NO I'm NOT A FUCKING PROSTITUTE

So in order for this story to make any sense, i have to start from the beginning of how I got myself into this little predicament. Like any other self respecting female, if someone is boring, I will blow them as a consolation prize and move on to the next guy. Somehow I ended up on a date with this lame little douche bag with a squ-oval shaped head. (Squ-oval is a squarish oval btw). He was 19, and was one of those guys that thinks bragging to me about all the hot chicks he's supposedly had sex with is gonna make me suddenly cream my magic panties and jump all over his dick like a midget on a trampoline. Really...it's Bradenton Florida. There's maybe 10 hot chicks in this whole town, and I highly doubt you've fucked any of them because you look like a character from a Disney Pixar film. Anyways, moving on.

On top of Squ-Oval's lame "I've fucked hot bitches" stories, he was pretty fucking boring. I almost instantly knew I wasn't going to donate my vagina to this kid. There was a lot of silence and boredom and me chugging 2 pitchers of beer at Winghouse in order to make him a little more interesting. Consequently, I ended up on a tiny adventure. I texted this guy who was hot and didn't have the personality of a corpse, and said "Hey, come get me." Well he lived in Venice, so I knew it was going to take him a minute to drive up, but I simply couldn't stand another minute with Squ-Oval.  I asked Squ-Oval to drop me off at Hess. He agreed. I felt the need after 2 pitchers of beer to see if Squ-Oval's penis was the same shape as his head, so I unzipped his pants. I blew him because he had a decent penis and hey, I'm a good sport. He left me at Hess.

After sitting at this Hess station for approximately 20 minutes realizing there were no hot guys getting gas that day, I decided to take a little walk down 41. My mistake. I walked up to the Citgo and a Larry the Cable Guy look-a-like asked me if I needed a ride. Now, being that I was drunk and...oh I forgot to mention about 7 painkillers deep, I said yeah, just drop me off at Mi Casa on University. So we started to walk out to his car. As he was eye-fucking me, I realized something. This dude thought I was a hooker. I needed to step up and assure him I was not.

He grabbed me by the hand and walked me around the back of the Citgo. I definately thought I was going to be raped then murdered,so I ripped his hand off me and said "I'm not a hooker dude." He said "Ok. Are you a cop then? I told him no. Upon saying this, he looked at me and with a country accent said "How big are your nipples?" UMMMMM...I really needed to leave. I looked at Larry the Cable Guy and in my most serious voice ever, I said "You are a fat fucking creeper and even if I was a hooker, I wouldn't fuck you...please go die somewhere." After making my statement and him responding with "You little cunt," I hauled ass. I mean, literally full on sprinted as far away from this fucking Citgo station as humanly possible. I called my Venice man who thankfully was like a block away.

I ended up having amazing sex on the beach that night with Venice boy which made up for my crappy ass day...and seriously ya'll, I'm not a fucking prostitute.