ONE NIGHT STANDS

These are the smuttiest, dirtiest, ugliest most beautiful, wonderful, special kind of nights you will ever have as a ROCKSTAR. I’ve had one or two...hundred…and they’ve come in all different
Posted 3 years ago (13/04/11)
Genre: Comedy
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These are the smuttiest, dirtiest, ugliest most beautiful, wonderful, special kind of nights you will ever have as a ROCKSTAR.

I’ve had one or two...hundred…and they’ve come in all different shapes and sizes…

Mostly XL and XXL…

One of my more memorable ones took place in Las Vegas…

Before I begin this story, a little later in it I make an example of someone and want to lay down the foundation for that now.

Now I don’t want to call this hoochie a Gold Digger but man was this hoochie a Gold Digger. She was with us a week before this specific evening unfolded and up until this point she had never gone into her purse once to chip in for anything.

Not a meal, not a round of drinks, not a lap dance, not nothing.

She just let our group pay for her the entire trip thus far, which just didn’t sit right with me.

Anyway…

I’m in Vegas with My Sister, Betsy BossLady, Jimmy Plant, a couple married chicks, a pregnant chick and The Girl Who Hasn’t Paid For Shit All Week. We have a bunch of rooms set up for us through My Sister’s Boss, which are located at the MGM GRAND.

Jimmy Plant and I wake up hung-over and start the day off right by ordering a healthy breakfast via room service.

“Hi can I get two plates of chicken fingers please…no…no fries…just the chicken please, thanks.”

Delicious.

As we wait for our battered foul, we snap a few shaky face photos and laugh ourselves into hysteria from the shear comedy of the results. After we eat, we clean ourselves up, head outside and walk the main strip making sure to stop at every hotel in search of randoms that might be hanging out in the various lobbies.

In between two hotels we come across a stairwell that leads off the main street to an underground bar. We buy a couple extra large Heinekens then head back up to the surface again.

I felt like a ninja turtle.

Cowabunga.

We pass by Harley Davidson’s restaurant and I pull Jimmy Plant onto the patio, so we can grab some chicken fingers for lunch.

Delicious.

We polish off a few more beers and before we devour our breaded poultry, we start onto some Vodka. It’s gorgeous outside and we have no real motive to move anywhere other than there being no pussy on the patio…

However, there is an excess of fat, old, bearded men with gunts.

We settle up, grab a few more Heinekens for the walk and head back out onto the strip. I think, “Everywhere in North America should be like Vegas. Things just make sense out here.”

As we saunter past another patio and strike up a conversation with a rather good-looking girl…

For someone who looks so weathered…

I ask the weathered broad to recommend a few decent bars for us to hit that won’t be packed with tourist and for an ex-junkie, she's rather informative. She takes a picture of Jimmy Plant and I and leaves her number with me just before her boyfriend comes back from the bathroom.

He also looks fairly eroded.

I think,“Everyone around her is so haggard…I’m glad everywhere in North America isn’t like Vegas.”

We continue on foot to some bar called Diablo’s. Inside they have a giant wheel with drink specials written on it and every hour they get some drunken whour to give it a spin to decide what will be available for the next 60 minutes…

And God bless the tiny little thing that went to spin the wheel the moment Jimmy Plant and I stroll in.

TEQUILLA!

I order two chocolate milks and tell the bartender too hold the chocolate and substitute the milk with Patrón then high five Jimmy Plant.

The bartender looks at us like we’re losers.

I look at the bartender like he should be fixing us our drinks.

We suck back a few Vodkas; each one accompanied by a Tequila shot and I start to catch a buzz.Diablo’s gets a little boring so we start towards the pool area of The MGM where the girls are sunbathing. On the way we run into two bitches dressed as Indiana Jones, who ask us if we want to be interviewed for the new movie that is coming out, called “The Crystal Skull.”

Cool.

The interviewer asks us a bunch of questions about Indiana Jones and I answer everything as if they've asked me about STARWARS.

If you can't see the humor than you're daft.

The interviewer is smoking hot.

I think I was rubbing my dick throughout the entire interview but I can’t be sure.

If I wasn’t, I should have been.

We finish the interview by humming “The Imperial March” and when the cameras stop rolling, I strike up a conversation with The Interviewer.

