I had their fucking address and I was temporarily insane and constantly drunk and my pop owned guns. Guns you fucks Guns!! Remington 870 Express Semi Autos, and my old Pump Action Youth Model; the shotguns of choice for working American people. Believe that, and believe me, I was gonna stake out Fucksquad Condos and map that fucker out.
And so I did. One night while arguing with V.D. over the phone, pointlessly trying to persuade her to give up her full blown sex addiction, she resisted and stated that she was going to meet the boys no matter what. At this point, maybe a month after the initial Auction Night, she had graduated from her usual double menage a trois with five cocks on the side, to getting fully airtighted with an audience. Meaning she would take it as God intended, as well as in the ass, while sucking dick. To push it off the charts, the rest of the team would watch, in a darkened room, and use their cell phones as flashlights. They’d do play-by-play and hoo-haw and just love every second of it. She was also giving it to the equipment manager and friends of the players by now. Anyway, she hung up the phone and unbeknownst to her I had borrowed my pop’s Jimmy for the weekend, so I raged out of Brooklyn and covered the Turnpike in record time. I followed the address and sure enough, found myself in a half empty condo parking lot with V.D.’s car in attendance. I parked the truck next to a boat on a trailer, at a far corner so V.D. wouldn’t spot me. The night’s hockey game had been over for well over an hour or so, and players were still getting back in two’s and three’s. I was sweating and nauseous and going out of my mind. I knew she was in there in some sort of multi-twisted position with the hootin’ and the hollerin’ and the… when she came outside. She came out and walked off the front porch, and a group of about seven players and friends stayed on the porch with beers in hand, a couple of them peeing in the bushes, calling after her. I couldn’t hear what they said, I was too far away. I expected her to get in her car and jet, but she just walked into another condo unit. Another fucking unit!
That was fucking it! These pube shaved Canucks had no idea what was in store for them! These units had three levels to them and anyone could walk in whenever they wanted to. They weren’t lit up too much inside and there were so many guys and so very few girls that it would take a while to pick an odd man out. An odd man with three boxes of 12 gauge double ought and his pop’s Semi Auto Express. I’d have to take the magazine plug out so I could load five shells instead of three and it would help if I sawed off the barrel but not the stock because I’d need the leverage and recoil absorption and I’d work my way from bottom to top trenchcoating the fuck out of the place and try and corner as many as possible in the top floor. But this was to be no murder/suicide, just fucking murder, I wanted to live to tell the tale to the judge and the papers. But wait, why even murder? Why not kick it up a notch? Forget it, I’d grab my 20 gauge 870 Pump Action Youth and load that little bitch with birdshot and just maim these pricks. I’d be aiming to end careers; crotchshots and kneecaps, shots to the face from distance so they would have to spend the rest of their lives looking at their ugly pock-scarred faces. I’d give myself up freely to the cops and grant newspaper interviews and the whole country would know what twisted sex romps went down behind the scenes of their minor league franchises. The Plan was in effect!
So I waited until V.D. finally took her body fluid soaked self out of the condo, all alone, and got in her car and then I — Wait.
You know what? I proved my point. I proved my point that love can make a man want to murder. You guys don’t even deserve to hear about the showdown at her house during the blizzard. You know why? Because half of you don’t believe this story anyway, and the rest of you think that I’m just some weak pussy. Well FUCK you. None of you deserve the rest of this story because none of you know what it’s like to be driven by the thralls of Codependent Obsession, with Oxytocin firing your synapses and Adrenalin making every one of your lousy gut decisions. You didn’t ball out your story to the large, warm, saint of a black woman at the Chelsea Clinic after getting served the metal Q-tip. You didn’t go to free half-ass counseling for months because you couldn’t afford a real shrink. You didn’t read a book about sex addiction written by some butter-churning Quaker and give up all drugs and drink without any help, just to save your own fucking life, through sheer will power. You didn’t see it, you didn’t feel it, you didn’t live it…
and I hope none of you ever do.
