It Came From the Other Side of the Mattress

When I was in college, everyone knew Judy. Sweet, cute as button, unassuming, and roughly about 250 pounds. Also: she got more ass than a toilet seat.

Judy had game. She’d hang with us at the bars, talking football and shit, matching us beer for beer, and watching as, one by one, we struck out with every hot chick in the place. That’s when we’d stumble back to the booth or table, drown our sorrows in a stale, last call beer, and feel Judy’s hand on our thighs. At first, it seemed like friendly consolation. Then her hand moved a bit higher. And before our alcohol-impaired minds even knew what was going on, Judy’s deftly maneuvering her warm, thick fingers over the crotch our pants, manipulating us to a throbbing hard-on, then whispering something in our ears about getting back to campus. Like now and shit. Drunk and almost shaking with the need for release, we obeyed.

One night, when she wasn’t around, we took a quick, drunken poll of everyone she’d ensnared in such a fashion. An immediate show of hands revealed Bill, Dave, Stephen, Phil, Dave L., Andy, Ron, Ted and Artemis. Later in the evening, Gabe and Eric acknowledged that they’d been there as well. Danny and I were the lone hold outs. I neglected to mention that she’d never actually come on to me, but, y’know, still…

Then there was that night. Drinking since noon and barely standing. Having disgusted every girl in the place [note to self: asking chicks “How many cigarettes do you think I can eat?” doesn’t usually entice them to blow you], I separated myself from the crew and somehow got my ass over to Judy’s place. Her roommate let me in, and I stumbled down the hall to find her in her room, lying on her bed, watching TV with the lights off. I dragged myself over to the bed, laid down next to her, and started talking rag time. “We missed you tonight… we had a good time… blah blah blah.” She listened to me for a few minutes, then her hand suddenly found itself on my thigh. I was already hard, head buzzing with booze and the sweet smell of her breath. A few minutes later, she’d undone my fly, released the monster, and started giving him a right good pumping. I closed my eyes, and just as I was about to succumb, I heard something.


Sounded like a sick dog, but I paid it no mind, far too busy thinking of baseball scores and hockey games to keep myself from falling into a helpless spasm of release. But then I heard it again. And it sounded like a voice. A guy?

I darted up, shook my head, and looked over Judy’s mammoth figure to find my man Danny lying on the other side of her, also getting a handjob.

Recoiling, I threw myself off the bed, staggered down the hall and out the door. And that was that.

The point of all this? Judy was a player, and a damn good one at that.

And to Danny–who, to the best of my knowledge, hasn’t breathed a word of this to anyone–I still owe you that beer.


  1. Nikki B

    May 16, 2012 at 2:04 pm

    Ah ha ha ha ha ha!!!

    Damn, Judy. I will buy YOU a beer.

  2. Something She Dated (@SSDated)

    May 17, 2012 at 2:55 am

    Oh Judy…you’re my fucking hero!

  3. zoso1016

    May 17, 2012 at 3:42 am

    I had a dream I was skiing

Leave a Reply