What a Coug.
I’m not much of a ladies man. Of late, my love live has been drier than ladies vagina’s at an Elton John concert.
But this wasn’t always the case. There was a time when I hadn’t yet discovered what insane, nasty and gold digging creatures nine out of every ten women are.
Ok, let me rephrase that.
There was a time when I hadn’t yet discovered what insane, nasty and gold digging creatures nine out of every ten women I have dated were.
The year was, umm… shit. I ran out of fingers and toes. Let’s call it the latish 80′s. I was maybe eight or nine years old, and the chicks dug me. I made all the boys jealous, because it was the school dance, and I was dancing with Stacey Spencer.
All the little boys wanted to dance with Stacey. Stacey had boobs! Which was unusual for a twelve year old back in the 80′s. Unlike today, little girls still looked like little girls, not skanky little prosti-tots. But I was doing the little kid shuffle with Stacey, to the eight minute plus ballad of Gun’s and Roses November Rain. A whole eight minutes with which I could devise how to get my hand on some sweet twelve year old bum.
Did I mention I was nine and she was twelve? What a COUGAR!
Representing grade school Coug's everywhere
I must have been something special back then. All the little skanky ho’s wanted to be with the 14 year olds. Nothing said cool like patchy molester mustaches, zits, and only two years until a drivers license.
I understand, Stacey. I like younger boys, too.
But that day, I got to be with Stacey. Until her 14 year old boyfriend found out I had in fact touched her boob, and he beat me up with my own fist.
To this day, if somebody tells me to stop hitting myself, I go ballistic.
Anyways, that’s how I touched boob at nine years old, then got beat up.
To wrap up this little story that went absolutey nowhere, boy are the pedophiles who find their way to this post via keywords going to be dissapointed. To fucking back Micheal Jackson, you disgusting perv!
