That time a guy fucked my wife in the parking lot of a Trader Joe's
That time a guy fucked my wife in the parking lot of a Trader Joe's was the day I died inside.
So there I was
in my room, playing Portal, getting all fucking nauseated at all the blatant violations of physics. And it occurred to me: if I were an overweight fifteen-year-old girl, Portal (the game) would be my alcoholic stepfather, plugging me in every available hole while I prayed for a dissociative personality split. Eventually, I'd develop that elusive second personality, who would be a self-assured version of myself who could blow the walls off brick buildings simply through the power of halitosis velocity. I would have nappy hair, mottled skin, and would talk up my breasts despite their being far less than aggressive. Both personalities would look like this. But the second one would think she was also a vampire.
And sometimes, at night, I'd think: don't I deserve love too, God? And God would answer: no. And then he'd strap on a giant purple dildo and penetrate my every orifice. I would be Jesus's cum dumpster.
Somewhere along the line, my character got shot by a turret and died, and I had to think about other things, such as whether I would ever return Portal to the video store. Those assholes already wanted $150 for it. That is too much.
And entirely by coincidence
My wife was at Trader Joe's, picking up some vegan lasagna. "Vegan lasagna" is the process by which you take seventy carrots, put them in a pile, and declare it lasagna.
I don't know what happened then, but apparently there was this guy there, buying carrots himself, and he was all like, "Say, I see you have a pile of seventy carrots."
And she rejoined, "Yes. My carrots are seventy."
And his rejoinder was "I have only sixty-eight carrots. May I have a carrot of yours?"
Then their eyes met, and she realized she'd had a moment, and the only possible course of action was to walk out into the parking lot, climb into the back seat of his Camaro, yank down her "vintage" rayon jean shorts, and take a pounding.
A reasonable course of action, I suppose. I assume that he pounded her in a fashion similar to a meat tenderizer meeting a thinly-sliced piece of deli meat. Her feet were all tangled in that little handle that holds your drycleaning, and his ass was pressed against the half-lowered passenger-side window, and he was all like "Whose pussy is this?" and she was all rejoinding, "It's your pussy, guy in Trader Joe's! It's your pussy!"
I fell into the weird lava for the fifth time, tired of GLaDOS's soothing, passive-aggressive, irriating voice, and ejected Portal and switched over to Dynasty Warriors 6. Diao Chan was screaming "I'm more than just a pretty face" seven thousand times.
List of times Diao Chan screamed "I'm more than just a pretty face"
Back at the ranch
The guy from Trader Joe's was zipping up his tight jeans and re-buttoning his leather jacket, and he says to my wife, "Hey, can I get your phone number?"
Then she had second thoughts about the sex, and she was like "Hey, can we undo that?"
And he looked confused and said "How so?"
Being mathematically inclined, she suggested that he pump her full of cock again, but every time he would be inclined to thrust in, he pull out, and every time he would be inclined to pull out, he thrust in.
And so it was that he retraced his steps, like Hansel and Gretel puking up gummy worms onto the forest floor.
At this point
I had become discontent with Dynasty Warriors 6 and had taken to smoking copious quantities of marijuana.
And that is the story of that time a guy fucked my wife in the parking lot of a Trader Joe's, and then she control-Z'ed herself to a second shattering orgasm.