Money was tight. My dad was struggling to find side work. I hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. I was starving. I was so hungry I lost my appetite. Instead, I was just frail and weak. James told my dad that he knew how to get me fed and that he’d handle it himself. Big Blue pulled into the shopping center in front of a Chineese Buffet. James’ plan was to take me to the Chineese Buffet and beg for food.

I looked over at my dad and he was a broken man. He did not want to do this but he saw it as the only way to take care of me. He looked as broken as I had ever seen him. He looked ashamed. Disheartened. Saddened that it had come to this. I’ll never forget it. It was the face of a man who looked like he gave up. It’s as if he had come to terms with the fact that he failed his son. He never admitted it, but I know his eyes were watering.

I followed James out of the Truck and we made our way to the Buffet. We walked straight through the door and James found a young couple, likely on a date, sitting at the table and eating. He approached them and asked if they could spare me a meal. They were clearly bothered by it. They wanted nothing to do with us. The look on the gentleman’s face was one of disgust and annoyance. The woman he was with, naturally, felt sympathetic. The gentleman got up, paid for my meal ticket and I sat down with them and ate while James left to go wait outside.

I couldn’t eat much though. If you’ve ever gone without eating for a few days then you probably know what im talking about…but my stomach couldn’t hold down the food. I thanked the couple, walked outside in a hurry and hurled Chineese buffet all over the sidewalk. James went back inside and brought out a plate of leftovers. That’s the kinda guy James was.
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Damn dude, you are a hell of a writer.

Too bad you had to go through that shit to get those stories but its interesting shit and you portray it very well.
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Not a great story teller but here we go. About 10 years or so ago I hosted a super bowl party in my moms basement. I had my own place but it was too small to invite a bunch of people over and mom's basement was set up for party like this. She had a 70" tv, a few over sized chairs and then 3 pub tables behind that with bar stools.

Anyways there was about 12 of us there but only a couple are important to the story. One was this dude Tony who was my boss at the time. Tony was kind of a douche bag but he knew I was having people over and I think he felt left out so I invited him. I invited this new girl from work too that Tony had just hired a few weeks before. Her name was Rebecca and she was short as hell but smokin hot and had a bangin body.

So at the party Becca grabs my hand and drags me over to one of the over sized chairs and we squeeze into it right before kickoff. Game starts and guys start opening the back door to go in and out smoke and its pretty damn cold outside so it got fairly cold in the house real quick. Becca pulls a blanket over us that was on the back of the chair. She then rest her hand on my thigh and I notice she's slowly moving her hand closer to my junk. We make eye contact and she winks at me. She's now rubbing me through my jeans and before i know it my dicks out and she jerking me off. I don't know what to do at this point. She isn't really being subtle. I kind of try to stop her but not really. She is determined anyways and keeps pulling my hand away. I raise my left knee up so people can't see the blanket popping up lol.

So this goes on during most of the 2nd quarter and half time and into the 3rd. Now remember we're at my mom's house and she had been upstairs doing her own thing but she decides to come down around halftime and see whats up.. She walks in the room right behind our chair and puts her hand on my shoulder for a moment and says hows the game going? Becca slows her stroke but keeps going. I'm tapping her on her leg and pulling on her wrist to try to get her to stop for a minute but she keeps on going. I can't be to obvious as to give away whats going on. Luckily mom was only down there for a minute or so. After she left the room Becca gets real aggressive with it and I bust in my shirt. I try to roll up the bottom of the shirt some to capture it all and wait a min for my dick to go down and stand up and run out into the garage and out to my truck where I had another shirt.

I got back in the party and people are asking why I went from a red shirt to a yellow shirt. I said the tag was itching my neck. I'm dumb enough to think.. hey maybe nobody noticed. Wrong. People start leaving before the end of the game. Tony looks at me shacking his head as he leaves. I look at my buddy Norman and say whats his deal? Norm says you really need to ask? Okay so everybody knows.

I hooked up with Becca again the next weekend. Best head i've ever got and she swallowed like a champ. After that she stops responding to my calls and texts and one day she doesn't show up for work. Tony said she quit. Week later a friend of mine tells me he heard Becca is getting married! and on top of that she's getting married to a dude that was like my nemesis in middle and high school. Which is absolutely hilarious to me.

Couple months later my mom is talking to me about something random, can't remember what, and I say man that's funny and mom responds "Not as funny as getting jerked off in front of your mother"

Godddddd Dammit
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Thanks, i appreciate that.
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Ever thought about writing a book? Kind of like a Tucker James type book where each chapter is a story of something that happened in your life? I'd read that shit.
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That is some powerful shit. Seriously, you should think about writing a book. I'm sure you could fill the pages. Thanks for sharing.
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Yes, that's exactly what it was. Deep down inside he was a good man. A good man with an addiction problem that led to horrible choices and a shitty lifestyle. What he could've been vs what he was and became.
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I don't know the first thing about writing a book. I just know how to share my stories. I guess right now im kind of using CP as my book, lol.

Thanks everyone, i appreciate the kind words. I'll try to tackle another story sooner than later.

