FR: A Cold, A Mole, and An Im-PerfectRun

[Guest]

[color=#0000ff]I don't post a lot of FRs/LRs, it's not my style. But, this doesn't mean that I don't have a shit ton of them lying around. Fact is that I've written down virtually every important interaction I've ever had with women. Some are very comical, some are very meaningful, some are crazy...all have taught me something.

I've decided to open up the flood gates and post some of my more favorite FRs/LRs for all to read. My goal is to create a platform from which we can all learn about ourselves, to create a platform from which you can really begin to understand the complex nature of Bull Run, and lastly, but not least, to entertain.

These are my stories, this is my life. Enjoy, I know I have...[/color]

[color=#ff0000]This FR is exactly one year old and it covers the events of the aftermath of last year's PerfectRun. [/color]

[b]I Finally Found Something That HB Giggles Doesn’t Think Is Funny[/b]

Two things actually.

I met HB Giggles about 2 weeks ago on a Thursday. I met her at a bar and before the night was over she was snobbing my knob in the parking lot. Sometimes I’m just that good. HB Giggles earned her nickname for obvious reasons…she laughs at everything. Every single joke is funny to her, even if its not. And, I almost lost her due to one of my crazy bitches in the harem calling and texting every single chick in my phone to lay claim to me…anyway, that’s the subject for a different story.

So, it’s a Saturday night, I’ve got the beginnings of a cold (scratchy throat, runny nose, rough voice), and I’m out with a couple wings: Picture Perfect and Smirks. So, this pick up mission was playfully labeled ‘Perfect Run.’ The goal? To meet a chick, bed her, and stay at her place that night. I didn’t achieve the objective because I bedded a chick that I had already met and didn’t stay the entire night with her. So, I failed…sort of, I mean I still got laid. How could one be labeled a failure if they got pussy?

We start at an Uptown bar. The night was pretty lame, at least the part of the night that I was there was lame. I know Picture Perfect has an awesome story about the chick he pulled. Like I said, the night was relatively lame until I get a text from HB Giggles: “Guess who’s in town early? I’m in Addison.” My response? “I’ll be there in 20.” I would normally never do this, but I can sense a fuck close so I’m off. And my Thanksgiving pick up missions have been relatively unsuccessful. Sure, I nailed a chick Friday night/Saturday morning and bedded a hot latina Tuesday night, but Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday night (so far) have been total busts. I can’t salvage the former two, but I can still save this night. In order to do so, I’m going to have to fuck close HB Giggles. That’s just how things work.

So, I cut out and meet up with HB Giggles and her friends: two gay guys. I understand the importance of getting the friends to like you so I quickly go to work on the friends. HB Giggles tells them of this game I played with her called the Cube. It’s an amazingly powerful psychological routine that you can very easily run on someone. If you have half a brain you’ll be able to run this routine and basically convince your subject that you know more about them than anyone else they’ve ever meet, most times you have them believing that you know more about them than they do. I run the Cube on both of her gay friends and, like always, they’re totally shocked. My social proof is through the roof. In the midst of running this routine on her gay friends I look over periodically to see HB Giggles chewing on her hair and looking at me, flipping her hair back and looking away when I look at her, and sucking on her straw when we make eye contact. It’s obvious that she wants to fuck. The quickest way to your target is through the friends. The friends want me and now HB Giggles REALLY wants me.

The four of us close down the bar and I tab out acting as if I’m going to go home. I shake HB Giggles’ friends’ hands, turn to HB Giggles and give her a hug. I whisper in her ear:

Bull Run: “You have great friends, but I’m tired so I’m going to head out.” Notice I said nothing about her.
HB Giggles: “What about me?”
Bull Run: “What do you mean?” This is a leading question and when your game is on, its second nature.
HB Giggles: “You weren’t glad to see me? I was glad to see you.”
Bull Run: “Of course I was glad to see you. I’d like to see you again. Soon…” It never ceases to amaze me how words mean things and can illicit specific responses. By not qualifying soon I led her to her next response.
HB Giggles: “How soon?”
Bull Run: I had mixed emotions about this response. You see, that scratchy throat from earlier is becoming a full fledged cold and, despite the alcohol, I’m starting to feel like shit. On the other hand, since I know I’m going to be sick for the next week or so I think that it’s probably a good idea to get some pussy tonight to hold me over while I’m out of commission. The drive for pussy wins, “How long does it take to get to your place?”
HB Giggles: Dramatic pause…“About 15 minutes.”
Bull Run: “Then…I’ll see you in 15 minutes.”
HB Giggles: “K.”
Bull Run: “So, are you going to tell me where you live or should I drive around the city shouting your name until I find your place?”
HB Giggles: Laughing…“You don’t have to drive around looking for me.” She then gives me directions to where she lives. I’m there in about 15 minutes.

