And so, I begin:

	My friend Sterling thought that it would be a great show of text-messaging prowess if he could set me up with Tons of Fun. Now, when I say Tons of Fun I mean the Fatty and the literal meaning of "set up" is, in this instance, to get the fatty to give me head. Nothing more and nothing less. So, using no more than his fingers, wits and my cellphone he set on a warpath to convince the fatty to blow me -- literally. So, Sterling and I played magic as Sterling, being the multi-tasker he is, began his most intensive of convincing, trying to make sure I would have tons of fun (Snap nigga! Snap! And, quite frankly, I apologize for the amount of fatty references slipped into the post but it just makes writing this post <em>tons of fun</em> Snap!) later that night. Eventually Vincent called us inviting the entire cavalcade (of three, myself, Sterling and Darius) to the Nugget's two dollar breakfast. I quickly agreed, hung up and continued to play Sterling as he used the same phrases over and over to try to convince the fatty that giving me a Blow Job was the closest she was ever going to get to God or some such. Finally Vincent got off work and so we all headed (with me driving so that Sterling could conceal his nefarious texts from the supposed progenitor) to the nugget and met Sarah, Ann and Vincent. Eventually the rest of the group we were meeting up with (a couple of Vincent's co-workers) showed up and off we went to Two Dollar Breakfast! Throughout I handed Sterling the cellular phone and he texted thou-who-shall-remain-nameless with classic lines such as "yea i am really horny," "Im really horny right now. I want head. You down?" (as if that wasn't ironic) and "Becuase i am really horny." Classics. Now, I'm getting off the topic of breakfast: it was fun. I liked the people there. However, this post is not about what I consider to be "fun" or what I enjoy or even about what happened before tons of fun was had.
So, Sterling coerced the fatty to sneak out. Unfortunately her sister gained wind of this prospect and jumped upon it like a hyena. So, then the plan changed: I was to pick up The Fatty, her sister Juliana and Juliana's friend. However, during breakfast, a most classic of texts was sent to my most venerable self by the most overweight of women: "I know and you are seriously making me horny too. So just cool it a little". This was prompted by one of Sterling's "yea i am really horny" comments. Honestly. So, I passed the cellphone around with the most suggestive of messages and a good laugh was had by all. To continue: the night winded down and myself, Darius and Sterling all headed back to Darius' house. And then the awaited text message was sent: "come pick me up" or some such. And so I left Sterling and Darius in a flurry of mock salutes, thank you's and goodbyes. And so a whale of a tale begins:
	I passed the fatty when I was driving to the "corner" and had to redouble multiple times. And then I had to wait another few minutes for Juliana and her friend. Once they got in I was then sent, yet again, on a mission to pick up their "friend" Ivan or some such. This is the kid who, as seen in today's (May 20th) paper rolled his Toyota Corolla coming down from Virginia City and sent two kids with "serious injuries" via careflight to the hospital. I, sadly, didn't know this at the time. I told him that no, he  couldn't "fucking smoke in my car" and drove this trio to Jack in the Box, then told Juliana that I wasn't going to "spend another fucking hour waiting in the drive through" and dropped them off at Mill's park. 
	Tons of Fun and myself then headed up to timberline and after not being able to find an adequate spot to park I finally just said fuck it and parked just in the entrance of the clearing where the hay bails used to be.  
	This is when I learned that Tons of Fun had never been kissed before.
Nor done or had done to her many of the most horrible and atrocious acts that I am going to describe.
And so it begins:
	One should mind the thought that I find myself going through various and different stages as time marches on. At first I was either indifferent or just mildly something. Not sure what that something was. Then the story became humorous as I retold it time and time again. And then slowly, as I realized that any mention of "lesson" or anything sexual for that matter triggered feelings of disgust and recoil. Fortunately, for the time being I have forgotten many if not most of these trigger words and phrases. However, when one is mentioned, it will (as the very name of it suggests) trigger the feelings once again. Again, one should mind the fact that this post is in two different chunks (as of now,) this paragraph and beyond starting the second chunk, written a day after the first. I digress: 
	So, I asked her what she was afraid of, if she was anxious, etc. trying to ascertain her state of mind. I also added the good old I-can't-be-charged-with-anything disclaimer of "if you want me to stop just tell me so" and so on. Finally I figured fuck it and leaned over and kissed her. Now, normally one doesn't dive DIRECTLY into French-kissing. However, the fatty didn't know this and tried to open her mouth as wide as physically possible.
	Let me tell you:
	I think she was trying to eat my face. I think that she honestly thought that she could unhinge her jaw like a snake and swallow my entire god damned head. So, at this point, I decided that I wasn't going to kiss her any more. Because I didn't want her to eat me. Whole. So, I took off my shirt and told her that it was "much easier" if she stripped down too.
