Originally Posted: 2004-08-30 4:05pm
Sparks flew as I was shoved into a Grand Cherokee - w4m
Friday Night: I was walking out of a Chinatownland jazz club with a gentleman that I met off of the CL personals. (I'm sure you know the club, there is ONLY one - you know, where the Asian singer sings "Send in the Clowns" over the matchbox sized Technicolor dance floor that lights up while caressing the concrete pillars?)
My date for the evening had sent me a photo of his penis in response to my personal ad, which usually disgusts me, but the more I looked at the photo, I could tell, this one... just might be different. There was something special, something mysterious in it's eye. I thought ‘This may be the one, the one I've been yearning for. The perfect fit!’ I was ecstatic! I mean, I could tell those other penis photos, and I got a million of ‘em, were all from weed retards and computer geeks. I could tell that this guy had it together, he had class and sophistication.
I wrote him back and asked if he would meet me on Friday night in a dark alley downtown, preferably close to the Greyhound Station on 7th. The moon would be full and the light particularly romantic. I like to be romanced. He wrote back and asked if we might go to The Standard first then head on to the dark alley. I laughed and wrote ‘Sure, whatever you want.’
So, we met and he was even better looking than his member to my delight. He seemed to like me too, I mean, he didn't hit on any other girls while "I went to the ladies room" like all my other first dates have. And I wasn't spying on him, just observing....
As we talked, we found that we had nothing in common. He was a consultant for the love of Christ Cakes! How could I ever date or even have sex with one of THEM! Plus he really loved the atmosphere of The Standard and I had trouble posing on those gay pink couches comfortably, I didn't have my khaki pants on that night like he did.
I suggested we head on down to the dark alley, but he thought we should hit Chinatown before we got it on. Sometimes it's so fucking difficult for a gal to get fucked, even by a guy you don't like. I just wanted to see if his penis looked like it did in the photograph, but by that time I figured he'd sent me a photoshopped version, or one taken before the "accident" he had mentioned.
So after a few drinks at the Chinatown Jazz club I mentioned before, my date and I walked through the courtyard right by the wishing well, where I spotted you. Instantly I saw sparks fly, which made me lose my pink high heel flip flop. You watched me as my long Caucasian arm picked up the delicate sandal and put it back onto my gorgeous well formed foot. It was in slow motion, wasn't it? It was for me.
I instantly came to my senses and remembered the fucking guy behind me. Who the hell did he think he was, sending me a photo of his creepy cock! Who in their right mind would respond to something so vile! I need a sensitive man, a hero, a lover like... you.
I told my date that I wasn't feeling it anymore and that I should go home, which made him enraged. He called me a cock tease and grabbed my arm, forcing me down the empty street toward his car. I looked back once to see you had followed me, but I was shoved into this assholes Grand Cherokee before I could reach out to you. My date saw you too as I fought to stay out of the vehicle. You called out to your friends to come and see and my date told you 'There's nothing to see here!' in a forceful tone.
My date slammed the door and ran to the other side of the car, just long enough for me to scream out of the open window for you. 'Asian Man of my DREAMS! HELP ME YOU PUSSY COCKSUCKER! You can take this guy - he's only an ex-Marine with a giant dick. I love you!' The window was soon rolled up as my date / captor sped off like lighting.
I could tell that you wanted to help me; you couldn't witness something like that and not have it eat at your conscience for the rest of your life. You're one of the good ones. Strong and noble. I know you tried in your way to save me.
We didn't go to the alley, oh no. He took me to the basement of his parent’s house and had his way with me repeatedly by force. He tied me up with bungee cords and gagged me with belt and a dead chicken. Then he beat me with a shoe horn and pistachios. I just kept on thinking about you, good thoughts, like you getting the license place off the FUCKING Cherokee.
He let me go this morning with only a few minor infectious cuts, a few 3rd degree burns and missing finger. Actually I kind of wanted to stay, the sex was pretty amazing, but I can't afford to loose anymore digits. I mean once you’re down to 7 you gotta prioritize.
Now what do I do with you, after you allow me to be brutally raped, tortured and humiliated for days? I hope you know that it is pretty much ALL YOUR FAULT, even though I know you and your buddies surely filed something with the cops... put up missing signs... prayed to buddah... something!
I don't know, maybe I'm just mixed up. Maybe you didn't do anything because you are a spineless goat sucking ass master with no balls. I just know that when I was being ass probed by that Smuckers Jelly jar I only saw your face in my mind and it gave me peace. If you want, after the bruises heal and I get some medication for the infections perhaps you'd like to have a drink with me.
I think you're just what I need to get the taste of dead chicken out of my mouth.
Note: Some of this didn’t happen, which means some of it did. You make your own assesment.
this is in or around Chinatown