HB Giggles lives in a house out in the suburbs with one other girl. The roommate isn’t home, which means that I’ve got no more obstacles to overcome. The person I’ll have to worry about now is HB Giggles, and I know that once you’ve made it back to their place you’re going to get something. She’ll say she’s not going to fuck you and you always agree, she’ll say you can’t stay the night and you’ll say it’s a bad idea, she’ll say she can’t trust herself to be alone with you and you’ll say you know. When she pushes you away, you turn your back on her. You jump off the couch/bed/floor/etc and walk around her place asking her about her knick-knacks, pictures, decorations, etc. You change the subject, you freeze her out, and you get her wondering why you aren’t pushing any longer. In her mind she thinks you’re really not all that interested in fucking her. This will eat away at her. She’ll think, “He’s supposed to want to fuck me. Why isn’t he trying? What’s wrong with me? Doesn’t he want me? I want him to want me. I want him.” You get her to think like this and you’re in. Not only are you in, but she’ll be so turned on by you that the sex will more than likely blow her mind. Sounds like I’m conceded huh? I’m not, I just know from experience. Indifference is the difference. Always act indifferent towards her with respect to sex and she’ll command it from you, she’ll seduce you.

Once in her house, HB Giggles immediately offers me a drink:

HB Giggles: “You want something to drink?”
Bull Run: Walking around checking out her place as if I don’t really care about her.
HB Giggles: “Hey…you want something to drink?”
Bull Run: “Oh…yeah…sure. What do you have?” Before she can I answer I pick up a picture of her and her dog, “Ah, your dog was a cute puppy. You remind me of him.” I put the picture down, turn my back, and continue my quest for materials to use to neg her with.
HB Giggles: “I remind you of my dog…”
Bull Run: “No, your puppy.”
HB Giggles: “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”
Bull Run: I walk back to the picture and pick it up, “Well, he IS cute. Do you two use the same shampoo, because you both have great hair?”
HB Giggles: Laughing...
Bull Run: “I bet you do use the same shampoo, that’s why you’re laughing. Where is it? Where is the bathroom?” I start walking around the house to find the bathroom…
HB Giggles: Playful. “You jerk! I don’t use doggie shampoo.”
Bull Run: From the bathroom. “Liar! I knew there was something off about you. Pert Plus?!?! Are you serious?!?! You use Pert Plus?!?! I can’t believe that! That’s even WORSE than doggie shampoo! Honestly, I’m a little embarrassed for you.”
HB Giggles: Grabs the shampoo from my hand, “It’s the only thing that works, plus anyways it’s cheap. So there.”
Bull Run: “So, how about that drink now?”
HB Giggles: “You think I’m going to give you a drink now?”
Bull Run: I walk towards her, grab her by the small of her back, and kiss her. “Yes, I think you’re going to get me a drink. That’s what a good hostess would do.”
HB Giggles: “Uh huh.”
Bull Run: I grab her by the hand and lead her from the bathroom back to the kitchen, “So, what do you have to drink again?”
HB Giggles: Follows me and walks into the kitchen, “I’ve got beer, water, Gatorade, wine…”
Bull Run: “Wine is fine.” She pours me a glass and I walk up to her, pet her on the head, and say with my best ‘talking to a dog voice,’ “Wat a good wittle hostess you are. Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”
HB Giggles: Pushes me, “You’re such an asshole.”
Bull Run: Laughing. “I know, but at least I’m funny.” She nods in agreement.

This is how our interaction is structured over the next 10 to 15 minutes. Push and pull. I tease her mercilessly then mix in a light touch, passionate kiss, or aggressive move. I enjoy this part of the courtship the most. I love building the tension and anticipation up to the point at which the girl can’t control herself any longer. Once a girl reaches this point they earn a new nickname: HB Grabby, it’s a temporary one of course. A woman transcends her given nickname to become HB Grabby when she’s been driven into such a sexual frenzy that she starts taking it from you, and by ‘it’ I mean your dick. She becomes the aggressor, funny how gender roles can easily change. No there’s nothing more gratifying than getting a girl to become HB Grabby. And, on this night it took about 15 minutes for HB Giggles to become HB Grabby.

