The adventures of my friend Itaale (Oh yeah am back b!tches)
Posted: Thu Jan 12, 2006 2:36 am
My old friend Micheal Itaale had an impressive knack for getting himself into/stumbling upon strange sexual situations. His list of stories (most of which, I witnessed personally) ranged from the bizarre to the bastardly, tempered with a varying range of hilarity.
And it wasn't always his doing. Sometimes, he was a totally innocent bystander. (True, it was a rarity, as he just isn't the innocent type. But it did happen.) And hey, sometimes you're not exactly innocent, but you're more innocent than the other people involved. This was the case often enough, since he clearly had a knack for sniffing out the craziest focking b!tch in the room when he sought a potential companion.
Enter Cynthia, psychotic ho extraordinaire. He met her at the most pretentious coffee shop in Toronto, where he drew her attention by mocking her heavy-handed, self indulgent, masturbatory. As a portent of things to come, even this sort of approach was good enough to get her into bed. She immediately sought to redeem her stature in his eyes by socking him off in the parking lot.
He hadn't been looking to get laid when he started tearing into her pretentious drivel; she wasn't exactly a looker. but she had a face that looked like someone had beaten it flat with a two-by-four, and her forehead stretched to more of a sevenhead range. She wasn't quite unattractive, but she certainly wasn't much look at. And yet, she focked everyone. That's the difference between males and females. Take a stunningly average guy and a stunningly average girl and turn them loose in a no-holds-barred bedpost notching competition. The average girl will get all the ass she wants because of one key factor: she has a possy, and she willing to use it. Even an attractive male can't compete with that sort of firepower.
Somehow, a blowjob in the parking lot snowballed into a year-long relationship. (Pun shamelessly intended.) Itaale moved in with her. She showed him her ping pong ball trick. (Seriously. This was before i saw it on the internet. so when I saw that scene, it was much funnier for me.) The better he got to know her, the more focked up the situation became.
Shortly after they moved in together, Cynthia decided they should get a dog. Fair enough, he thought. They were living together; nothing wrong with having a pet. He was going to get her a puppy, but she didn't want one. She was totally adamant about having a full-grown dog. She insisted on something large.
They settled on a chocolate labrabor which they named Sam. After a few weeks, Itaale grew pretty attached. The whole dog thing seemed a pretty good idea. Sam became a part of the fledgling family. Cynthia was happy to have a dog to keep her company while Itaale was at work, and Itaale had never been able to have a pet when he was younger, given the focked itaalian culture of his childhood; he and his mother had moved like gypsies. Having a dog made him feel almost normal.
Itaale worked as a grill cook at a steak house in a town about 45 minutes from Toronto, and one evening he slipped on a greasy patch of floor and broke his hand. His boss told him to go to the hospital and have it taken care of with Workman's Comp, and then head home for the night. Even after the emergency room visit, Itaale got home four hours early since the accident had happen early in his shift.
When he walked into the house, he was greeted by the familiar sound of Cynthia's sexual chorus from the bedroom. By this point, two of his friends had already told him Cynthia had tried to fock them, but he hadn't believed them. When confronted, she said that she was just naturally flirty, and she was used to people thinking she meant more than she really did. She managed to convince him it was a misunderstanding. But now, he was home from work earlier, and his girlfriend was clearly in the bedroom getting focked. Itaale grabbed an umbrella (the closest thing he could find that he could beat someone with), ran to the bedroom, and threw the door open, already screaming, "What the fock!"
But what he saw wasn't exactly what he was expecting. Cynthia was on all fours on the bed with the dog on top of her. They call it doggy-style for a reason, after all. Itaale just stared. Then, at a loss for anything else useful to say, he said, "What the fock!" And then, finally able to get his brain moving forward a little, he screamed, "What the fock are you doing?!"
Cynthia looked up at him, totally cool, and responded, "What the fock does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting off." Sam the dog, clearly startled as one of his owners bursting into the room and using the Bad Dog Voice, started to flounder, but Cynthia started petting him in encouragement so he wont go limp. Which was when Itaale noticed something strange.
"Is he wearing my socks?" Sure enough, taped onto the dog's front legs were two pairs of tube socks.
"Yeah. Have you seen how long his claws are? He was scratching me. Now come in and watch or go freak out outside, but shut the focking door."
The shock of the situation conspired to sap Itaale's anger and reduce him to gibbering denial, so he left, called a friend (me, Duluf), and went out for coffee and discussion. I'd told him the b!tch was focked up before, but this was the first time it seemed to actually be sinking in. But as I said, it was only starting to sink in. They discussed the dog incident later, and she explained that she'd wanted a large dog for this express purpose. Her sexual appetite was remarkable, and she rationalized the dog as a way to ensure that she had something to satiate her when he wasn't available. Um... what the fock ever happened to vibrators?
