Last night I fucked a guy with a glass eye: this is my midget story. Okay, I didn’t fly out to a glass eye convention or even an opthamological convention, so maybe it’s not quite the same. I did not head out in hot pursuit of glass eye. On Halloween you’d assume anything that kooky is part of a costume, anyway.
At least in terms of novelty, a glass eye is somewhat comparable to a midget. Except that you can’t ponder the unusual sexual properties of a glass eye (in the same way that Tucker Max ponders whether midget pussy is extra tight). Other than to contemplate: If he came in his glass eye, would it sting?
That evening I was being scouted for a threesome. The girl was super hot, and named “Rikki,” but the guy gave me the creeps. When I asked him if they were dating, he said they were “fuck buddies.” Respectable. Actually, the perfect set-up for a threesome, because I would feel like a prize and not the third wheel. He asked me if I liked girls (we were at a party co-hosted by a lesbian group), and I said yes. As a follow-up, he asked if I liked his friend. I replied cheekily: “What if I like your friend and not you?” When Rikki reappeared he relayed this information and she assured me, “Aw, he takes a while to warm up to.” This was after assuring me, upon first meeting them, that he would ask to touch my boob and I should let him because he’s “good at that.”
Besides thinking he was creepy, I thought his costume sucked. Not in the “I threw on shit I already owned” way (the way in which my costume sucked), but in the “I have a concept costume and the execution is good but the concept isn’t” way. On the back there was a matrix of thumbnails of porn, and on the front there was a google search page. The front and back were connected by green EL wires. I kept trying to figure out what the search term was, but thumbnails of porn just look like thumbnails of porn. I inquired, and it turns out the front and back of the costume weren’t semantically related. He said he was the internet, and the internet consists solely of google and porn (ha, ha?). I persisted, “How did you find the porn, though, like, what search term did you use?” and he instructed me, “You don’t have to put any term in; you can just open up spankwire.” Um, thanks for telling me how you jerk off? And, look, I know you don’t have to “search” for porn anymore, but if the front of your costume is a search engine, and the back of your costume is repository of pornography, I expect the search box to say “cum guzzlin’ sluts” and the thumbnails to be of sluts slathered in semen. A little coherence, please.
I went to the bathroom, fixed my lipstick, and contemplated whether I was making a life-altering mistake by not warming up to the guy (my friend said she thought he might be only Molly, and not generally a creep). Also, whether it would be possible to get her alone or whether they were exclusively a packaged deal. When I reemerged, they had disappeared. A sort of cute guy had taken their place. That’s all it takes, folks: planting yourself in the same physical location as someone I reluctantly turned down (and I hadn’t even made my decision yet!) Hey, man, we all have our standards.
I recognized him immediately as a Jew, between his Jew fro and almost-midget status (his born-Jewishness was confirmed later in the evening). We were approximately the same height. Here is what sold me: You know how in porn people fuck standing up, with the guy moving the girl up and down with his steroid-enhanced arms and the girl pretending nothing is hotter than being dropped on cock? And how this doesn’t happen in real life because guys aren’t that strong and it probably wouldn’t be comfortable for the girl to be thrown on cock and to be a non-participant, anyway? Well, when we were dancing, he moved me like this. Obviously no nudity or sex, but it was so hot wrapping my legs around him and having him slide my body up and down his cock. I’d imagine it is a little easier for an almost-midget to lift a girl like this, because it isn’t as if he had to lift me very high to align me with his cock. Turns out he is a sculpture student. Explains the strong arms.
When we were in the cab to my place, I noticed his eyes had a weird sheen. Figured they were color contacts. Sometimes Burners wear those stupid patterned or glowy contacts, which I think are lame but excusable on Halloween. His eyes looked normal for the rest of the night, until we were done fucking and I noticed a weird sheen once again, at which point I inquired about colored contacts. Specifically, I asked, “Are your eyes really that color? Or are those color contact?” He confirmed that his eyes were really bright green, pointed to one, and added, “This is a glass eye.” Ha ha, I get it; it’s Halloween. I rolled my real, squishy eyes. He repeated, “No, this is a glass eye,” and confirmed by flicking his eye, making that “PINGGG” sound that you make when you flick a glass (to determine whether it is plastic and thus unbreakable or glass and thus breakable). OMFG, holy fucking shit, this dude has a glass eye! I had him flick it again, just to be sure. I didn’t really SEE it the first time. I asked him if he was born blind, and no. This story gets even better! When he was 12, he lost it to a BB gun. Like in a Christmas Story. I told him he shoulda done a PSA. Or we could turn our fucking into a made-for-TV movie about how even dudes with only one eye can get laid on Halloween.
1) Turned down something on my “to do” list. Fortuitously, acquired a novelty I had not foreseen nor even imagined.
2) When we were done, he complimented, and I quote: “I like that you know what you want.” Score! Feel vindicated for the whole Jake fiasco. Thanks, just sex.
3) He was a legitimately cool guy: I enjoyed chatting with him afterwards. I always forget how important this is.
Thanks to one of my readers for suggesting this clever name for my post!