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You didn’t live it either. The story’s a little amusing, though. BN’s jail story was more believable until the 2nd part. This one was obviously bullshit from the beginning.
07.03.09 at 10:07 am
YOU FUCKING FAGGOT I WANT MY MONEY BACK. GET SOME FUCKING AIDS YOU PILE OF SHIT TIN POT STORY TELLER. THIS SHIT SUCKS YOU FAG.
07.03.09 at 10:29 am
http://www.amazon.com/Women-Sex-Addiction-Search-Power/dp/0060973218
07.03.09 at 10:30 am
Boo hoo, I’ll commit murder for love! boohoo, I’m a fucking white knight.
07.03.09 at 10:30 am
love is the second dumbest reason to do something, right after religion.
07.03.09 at 10:42 am
I really was enjoying this story. However, talk about taking the weak way out. Story-telling wise. I mean this story was great. Right up until “you don’t deserve to hear the rest.” I mean that’s right up there with “and then I woke up.”
If we didn’t deserve to hear the end. Then we didn’t deserve to hear the beginning and the middle. So, thanks a lot. Totally wasted my time.
07.03.09 at 10:50 am
mike, i say this with the utmost lack of care and/or respect: your reads are some of the most finicky little bastard reads about nothing that i have ever encountered; kudos or whatevs
07.03.09 at 10:55 am
well, the fact that i didn’t live it is the whole point why i wanted to read it, fiction or not. it was an open mic that i found entertaining, but it was an open mic, nonetheless, meaning that it was doomed from the start, unfortunately. but i think cursing out your audience will get you less shit than saying, “…and then i came to my senses and realized that there are other fish in the sea. i drove back home. da end.” do you also stop fucking your lady just before she cums and tell her she doesn’t deserve to cum for whatever sick reason you make up?
07.03.09 at 11:37 am
Your story has had me white knuckling it since Pt 1. I want to know what happened to her and if she’s okay. You’ll have to tell us. And I’m glad you didn’t kill anyone. But anyhow, who cares what these trolls say on this site? The SC audience are angry losers (and I imagine highly unfuckable college-aged twerps and Vice employees) who obviously don’t have their own shit going on or they wouldn’t compete to be the biggest asshole commentors on SC. I mean, what a sad title to want to achieve. Fuck these dudes. Let’s hear it!
As a chick, I’m dying to know!
07.03.09 at 11:39 am
Real or fake I wanted read some cold ass gun shit.
07.03.09 at 12:43 pm
Please tell me more. These Fucks are…. Fucks. I want to know what happened.
07.03.09 at 1:48 pm
I would really like to hear the end of this story. But that is just me I guess!
07.03.09 at 2:06 pm
sounds like you pussied out. what a faggot.
no wonder she went to get some dick elsewhere.
07.03.09 at 2:45 pm
This is something Mr. Garrison would write. “Running through a forrest of cocks”
07.03.09 at 3:06 pm
Keep trying. Maybe I’ll become boring enough by Part 5439 to actually give a shit.
07.03.09 at 3:43 pm
TL;DR
07.03.09 at 4:11 pm
The last paragraph proves that you’re making this up.
07.03.09 at 4:14 pm
I wanted to know the ending, I was gripped and upset at first, but the episodic stuff made me pretty angry and this ending is fairly weak. I really couldn’t agree more with further reading.
Fiction or non-fiction the fourth wall was broken pretty weakly.
07.03.09 at 4:15 pm
is that skeet ulrich?!
07.03.09 at 6:37 pm
OKAY FINE ASSHOLE — with the cliffhanger plus potentially validating (albeit censored) photo, MAYBE THIS IS TRUE.
In which case, have to admit this is the only interesting and compelling Tru-Story I’ve read in a while, probably since it’s about some slut getting fucking pounded by a bunch of total asshole jocks. This phenomenon is awesome, maybe even a “peak experience”; I would pay for a $70 ticket to be any of those hockey guys for just one super whore sesh, let alone go through my day with the guarantee of a post-game gangbang with some hot ass slut (I call top shelf). Having sexperience with an ex-girlfriend who boned a bunch of hockey bros post-breakup myself, this is truly a trying and emotional experience 4 U!! Seriously, I do want to hear the end of this despite publicly mocking how made up this shit is, and I hope you blasted the shit out of them so I can exact justice vicariously through you, my precious.