Sex ensues. It wasn’t that impressive, nothing to report, save for the fact that her ass turned out to be a lot fatter than I initially thought. Don’t get me wrong; I knew she had a big ass when I met her, which was one of things about her that I liked. I’m perfectly fine with big butts. I like them. You see, in my experience there are really two types of big asses: 1) big, firm asses and 2) big, flabby asses. Obviously, the former is preferred over the latter. HB Giggles unfortunately had the latter. When I was jamming her doggie style I watched in awe as each of my thrusts would cause massive fat ripples across her backside. Funny thing is that she had a mole on the upper portion of her right ass check and for a few seconds I imagined that the mole was a tiny island that was home to a miniature civilization of technologically advanced, sex crazed, sinning microscopic people and I was Poseidon punishing them for their debaucherous ways in the form of massive fat tsunamis. I think this is what really happened to Atlantis. I almost laughed out loud, I swear to God…err Poseidon.

Anyway, I was having a hard time cumming, you know, with all of the distraction due to the destruction of HB Giggles’ own personal Atlantis. And, I was really starting to feel like shit from my cold. So, I did what any normal heterosexual male would have done…I faked it. It’s not the first time I faked it and it won’t be the last. It’s SO much easier to fake an orgasm while you’re wearing a condom. There’s no evidence that you did or didn’t cum. I mean what chick is going to take your condom off and decide to swallow your jizz? Wait, that’s the topic of another story. Anyway, odds are pretty good that virtually every woman on the face of the planet will just take you for your word…there aren’t as many Nancy Drew’s out there when it comes to cum as one might expect.

After my Oscar worthy acting job, I went to the bathroom and flushed the only evidence that would prove that I didn’t get off. I remember telling myself that I wasn’t going to fuck her again, unless I just needed a good laugh. [By the way, she had magnificent tits. I mean those things were definitely in the top 3, no doubt. They weren’t huge, but they were shaped perfectly. I mean, perfectly.] I then came back to bed and passed out, not from the alcohol, as is usually the case, but from this fucking cold which had graduated from an irritating scratchy throat to a fully fledged cold throughout the night.

A couple of hours later I wake up coughing my lungs out. My throat is on fire, nose is stopped up, and the cold air in HB Giggles’ house feels like daggers stabbing my throat and lungs every time I inhale. My coughing fit wakes up HB Giggles. Initially, she’s very concerned:

Bull Run: Coughing
HB Giggles: “Are you Ok?”
Bull Run: Coughing
HB Giggles: “Bull Run, are you Ok?”
Bull Run: Coughing
HB Giggles: “Do you need some water?”
Bull Run: Coughing and nodding ‘yes.’
HB Giggles: Gets up and grabs me a glass of water, which helps to ease the coughing fit. “Are you going to be Ok? What’s the matter with you?”
Bull Run: “TB.” I doubt she’ll know what that means and I thought it was kind of funny. I continue to cough a little bit more, and then my cough starts to calm down as I catch my breath, sit up straight, and drink some water.
HB Giggles: “What?!?! You have tuberculosis?!?!” How the hell did she know what ‘TB’ meant?
Bull Run: “No, I’m just joking. It’s just a cold I think. I’ve had a scratchy throat all day, it was bound to turn into a cold. It’s no big deal.”
HB Giggles: “Excuse me. You came to see me when you knew you had a cold? That’s just nasty.”
Bull Run: “Huh? I didn’t know it was going to turn into a cold while I was with you.” She kind of has a point, I should have gone home but once again my dick made a bad decision for me and now I have to pay the consequences while he sleeps…fucking bastard.
HB Giggles: “It’s inconsiderate. I mean I’m going to get sick now too. What else do you have?” Isn’t it amazing how women can go from asleep to vindictive in less than 60 seconds?
Bull Run: “You mean besides AIDS? I’m totally clean.” That’s not something you should joke about.
HB Giggles: “You better be fucking joking.” Admittedly the AIDS joke was in poor taste, but HB Giggles is named ‘HB Giggles’ for a reason…she laughs at every single joke, until now.
Bull Run: “I’m sorry, I was just joking. You have any NyQuil? It’ll knock me right out, that way I won’t disturb your sleep. And I’ll crash on the couch just in case.” I thought this was a good compromise, it seemed reasonable at the time.
HB Giggles: “You’re not staying. You have to leave. I can’t get sick. I can’t believe you came over here and had sex with me and you knew you had a cold. That’s so typical of men, Bull Run.”
Bull Run: “Are you serious? You’re going to kick me out in the middle of the night, while it’s fucking freezing and raining outside, while I have a cold?”
HB Giggles: “Yeah.”
Bull Run: “Unbelievable.”
HB Giggles: “You should have thought about that before you came over to my house while you were infested with a cold.”
Bull Run: “Infested? What the fuck? I’m not a Goddamn Leper. It’s just a fucking COLD. What’s the big deal? I mean shit, you bring a strange man back to your house and fuck him and you’re worried about getting a cold? Shit, you should be thrilled that I have a cold and not something worse. Jesus!”
HB Giggles: “What does it matter that I took you home? Don’t make me out to be some kind of whore.” Isn’t it funny how women always defend themselves when called out on being a whore? “You have to leave. I refuse to get sick.”
Bull Run: “Fine.”