I ask her what her name is and she tells me “it’s Angel.”

“Of course it is”

I ask “Angel” where she’s going to be partying later and she says that her and the film crew are going to a bar called Dueling Pianos inside New York, New York.

I make a mental note of this.

Jimmy Plant and I travel back to The MGM and hang poolside without too much conversation. Four disgustingly attractive hot broads walk by and turn me down before I even have the chance to ask “how much?” I drink a couple cucumber based Vodka drinks and then everyone heads back to their respective rooms to get ready to go out for the night.

I’m pretty drunk already and I’m not sure why this is but when you’re already drunk and getting ready to go out, it seems to be okay to show your buddy your balls, so when I get out of the shower, I towel off, step out into the room and yell at Jimmy Plant “hey look” and then show him my sac.

He high fives me...

We hit The MGM casino.

Jimmy Plant and I have a rule never to play slots but if either of us is ever caught looking at slot machine, then we have to pump some scratch into it.I walk by one machine, grab Jimmy Plant and say, “watch this shit”then plunge a buck into it and kick the lever on the side…

Cherry.

Cherry.

Cherry.

The machine spits out a $180.00 and as we laugh I coin the term “Foot Pull.” We circle around the winnings until a waitress comes over and then order a couple of drinks before we head over to the tables to start with the real gambling.

We play some Black Jack and I blow through a stack of cash faster than I can say, “hit me”so we relocate to the Let It Ride table, which is a slower paced game…

You still lose all your money of course…just not as quickly.

After several rounds of drinks and cards,Jimmy Plant and I become belligerent and although I can’t see any faces, I’m sure we’re pissing off everyone at the table but that’s half the fun. I’m betting like an asshole because that’s how I bet when I’m drinking but I seem to have Lady Luck on my side for the moment.

I get dealt two Kings, Let It Ride and jizz a little when the dealer flips over a third.

Three of a kind - Kings.

The dealer counts me out eleven hundred bucks.

Cha-Ching.

Even if we don’t pick up tonight, I’m going to buy some scandal for Jimmy Plant and I…

Right after I ditch Jimmy Plant…

I play a few more hands but I’m too smashed to make any decent bets so I just stand up and shout, “fuck it” and cash out. My Sister and her entourage show up and seeing as I’m drunk and rich, I tell them to make some reservations somewhere because I’m going to take everyone out for dinner.

I grab Jimmy Plant and tell The Girls we will be back in five.

He and I walk around for ten; until I see these six mint broads hovering around a slot machine. I approach them and say, “Hey hot broads by the slots, can I buy you guys some drinks?"

One girl replies, “We don't drink while we're working, but if you want to go ‘party’ in your room we can do that.”

Bloody whours.

I didn’t know that they actually whoured themselves out in the casino.

It’s absolutely repulsive…

How wonderfully easy it is to buy sex…

I convince a couple of the whours to have some drinks with me. There are so many things I want to ask these women but all that keeps coming out is “how much?”

I turn around to grab another round and standing behind me are two girls who don’t charge for sex watching Jimmy Plant and I chill with the prostitutes so I buy them something to drink. Eventually the whours lose our attention to the regular broads. Jimmy Plant and I exchange some small talk with them until My Sister shows up with The Girls.

Before she can yell at me I ask, "Where have you guys been?"

This impresses My Sister even less than my disappearing act.

I grab a phone number off one of the girls who gives it up for free and tell her I'll call her later.

But I won’t.

Our entourage heads to TAO, which is supposed to be cool because apparently celebrities eat there but that sort of thing doesn’t impress me.

All I want to know is if there are chicken fingers there…

Unless of course, Megan Fox is there, then I’m going to have to bring my tranquilizer gun, some form of jelly, a few feet of razor wire, three extra small condoms, two grapes and a camcorder…

Don’t ask.

It’s a fantasy, okay?

Please don’t take that away from me.

We arrive at Tao (sadly, there’s no Megan) and The Girl Who Hasn’t Paid For Shit All Week that’s been hanging around all week, not paying for shit, is acting fabulous. We get to our table and before my jackets off I order a bottle of booze and a round of shots.

Even greater a disappointment than Megan Fox not being there, there are no chicken fingers on the menu so I eat some sushi instead and suggest to the waitress (who is a guy) that they should add breaded tenders to the menu.

