There's nothing funny about rape

Las Vegas is a fantastic place to visit when you ain't skint. I found myself in the city for a whole wallet-raping week several years ago -- a situation elicited by the combination of an Ultimate Fighting Championship event at the Mandalay Bay, a friend's wedding several days later, and belligerently gatecrashing a completely unrelated bachelorette party.

See, one of the girls there for the wedding was coupling the excursion with a different group's pre-wedding knees-up and, as blokes do in Sin City, we single fellas limped along looking for a bottom-feeder. We hooked up with the post-male-strip-joint party at some generic casino buffet. The boys and I were already several sheets to the wind thanks to a brace of days on the blather. My blurred attention became focused on a bodybuilder lass with ridiculously large breasts, generously displayed via a straining halter top. She didn't pay me much attention initially, as I was quite busied by my blinking and nodding attempts to avoid collapsing into an overdue coma. After a bland albeit enlivening feed we headed into a shockingly overpriced nightclub for some simulated sex acts on the dance floor.

I don't mean to go off on a tangent here, but am I the only person that doesn't know what the fuck to do in these situations?

What's the correct social etiquette when a girl backs up to you and bends over? Do you give her a playful spank? Grab her hips and and get lost in the illusion? Or tap her on the shoulder to politely compliment her shoes? Or whip it out, yank 'em down, and escalate? I'm at a loss.

And what about when they drop to their knees and simulate oral? My first instinct is to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, but this kills the moment and the tiny probability that this girl might actually blow me if I unzip. Should I? And how does one avoid getting a hard-on?

I had a girlfriend a couple of years ago that would enthusiastically "dance" in such a manner, especially to such rap songs as Lil Jon & the Eastside Boyz's "Skeet Skeet", and lip-sync quite contently along with their wonderful lyrics.

Hereby I present them for your perusal:

good evening ladies and gentlemen my name is dj flex ahhhh i represent washington d.c. tonight we goin from d.c. to a-town (yeah) and we be comin (yeah) lil jon and the east side boyz aww skeet skeet skeet (background music starts "aww skeet skeet")come on yall, lets get it goin,skeet skeet skeet skeet i say what, that aint crunk enough, hey hey that aint crunk enough, hey man u ready ahh lets go right now, (lil jon) a break it down now, let me see you do the, ah break it down now, let me see you do the, wah break it down now, let me see you do the, wah break it down now, (here we gooo) come on skeet skeet, mother fuckin ass hoe, do dat come on, skeet skeet more now, now yeah come on, skeet more mother fucker, like that, come on skeet skeet, mother fuckin ass hoe, drop that ass hoe, come on crunk that mother fuckin back, drop that ass come on, crunk that mother fuckin back, like that what, come on crunk that mother fuckin back, like that, come on, crunk that mother fuckin back, bout now shorty, to the mother fuckin back now, bounce around shorty,crunk that mother fuckin back, bend over shorty, to the mother fuckin back, bounce around shorty, to da mother fuckin back now, bend over shorty, make you mother fuckin breathe now, bend over da mother fuckin back now, da bounce around shorty,to the mother fuckin back now, da bounce around shorty,to da mother fuckin breathe now, bend over shorty, make you mother fuckin breathe now, thats right shorty i got damn, da skeet skeet, drop that thang shorty, i got damn ah skeet skeet, got quick shorty, make it mother fuckin drop now, twist shorty, shake your mother fuckin back shorty, ah skeet skeet skeet, a say what, skeet skeet skeet skeet, lets get it goin, skeet skeet skeet, come on aww skeet skeet, skeet skeet skeet, ahh ahh that aint crunk enough, come on jon, alright check this out ladies, what the, its time to skeet, i mean yall came to really party tonight, we on that we on that, how many of yall ladies came to really dance tonight, we all that, where yall at, we gon take this thing over the top, now whatever i say yall gotta do, whatever i say yall gotta do, drop that ass shake that mother fucker up, now drop that ass shake that mother fucker up, lean back some mo',shake that mother fucker up, lean back some mo, shake that mother fucker up, shake that ass real hard, to the left make it right, shake that ass real hard, to the left and the right, now what u mother fuckin need you needs to say, you all need to say, we about to do this skeet, lil jon, east side boyz, we real striaght up in here tonight yall, hay hey if you with me ah get them hands up, if yall with me ah get them hands up, hey if you with me ah get them hands up, if yall with me ah get them hands up, we about to get skeet skeet come on clap your hands, clap your hands, clap your hands,clap your hands,clap your hands, i said clap your hands,clap your hands, i say clap your hands, say we gon break it down now, yeahhh, thank you ladies and gentlemen thank you for lettin' us get our.. skeet on, come on come on, eh were gonna take this thing around the country and skeet on the whole united states, come on come on, dj flex lil jon and the east side boyz, come on come on here we go, ungh....

Now that's talent.

The crunking reality is that she was deathly afraid of semen. The public facade she embarrassingly displayed to my entire social circle by her dancing to/singing about enjoying a boiling scrotum load arcing across her fizzer was about as far from the truth as it was possible to sprint. In reality, whenever I gave even the remotest indication of approaching climax she took cover quicker than an agoraphobic groundhog. My little swimmers stood no chance and invariably ended up stalking the moonlit streets seeking discarded tissues and untended condom tips.

Anyway, what were we talking about?

Ah yes, the top heavy bodybuilder gal.

She grabbed my hand, dragged me onto the dance floor, straddled my thigh, and began grinding far more enthusiastically than was absolutely necessary. I began to tent despite my recent debauchery. And I was wearing slacks.

Great. More social etiquette quandaries. What the hell do I do with this fucking thing, now? I can’t walk it off like Ron Burgundy. I held her close and thought about cricket.

She moved her crotch up my thigh and began frottaging my erection directly. Her tits pillowed against my chest, making them seem even bigger. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Where's Brewer's Droop when yer need it?

Then, inexplicably, her muscular arms encircled my upper arms and torso, locking her hands in the small of my back. Double arm-pinning overhooks. I was admiring how strong she was as well as panicking a little. What the hell is this, now? She had me immobilized and was humping my leg like a fucking spaniel. It only took a few more seconds before she started to shudder. This was no dance move, this was an orgasm! I endeavored to deliver some token resistance but my heart wasn't really in it -- I was spellbound by the novelty.

When the vibrating stopped there was a few post-coital twitches before she released me from her iron grip and led me from the floor. "Erm, did you just have an orgasm?" I enquired conspiratorially, seeking confirmation for what I already knew. She didn't answer and didn't speak to me again.

I felt used, to be honest. Got over it in about three seconds, though, at least, until one of the lads pointed out a little wet patch on my pants' crotch. "It's not fucking mine!" was an immediately regrettable response.

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