Thursday, January 11, 2007
FUN With Dr. Speed!
This shit really happens . . .
So, Mrs. Dr. Speed drags me to this new boutique store she heard about. I'm mildly drunk, as usual. We walk into into the joint, and an attractive woman starts pointing at me and saying my name. She looked familiar, but in my state of mind, I didn't really care. I just wanted to get into the joint and get the fuck back out again.
Because shopping with women is only slightly more fun than getting kicked in the balls by Rosie 'O Donnell.
So, I'm walking in, and I'm trying to remember where I saw her sexy looking ass before, when she runs over to me and throws herself into my arms. I'm not shocked, but I still don't know who the fuck this curvy, Tyra Banks lookin' motherfucker is. I return the hug because, hell, her tits felt pretty good crushed against my chest. "Don't you remember me, Brian?", she cooed into my ear. I told the truth, "The face looks familiar, but I'm drawing a blank on the name." She told me her name. Turns out it was my Real Estate agent that had sold me my house.
Now, Mrs. Dr. Speed despises her because she always felt that my Real Estate agent dressed too slutty when we were looking at houses. I felt like she had worked damn hard for that body, and she should damn well show it off if she wanted too. Plus, she has these real long legs and perfect shaped tits with the bomb nipples. Anyway, back to the story. I have Tyra Banks Clone in my arms, and I turn around to look at Mrs. Dr. Speed, and she has this super-shitty look on her face. So, I disengaged myself, and Tyra Banks Clone goes over and gives Mrs. Dr. Speed a half-hug, you know, the kind that is not even attempted to be genuine.
A little back story here - When i was looking to buy my home, I spent a lot of time with Tyra Banks Clone, but it was strictly business. Despite her sending unmistakable signals, I was determined not to mix business with pleasure. I was focused on the home buying experience, and nothing was allowed to distract me, even if that nothing met me once in a braless spaghetti strap and daisy dukes. Out of all the opportunities, that was the one time I almost gave in. Looking back, I probably should have fucked her that day. She bent over to put the key in the lock, giving me a great view of her long, long, legs, and her shapely ass, while her 36 D's bobbled gently, begging for my lips. She wiggled her hips seductively, acting like she was having trouble with the lock. Goddamn, she was fine. I wanted to throw her on the carpet and rut like a pig in heat. But I didn't. Do not mix business and pleasure.
Back to present day - I hadn't seen her in a long time, a few years, at least. I ran into her at a gas station about 4 years ago, and we talked for a long time, until the camel jockey came out and started shouting at us to leave the gas station. "YOU BUY GAS! YOU PUMP GAS! YOU LEAVE!"
She had told me that she was single again (Divorced husband number 2 or 3, I don't remember), and I asked her if we could fuck. She wanted to know if I was still married. I told her yeah. She said, "No." We went our separate ways.
So, we are in this boutique store, now that I know Tyra Banks Clone's name, all the memories come flooding back. Mrs. Dr. Speed is suddenly no longer interested in shopping. And I'm eyeballing Tyra Banks Clone to see if everything is still the way I remember it. Yep. All the right curves, in all the right places. Tyra Banks Clone is trying to make small talk while she's looking at my cock in my pants, and I decide to ask for that shit that Mrs. Dr. Speed dragged me in the fucking store for, since we were there. Tyra Banks Clone takes us around the store, still talking, she still does real estate, she's managing the store for a friend, blah, blah, blah; the whole time, Mrs. Dr. Speed looks like a really angry cat. Hissing, fangs bared, ears flattened back, ready to rumble.
The store didn't have the shit Mrs. Dr. Speed wanted, so I turn my drunk ass around while Tyra Banks Clone is still talking and started heading for the exit. "Wait, wait, Brian!" , Tyra Banks Clone is shouting. I turn around, and she presses her card into my hand. "Call me." , she breathes at me. I'm like, "Sure." We head for the exit, and the next thing I know, Mrs. Dr. Speed is right next to me, and she literally snatches the card out of my hand with such force, that I got friction burns. She crumples the card up and puts it in her pocket. We go out to the Town Car, and Mrs. Dr. Speed is all like, "Bitch."
I'm laughing, because I'm drunk and that shit is funny, and she's all like, "DON'T BE LAUGHING!"
And that made me laugh even harder. Did she really think that snatching Tyra Banks Clone's business card could keep me from contacting her if I wanted to? Shit. An internet search of realtors in my area gave up her name and contact info in .08 seconds.
No, I haven't called her. Yet. But yeah, I do have some stories about looking for homes that should be on this blog.