07.03.09 at 6:39 pm
i really want to find out what happens, but 3 parts and still no end. take your story and shove it
07.03.09 at 8:05 pm
oooh, contempt for one’s audience— how very.
i second further reading’s cries of cop out. either tell the story or don’t.
weakest ending since Groundhog Day (”Let’s live here.”)
07.03.09 at 10:17 pm
Do not waste people’s time by not creating an end to your story. Your half-hearted attempt to lure in readers was garbage. I could care less that you’re girlfriend fucked an entire team, I have already seen my fair share of gang bang porns. Stop being bummed about it dude, porn stars have got to come from somewhere right?
07.03.09 at 10:36 pm
He sold the guns and bought her a diamond ring. He begged her to forgive him for losing his mind, and almost losing the best thing to ever happen to him. He explained that in the parking lot, he realized that truly loving someone means letting them go. If his love could remain strong and pure through challenges, then they were meant to be together forever. She accepted his proposal. A prenuptial agreement was signed that assigned all liability to him alone, and left her everything in the event of a divorce. The starters were his groomsmen. The dress cost seventy five thousand dollars. The reception was held at the Four Seasons. Honeymoon in Bora Bora. They appeared together on the Opera Winfrey Show, in an episode titled, “Well-trained Husbands and their Wives”. Opera asked him if he ever wished for a more traditional marriage. He explained, “It’s not about whose being physically intimate with who, and who isn’t. It’s about commitment and responsibility, following through with what has already begun.”
07.04.09 at 2:59 am
fuck all stfu
07.04.09 at 7:49 am
I think he went in and had group sex with the lot of them in some weird attempt to understand her pain.
07.05.09 at 7:53 pm
we have all been there i assure you, and tom petty songs put it into perspective.
07.05.09 at 10:41 pm
also, potentially innovative way to tell a story, no matter how cliche people pretend it is based on re run re run ghast
07.05.09 at 10:45 pm
dude, your life is a hackneyed Kevin Smith movie. Nice job.
07.05.09 at 11:20 pm
copped out.
just like you copped out and drove home and jerked off.
07.06.09 at 12:35 am
gay ending
07.08.09 at 11:45 pm
Sorry about the rude ending to those interested in this story, it was done tongue-in-cheek. I actually like reading the negative comments; they are now-it-all, ignorant drivel. Laughable shit.
the reason I stopped this story is because the showdown at her place included her mother, and I really hold a respect for Ms. D, she’s been through a lot of hard times, so I thought I’d just end it after I made my initial point, which was love-sometimes-makes you want to murder. The showdown included a hockey player and violence and Ms. D regrettably in the middle. It was my wake up moment.
So anyway, V.D (real initials)-last I heard- stopped seeing the team, got a job at Hooters, and started sleeping with women. Some guy ended up infatuated with her and took her to live in Italy. This was 5+ years ago. Of course I did not sleep with her ever again after the team thing, Yes, this story is true. V.D. told me all of this, as it went on and on. There was another friend that she confided in and he gave me more details. If anyone has ever been in a Co-dependent relationship, they might understand. Sure, her vagina didn’t stink as bad as I made it out– it was more like catching a whiff of really, really bad breath– but the group sex…100%.
This was a story about Sex Addiction. Nymphomania is no joke.
07.10.09 at 8:27 pm
“Bawl”
07.19.09 at 5:04 am
wow….book, film maybe? this needs to be made.
08.02.09 at 4:56 pm
get better taste in women and stop watching “Chasing Amy” and “Girl Interrupted”. I’m sure you couldve found hotter less fucked up or more fucked chicks than this human sperm bank. Thanks for the read James Frye.
01.17.10 at 5:54 pm