"hehehehe... She'll never know it's only an inch if I tell her it's 11..."So, here I am, at summer camp, when a friend of mine texts me, asking me for this girl's number that we both know. Now, the two of them have somewhat of a history that is no surprise to the people around them, and that's important because they both have a bit of their own individual reputations. One could say that there reputations absolutely precede them, and those reputations are most definitely not good. Last week, the girl texted me, asking me for his number. That was fine... I guess. I didn't really mind, but at the same time, I'm not your god damn phone book. That occurrence came and went, leaving me more than assured it wouldn't happen again... or at least for a while.
I'm never really sure why I doubted it would happen again. Those two are... special individuals. Sure enough, a mere two days later, he is texting me, and, of course, asks me for her number. Anyone see the opportunity there? I couldn't resist. Quite frankly, one negative aspect of the iPhone has always been the fact that it's owner rarely knows the information of the people that they put into the phone because the iPhone shows the name (or nickname) and picture of whoever you are contacting - never the actual number like many other phones (including some other smartphones).
It really doesn't need to be said that I gave him a number that wasn't the number of the girl he was trying to contact. It actually belonged to my friend Swanny (that's a nickname), and we had quite the laugh talking to the guy as the girl. Because, believe it or not, I do actually have a small, albeit existent, shred of decency within me (although after last night, I'm sure your mother would vehemently disagree), I'm not going to reveal the names of either party. He is from the 610 though, and trust me, if you're close enough to the Main Line and have the right group of friends, you'll know who it is. The same goes for the girl.
(I followed the Texts From Last Night format, so the 1-610 is simply an indication of the response. The number I used nor the actual girl have the 610 area code. Only his.)
610: Hey it's XXXXXX sry didn't txt u earlier havin too much fun in Cali
1-610: hey sexy. how iz cali?
610: It's the shit...I wanna live here
1-610: can i liv wit you?
610: Umm...ya hah
1-610: sooooo... what are you doing?
610: I'm at USC that's y I'm our here stayin there in dorms and doin a program here
1-610: thats how. kinda randm. can we sext?
610: Haha that's corney as shit,..gonna have to do better than that...
1-610: pleeeeeaaaasssee
610: haha send me sumthin good
1-610: we r in my room. my pants are off. u slowly lick me n my toes curl
610: Then I rub ur tight pussy till u wet and beggin to fuck
1-610: i need it sooooo bad. you ppull out the handcuffs. my pants are off
610: Dirty girl...Cuff u to the bed and lick ur clutter b4 i gi deep in u
610: Ur clit*
1-610: LOL smooth. my clit is so hard wet. my pants areoff
There you have it. Short, but sweet. Clearly he caught on, and I'm sure he was pretty pissed, but I enjoyed it and so did the rest of DUCA. What's DUCA you ask? Another post for another day.
Until next time. I'm out.
-TSO
*I'd just like to point out that not everyone that lifts weights is a jerk. In fact, one of my best friends since middle school has been weightlifting for about a year now, and he's one of the nicest, most chill guys around. He works really hard, competes, and does incredibly well (Congrats on that last competition. Second place. Yea - you're kinda the shit). Big ups to all the bodybuilders that work out everyday and push yourselves to greater limits with each passing day. I certainly can't. We all want you to succeed. It's just that occasionally, Mr. 610 and people like him make the rest of you look bad. Don't stop lifting. It's good stuff. Keep it up guys.
I believe in God. My pants are off.
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