” I grab my head and act like I got hit by something. I walk away from Julie and wind up in the kitchen with two other hot bitches who are having the following conversation:
Hot Bitch #1 says, “I think MAD tv is having auditions.”
Hot Bitch #2 says, “My character work isn’t strong enough for that yet.”
“Mine either. I’m thinking about taking some WOW classes.”
“I heard those really help keep you sharp.”
I decide it’s time to insert myself with, “What’s going on?”
I get the “fuck off” eyes from both of them.
Hot Bitch #2 says, “Who are you? Are you even in class?”
“No, I’m here with some friends.”
Hot Bitch #1 says, “Who?”
I remember the teacher’s name. “Tim.”
Hot Bitch #2 changes her tune pretty fucking quick. “You know Tim?”
“Yeah. We’re good friends.”
Hot Bitch #1 says, “I’m Jenny. Jenny Gilmer.”
Hot Bitch #2 says, “Sharon.”
They take turns saying, “Has Tim said anything about me? Does he think I’m funny? Has he said who he’s passing on to the next level?” Plus at least five more minutes of explaining why they’re the funniest girls in their class and how they’re going to join Phil Hartman as the only Groundlings who never had to repeat.
I want to get the fuck out and I can’t think of anything better, so this is what they get: “I have to take a shit.”
I walk away hoping Casey will talk to whoever the fuck she has to talk to so I can get out of here, go back to her house, and pretend to accidentally finger her asshole before I fuck her. I also decide to get completely drunk immediately and not talk to anyone else for the rest of the night.
Once I’m finally drinking scotch straight from the bottle and telling any girl who tries to start up a conversation with me that she’s too fat to talk to, I find myself standing in front of a TV watching Conan O’Brien.
Some complete asshole says, “Conan is so passé. I mean really, he’s like the Jim Carrey of late night.”
Some other fuckhead says, “You’re so right. I mean, the Triumph bit is played out.” I break my rule about not talking to anybody with, “Hey, ass-eyes, all that money you’re spending on Groundlings classes is really paying off, ’cause it sure is funny that you’re criticizing Conan fucking O’Brien when you’re just standing here in a fucking jacket like a turd.”
Even as I’m saying this shit, I know it only makes vague sense at best and people are looking, so I tack on, “P.S. You’re gay.”
I don’t know why I say the last part, but it gets some laughs, which are hushed pretty quickly, and all of a sudden I’m the drunk guy at the party who nobody knows. Where the fuck is Casey?
I turn to get the fuck out and stumble a little bit. I don’t fall or anything, just a little drunken stumble, and Fucknose says, “Hey, why don’t you try some walking lessons,” which is retarded but of course gets big laughs from all his cronies. I fight the urge to piss all over the floor and I really want to say, “P.P.S. You’re a fucking idiot,” but I’m pretty sure I need to lie down. So I stagger off down some hallway, wondering how Casey can associate with these fucks and genuinely wishing she would take me back to her place and just hold me for a while, which makes me realize this is the most drunk I’ve been since college.
I find a room that’s not a bedroom, but it’s dark and it has a door I can close so I go in. There’s a washer, a dryer, an ironing board, a shitload of unpacked boxes, and a girl that might as well be one of the bitches I talked to earlier passed out on the floor in the corner.
I lock the door behind me, leave the lights off, and hit the floor hard enough to wake the bitch up from her booze coma.
She says, “What took you so long? I thought you just had to go to the bathroom.”
The five words she doesn’t actually slur sound like mush by the time they get to my booze-soaked brain so I have no fucking clue what she just said. But when she starts unbuttoning my pants and licking my belly button, I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m somebody else. Even though the room’s pitch black, I can tell it’s spinning just before I pass out.
I come to and I’m kind of surprised by somebody licking my balls and jerking me off. I’m even more surprised by the fact that I’m wearing a rubber. For some reason I become horrified at the possibility that the tongue on my nuts belongs to a guy. I reach down and squeeze two very well-made tits unencumbered by any clothing and my mind’s at ease. The room’s spinning a little but it’s kind of nice in conjunction with the blow job from a complete stranger.