Dinner comes to a close and I pull the waitress (who is a guy) over and ask him to bring two separate bills.

One for The Girl Who Hasn’t Paid For Shit All Week and another for the rest of our group…

Jimmy Plant and I pay the group bill and I relish in watching The Girl Who Hasn’t Paid For Shit All Week rummage around in her purse trying to scrounge up enough money to cover her meal.

I don’t feel bad because it’s the first time she's come out of pocket for anything since we landed in Nevada.

The Girl Who Hasn’t Paid For Shit All Week goes from The Girl Who Hasn’t Paid For Shit All Week to The Girl Who Paid For Her Own Meal.

The entire lot of us is wasted. There is a nightclub portion to TAO, so I talk to the waitress (who is a guy) and ask him if he can get us into it and he says no problem.

I even leave him a fantastic tip to ensure our entry…

Which never happened.

We go upstairs and the doorman says, “you can come in, but you have to go downstairs and get your bracelets, first.” So we go to get them but the line up is huge and I have no patience when it comes to waiting for drinks so I say, “fuck it, Indiana Jones told me about this place called Dueling Pianos in New York, New York that we should go to...”

The entire group looks at me like I’m retarded…

Even Jimmy Plant and for fuck sakes he was there with me this afternoon.

We head over to the bar, which is right near Coyote Ugly and someone suggests going there, but I say “I’ve been with too many coyotes in my life…I don't want to see where they congregate.”

We walk into Dueling Pianos and it’s amazing.

There are two guys on a stage in the centre of the bar - one in front of a grand piano and the other in front of a monitor and keyboard – that are playing hits from the 60's, 70's and 80's, which everyone in the packed joint is singing along to ultimately creating an exhilarating atmosphere.

There is an area beside the pianists where you can write down your requests and toss them onto the piano in hopes that they’ll play it. I write down “Hey Jude” wrap it in a twenty and toss it at the piano player.

He grabs it; open's it up and smiles at me.

But he doesn’t play “Hey Jude.”

Prick.

I start hammering back shots and see Jimmy Plant on the dance floor but he’s not dancing. He’s pretty much banging and crashing into people trying not to collapse.

It’s hilarious.

I take him a shot but it doesn’t even register to him that I’m there so I just do it and ask if he’s okay. He doesn’t have to say a thing. I know what’s coming. He looks at me with one eye open and slurs, “I is to leave. I can't fucking see” and I watch him shuffle out of the bar.

Poor bastard.

It’s not even 11:00 PM yet.

I scan the dance floor and notice My Sister and The Girls dancing. Right past them I spy this dirty blonde local who’s undressing me with her (slothful) eye standing by the bar. I go over and say what’s up and before she answers, three guys turn around and start looking me up and down.

Probably undressing me with their eyes.

Fags.

I introduce myself to the foursome and Local Lucy is dripping with sexual tension while she’s gawking at me so I figure she’s not dating any of the dudes. I buy her a drink in front of the guys to see what will happen and just as I suspect, nothing jumps off.

I think, “Sorry guys. No blow jobs for you tonight. This one’s coming with me.”

Local Lucy asks me what my name is so I tell her it’s Jimmy Plant and order some shots. She keeps on with the usual introductory inquiries and I keep answering with my usual introductory dishonesty. The pianist starts to play “Hey Jude” so I head to the dance floor to mosh but he cuts off the song after the first few bars.

Prick.

I return to Local Lucy and as she begins to ask me another question, I point at my cheek and wait for her to kiss it. She leans in to peck me so I turn my face really quick and catch her on the mouth, which makes her blush.

Works every time.

We engage in a heavymake out session until My Sister and Betsy BossLady come over, pull me aside and tell me “stop making out with that girl…she looks like a slut.”

I say, “I know, isn’t that awesome?”and turn my back to them.

The pianist starts to play “Hey Jude” again, so I get ready to slam dance but as soon as I get to the dance floor he cuts it off after the first few bars again.

Prick.

I hit the bar again with Local Lucy. More shots, more drinks. The pianist announces last call and says that this will be the last song he plays for the night and guess what he starts playing…

Yep.

Hey Jude.

Everyone is wasted, singing along.

