Not Getting a Threesome in Envy in Oldham

You know, back in 2008 when I was starting to promote my other blog, and people started to read what I was writing, I realised there were certain things I couldn’t blog about any more. I’d just lost my virginity. I’d started to feel that I could get what I wanted. But I also realised I couldn’t go bragging about it on the internet. That’s why this story took so long to come to light.

 

I used to work in a bar in Oldham, and this Zoey girl let on to me a few times. Back then, she was fit- young, blonde, big natural tits, shockingly thick though.

 

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I’d resigned a few months previously, but I’d decided to roll into this bar and hang with the managers and the regulars. I was suited and booted just because, well, it works to dress that way. Women love it. I’d forgotten about her totally, but when she turned up she hit on me straight away. The feeling I used to get before I lost the cherry- that I was going to fuck it up- wasn’t there at all. I knew I could fuck this girl. She came in with her friend, a short girl with dark hair and a nice body. I can’t remember much about her. Zoey invited me to a club, so I followed her there, planning on keeping my cool for a change and making things happen. I felt like a man for once.

 

I pulled her within minutes, even after she showed me her engagement ring. On the dance floor, she showed off to me by tongue-kissing her friend, then giving me a three-way kiss. Within seconds, though, her friend was mouthing off at me, saying she thought I was a ponce and a stuck-up wanker.

 

I told her she was a good judge of character.

 

Zoey stuck up for me and defended me over it. She made her friend kiss me to make up. Her friend bit my lip to get back at me. I called her a bitch, the first time saying that to a girl.

 

If I wasn’t a dumbass, I thought, if I don’t fuck it up, I could have a threesome on the cards here. A matter of weeks after my first shag. Anything was possible.

 

Her friend went back to the bar for her drink. She took a big swig, and looked at it in disappointment. “Tasted dusty,” she said, and went over to Zoey.

 

I know what that means, I thought. I looked around at the bar patrons. There were plenty of guys in here. The bar staff were men as well. She went back to dance with Zoey, but after a few moments, she stumbled back to the bar. She was leaning on the bar top with one elbow, knees giving slightly, head lolling like she was dropping off.

 

She’s been spiked, I thought.

 

Something resembling embarrassment hit me. I was with her and Zoey for an hour or more, and I was the only guy they were talking to. Other people are going to notice she’s been spiked, and I’m going to be prime suspect. I got a doorman.

 

It quickly hit me that the opportunity to nail both these girls that night had been pulled out from under me by some creepy twat. But I still had to sort shit out. I’d learned, only recently, that the man has to take control of these situations. You can’t leave decisions to a woman, as chauvinistic as it sounds. I’d failed to take control too many times in the past, and lost the girl. I told them to meet me outside. I’d take them home.

 

Fuck knows why I didn’t take them to the hospital or go to the police. I think Zoey may have mentioned having some coke on her. I got my car as quickly as possible, picked them up from outside the club and caned it to Newhey or somewhere- to Zoey’s.

 

On the journey the girl was crying, asking why it had happened.

 

I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Zoey barked. “I’ve been raped twice!” She looked over to me. “Sorry.”

 

Don’t worry about it.”

 

I got to Zoey’s house and told her to look after the girl, and made her kiss me. Then I left them to it. I went home and had a wank.

 

I kept in touch with Zoey for a few days- she told me she’d helped her friend vomit everything up and put her to bed, but she was fine afterwards. Zoey was giving me “busy” excuses for a week or so. Then out of the blue she asked me to meet her again.

 

She quickly reminded me she was engaged, something I’d totally forgotten about ’til that moment.

 

But… you kissed me,” I said, bemused.

 

Yeah, well…” she shrugged.

 

Well why won’t you do it again then, for fuck’s sake, I thought.

 

We went to the club again afterwards. I asked her why she was all over me one night and not at all tonight. She replied that there were loads of people who knew her fiancé in the club. I was out of ideas.

 

A few months later I found her on Facebook, hence the above pictures. She updated her status as being back in a relationship. I had a browse through her pictures. Then I saw her boyfriend.

 

He was called John. He was about 40. I used to prop up the bars with him in Oldham. He was built like a brick shithouse. He had steroid-needle scars all over his arms, damaging the Manchester City tattoos he was plastered in. He would tell stories of fighting groups of Royal Navy guys. He bragged about biting a guy’s nose off in a fight, then accidentally letting his cat eat it after he took it home with him in his pocket.) He collected snuff videos. He pointed guns at people. He was staring into the camera like he was going to kill the guy taking the picture.

 

Aw, fuck.

 

Lots of people knew me in Oldham. Lots of people knew Zoey. Lots of people definitely knew John.

 

Since then, I’ve not seen any of these people. Zoey put some pictures on Facebook of a giant wound in her leg- eventually they’d had an argument and he’d stabbed her numerous times. Rumour has it he went down for life.

 

She removed me from her friends after a year or so.

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