I realize that I’m actually cheating on Casey by letting this bitch suck my cock. At first I think the complete absence of guilt is directly related to the amount of booze I’ve been drinking. But somewhere through the spinning haze a bright and strange ray of truth emerges. It’s not the booze, it’s the ease. I would probably cheat on Casey all the time if I had to put out as little effort to do it as I am right now, drunk or sober.
From my crotch I hear, “So you’re going to move me to advanced, right?”
I am fucking clueless. I don’t answer.
She stops. “Tim, you’re gonna move me up if I do this, right?”
I’ve never met Tim but I bet his voice sounds something like this: “Yeah, keep going.”
I’m pretty hammered and it takes what I estimate to be fifteen minutes to get anywhere near shooting a load. It’s when I’m squeezing her tit with one hand and controlling the pace of her head bobs with the other that I feel her start to finger my asshole. It’s a first for me and it doesn’t feel good per se, but it’s not as bizarre as I might once have thought. More than anything, it gives me an idea.
“You know I can pull some strings for you even after the next level if you’re willing to do a little extra.”
“Are you saying you can get me in Sunday Company?”
“What do you think?”
“Well, I guess you are one of the people who votes on it…what do you want me to do?”
Thirty seconds later I’m balls-deep in her asshole and she seems to like it, corroborating my suspicion that all women secretly like being ass-fucked. I tell her to talk dirty, so she says, “Oh yeah, fuck my ass. Fuck it harder.” So I do for another few minutes, then I pull out, peeling the rubber off as I do so it’s still hanging out of her asshole when I turn her around and shoot a load all over her face and in her mouth.
I lie back in the dark and start pulling my pants back up. She’s wiping my semen out of her eyes with a towel she found in the dryer. Wanting to be faithful to Tim, who I can only imagine is a complete fucking asshole, I say, “Welcome to Hollywood.”
She’s working on a glob of cum stuck in her hair, wondering if Phil Hartman ever had to do this, when I go back to the party, which has started to die down. I’m getting some weird looks from people who all look semi-familiar to me. One guy looks at me and says, “Get lost in the toilet?” Then they all start laughing and I’m trying to piece together what happened before I fucked that girl in the ass, but I get nothing. So I decide it’s probably some stupid fucking Groundlings inside joke and head out back.
I make it outside and find Casey without incident. She’s talking to so
me guy, and when I come walking up she says, “Tim, this is my boyfriend.”
I’ve got a huge smile on my face when I say, “It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, I feel like I already know you,” and I shake his hand with the one I used to prime that girl’s asshole before I fucked it.
All guys know the look of knowing you’re about to get some pussy, and that’s the one that’s on Tim’s face when he checks his watch and says, “Great, great to meet you. I was just telling Casey here that I was supposed to meet up with another student of mine a few minutes ago.” He leaves.
I look over at Casey and she might as well be in junior high dreaming about marrying her fucking history teacher. I want to puke. Instead, I know the shit’s going to hit the fan pretty soon, so I say, “Let’s get outta here, go someplace where it’s just us.” I flash my best “I love you” smile and it drills through her adolescent fantasy about Tim.
“Okay, that sounds good. Let’s go.”
Casey’s cats are watching us fuck and I can’t help but wonder if that girl realized I wasn’t Tim after the fact, but kept it to herself and sucked the real Tim’s cock when he went in that room anyway.
Casey cums. I’m not even close and I’m incredibly bored so I fake it, look her in the eyes, say, “I love you,” kiss her forehead, wait until she falls asleep, go in the bathroom, and jerk off to memories of the girl I butt-fucked a few hours earlier.
chapter six
My Gay Buddy
I have one gay friend. His name’s Carlos and I’ve known him since college. We eat lunch every Saturday at the California Pizza Kitchen in the Beverly Center.
It’s just such a Saturday and I’m sitting on a bench outside CPK flipping through an LA Weekly waiting for Carlos to show up. This girl sits down next to me and I notice she’s hot as fuck. I further notice that she’s more than just hot as fuck. She has some quality that makes me think I could live with her. She smiles at me.
I say, “How’re you doing?”
“Fine.”
I almost get in another sentence when Carlos shows up and says, “So you ready to have lunch with your favorite cocksucker?”
