Like Erotic Services, Casual Encounter ads are similar in nature except the women in this category aren’t looking for money; they’re just looking to get off. The difficulty with finding a woman in Casual Encounters is that escort companies post phony ads here to try and take advantage of innocent, horny men who are doing nothing but trying to take advantage of some innocent, horny woman.
Sick, I know.
After the lonely, innocent, horny men respond to the fake ad unknowingly, the escort company sends them some spam that contains a picture of an incredibly attractive woman and a link to a website which displays a page that states if you want the incredibly attractive woman’s phone number, you first have to punch in your credit card number to verify that you’re not a registered sex offender…
Not wanting to know for sure whether or not I’m registered, I never bothered to input any numbers because I’m certain it just leads to a bill at the end of the month and nothing more but don’t let this discourage you from poking around in Casual Encounters trying to find a real ad.
There is still fun to be had courtesy of Craig’s List; you just have to be dedicated to discovering it.
Casual Encounters has it’s own set of abbreviations but fear not, I’ve defined and even translated them for you.
BBW: A Big Boned Woman
In other words, fat.
FWB: A Friend With Benefits
There are benefits…
If you don’t mind having fat friends.
NSA: No Strings Attached
There is a string. And in all probability, it’s tied to something fat.
SWF: A Single White Female
This woman is crazy. We’ve all seen the film.
Except in the film, she’s not fat.
I was at The Office one afternoon doing nothing but refreshing Craig’s List and responding to every new ad posted into the Casual Encounters section.
I don’t even read the ads I reply to but just copy and paste a generic email I have saved that contains my picture and a little blurb about my likes (anal) and dislikes (sacs) because I’m too lazy to put in any real effort to try and sleep with someone who is guaranteed to be strange looking.
You shouldn’t have to work for that shit.
My email client chimes alerting me I’ve received a nibble. I examine it and am pretty sure it isn’t spam, so I go to review the senders ad on Craig’s List to see what she’s all about.
She’s a red head that wants to have someone come over and “fuck her silly,” then afterwards, hangout intimately and “count her freckles.”
Sounds easy enough…
Except for the intimacy and the counting…
But I’ll address those when the time comes.
Big Red’s email contains a few face pictures and a couple of body shots that look a little out dated but nothing that sets off any alarms.
She requests that I describe what I’m going to do to her if she permits me to come over so as graphically as I can I tell this woman the most disgusting, degrading shit I can think of…
I tell her I’m going to make love to her…
But that’s pretty gross, isn’t it?
I say something about a belt and her neck, some lube and her ass, a shovel and her ass, a length of rope and her neck and a pier…
You know sort of like the missionary position…
Big Red replies that because she finds me funny and is fond of my creativity, she wants to take things further.
I inquire about where she lives but instead of replying with an address, she sends me her phone number along with a request for me to call her first.
Christ this broad is needy.
I ring her and as soon as she answers she serves up a bunch of questions, which I answer as much like a serial killer as I possibly can, of course panting and groaning in between answers.
She thinks I’m being clever again.
She compliments my voice, so I try to say something nice in return but all that comes out is, “so
where do you live all ready?”
She tells me her address and buzzer number, so I jot down her info, tidy up my desk (meaning I butt out my smoke and polish of the Whiskey I have on the go) grab an EXACTO knife, lock up The Office and hail a cab.
It’s snowing like crazy outside.
The worst snow storm of the year so far, so it takes the cab over half an hour to get me to my destination, which is only a ten-minute walk away.
The anticipation is killing me.
We pull up out front of the address and to no surprise; she lives in a derelict building in a derelict area.
Now that doesn’t mean she’s can’t be a hot chick but it most likely means she’s an unsightly one.
I tell the cabbie to wait two minutes for me and leave him a large tip because if this chick has anything resembling a cock or a sac, I’m going to “gets to cutting something”and bust out the front door within seconds.
Ienter her shabby lobby and punch in her buzzer code with a pen because the intercom is filthy. It doesn’t work so I call her on my cell. Big Red answers and says she’ll be right up to let me in. As I see a tiny Irish women come into view wearing nothing but a green housecoat and a horny smile, I give the cabbie the signal to skedaddle and follow Big Red downstairs.
We arrive on her welcome mat and I notice the doors to her place look like similar to the doors of a meat locker.
