The Underwear Chronicles
About a year ago I met up with this girl via a Tumblr meet-up in Manhattan. Vanessa [not her real name] was really low key and down to Earth; on the surface, she was the kind of girl I’d like to date long term. We chopped it up on the High Line and eventually exchanged numbers that evening. I find out later on that she has her own apartment out in Williamsburg, which happens to be one of my favorite spots in Brooklyn to frequent. Vanessa was sexy as hell [Italian and Jamaican], so of course I was down to chill (or whatever else she was down for, to be honest).
Anyway, a week later I decided to come through one evening. She came to the door in just her panties, which startled me for a minute. I was celibate for eight months prior to seeing Vanessa, so my mind went primal. Ole girl invited me in and as she was walking, I noticed stretch marks on her butt. Honest to goodness, I wanted to ride her ass like an MTA bus. All I could think was “Sandra Bullock, give me strength.”
[Pause disclaimer: I have a proclivity for stretch marks that drape across your booty. During sex it gives me the fantasy of making love in the Savannah. I aptly call them “Zebra cakes”. Don’t judge me! *Clicks play*]
I get a brief tour of the apartment [which was a loft by the way; chick was ballin’]. We sat down, BS’ed for about a half hour and ole girl told me “I wanna freshen up. Get comfortable.” I never got undressed so fast in my life, down to my briefs. My home girl gave me a good piece of advice: “If you have sex on the first night, a woman always notices one thing: your drawers.” I rocked my special-occasion underwear (Calvin Klein X, get into it) and waited.
Not too long after, Vanessa comes out in a towel, sits next to me and takes it off. I go to touch her and she’s like “Wait, take off your underwear.” *Brief pause*…Of course I take them off but she snatches it out of my hand, drapes it across her face, and lays flat on her back playing with her coochie like a DJ at a party. Ole girl’s talking dirty to herself: “Oh yeah, give me those sweaty balls. Your briefs smell so good.” This chick had a freaking underwear fetish! *drops head*
I go to grab my underwear and she goes white-girl-batty and we’re tussling buck ass naked. I dropped $23 on that pair; I thought I’ll be damned if I don’t leave without ‘em. She scratched the hell out of my right arm and I let go of the underwear. I picked up my clothes and ran out like my ass was on fire. [Mind you, I’m running down the street with one pants leg on in chancletas, still practically naked]. This crazy girl chases me down the block towards the station screaming, but my adrenaline was rushing so hard, I barely heard a word and didn’t look back.
She eventually gave up mid-way and I made it to the station. I then realized not only was I out of a pair of briefs, but lost a chancleta while running. [I have to make all it back to Jersey with one damn shoe]. Embarrassed I caught the L train back to 14th Street and this older white guy saw my expression, sat next to me with a straight face and said “Crazy bitch, huh?” All I could do was bow my head in shame. It made my night.