The Other Side of the Mattress

When I was in college, everyone knew Judy. Sweet, cute as button, unassuming, and roughly about 250 pounds. Also: she got more ass than a toilet seat.

Judy had game. She'd hang with us at the bars, talking football and shit, matching us beer for beer, and watching as, one by one, we struck out with every hot chick in the place. That's when we'd stumble back to the booth or table, drown our sorrows in a stale, last call beer, and feel Judy's hand on our thighs. At first, it seemed like friendly consolation. Then her hand moved a bit higher. And before our alcohol-impaired minds even knew what was going on, Judy's deftly manuevering her warm, thick fingers over the crotch our pants, manipulating us to a throbbing hard-on, then whispering something in our ears about getting back to campus. Like now and shit. Drunk and almost shaking with the need for release, we obeyed.

One night, when she wasn't around, we took a quick, drunken poll of everyone she'd ensnared in such a fashion. An immediate show of hands revealed Bill, Dave, Stephen, Phil, Dave L., Andy, Ron, Ted and Artemis. Later in the evening, Gabe and Eric acknowledged that they'd been there as well. Danny and I were the lone hold outs. I neglected to mention that she'd never actually come on to me, but, y'know, still...

Then there was that night. Drinking since noon and we can barely stand up. Having disgusted every girl in the place [note to self: asking chicks "How many cigarettes do you think I can eat?" doesn't usually entice them to blow you], I separate myself from the crew and somehow get my silly Irish ass over to Judy's place. Her roommate lets me in, and I stumble down the hall to find her in her room, lying on her bed, watching TV with the lights off. I drag myself over to the bed, lay down next to her, and start talking rag time. "We missed you tonight... we had a good time... blah blah blah." She listens to me for a few minutes, then her hand suddenly finds itself on my thigh. I'm already hard, head buzzing with booze and the sweet smell of her breath. A few minutes later, she's ondone my fly, released the monster, and starts giving him a right good pumping. I lay back, close my eyes, and just as I'm about to give in, I hear something...

"Feh...feh..."

What the? Sounds like a sick dog, but I pay it no mind... I'm too busy trying to think of baseball scores and hockey games to keep myself from falling to a helpless spasm of release. But then I hear it again. And it sounds like a voice. A guy?

I dart up, shake my head, and look across Judy's mammoth figure to find my man Danny lying on the other side of her, also getting a handjob.

Recoiling, I throw myself off the bed, roll to the door and stagger back down the hall and out the door. And that was that.

The point of all this? Judy was a player, and a damn good one at that. And to Danny, who, to the best of my knowledge hasn't breathed a word of this to anyone, I still owe you that beer.