Mr. Rory Parker strives to become a bitch of one of the female rippers at the Wicked Wahine Bowl Jam
I went to the Wicked Wahine Bowl Jam to get laid. I figured that this might be one of my only chances to easily secure the vagina of a ripper. I showed up late to the contest, by the time I’d found parking and made my to Bellmar’s pad the first heat was already underway. What a boner-fest! The chicks were ripping up Bellmar’s pool like it was business as usual. And I was ready for them when they were finished, dressed up in my best male pro ho rig.
Heat one gets under way, the moment the ladies spotted me you could smell the hormones in the air.
The more I drink, the better I look. I figured that I needed about seven or eight beers to bring myself up to the level where I was completely irresistible. And, I was right. After proper lubrication my game spilled from my lips with a fluidity with which one must be born.
I made my way to behind where all the girls were taking their runs. Maybe it’s just me, but, something about a pair of low cut jeans just barely covering a well shaped ass is the stuff of dreams. And, for some reason, when you toss a big- ass raspberry, bruises and scabs on there, it is just so much hotter. So, there I sat, trying not to be too obvious about where I was looking, but also letting the ladies know that I was available for a post session romp, should the need strike.
I was ready to become the bitch of one of these rippers. I was there for the taking. I struck a pose, my back arched, my buttocks clearly extended.
Then, one of the ladies broke off from the herd for a smoke. Sensing she was detecting my pheromones I moved in for the kill. Like a drunken cheetah slowly stalking its prey, I waited for the precise moment, then struck.
“Hey, HEY!” I whispered silkily, “Ya gotta light?”
I could definitely “get behind” this new female skate movement
She did. I batted my eyes seductively and stood, legs akimbo, in a posture highly suggestive of sexual wantonness. But, despite my nonverbal cues, or, perhaps, because of them, she turned and made her way back to the bowl.
I didn’t get laid at the Wicked Wahine Bowl Jam. But, later that night, with the memories still fresh in my mind, I had sex with myself eyes closed, and pretended I did.
It’s hard to concentrate on the skating when you’re pitching a tent the entire time.
Jewels Bauer, hands down hottest Skateboarder to ever live.
It’s hard to concentrate on the skateboarding when you’re pitching a tent the entire time.
Caylen Dakin striking a pose in response to my advances.
A common foreshadowing of sensual delights, A skate goddess, barely resisting my virility.
“Please don’t touch my breast”. Oops, sorry.
Jewels wasn’t wearing a sports bra. I was praying something would shake loose every time she got both trucks up on the coping.