I collect my things and show myself the door. As expected, it’s fucking freezing and raining outside. On the way out I pass HB Giggles’ truck and my vindictiveness takes over. I think about keying the shit out of it or putting a rock through the windshield but those are too destructive. Instead, I want something that’s not permanent yet incredibly inconvenient. Then, it hits me. When I was a kid, my next-door neighbor and I would go around the neighborhood and slowly flatten people’s tires. We didn’t slash the tires or anything of that nature. Instead, we would find a small pebble and put it inside the cap of the air stem value. When you screw the cap back on the air stem value, the pebble inside presses down on the valve and slowly releases the air inside the tire.

Fuck the cold and the rain. I’ve got a jacket on and I’m already sick, it can’t get much worse from here. I spend the next 15 minutes looking for 4 perfectly sized pebbles, put them under the value caps, and screw them back on HB Giggles’ truck tires. I briefly contemplate leaving a note, but decide that it’s best for me to just leave. My work is done. Plus anyway, I could no longer feel my fingers. I jump in my car and head home…fuck her, no one treats me like a disease.

The next day I wake up around 10:30 and feel even worse than I did when I woke up 5 hours earlier at HB Giggles’ house. Thank God it’s a Sunday. I get up, go to the grocery store, collect provisions for the day and week, go home, order a pizza, and crash on the couch. I stay awake long enough for the pizza to arrive and for me to force myself to eat at least two slices, to drink half a gallon of Gatorade, and to take two doses of NyQuil. I’m asleep by 12:30. I wouldn’t wake up again until 4:30. I’m awake just long enough to take another dose of NyQuil, eat another slice of pizza, and drink another half gallon of Gatorade. I wake up again at 9:30. I follow the same regiment as before and sleep straight through to 7:30 the next morning. I was probably awake about 3 hours between the hours of 7:30 Sunday morning and 7:30 Monday morning. While I was asleep, HB Giggles called me a couple of times but didn’t leave a message. I did get a text message from her with the following: “Very attractive, asshole.” Guess she didn’t think four flat tires was funny.

I don’t know if she caught my cold, but I’ve got my fingers crossed.

As I look back on this story, I find it interesting how crazy a lot of the women I meet tend to be. Sure, not all of them are nuts. But a good number of them turn out to be absolutely bonkers, unreasonable, and pushy. There certainly aren’t this many crazy people in the world right? I suppose it’s an intimacy thing. After sex, especially with respect to women, my theory is that people lose that filter that stops them from going off on someone. They’re more comfortable with you and therefore they have no problem letting you into their weird little world. Further, I think the places I meet these women has a huge impact on why they act the way they do. The bar/club scene for young adults attracts a completely different demographic. These are people addicted to attention, consumed with drama, accustom to dealing with people (especially in a more intimate setting), and somewhat weathered by life. I think the best analogy to use is the difference in personality a person has if they live in New York City versus someone that lives in Houston. Bar rats are drama junkies, they thrive on creating friction and seek out any opportunity to do so, especially once they become comfortable with you. At least it makes life interesting…

[Guest]

That was hilarious man, you should post more. Entertaining & enlightening. Good stuff!