Saturday, January 14, 2006

Manton vs. Woman - The Showstopper

This is a disclaimer: The story you are about to read is entirely true, and is recounted to the best of the author's ability. Names have been changed to protect the identity of the person who I was acquainted with. This story will have to delve intimate details, so if the "hairy ass" post freaked you out, tread lightly.

As you have read in previous Manton vs. Woman (or Women, whatever) posts, the way in which I would get girls is befriend them, and then slowly chip away until they simply cannot resist me. Like a virus, I would take out their defenses and leave them susceptible to my lovin' - although I loved no one. Well, I would systematically eat away with them until they would date me. There, that works.

There was one occasion, however, where I threw caution into wind. Her name for this writing will be "Marsha," as suggested by my mom. Marsha was a friend of a friend of mine, and we met one night at the local Dunkin Donuts. She was a cute girl, with a nice face, bleach blonde hair, and a very busty upper section of chest. She hung out with friends of mine a few more times, but we never really spoke. One time, we were left alone, and we had a very brief, and very awkward, conversaion about nothing. I was just being friendly and she was just recipricating my nice gesture. Nothing more.

Well, that's what I thought, at least. We started talking online (I think she got my sn first, if that means anything), and after a while would have good conversations. A weird thing did happen, though. Usually when I'm conversing with people of the female persuasion, I will shamelessly flirt with them in a joking manner. I'm sure this has happened to most of the people reading this right now. I was doing this same tired act to Marsha, but she was retaliating. And it was nasty. I would giggle about it and keep writing back, thinking this was the coolest thing ever. She kept it up as well. It got to some points where I was just embarassed, frankly. I would look around and close her im box fearing that my mom would find out that someone wanted to do more than have a washdown in a shower.

One night, when my friends had ditched me, I asked Marsha if she wanted to see a movie. She hadn't seen Bad Boys II, and even though it was an excrutiating two and a half hours (and I'd already seen it before), I agreed. I picked her up at her house and we were off. The most we did that night was hold hands, and I certainly wasn't expecting even that. No, I was just going to see a movie with a friend...one who happened to have a vagina and was aggressively flriting with me. It would be impossible to get a girl interested in only a matter of weeks!

Summer moved on, and I was quite excited as I moved into my senior year of high school. I was right in the middle of my last band camp, and all of the seniors were feeling a bit...devilish. We devised a plot where the 19 of us would attack all the li'l kiddies with water guns on the Friday at the end of the first week of camp. Because I drove an Explorer, I had a lot of trunk space (and as I told the ladies, "the backseat folds down" as they giggled and walked away quickly) and was in charge of all of the water guns. Thursday, we would all secretly pack my trunk with water guns. Friday, as the band was taking pictures for the football booster, someone would drive my car to their house and fill up the guns. Then, wet hijinks would ensue.

I know you're reading this and thinking that this info is superfluous, but dear god is it crucial. Stay with me, folks.

That Thursday night my friends all went out and ditched me. Needless to say, I was a bit perturbed. I was whining to Marsha about how my friends suck and I had nothing to do. She offered a solution, suggesting that I come over to her place. I innocently asked her, "what would we do if I were at your house?" Her response? "I'd rape you." In light speed I tried to figure out the fastest route to losing my virginity. This is the sort of stuff that you see in movies and go "holy shit I wish that would happen to me!" And now it is, to ole' Mikey Anton!!

There were some problems, however. Marsha had just moved out, and her mom was home, so there was no way we could have sex there. She suggested that we go to her old place, as she still had the key, and that there'd be no one there. I went into my junk draw and pulled out the sole condom I had in my possession, given to me at my doomed Luau birthday party as a goof. Well, I also had a 25 cent "chocolate tasting" condom I got in 8th grade at Lake George with my friends, but I think using a CVS bag is safer than that thing. I ran out of my run and hastily yelled at my parents "I'MGOINGTOAFRIENDSHOUSEBYE" and closed the door behind me. "This was it," I thought. "Those fuckers [my friends] won't ever fucking believe that I'm gonna fuck before all of those fuckers do!!!!"

I have never been more nervous in my life. As I drove to Marsha's old house, the one I drove to once before, my body was shaking uncontrollably in the bamly August night. At no point in my life had I done ANYTHING like this; be it sexually or "hooking up." I almost always had a longterm girlfriend and certainly didn't get any from them. I felt like Lewis...or Clark - which ever one had sex first, I guess. I also wondered whether or not it would matter that I would be leapfrogging 3rd base, running directly over the pitcher's mound and directly into home.

Marsha was waiting for me as I pulled in. She was wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt, with her hair just sort of falling onto her shoulders. I got out and tried my best to be a cool smoothtalker. I'm sure I was an abominable failure. After five minutes of talking about what we're going to do, she showed me the way inside. Here in lies a problem about a house that you put on the market: there's nothing in it, and nothing works. There was no power, no furniture, no water, and no possibility of the shower fantasy. She was sort of against going to town on the old rug, and I agreed that we shouldn't do it. "We could get burned, ya know, doin' it like that."

It looked almost like the passionate trist would end right there. Luckily, I dropped the line that I had used a thousand times to only a forced laugh. "Well, my backseat folds down." She lit up, remembering that I drove with a traveling bed in the back. She was very excited and said we could totally do that as I turned red and tried to find a way around it. As excited as I was to lose my virginity, I was so sure I would suck and it would be terrible that I completely lost my nerve. I finally gave in, and walked over to the car, shaking.