Dr. Speed
So, Mrs. Dr. Speed drags me to this new boutique store she heard about. I'm mildly drunk, as usual. We walk into into the joint, and an attractive woman starts pointing at me and saying my name. She looked familiar, but in my state of mind, I didn't really care. I just wanted to get into the joint and get the fuck back out again.
Because shopping with women is only slightly more fun than getting kicked in the balls by Rosie 'O Donnell.
So, I'm walking in, and I'm trying to remember where I saw her sexy looking ass before, when she runs over to me and throws herself into my arms. I'm not shocked, but I still don't know who the fuck this curvy, Tyra Banks lookin' motherfucker is. I return the hug because, hell, her tits felt pretty good crushed against my chest. "Don't you remember me, Brian?", she cooed into my ear. I told the truth, "The face looks familiar, but I'm drawing a blank on the name." She told me her name. Turns out it was my Real Estate agent that had sold me my house.
Now, Mrs. Dr. Speed despises her because she always felt that my Real Estate agent dressed too slutty when we were looking at houses. I felt like she had worked damn hard for that body, and she should damn well show it off if she wanted too. Plus, she has these real long legs and perfect shaped tits with the bomb nipples. Anyway, back to the story. I have Tyra Banks Clone in my arms, and I turn around to look at Mrs. Dr. Speed, and she has this super-shitty look on her face. So, I disengaged myself, and Tyra Banks Clone goes over and gives Mrs. Dr. Speed a half-hug, you know, the kind that is not even attempted to be genuine.
A little back story here - When i was looking to buy my home, I spent a lot of time with Tyra Banks Clone, but it was strictly business. Despite her sending unmistakable signals, I was determined not to mix business with pleasure. I was focused on the home buying experience, and nothing was allowed to distract me, even if that nothing met me once in a braless spaghetti strap and daisy dukes. Out of all the opportunities, that was the one time I almost gave in. Looking back, I probably should have fucked her that day. She bent over to put the key in the lock, giving me a great view of her long, long, legs, and her shapely ass, while her 36 D's bobbled gently, begging for my lips. She wiggled her hips seductively, acting like she was having trouble with the lock. Goddamn, she was fine. I wanted to throw her on the carpet and rut like a pig in heat. But I didn't. Do not mix business and pleasure.
Back to present day - I hadn't seen her in a long time, a few years, at least. I ran into her at a gas station about 4 years ago, and we talked for a long time, until the camel jockey came out and started shouting at us to leave the gas station. "YOU BUY GAS! YOU PUMP GAS! YOU LEAVE!"
She had told me that she was single again (Divorced husband number 2 or 3, I don't remember), and I asked her if we could fuck. She wanted to know if I was still married. I told her yeah. She said, "No." We went our separate ways.
So, we are in this boutique store, now that I know Tyra Banks Clone's name, all the memories come flooding back. Mrs. Dr. Speed is suddenly no longer interested in shopping. And I'm eyeballing Tyra Banks Clone to see if everything is still the way I remember it. Yep. All the right curves, in all the right places. Tyra Banks Clone is trying to make small talk while she's looking at my cock in my pants, and I decide to ask for that shit that Mrs. Dr. Speed dragged me in the fucking store for, since we were there. Tyra Banks Clone takes us around the store, still talking, she still does real estate, she's managing the store for a friend, blah, blah, blah; the whole time, Mrs. Dr. Speed looks like a really angry cat. Hissing, fangs bared, ears flattened back, ready to rumble.
The store didn't have the shit Mrs. Dr. Speed wanted, so I turn my drunk ass around while Tyra Banks Clone is still talking and started heading for the exit. "Wait, wait, Brian!" , Tyra Banks Clone is shouting. I turn around, and she presses her card into my hand. "Call me." , she breathes at me. I'm like, "Sure." We head for the exit, and the next thing I know, Mrs. Dr. Speed is right next to me, and she literally snatches the card out of my hand with such force, that I got friction burns. She crumples the card up and puts it in her pocket. We go out to the Town Car, and Mrs. Dr. Speed is all like, "Bitch."
I'm laughing, because I'm drunk and that shit is funny, and she's all like, "DON'T BE LAUGHING!"
And that made me laugh even harder. Did she really think that snatching Tyra Banks Clone's business card could keep me from contacting her if I wanted to? Shit. An internet search of realtors in my area gave up her name and contact info in .08 seconds.
No, I haven't called her. Yet. But yeah, I do have some stories about looking for homes that should be on this blog.
Dr. Speed
// posted by The Wonderfulness Of Dr. Speed @ 10:24 PM 