I still have that story about James and the drug run that went wrong, which is what i was TRYING to get to today. I mean, it's not as dramatic as it sounds but it was pretty intense when it happened.
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Okay, I'll give it a shot......

All my childhood, I was the smallest child or one of them in my class. Every sport I tried out for, I was the first one cut. Kind of hard to improve at any sport when you're the first one cut. So...I buried myself in literature to escape. I quickly developed quite a vocabulary, and learned how NOT to use it. Small kids with large vocabularies get picked on! Sam, last name withheld, beat me up 4 days in a row...5th day I ran home! My dad wanted a jock and his nick name for me was "panty waist".

My Freshman year, 9th grade, actually, because middle school was 7 through 9th grade, I discovered wrestling. At 98 pounds, there was no one! So I started wrestling. I think I lost every match but one, but I wouldn't stop trying. My father didn't show up for a single match. That year, a wrestler at 145 picked on me by viciously shoving me in the showers, causing me to fall and get stone bruises on both knees...they really hurt!

Sophomore year I wrestled 112 and won about 50% of my JV matches. Sam, last name withheld, was a big man on campus and wrestled Varsity at 132.

Then came my Junior year....a true eye opener! I had the pleasure of wrestling JV under a true stud at 132 pounds. He eventually took 3rd in State that year. BUT I had learned enough that we had to "wrestle off" for Varsity almost every other week. I kept getting better. At Varsity/JV tourneys, some schools would drop their Varsity wrestler to JV so he could get a Gold medal, instead of simply getting beat by Curt. Coach would let me know so I would get up for the match. It was a pleasure beating those Varsity wrestlers and watching my coach grin! Sam, last name withheld didn't wrestle that year.

Senior year! Wrestling was kind of our schools thing. We absolutely sucked at football and basketball. I had about 8 guys in my weight class of 145 pounds, 3 of us seniors. After about 2 weeks, the other seniors got the hell out of my weight class. One went up a weight class, the other went down a weight class. They realized who was Varsity at 145...

First big match at one of our rivals, I was in the locker room waiting to weigh in. One of their wrestlers looked at me and asked, "What weight?"

"145" I answered.

"Oh, dude, I'm sorry....that's Richie...." he said, and he looked truly sorry for me.

Richie came in, wearing his letter jacket. He seemed to lean towards his letter side due to the numerous medals he was wearing. He pinned me quickly.

Next time we wrestled, I was slightly ahead, made a mistake and he pinned me again. I kept at learning.

In practices, I would do my turn wrestling "Corners". "Corners" was a drill where the Varsity guy would wrestle for 20 seconds with a wrestler from his or the next weight class above or below. Then do it again with a fresh wrestler. Then another. Then another..etc. Usually 6 to 8 rounds then the other varsity guy had the same routine. The kid who shoved me in the showers in the 9th grade wrestled at 165. I would then go up to 165 and abuse the "shower pusher" sometimes taking several turns. It always ended with him begging the Coach to make me go back down to my weight class!

Sam, last name withheld heard that I was Varsity and there were no Senior Challengers. He decided to go out for wrestling. His first day, I asked Coach to let me have him as a "Partner" since we were the same weight.
Now, usually in practice, wrestlers go at about 75% to 80%. I went about 103% all practice. I hurt him so bad, that he quit and had no more practices...

Then came my schools Take Down Tournament. Richie would be there.... This time I made no mistakes. He was 24-0. When the match was over, we were both totally exhausted, and I was his first loss. I remember laying on the mat..looking up at the packed stands and seeing my Dad jumping up and down in his plaid sport coat. It was ugly. But he no longer had a "panty waste". Richie was so angry that he said he was gonna quit wrestling. His mom and girl friend had t-shirts with his face on them...and they were crying all over the t-shirts. Of course he didn't quit.

Now, I will say, the next week, at HIS schools tournament, it came down to him and me again. And he barely beat me. And, of course, that week we got our picture on the front page of the sports section of the KC Star. One of his team mates told me that he worked on countering MY best moves all week.

I had that one moment....and many years of retribution.

Epilogue: One of the coolest things ever to happen to me was the next summer. I was waiting to weigh in at a freestyle wrestling tourney, when I heard this whispered....."That's {insert my name here}!!!"
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That fucking sucks your dad acted that way, im an asshole but Im more proud of my kids for their scholastic achievements as I am for their sports achievements.
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I long ago accepted that he didn't know any better. I was the first of my siblings in sports. He seldom missed my sisters track meets or my brothers matches. HE had to grow a bit too.

I asked my Mom why she could go watch my brother but not me?

Her response was, "You were so little that I couldn't bear to see someone grabbing you, man handling you. You brother has always been large, so it never bothered me."
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He really ought to. That's fascinating stuff.

Thanks for sharing, Detox.
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Himalayan salt lamp and a hat I about to do this one. After they banned wearing hats at work last night.
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Mine simply starts with 3 words....

Then the midgets...
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Love this story.

In Iowa, "corners" are known as "heavyweight drills." Those are brutal.

Your story reminds me of a guy who wrestled in Iowa (graduated HS last year) named Matthew Randone. He was JV as a Freshman, Sophomore and Junior...then won state as a Senior.
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