Did I ever tell you guys about the time I went down on Wonder Woman? Duuuuuuude, let me tell you about this time I went down on Wonder Woman. Remember when I told you about the White woman I was dating that was shaped like Jessica Rabbit? Yeah, she decided on a Wonder Woman costume one year. It wasn't particularly slutty, the girl was just stacked. Bless her heart.
Twas a Halloween night, no different from the rest, which means I was getting my drink on. We were in a college town so there was no shortage flesh being flashed around at whatever watering hole I got dragged to, which could have been a problem since my eyes will wander from time to time. Not that night. The nerd and the nigga in me were in full agreement for once and we wanted the Justice League member that we came with.
Anyway the night winds down and we get back to my place (sidenote: Having your own place is the shit). We were there for like 5-10 nano seconds and starts to making out and somehow I ended up on top of her on the couch. For some reason,I didn't want to get her out of that outfit. You know how sometimes after a woman undresses, things get to flying in weird directions? Not this lady. She had a body that made you want to slap the inventor of clothes, but I digress. I didn't want to take her costume off because then she would stop being the Amazon, Diana Prince. Solution: get my face under that red skirt...And I did.
Now, I'm no stranger to fresh shaved pajayjay, but on this day, it was calling me like crack called Pookie, like jump shots call Kobe, like straight to DVD movie scripts call Wesley Snipes and I went for the gusto. Now, I've given out some 'O's before but this time it was one of those that made you prolific muff diver in the first place. It was one of those ones where you knew that the neighbors were going to look at you awkward for a couple days because nothing less than a submarine can contain the sound of woman having a nice long, hard orgasm. When I finally set off for a glass of water, our heroine was staring at the ceiling in content. When I got back with the glasses, she said "Whew, good game."
I imagine that's how Blake Griffin feels after he just dunked on the biggest guy on the court. I could have stood there in my b-boy stance I was so geeked. The job was done so right I didn't even try to get any. I mean, Di Vinci knew when the Mona Lisa was done, no point messing it up by trying to make the boobs bigger.
Convoluted story, I admit, but the point is Halloween is magic. When else do sexy women get to be over the top sexy and in public at the same time? When else do moderately sexy women go from an 8 to 9.5 by carrying a whip and wearing cat ears?
Slutty costumes even work for the less than sexy. If you are 5'2", 350 lbs., a man will buy you drinks all night just to stare at all 4 feet of that cleavage, just as long as you make it plain and simple that you are a cheerleader tonight.
For those of you that find my position on slutty costumes inconsistent with my feminist stances, please calm down. I understand that objectifying women is wrong even when they are almost literally asking for it. However, I can only articulate this position because there is currently no cleavage in front of me. I'm a feminist, I'm not gay.
I will give two cheers for slutty costumes, but not three because there are those that use this night to reinforce the chauvinism that plagues us the other 364 days a year. That's sad but robbing ourselves of this one night isn't really going to fix that more pervasive problem.
This in mind, I bid you a happy and safe Halloween. Princess Leias, cheerleaders, Catwomen, slutty cops and Black cosplay girls (drool) go forth. Be hot, be cool, get those free drinks and thank you on behalf of every man you're about to let eat it while you're in costume!
Twas a Halloween night, no different from the rest, which means I was getting my drink on. We were in a college town so there was no shortage flesh being flashed around at whatever watering hole I got dragged to, which could have been a problem since my eyes will wander from time to time. Not that night. The nerd and the nigga in me were in full agreement for once and we wanted the Justice League member that we came with.
Anyway the night winds down and we get back to my place (sidenote: Having your own place is the shit). We were there for like 5-10 nano seconds and starts to making out and somehow I ended up on top of her on the couch. For some reason,I didn't want to get her out of that outfit. You know how sometimes after a woman undresses, things get to flying in weird directions? Not this lady. She had a body that made you want to slap the inventor of clothes, but I digress. I didn't want to take her costume off because then she would stop being the Amazon, Diana Prince. Solution: get my face under that red skirt...And I did.
Now, I'm no stranger to fresh shaved pajayjay, but on this day, it was calling me like crack called Pookie, like jump shots call Kobe, like straight to DVD movie scripts call Wesley Snipes and I went for the gusto. Now, I've given out some 'O's before but this time it was one of those that made you prolific muff diver in the first place. It was one of those ones where you knew that the neighbors were going to look at you awkward for a couple days because nothing less than a submarine can contain the sound of woman having a nice long, hard orgasm. When I finally set off for a glass of water, our heroine was staring at the ceiling in content. When I got back with the glasses, she said "Whew, good game."
I imagine that's how Blake Griffin feels after he just dunked on the biggest guy on the court. I could have stood there in my b-boy stance I was so geeked. The job was done so right I didn't even try to get any. I mean, Di Vinci knew when the Mona Lisa was done, no point messing it up by trying to make the boobs bigger.
Convoluted story, I admit, but the point is Halloween is magic. When else do sexy women get to be over the top sexy and in public at the same time? When else do moderately sexy women go from an 8 to 9.5 by carrying a whip and wearing cat ears?
Slutty costumes even work for the less than sexy. If you are 5'2", 350 lbs., a man will buy you drinks all night just to stare at all 4 feet of that cleavage, just as long as you make it plain and simple that you are a cheerleader tonight.
For those of you that find my position on slutty costumes inconsistent with my feminist stances, please calm down. I understand that objectifying women is wrong even when they are almost literally asking for it. However, I can only articulate this position because there is currently no cleavage in front of me. I'm a feminist, I'm not gay.
I will give two cheers for slutty costumes, but not three because there are those that use this night to reinforce the chauvinism that plagues us the other 364 days a year. That's sad but robbing ourselves of this one night isn't really going to fix that more pervasive problem.
This in mind, I bid you a happy and safe Halloween. Princess Leias, cheerleaders, Catwomen, slutty cops and Black cosplay girls (drool) go forth. Be hot, be cool, get those free drinks and thank you on behalf of every man you're about to let eat it while you're in costume!
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