And so, she formed the focal point of a cross-species love story; Itaale would find himself Sam for a walk and wondering if Cynthia liked the dog's d!ck better than his. But seeing as how several friends had warned her about her trying to cheat, he figured a family sex dog was a reasonable price for a faithful relationship.
But even that doesn't fully illustrate the aberration that was Cynthia's mind. On one occasion, Cynthia told Itaale that if she ever had a child, she would want it to be a boy-- so that she could teach the kid about sex personally. Itaale told her she was a focked up b!tch, and she immediately changed her tone and said she was kidding. But it was one of those oh-wait-did-I-say-that-out-loud sorts of moments of accidental honesty, and it was clear that her stammering retraction was bullsh!t.
Still, he at least thought she was faithful. I mean, with the dog, she had no need to cheat! And yet, half of his friends, (including Lionheart and even Basra) had come to him by this point to tell him that Cynthia had tried to fock them. But it didn't matter. The warnings bounced right off him. He assumed they were all just jealous that he had a girlfriend so depraved she was willing to fock a dog. C'mon... chick like that, you can get her to do anything. Rrowr. Clearly, they were all jealous. I mean, hey... if your girlfriend focks quadrupeds and wants to have children for the sole purpose of molesting them, she's gotta be the morally upstanding type, right?
Itaale was driving home from work one night in his half-functional 1977 Nova. It was raining pretty heavily, and traffic was ugly. The motor for his windshield wipers died and he got into a head-on collision. He was lifeflighted to the hospital in borderline condition where they barely managed to save him. Friends and family came out in your standard hospital vigil. His ex-stepfather came in from out of town, and was staying at the apartment with Cynthia while he was there.
Itaale got out of the hospital two days earlier than expected, and his mother dropped him off at the house to surprise Cynthia. As he approached, the noises coming from behind the door made it pretty clear that Cynthia was busy. He assumed she was just focking the dog again and strolled inside, unimpressed.
But the dog was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there stood his slovenly, overweight ex-stepfather, balls deep in his girlfriend's a$$. Finally, the last straw! Itaale clumsily threw himself at his ex-stepfather, who casually threw him out the front door and locked him out. In optimal conditions, I don't doubt Itaale could have taken him, but his broken ribs kept him from moving very well and he still had an arm immobilized from a broken collarbone.
Finally, Itaale was done with her. As it turns out, the half of his friends who hadn't made any accusations about her trying to fock them had only failed to mention the incidents because they, in fact, had focked her. He would have kicked her out if her name hadn't been on the lease. Instead, he was forced to move in with his mother and her redneck boyfriend, Butch, who were living in a single-wide trailer. Sure, he was stuck living with his mother and some redneck, but finally being out of his relationship with Cynthia made him feel much better overall. We started seeing a lot more of him once he was out from under Cynthia's thumb; ironically enough (or not at all ironic, depending on how familiar you are with psychology) Cynthia was extremely jealous and wouldn't let Itaale see his friends without her there.
Despite coming from totally different worlds, Itaale liked Butch the redneck with 20 arrest warents in homestate of Wisconsin, and didn't at all mind that the man happened to be focking his mother. Butch was a wiry, curly mullet-haired construction worker with a penchant for Milwaukee's Best and a raging hard-on for the Green Bay Packers-- in fact, Butch actually owned and wore a cheese-head. Every time the Packers played, he was there in front of the television with a fresh beer, his cheese-head meticulously centered with the wedge pointing the way forward.
So, hey. Turns out single life with your mom and her boyfriend isn't so bad. Butch was certainly a character, as they say. We actually hung out at Butch's trailer on occasion when we had nothing to do and nowhere to go. (believe it or not me and Itaale are good friend).
It was one such night that we stumbled across something no one should ever see from a parent. Five of us had gone out for pizza, and we couldn't come up with any plan beyond that. There were no decent shows, we had two people with us who weren't into clubbing, and no one had a decent place to hang out at. So Itaale decided he'd take us to his place.
It was rainy and a little cold, and I was the driver for the evening. Itaale hadn't driven since the wreck. We got to the trailer and all rushed onto the small patio in front of the door, since it had a small awning to shelter us from the rain. Itaale opened the door, and there was his mother, bare-a$$ed on the couch with Butch's d!ck in her mouth. Itaale's mother froze in mid-motion, and then turned slowly to look at the door, one hand paused in mid-jerk with Butch's d!ck still in her mouth. Her eyes were about the size of dinner plates. I find it a testament to her shock that she didn't even bother to take the d!ck out of her mouth.
Butch, on the other hand, turned and grinned at us, raising his can of Milwaukee's Best in salute. He was wearing his cheese-head.
Okay, you bunch of fokin fools. That's all I've got for you at the moment. Maybe I'll be back with some more, because there is a lot more stories from my best friend Itaale to share with you.
