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Tommy Digital's Pussy Cocktails: Alabama


The time I let a haggard dope fiend shave my balls.

The years had not been kind to Alabama. Her skin was sun-roasted, heavily wrinkled, and covered with spots. Her eyes were bleary, and her voice was broken. She smelled like cigarettes and Mary Kay.

Nonetheless, I was already at her apartment, so I figured I'd go through with the plan. 

We had met online, thanks to the strange world of OK Cupid. I had given up on taking online dating seriously, since the only girls I was connecting with were- despite all their talk about, "I love reading and spending weekends low-key, not into the whole club thing" and "I just want a nice, down to earth guy"- really just looking for men to spoil them like princesses, take them out to nice restaurants and clubs, and held no ability or understanding of how to treat a guy like a normal person.

But I was also coming across a number of women who claimed to just want no-strings-attached encounters. They were looking for some erotic connections, and little more. 

In my experiences of dating through a computer, I've mainly found that people who use online dating in large cities (where they have no shortage of opportunities to meet people organically) have some kind of deficiency when it comes to just talking normally to a human being in the flesh. They communicate better via text or social media, than they do sitting across from a person, and speaking. They are socially retarded to some extent...though I guess I am as well.

If I wasn't going to find love on OK Cupid, I'd give the freaks a shot.

Through a series of "likes" and what not, Alabama had connected with me, saying she wanted to hang out. Her profile said she was a fan of things I was into- catnip, shiny toys, laser pointers- so we went back and forth for a few hours. 

Somehow, this led to her offering to shave my balls. Now, I don't have too many fetishes (compared to real sex fiends, at least), but when a girl offers to pamper and groom my bikini area, I'm game. And by Christ, the pictures on her profile showed a young, mid-20's blonde, almost looking like a young Bridget Fonda. This was not something I was going to turn down.

But when Alabama opened her door, I saw a weathered, tired woman well into her 40's, with no kind of vibrancy to be found. It strained her to smile; her broken posture and leathery flesh betrayed decades of living fast and hard. I almost turned and ran, but I decided to see this through, and entered her apartment.

The place was musty and wreaked of stale cigarette smoke. It was a small studio, with a table in the corner covered with months of mail, pill bottles, and other debris. The floor was a thick sea of clothes and coupon mailers. And in less than a minute of my entrance, she was asking, "do you party?" and offering me Xanax. 

"No thanks, I don't really party like that," I replied.

"Oh...me neither," she said, right before she popped two pills into her mouth. Before my visit was over, she'd offer me more pills, cheap vodka, and even meth.

So, I'm there, not getting high, and wondering how my judgment has become so corroded. But then she took off her clothes in what seemed like one quick motion, and I knew there was definitely no turning back. Her body was just as battered as her face; while she was relatively thin, her skin was sagging and coriaceous, as if she had done nothing to care for her body in the past 20 years. Her tits looked like they were a healthy C-cup at one time, but now they just laid almost completely flat against her rib cage.

But she really wanted to shave my balls, and who was I to be rude and reject her in her own home? She led me into her bathroom, took off my clothes, tossed them onto her bed, and started her shower. She then proceed to shave me with some cheap Bic razor and shaving cream, and ultimately did a pretty half-assed job. While this was not the first time I've had a woman shave my nuts, this was definitely the most disappointing blow to that small fantasy.

She cleaned me off, then told me to lay down on her bed so she could massage me. I did so, and she jumped on my back, and started rubbing my shoulders for a few seconds. She then took a break, lit a cigarette, and started complaining about paying her bills...and about how her boyfriend gets so jealous sometimes.

Awesome. I'm completely naked, laying on my stomach, essentially pinned down by a haggard beach bunny. I'm eyeballing her front door, waiting for some seedy dude to bust in, and rob me blind. The gig was up!

Luckily, she rolled off my back to lay by my side, allowing me to casually roll over. She started rubbing my freshly shaved cock (while still smoking a cigarette), and asked me to fuck her.

"You know," I said, "I'm good, but I appreciate the offer. I really have to get going." She again asked if I wanted some pills, as I was hurriedly putting my clothes back on.

I gave her a hug as I left, and then I exited her place like a bat of of Hell. I walked nervously around her neighborhood for 15 minutes, not all all in the direction of where I parked my car, just in case she had someone following me. But there was nothing, just the sounds of a Miami evening, with the breeze from the Atlantic flowing through my mane.

Suffice it to say, I deleted my OK Cupid account that night, and have started just talking to women as I meet them in my daily life, even if 90% of the women I try to talk to dismiss me like I'm a Hairless Elf.

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