1. THIRTY-ONE DAYS...PART 2 [chapters 7-11]

    Date: 10/8/2017, Categories: True Story, Domination / Submission, Straight Sex, Extreme, Gay, Hardcore, Group Sex, Voyeur, Written by women, Author: rojack, Source: sexstories.com

    CHAPTER SEVEN I met Danny at The Wing Hut on Monday night. Nine p.m. Danny was holding our favorite table. As I approached I could see his scorecard on the round table top. With three empty beer bottles. A fourth in his hand. Oh. Oh. Not good. I was expecting to see two names on Danny’s scorecard. There were none. The four Amigos were using golf scorecards to record our game. From the Wisconsin Breeze Golf and Country Club. Two cards each, eighteen holes per card. For a total of thirty-six holes. Holes. How appropriate. How many holes could we plug? How many holes-in-one could we sink? There were thirty-one days in December. Therefore, two scorecards were required. We had crossed out the last five holes on card number two. They would not be needed. I had filled my card out accordingly. Hole number one, Lisa. Hole number two, Jenna. I also gave the girls their attraction rating and their sexual fun rating. We had agreed to be diligent in our documentation. One had to be careful when chasing the record. Hole number one read Lisa, six point five for body, face, and over all attraction, and a six for fun in the sack. Hole number two read Jenna, six and six point five. I tossed my scorecard on the table for Danny to peruse. He didn’t bother. I could see his depression along with the empty bottles. I was kind of shocked when he admitted his failure. Was he ever pissed. At both himself and his ex. What? Women couldn’t fuck while they were on the rags? Says who? Danny dumped her ... the next day. Danny was the guy who had brought us this big sexcapade story from the internet, and he had a tough time grasping the fact he was already out. Day one. Day one and done. Pathetic. Of course I called him a no-fuck loser, which didn’t help matters. I bought him his next two beers and a plate of wings. He seemed to be calming down when his ex walked into the place. She was a looker all right. Twenty-four years old, short to medium height, long dark hair. Nice face, small ass and small tits. About a seven, perhaps seven and a half on the scale. She looked hot tonight. Angry hot. At Danny. She had already been drinking, drowning her sorrows from the big breakup. What sorrows? They had only been together for two weeks. Actually, three times total, in those two weeks. Not exactly a lifetime commitment. Especially for one of the Four Amigos. Too bad about the rag thing though. What a bummer. Women and their stupid problems. Whatever, not my problem. Susie blew past our table, calling Danny an ignorant jackass or something. Danny ignored her. He was thinking. About his failure, I suppose. I was busy doing some thinking of my own. I had done some research on this supposed California sex record. The criterion was one chick for each twenty-four hour calendar day. This meant my two-for methodology was a sound and accepted principal. One before midnight, and one after midnight. I would be doing as many doubles as I could. Maybe some triples, for the fun of it. Perhaps, I would ...