Brown Man VS Catwoman

It should be known that LCG resorted to blackmail (with pictures of my foot long penis) to elicit my contribution to this dating blog. She hits below the belt, that one. (Or in my case, way below the belt.)

That being said, here is one of the many dating chronicles from this brown man…

I grew up with five sisters. So, needless to say, I had girls figured out by the time high school was through. Though, sadly, that didn’t mean I got mad action. At least not in high school. By the time I hit college though, I quickly recognized the advantages I had over my fellow man in the dating department. With a great sense of humor and a thorough understanding of the female psyche, I had no problem hooking up. In no time at all, I had more than enough sexual experiences to make up for the ones I didn’t have in high school. What I didn’t learn from my pubescent years is that sex makes some girls psycho, particularly the crazy sexy freaky ones, and especially if you’re good at it. Since I was a late bloomer, I didn’t learn until a bit later in the game this simple equation: Downright freaky = psycho. Now, I don’t know if there is a dormant “I’m going to slash your tires and throw a brick through your car window” stalker gene in the chromosomes of some women. But if there is, it’s somehow sexually triggered. I know that much, thanks to Tara.

I met Tara in an acting class. A little pale, but absolutely gorgeous. She had these big, heaving…crystal blue eyes that were very captivating and she was so full of energy. Sexual energy. I remember that she loved cats and she always had a curious Eau D’feline smell about her. Since she was extremely hot, I figured it was something I was willing to ignore my olfactory red flag. After a few days we’d had our first date and I had given her a ride home. Before the car even came to a complete stop, we were going at in the driveway.

As we were making out, I noticed that she was a little more forceful and assertive than most girls as she began nibbling at my lips and biting my neck. At first I thought it was a little weird, but I started to really get into it. In a flash she pounced on me and had her hands under my shirt and was unbuckling my belt. The kissing and petting got heavier and we desperately needed a change of venue. Still lip-locked and undressing we crashed inside the house as she guided me towards her bedroom. From the few glances I stole down the dark hallway to her room, the house seemed like any normal place of residence, only with the cat smell a little more poignant than before. (I was really too busy unhooking her bra and stepping out of my jeans to notice much else.) Before I knew it she threw me on the bed and sprang on top of me kissing me harder and tracing her nails down the ridges of my six-pack. I could take no more. In one swift motion, I had switched positions and was on top of her. Her hands were now on my back and her scratches became deeper and more serious as she moaned. I felt like a damn scratching post, but I was still too enthralled to care. When her clawing hands reached my sides I winced at the initial onset of sharp pain. She flashed a mischievous grin upon my reaction and seemed to become even more excited.

Things were going relatively well, until she started writhing around and purring. Yep. She started purring. To make matters worse, we’d apparently left the door open and were performing for an entire feline audience. Okay, now this is fucking weird. For some reason I couldn’t stop what I was doing, it just didn’t feel right. But the fact of the matter was that I was getting jacked up by wolverine, my back was really starting to burn, and six pairs of eyes were watching my every move. Now I like an occasional back scratching at the peak of arousal just as much as the next guy, but there is no earthly reason to leave a man’s back looking like he’d just been slave whipped. I could have sworn I was bleeding and more cats kept making their way into the room. A younger cat slyly leapt on the corner of the bed and stared right into my eyes while another laid right next to Tara and started to lick himself. She didn’t even flinch. That’s enough! Cat porn is where I totally draw the line.

Without a word, I dismounted, hurriedly gathered my clothes, and ran out of the room trying not to make eye contact with any animals for fear of being ambushed. I paused in the living room long enough to put my jeans on, and noticed a few more cats lying around disinterested in my presence (I must not have been the first). I felt like I was in a freakish Stephen King movie or something. As I bolted out of the kitchen and past the garage I spotted 8 or 9 litter boxes and countless bags of cat food. That explains the Eau D’feline! I practically dove in my car head first and peeled out like I was being chased by a lion. I had to lean forward, hunching over the steering wheel the whole way home to keep the chair from exacerbating my fresh wounds.

The next day I dropped my drama class. And that’s how my acting career came to a back lacerating end.

- Brown Man