EXCLUSIVE: I Got Blueballed by This Famous-Ass Chick, Yo


Three years ago this week, an intoxicated famous chick showed up at the apartment of a 26-year-old Brooklynite and ended up spending the night in his bed. Here’s his story–and photos–of his escapade with this famous hot poontang, yo.

I barely knew this famous chick when she turned up at my door at around eight o’clock on the night of Halloween. Now she’s a super famous-ass btich, yo, but she was only kinda famous before. My brahskis and I were like, damn, we all wanna “run a train” on you and we could be like WOAH! We did a famous chick. But we’d only spent about five minutes together that day and we hadn’t spoken much — you know how it goes, doe — and I hadn’t thought of her since. Except when I thought about doing her.

Yet here she was standing outside my door with a friend. And both of them were pretty tipsy. Like the song. Maybe we could “run a train” on her, B. It’d make a great story we could high-five each other over even after it was done.

She asked if she and her friend could come inside our apartment to change into their costumes. I turned to my roommate and was like, BRO. Bro. BRO.

So these wasted chicks walk in, and it’s like, obviously they wanna blow the shit out of everyone there. The famous chick was dressed like a ladybug, and ladybugs are horny as all fuck, yo. Everyone knows that. Her bitch-ass friend was dressed as a pirate and pirates all wanna just like, you know, do nothing (with the treasure chest that is my dick). So she was just like quiet and didn’t say shit which is cool because we would’ve been like psh unless you’re talking about blowing us go away lady.

So we’re all chillin’ on some beers and — did I mention it was a Wednesday, it was a Wednesday — and because my homie and I are fuckin’ ballers, we weren’t gonna go out. Halloween is obviously for pussies and girls. But this chick was like, DRESS UP SO WE CAN GET DRUNK WITH YOU AND DO YOU. And I had a boy scout’s uniform in my closet because it’s cool to have a boy scout uniform hanging around in your closet, not like, because I’m a weird pervert or anything like that. I know what you’re thinking and it’s not like that, even though my father’s like WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT LITTLE BOY’S SHIRT IN YOUR CLOSET? every time he’s comes with mom to bring me detergent and I’m like, bro, Dad, it’s not like that and I don’t know why he’d think that but he does.

So this wasted famous chick is like, be a cokehead and we’re all like WOAH SLOW DOWN HONEY we haven’t even pulled our dicks out yet!

Anyway, we somehow manage to get to the bar which is dumb because had we kicked her friend out we could’ve totally called up “Cousin Charlie” and done lines off her ass at home, but I was willing to make the moves. This bitch was INTENSE. She knew how to talk, which is crazy. Her aunt who owns the building I live in who I play bridge with all the time was like, my niece is famous and I was like woah but I didn’t really know much about her. At the bar she was like, I’m famous, I wanna do you, and I’d love to make you my man and take you to famous parties because you’re the shit. She’d obviously reached a moment of crystal-clear sobriety when she talked about how dope I am. You’d know how dope I am if you could see my picture but the CIA will kill me if I reveal my identity so you can never know how dope my abs are.

Anyway, long-story short, we get home and get naked and the CIA will kill me if I tell you what happened — obviously a bunch of dope ass shit happened with this famous chick, and it’s true, otherwise this website wouldn’t be paying me to tell you this — but out of respect for the lady, I’m not gonna say what happened. There’s a reason that’s in bold, yo. It’s because I respect women.

What I will say, though, is that her pussy was mangled and that whore ended up blueballing me. Not that I was really “bout it bout it,” because it looked like it was shipped to me straight from the Meekong Delta circa 1968, and hadn’t aged well. But I was willing to take one for the bros and stick it. But then she was like, nah, son, you’re dick’s too good for this business, and also, it’s about nine inches too big.

And then she ended up doing my roommate and dating him for a bit, because he’s a piece of shit, is why. And don’t ask me if I’m bitter because you already know the answer to that question, because you’re smart enough to read this blog website. NO, I’M NOT BITTER MY ROOMMATE DIDN’T GET BLUEBALLED BY THIS FAMOUS BITCH AND DATED HER. Obviously.

Anyway, because I’m a good guy, and she’s like super famous now, I’m telling this story for everyone to know about her, for the public good. Sure I made some money from it but whatevs, yo, it’s for YOU, it’s something YOU need to know when you go see her movies.

Anyway, here’s a picture of some chick dressed as a ladybug, having a good time. Why? Because I’d do her, bro. So would you. Fair use and shit. With my dick:


I Had a One-Night Stand With Christine O’Donnell [Gawker]

Today, We Became Hardline Feminists All Over Again [The Awl]

The Andrea Dworkin Online Library [ACLU]

[Ed. Note: We have pictures of said famous woman in a ladybug costume, but our source contends he’ll be murdered by the CIA if you see them. That said, they offer irrefutable evidence that our source was blueballed by a very famous woman, and that this story is completely, utterly, without question or pause, verifiable and true. Otherwise, we just wouldn’t publish it.]

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