She opens the trunk after I unlock the car and looks at me with a strange expression. "What are all of these things?" Marsha saked. And then I remembered the water guns. It seems my walking Fuckmobile was just as unprepared for this night as I was. Marsha and I started to take out all of the water pistols, super soakers, and pre-hydrated water balloons and placed them just outside the back bumper next to a tree just off of her drive way. When every water gun was taken away, and the black bags meant to keep my backseat dry was leaning against the foilage, I pulled the back two seats down as my hand shook like I had Parkinson's.

Then, as if punching a card, she climbs in and starts to kiss me. Soon, we're making out, and I'm sure she can feel me bouncing up and down off the floor. After a while, she starts to say that she's hot. I reply, "well, it's pretty cold act-" as she takes her shirt off. "Oh. Oh I see. Yeah, yeah I'm kinda heated, too" comes a-stumblin' through my mouth. I curious thing happens as we're both shirtless. One, I had never made out with a girl without a shirt, as I stayed fully clothed with Sasha so as to not "ruin the mood," and two, she seems to be a bit larger than I remember. Her breasts are heaving in her bra, which she takes off, because I'm convinced you can only take those fucking things off if you have a vagina. As her large breasts spill out, I start to figure out why they are so incredibly large in the first place. When my hands move from her chest down to her stomach, my fears are realized. Uh oh.

She then takes off her pants, and I take off mine, as she attacks my neck like a rabid animal. Never before, and hopefully never again, will I feel so much like a defenseless animal being attacked by its predator. I couldn't move, and didn't know how to stop it, so I panicked and acted like I just saw a bear: I acted like I was dead. The thoughts started moving at lightspeed through my head. Is this what everyone does? Am I just not getting how great this is? Is there something wrong with me? Holy shit...is she a vampire? Did my take out my emergency stake?!? She starts to take off my pants, and there were are in our boxers. Now, I realize, she's seen more of me than close relatives when I was a baby and my doctor.

Marsha is on top of me in only a thong, but then that's quickly taken off. Immediately after, there go my boxers. At this point, I realize, no girl has ever seen my penis before...and this is definitely not the situation I want that to happen in. I went to reach for what would be my first real hands-on feel of the female sexular anatomy and found something like sand paper right before I went in. Scared, I immediately pulled it away as it left the wedge between our bodies. Finding nothing else to grab, I get to hands of her rather unsavory ass. At this point it goes foggy. Either I grabbed her ass and the loose skin felt strange, or something with the consistantcy of bris came off of her ass. Regardless, whatever was resembling an erection quickly retreaded inwards to my stomach. It was at this exact moment where she said, "get the condom."

There is an obvious series of predicaments here. I had never used a condom before, especially not in a pressure situation like this. I was already shaking before getting in the car TO DRIVE THERE, so obviously I wasn't in "Michael Jordan taking the last shot in the Finals" mode here. Instead, I was in OJ in the Bronco going "holy shit, there's no good way out of this" mode. Unforunately, his story ended better than mine. Having no concept of "rolling the condom onto one's member" I had trouble, and then finally unfurled the whole thing on my incredibly limp self. This obviously did not work.

After some tinkering, I realized it would be easer to nail Jell-o to a wall. Seeing no way to end this with my head held high, I threw the condom somewhere in the truck and exclaimed in a very unconvincing tone, "oh shit I broke it!" I feigned disappointment, while really being incredibly relieved. Marsha was confused, and upon inspection of my vital sexual orgran, she became almost livid. She saw the flaccid concoction of tissue and skin as a reflection on herself (which, in part, it was) and simply wouldn't have it. If this were a war, she's on Omaha Beach right now and refuses to die at the hands of the Nazis like everyone around her.

Marsha's final charge was impressive, from an S&M stand point. Either because of her inability to understand the male anatomy, or probably out of sure desperation, she decided she was going to make an erection happen. Using her knowledge of how to start a lawn mower, she grabbed my sack and started to violently tug back and forth, trying to start that motor again. Unlike the neck assault from earlier, I refused to pull a Zebra again, and told her to please stop making my scrotum feel like it's on a roll of paper towels.

She finally stopped and rolled over, lying now on her back. She said, "this has never happened to me before." I actually pulled out the "it's not you, it's me" line, because fuck, if the "the backseats fold down" like worked, anything would. To try and make her feel good, I commenced making out again as I tried to manipulate her into some sort of pleasure. Once again, bring out the Jell-o and a wall analogy. Soon after, we both put on our clothes and walked outside.

There we were, two kids who were completely unsatisfied with what just occurred, packing water guns into a car's trunk. For her, it was the double whammy of not getting laid when they thought they would be and then having the partner find them unattractive. For me, it was...pretty much the whole fucking experience as a whole. I apologized prefusely, and said we would do it again sometime. That sometime never happened, and we didn't really talk much afterwards.

I went home dejected, coming back from my unnamed friend's house after only an hour and a half. My mom asked how it was, and as I turned my head to the right, I just shook my head. I turned back and walked into the bathroom when I saw the giant mass of bruises on the upper half of the left side of my neck. The girl had given me two giant hickeys. Wooonderful. This lead to me having to partly explain to almost the entire band the next day my exploits from the night before, without giving away that I was a bust. Also, the hickeys sat just above the collar of my marching band uniform, giving the solo close-up shot in the throwaway booster magazine an extra little bonus.

After I thought the whole situation was over, I get a text from Marsha: Holy shit what did you do with the condom, because my mom just found one in the driveway. It was then that I realized I really wanted, and needed, a girlfriend.

14 comments:

the ardist said...

Wow. That was everything you cracked it up to be. You should publish it.

suj said...

wow what a tale of the ages. definitely worth the buildup heheh. keep this thing up man.. it's quality entertainment.

jen said...

hehehe. sall good. now everyone can remember back along with you!

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