	And so after a few minutes I was able to get her to take her bra and panties off (I being unsuccessful at using my tried and true two finger unclasping technique) and started to "play" with her "love button". After maybe three minutes of this I told her that she could always "return the favor". After about another 10 to 15 minutes she actually gathered up the courage to touch the cranny ax. After 10-15 more minutes she finally gathered the courage to try to get it out of the secret door, if you will.
Unfortunately she did not how to effectively do this and so I, being the kind of man who doesn't want a sprained love-cylinder, did it for her. After a few more minutes of that most boring of handjobs (if one even dares to call it that) I told her that she could "always use [her] mouth." I know. I'm a very horrible person. However, I find that it helps if one embraces the evil. It makes one feel much better. Away from digression:
	So, after <em>another</em> twenty minutes she finally gained the courage to pressure-wash the quiver bone. And then the horrible things began: after she finally got into pressure-washing I started fucking her face. Why? Because what she was doing was, quite frankly, excruciatingly boring and not in any way shape or form worth more than a handful of human feces.. So, I face fucked her. At first I just humped her head. Then I put my hand on the back of her head and started moving it (her head) up and down. She gagged. I continued to do this. 
	I then continued the holding-her-head and face fucked at the same time.
	I then just face-fucked her. She gagged. I thought the gagging was just awesome.
	So this debauchery continued for awhile. And then her sister called, complaining of being cold  and wanting to be picked up from Seeliger. I was being "blown" if one wants to actually call what the fatty was doing a "blowjob" while talking to Juliana, the Fatty's sister. It was, sadly, more like a continuation of the face-fucking that I so adored. She asked where we were and what we were doing, I said a few minutes outside of Carson driving around. I said I'd be ready to get them at 4:30. She then complained and bartered it down to 4:15. I continued to face-fuck the fatty.
	Then her friend (the one I had dropped off at Mills Park also) called. I continued to face-fuck the fatty while talking to the sister (Juliana's) friend. The fatty then had to talk on the phone so I continued to merrily create the most pleasure that was had from that experience using a mere (more experienced) hand. After a few more minutes of the fatty "blowing" me (if one feels confident enough to call what happened "blowing", which I am not) I began to seriously contemplate saying "Hey, I'll be right back," walking outside and actually <em>"enjoying"</em> myself (if you will) over the dirt and sagebrush. It would have been so much easier.
	Around 4:00 AM we had to call it a night so I dressed and drove to pick up the girls. I then dropped the whole cavalcade off at the Fatty's house and then went home.
	I got home around 5:00, walking bowlegged the entire way to my door. Why? Because blue balls are so incredibly painful! I then realized I had forgotten my cellphone in the car. However, I wasn't going to bow-leggedly walk all the way back to my car just for that.
	I went inside and cleared up most of the blue-balls problem in a mere 2-3 seconds (the difference between an experienced user and inexperienced is so incredible. Which is, in fact, a lesson learned the hard way. I shall expand* upon shortly, after the story is through.)
	Sterling then came to my house (after calling my cell six consecutive times, my cell still being in the car) at about 9 and woke me up. I then explained what had happened and we just talked for about twenty minutes. He then went back to his house and I began the chore of steam-cleaning my car while I still had access to the most newly of beloved cleaning tools..
	On May 21 (at Midnight) the Fatty started messaging me. She said "I am sorry..." I, however, did not realize that she had messaged me until the second message, "I think you are going to get sick". At this point (I was in the car with Sara, Darius, Vincent and Ann,) I was freaking out. So, I asked for clarification. However, the response was took over five minutes and in that time frame I was quite angry and fearful, thinking I might have gotten Mono, the Mumps or some other kind of communicable disease.
	I was not a happy camper.
	And then the response came back, "I was recovering from a cold, i am worried youll catch it". I was relieved. I wasn't going to get the HIV.  

As a side note, both Sterling and myself are going to Hell. It is, sadly, not negotiable. 

*So, I learned a very painful lesson: the allegory about "I'd rather have one dirty girl from Vegas than 100 virgins any day" is true.
	So god damned true. And never again shall I try to get with anything inexperienced unless it is hot, hott or very hot. Or very hott. Or hawt for that matter. Doing otherwise is not worth it. By a supremely obscene degree. And, as I've learned from further conversations with my friends, a blowjob just isn't worth it if the girl doesn't know what she's doing.
	And that was the lesson that Sterling so mercilessly initiated. But it was learned. Painfully. I will not thank Sterling for what he did. I will not be angered either. For, I learned.