"So after nearly getting stabbed in the face with her Marb Ultra Light and dragged to the sidewalk because her heel broke, we made it to her bedroom (I’m guessing this is where one finds the notorious “Bedroom Eyes,” but no such luck). She said something odd to one of her roommates and the bedroom door sealed us in.
Blah, blah, blah, undressing, kissing, slightly ripped undershirt.
I thought it only right to support the good name of man in this case, so I hunkered down at the fork in the road … wait for it … wait for it … YES! And I went to work. I was pulling out every trick I could think of, and what do I get? Pulled hair and my face being repeatedly shoved into Cootertown. Let me tell you something: any complaint Jenna B. has ever made with regards to improper treatment during fellatio can be immediately thrown out. After all was said and done, she didn’t even thank me for shaving right before I went out (and down). How rude.
You’ve read much more than you probably ever wanted to about the thigh clapping this girl has been involved with, so I won’t overdo it on the details. Let me just say this: her poor roommate playing Guitar Hero in the living room must have better knowledge about Jenna’s moaning patterns than Keith Richards does about coke. It was a veritable symphony with complexity in pitch, volume, and duration. I don’t know how to describe the sound she made when I accidentally elbowed her in the ribs (don’t ask), but it haunts me to this day.