As Ozzy Osburne so elqountly put it, the crazier you motherfockers get, the more batsh!t Itaale stories i tell ya
: D:D
Disclaimer: Itaale is a very good and honorable man.
And it wasn't always his doing. Sometimes, he was a totally innocent bystander. (True, it was a rarity, as he just isn't the innocent type. But it did happen.) And hey, sometimes you're not exactly innocent, but you're more innocent than the other people involved. This was the case often enough, since he clearly had a knack for sniffing out the craziest focking b!tch in the room when he sought a potential companion.
Enter Cynthia, psychotic ho extraordinaire. He met her at the most pretentious coffee shop in Toronto, where he drew her attention by mocking her heavy-handed, self indulgent, masturbatory. As a portent of things to come, even this sort of approach was good enough to get her into bed. She immediately sought to redeem her stature in his eyes by socking him off in the parking lot.
He hadn't been looking to get laid when he started tearing into her pretentious drivel; she wasn't exactly a looker. but she had a face that looked like someone had beaten it flat with a two-by-four, and her forehead stretched to more of a sevenhead range. She wasn't quite unattractive, but she certainly wasn't much look at. And yet, she focked everyone. That's the difference between males and females. Take a stunningly average guy and a stunningly average girl and turn them loose in a no-holds-barred bedpost notching competition. The average girl will get all the ass she wants because of one key factor: she has a possy, and she willing to use it. Even an attractive male can't compete with that sort of firepower.
Somehow, a blowjob in the parking lot snowballed into a year-long relationship. (Pun shamelessly intended.) Itaale moved in with her. She showed him her ping pong ball trick. (Seriously. This was before i saw it on the internet. so when I saw that scene, it was much funnier for me.) The better he got to know her, the more focked up the situation became.
Shortly after they moved in together, Cynthia decided they should get a dog. Fair enough, he thought. They were living together; nothing wrong with having a pet. He was going to get her a puppy, but she didn't want one. She was totally adamant about having a full-grown dog. She insisted on something large.
They settled on a chocolate labrabor which they named Sam. After a few weeks, Itaale grew pretty attached. The whole dog thing seemed a pretty good idea. Sam became a part of the fledgling family. Cynthia was happy to have a dog to keep her company while Itaale was at work, and Itaale had never been able to have a pet when he was younger, given the focked itaalian culture of his childhood; he and his mother had moved like gypsies. Having a dog made him feel almost normal.
Itaale worked as a grill cook at a steak house in a town about 45 minutes from Toronto, and one evening he slipped on a greasy patch of floor and broke his hand. His boss told him to go to the hospital and have it taken care of with Workman's Comp, and then head home for the night. Even after the emergency room visit, Itaale got home four hours early since the accident had happen early in his shift.
When he walked into the house, he was greeted by the familiar sound of Cynthia's sexual chorus from the bedroom. By this point, two of his friends had already told him Cynthia had tried to fock them, but he hadn't believed them. When confronted, she said that she was just naturally flirty, and she was used to people thinking she meant more than she really did. She managed to convince him it was a misunderstanding. But now, he was home from work earlier, and his girlfriend was clearly in the bedroom getting focked. Itaale grabbed an umbrella (the closest thing he could find that he could beat someone with), ran to the bedroom, and threw the door open, already screaming, "What the fock!"
But what he saw wasn't exactly what he was expecting. Cynthia was on all fours on the bed with the dog on top of her. They call it doggy-style for a reason, after all. Itaale just stared. Then, at a loss for anything else useful to say, he said, "What the fock!" And then, finally able to get his brain moving forward a little, he screamed, "What the fock are you doing?!"
Cynthia looked up at him, totally cool, and responded, "What the fock does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting off." Sam the dog, clearly startled as one of his owners bursting into the room and using the Bad Dog Voice, started to flounder, but Cynthia started petting him in encouragement so he wont go limp. Which was when Itaale noticed something strange.
"Is he wearing my socks?" Sure enough, taped onto the dog's front legs were two pairs of tube socks.
"Yeah. Have you seen how long his claws are? He was scratching me. Now come in and watch or go freak out outside, but shut the focking door."
The shock of the situation conspired to sap Itaale's anger and reduce him to gibbering denial, so he left, called a friend (me, Duluf), and went out for coffee and discussion. I'd told him the b!tch was focked up before, but this was the first time it seemed to actually be sinking in. But as I said, it was only starting to sink in. They discussed the dog incident later, and she explained that she'd wanted a large dog for this express purpose. Her sexual appetite was remarkable, and she rationalized the dog as a way to ensure that she had something to satiate her when he wasn't available. Um... what the fock ever happened to vibrators?
And so, she formed the focal point of a cross-species love story; Itaale would find himself Sam for a walk and wondering if Cynthia liked the dog's d!ck better than his. But seeing as how several friends had warned her about her trying to cheat, he figured a family sex dog was a reasonable price for a faithful relationship.