It’s fucking brilliant.

After the song, I sit on a speaker to wait for Local Lucy who says she’ll be right back…

My Sister and The Girls try to convince me not to nail Local Lucy but I’m having none of it. Minutes roll by and there’s no sign of Local Lucy, so I figure she’s not coming back but just as I step out the door she stops me, grabs my face and plants a kiss on me…

I hope she washed her hands.

My Sister and The Girls head back to The MGM and I tell Local Lucy that I want to hit an After Hours. She tells me she knows just the spot. We grab a taxi and are in it for what seems like hours, until we get dropped off in what seems to be a bad neighborhood.

And everything is, as it seems.

We step inside this place which looks similar to a biker bar you would find Beyond Thunderdome. It’s fairly baron except for the bartenders, a large K9 walking around sniffing crotches and a few shady looking people who appear ready to turn into vampires at any given moment.

I order a round of shots and a round of drinks then engage in another filthy make out session with Local Lucy. 6:00 AM rolls around and groups of people start showing up in five-minute intervals. Every time the door opens the daylight floods in and soaks my eyes, which makes me feel nauseous cause I’m so drunk and tired.

I go to the bathroom (which couldn’t have looked any more like a meat locker if they had hung meat in there) and decide it’s time to leave before something terrible unfolds and Dracula’s henchmen get upset.

Local Lucy and I head to the MGM GRAND, sit down at one of the bars in the casino and grab a couple drinks. I notice the counter top has a slot machine built right into it.

A desperate middle-aged man plops himself down beside Local Lucy, throws a $100.00 bill in front of her and asks, “Can I talk to you?”

She begins to chat with him so I grab the bill and feed it into the slot machine in front of me and instantly start losing his money. He offers to buy us a round of drinks and I figure if he’s chucking money around in $100.00 tosses, then it’s okay to order an expensive Scotch.

So I do.

They blather on about nothing while I slug my Scotch and no sooner than there is only ice left in the bottom of my glass, do I get bored. I’ve almost blown the entire $100.00 making bad gambling decisions because I’m wasted, so I just stand up and say, “Fuck it”and start to walk away.

Local Lucy says, “wait! Can I come back to your room with you?”

Slut.

“Of course you can”

We leave the desperate middle-aged man to his desperation and middle agededness and head to the lobby so that I can rent another room. I’m currently sharing one with My Sister and don’t want her to wake up to the sound of me pounding Local Lucy.

I have booze seeping out my pores, spilt all over my clothes and dancing on my every breath as I lean onto the front desk (not to be cool but for vertical support) and shout to the hostess “I already have a room here but I need another one for me and my lady friend.”

The hostess simply says “no.”

I feel like calling her out on her bitch like behavior but I don’t because she’s probably just in a bad mood from all that aggression that her testicles produce so I simply just ask, “Why not?”

She says, “We’re full.”

I say “yeah right…where do you expect me and my lady friend to go?”

She smugly says “there’s a HOOTERS across the street” so I snap back “I need a hotel room and a bed not some chicken wings and a beer.”

She tells me “it’s The HOOTERS Hotel.”

I was appalled.

I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t staying there all ready.

It’s 8:00 AM.

Local Lucy and I cross the street to The HOOTERS Hotel and with my head held high, I kick the front doors open and am pleased with what I see. There is a small casino (where the lobby should be) and all the dealers are wearing the orange booty shorts and white tank tops that all the whours that serve beer and wings at HOOTERS restaurants wear.

Instantly I give this place four out of five boners.

I get to the front desk and the HOOTERS hostess is much more pleasant and receptive to my drunken behavior and comic genius then the hostess at The MGM. The room cost something insanely low like $118.00 for the night but it doesn’t matter anyway because I’m charging it to a credit card that I don’t plan on paying back.

The HOOTERS hostess gives us a key and directs us to the elevator. Local Lucy and I step into our room and begin accosting one another immediately. She jerks me off and I finger her while we’re still in the main corridor. We shed our clothes while I suggest some oral and tell her to go first.

She blows me for a bit and it’s pretty terrible so I gloss over going down on her and toss her onto the bed and get ready to throw it in.

Local Lucy stops me and asks,“Do you have any condoms?”

I tell her “no” and start to put it in again but she stops me for the second time and says “n. I’m serious.”

