Sunday, July 06, 2003
Ew, I was a total skank last night. I wasn't even good-skank! I was bad-skank. True, I could have been bad-skank, but luckily that was prevented.
For those of you not in the know, I shall make a few entries into the ever expanding volume of Dawei's Dick-tionary.
good-skank: you meet someone, you get along well, and then you go home and ride each other like a thrashing motherfuckin' bronco. At the end of the session, you pretend to give a shit and take each others' numbers, when you both know that you will never see each other again, other than possibly some awkward light banter if you bump into each other while scouting for your next trick.
bad-skank: you see someone. He sees you. You exchange the Look of Homosexual Acknowledgement. He breaks away from the crowd, and you follow him into the alley/bathroom/car/deserted office/empty construction site (cheers, Cazzles). Not a word is spoken, and you get down to some serious grunt work. Or better yet, you merely get on your knees, and get cum blasted over your face while getting nothing in return. You sit in the warm sticky remnants of the encounter, while he goes back to his live-in boyfriend for vodka-based cocktails and arms-above-head dancing to Britney and 80s pop tunes. An HIV test is recommended, if this path is experienced.
Bad-skank (without the bold and italics-y goodness), however, is just a mixture between the two. You don't do enough to wake up with anonymous cum caked in your hair, or land you in embarrassing situations where stains on your clothes glow under the lights in clubs in a suspicious sprayed pattern, but you do enough to make yourself feel like a bit of a whore for at least a few hours. Normally when I'm out in gay clubs, I don't mind a bit of skankiness. I like flirting for free drinks, and shaking my ass on the dancefloor with some friends, cockteasing the shit out of random homos. However, when bits of my body rub up against on some anonymous bare dick, I feel like I've crossed the line into bad-skank, and I'm only a lick of the lips and a glance of meaningful eye-contact away from going into full bad-skank mode.
So I was in this club, having a bit of a boogie with Hot (Straight) Canadian Dude (who isn't so hot anymore. Bad haircut. I'm sure he'll be back amongst it in a couple of weeks. And his body is still bangin', after all), when all of a sudden I feel this boner being pushed into my arse-cheek. Seeing this isn't very unusual, I don't think much of it, and get into the groove of it. Then he starts with the more... forceful grinding, grabbing my pelvis and squashing his dick into my arse. I should point out by this stage I had had like, six drinks (yes, it only takes six! Shut up!) including a wicked Lychini so I'm pretty shitfaced. Anyway, his hands start wandering under my shirt and into my pants, and he sucked on my ear. I figure if he's going to jerk me off, the least I can do is feel him up a bit. So I reach around behind me and stick my hand down his pants and... boner city. Yeah. Not my finest four and a half minutes.
Anyway, you'll all be glad that I snapped out of it. Of course it took a glance in a fortunately placed mirror to do so, but I snapped out of it nonetheless. The guy was HIDEOUS. I had a suspicion that he wasn't all that hot, but damn. I don't know which I'm more upset at: the fact that I felt this guy's dick, and got his pre-cum all over my hands, or the fact that he felt confident enough to whip it out and feel me up without any contact beforehand, be it vocal, eye, or miscellaneous. Am I THAT unthreatening and of the anti-hot?!?
I guess I should have picked up on the signs. The top of his head only came up to my shoulders, and I hate shorter men. Plus, he not only had short stubbly pube regrowth from shaving his groin, but he also had them on his stomach and arms!! Ewww! The worst part though? He was wearing a black pleather vest with studs along the sides! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Luckily for me, I hauled ass off the stage and found Hot (Straight) Canadian Dude propping up the bar. He covered me in a corner to help me hide (mmm 6'1+ men), and then when the coast was clear, we ran off to the casino to play blackjack for a couple of hours.
Actually, come to think of it, it was a pretty good night! And random cock dude didn't squeal and run away when he felt up my stomach, so I guess that's a compliment. Right? Right?!