But even that doesn't fully illustrate the aberration that was Cynthia's mind. On one occasion, Cynthia told Itaale that if she ever had a child, she would want it to be a boy-- so that she could teach the kid about sex personally. Itaale told her she was a focked up b!tch, and she immediately changed her tone and said she was kidding. But it was one of those oh-wait-did-I-say-that-out-loud sorts of moments of accidental honesty, and it was clear that her stammering retraction was bullsh!t.
Still, he at least thought she was faithful. I mean, with the dog, she had no need to cheat! And yet, half of his friends, (including Lionheart and even Basra) had come to him by this point to tell him that Cynthia had tried to fock them. But it didn't matter. The warnings bounced right off him. He assumed they were all just jealous that he had a girlfriend so depraved she was willing to fock a dog. C'mon... chick like that, you can get her to do anything. Rrowr. Clearly, they were all jealous. I mean, hey... if your girlfriend focks quadrupeds and wants to have children for the sole purpose of molesting them, she's gotta be the morally upstanding type, right?
Itaale was driving home from work one night in his half-functional 1977 Nova. It was raining pretty heavily, and traffic was ugly. The motor for his windshield wipers died and he got into a head-on collision. He was lifeflighted to the hospital in borderline condition where they barely managed to save him. Friends and family came out in your standard hospital vigil. His ex-stepfather came in from out of town, and was staying at the apartment with Cynthia while he was there.
Itaale got out of the hospital two days earlier than expected, and his mother dropped him off at the house to surprise Cynthia. As he approached, the noises coming from behind the door made it pretty clear that Cynthia was busy. He assumed she was just focking the dog again and strolled inside, unimpressed.
But the dog was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there stood his slovenly, overweight ex-stepfather, balls deep in his girlfriend's a$$. Finally, the last straw! Itaale clumsily threw himself at his ex-stepfather, who casually threw him out the front door and locked him out. In optimal conditions, I don't doubt Itaale could have taken him, but his broken ribs kept him from moving very well and he still had an arm immobilized from a broken collarbone.
Finally, Itaale was done with her. As it turns out, the half of his friends who hadn't made any accusations about her trying to fock them had only failed to mention the incidents because they, in fact, had focked her. He would have kicked her out if her name hadn't been on the lease. Instead, he was forced to move in with his mother and her redneck boyfriend, Butch, who were living in a single-wide trailer. Sure, he was stuck living with his mother and some redneck, but finally being out of his relationship with Cynthia made him feel much better overall. We started seeing a lot more of him once he was out from under Cynthia's thumb; ironically enough (or not at all ironic, depending on how familiar you are with psychology) Cynthia was extremely jealous and wouldn't let Itaale see his friends without her there.
Despite coming from totally different worlds, Itaale liked Butch the redneck with 20 arrest warents in homestate of Wisconsin, and didn't at all mind that the man happened to be focking his mother. Butch was a wiry, curly mullet-haired construction worker with a penchant for Milwaukee's Best and a raging hard-on for the Green Bay Packers-- in fact, Butch actually owned and wore a cheese-head. Every time the Packers played, he was there in front of the television with a fresh beer, his cheese-head meticulously centered with the wedge pointing the way forward.
So, hey. Turns out single life with your mom and her boyfriend isn't so bad. Butch was certainly a character, as they say. We actually hung out at Butch's trailer on occasion when we had nothing to do and nowhere to go. (believe it or not me and Itaale are good friend).
It was one such night that we stumbled across something no one should ever see from a parent. Five of us had gone out for pizza, and we couldn't come up with any plan beyond that. There were no decent shows, we had two people with us who weren't into clubbing, and no one had a decent place to hang out at. So Itaale decided he'd take us to his place.
It was rainy and a little cold, and I was the driver for the evening. Itaale hadn't driven since the wreck. We got to the trailer and all rushed onto the small patio in front of the door, since it had a small awning to shelter us from the rain. Itaale opened the door, and there was his mother, bare-a$$ed on the couch with Butch's d!ck in her mouth. Itaale's mother froze in mid-motion, and then turned slowly to look at the door, one hand paused in mid-jerk with Butch's d!ck still in her mouth. Her eyes were about the size of dinner plates. I find it a testament to her shock that she didn't even bother to take the d!ck out of her mouth.
Butch, on the other hand, turned and grinned at us, raising his can of Milwaukee's Best in salute. He was wearing his cheese-head.
Okay, you bunch of fokin fools. That's all I've got for you at the moment. Maybe I'll be back with some more, because there is a lot more stories from my best friend Itaale to share with you.
As Ozzy Osburne so elqountly put it, the crazier you motherfockers get, the more batsh!t Itaale stories i tell ya
: D:D Disclaimer: Itaale is a very good and honorable man.