Fuck.

Offended, I roll off the bed, stuff my extremely hard and miniature wiener back into my extremely tight and uncomfortable jeans, throw on my shirt, shoot her a dirty look and head down to the lobby, hoping to God they have a condom for sale…

Or at the very least, a sandwich bag I can borrow.

I have some drunken back and fourth with the store clerk who looked like a real scrappy broad…

But I could just be basing that on her cauliflower ear…

I purchase some condoms then start back upstairs. I start peeling of my clothes before I even reach the door and as soon as I step into the suite, I throw on a condom and I’m on Local Lucy like white on rice. I sex her hard and long from behind but she’s kind of terrible at doggy because she keeps lifting her head up and trying to roll onto her back, so I just push her flat onto her stomach, squeeze her legs together, crouch on my feet and hammer away at her with every intention of crippling her.

I try sliding my foot up to her mouth to get her to suck on my toe but she turns her face away.

I think, “What’s her problem?”

As I continue to sex this woman into ecstasy (with dry toes,) I decided to spread her checks apart so I can have a little glance at her ass.

Now, I don't want to say anything bad about anyone’s anus but hers was falling out.

Sloppy.

It looked like it was inside out.

The condom slides off inside her, which means I can actually feel her mitt and after a few bareback slams I skeet on her back. She’s bleeding but I don't care to ask if it's menstruation or penetration that’s the cause because I don't care in general. She goes to clean herself off and I grab a pillow and give one wipe - from back to front - to dry off my testicles and shaft then roll over and go to sleep.

Gross, I know. But don’t worry…I used her pillow.

I wake up but don’t know what time it is.

I pull Local Lucy in close for a second round and don’t even bother with the whole condom façade.

She puts up no objection.

Again, I sex her like an inmate, nut on her back and lie down to relax. She goes to wash off her clam again and says, "You didn't wear a condom?"

I say, "I know. Cool, eh?" then roll over and go back to sleep.

I wake up a third time, work her snapper like a speed bag, unprotected, and cum on her back. She doesn’t say anything about the condom or lack there of and goes to clean herself off. I take a look around the now sun drenched room and the double bed we’ve violated is covered in blood.

HOOTERS suite 111 looks like an official crime scene.

I get up and run a damp face cloth over my sac to take it from it’s current fire engine red hue back down to it’s healthy normal green and then tell Local Lucy that we should leave because I’ve got to meet up with My Sister and she says “okay” but instead of going out the door, she sits down on the bed like she has something serious to say.

My gut tells me to run but I might want to stick it in her again so I just sit down beside her and pretend to listen. She tells me she’d just broken up with her boyfriend and that blah, blah, blah, yakkity, yak, yakkity; she has never done anything like this before in her life.

Whatever, get to the point.

She continues to tell me that I’m a “landmark”in her life.

Wow…what a compliment.

I think to myself “you’re somewhat a skid-mark in mine” but don't say anything and just smile at her while I try to fart. She gives me her phone number and tells me to call her later. I ask if she has a girlfriend that I can hook up with Jimmy Plant and she says, “I know just the girl.”

Slut.

We get dressed, exit the hotel and I can’t help but wear a smile and pat myself on the back as I notice that she’s walking a little funny.

Could be because her detached rectum is chaffing her inner thighs but I decide it’s from the sex.

I stick her in a cab, head back to The MGM, snap some photos of Jimmy Plant while he's sleeping and wake him by roaring, “Get up you fag!”

I tell him about my night with Local Lucy and he's instantly sad.

Which in turn makes me instantly happy.

I take him over to The HOOTERS Hotel to show him the crime scene. Seeing as I checked in at 8:00 AM and it’s now only 12:30 PM I want to see if I can get some money back on the room…perhaps an hourly rate…

I plead my case to the HOOTERS hostess but no dice.

We walk back to the strip, wander into Caesars Palace and park our asses in front of a slot machine so we can get some free drinks.

I pull out another dollar, feed it into a machine and give it a kick…

7.

7.

7.

It spits out $80.00.

I ask Jimmy Plant if he wants to go grab some chicken fingers and do some shots with the spoils of The Foot Pull.

He says yes.

Chicken and drinks it is.
www.therockstarlife.ca

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