I don’t get any bad vibes from Big Red and figure I won’t need to cut her much, so I decide to tuck my EXACTO knife into my sock but as I plunge my hand into my pocket to perform the relocation, I realize the knife is already open as it gashes a hole my palm.
Before I can really scope out the damage, Big Red strikes up some small talk, so I just keep my mitt in my pocket for the moment. As she’s introducing me to her cats, I can’t focus on anything but the throbbing in my hand, so I cut her off and mid sentence and say “I really need to take a piss” and ask her where her crapper is.
I get into the bathroom and rinse the blood off my hand under some cold water and inspect the damage.
Yep. It’s deep.
I wrap a bunch of toilet paper around my hand creating a homemade bandage and figure if she asks me about it I’ll just say, “What are you talking about? I had this on when I got here” then carefully tuck my EXACTO knife into my sock, flush for show and prepare to make sex.
When I come out, Big Red doesn’t notice my hand so I don’t bring it up. I check out her open concept apartment, which is very cool and very filthy. There is a piece of recently erected dry wall separating her bed from the couch that she’d obviously hauled out of the neighbor’s trash.
I poke around a little more and uncover the highlight of the tour.
Behind the neighbor’s garbage (also known as her couch) is a completely bare area, except for three chains that are hanging neck level from the ceiling. Two of them are attached to arm restraints and the third one is fixed to a dog collar.
A dog collar…
The neckpiece has a little tag on it, which I walk over to investigate. It’s heart shaped and has the word “BITCH” carved into it, so I ask Big Red, “Did your father give you this for Christmas?” and start laughing.
To my surprise she also laughs, which kind of ruins the insult for me but whatever.
It’s time to be having the sex.
Big Red and I take a seat on her neighbor’s garbage, I light two smokes and hand her one as she begins to speak about weed. I have another smoke and another smoke and another smoke, while she rambles on incessantly about marijuana and how she rolls it, how she grew it once, how she feels when she’s on it and what her cat thinks about it.
All I do is yawn or sigh whenever it’s my turn to speak.
She finally decides to mix it up a little when she begins to yap about her career…
As a marijuana activist who’s dedicated her entire life to getting pot legalized.
I finally have something to say.
“So you don’t have a real job then?”
She doesn’t chuckle at this wisecrack like she did at the one about her fathers Christmas gift but luckily – before things can get awkward – one of her tits slides out of her robe and onto her lap.
I juggle it for a bit, while Big Red undoes my zipper and pushes her own head down into my naughty region. She’s kneeling on her neighbor’s garbage with her arse pointed up into the air, so
I reach around it and stick a finger into it for a few minutes.
I decide that’s enough foreplay and remind myself that Big Red has a dog collar hanging from her roof that reads, “BITCH”so I think it’s safe to say I can toss her around a little.
I grab Big Red by the jugular and hurl her over the end of her neighbor’s garbage and apply a little pressure to her neck (with my foot) so that the front of her throat is receiving a romantic amount of stress and her arse is exposed ready for me to make the sex to it. I pull a cock ring out of my wallet, put it on and stick her with it.
She says the cock ring is bothering her, so I take it off…
And put it back in my wallet…
I hammer away as Big Red moans in delight. I suppose she’s faking it but suppose even more that I don’t care. I contemplate licking her ass and sexing her feet, until I have a peak at them.
They are both uninviting.
I throw a pillow over her feet so I don’t have to look at them and sex her ass so it would stop looking at me.
To mix it up, I pull out, leap over the (neighbors) couch, while gently holding her by the hair as she guides my penis into her mouth.
She preoccupies her hands by grabbing her ankles without instruction.
I can think of a few other carvings that may be appropriate for her collar.
One in particular stands out…
The sex is so foul that it almost feels like I’m starring in a movie.
Some sort of soft-core porno…
After making love to her gullet, I tenderly grab Big Red by her locks and position her onto her side. I tuck one of her legs underneath me and wrap her other around my waist. After pounding away in this sinful position for a while, I pull out and move her onto her back, pick her tits up off the floor and fold them over my wiener.
Even though I don’t want this sick, sadistic experience to end, after making sex with her tits for twenty minutes, I shoot my DNA all over her chest, let out a ferocious groan and fall back onto her neighbor’s garbage to have a smoke.
Big Red lies there for a minute basking in the after glow of sex while working my semen into her tits, then looks over at me with adoration in her eyes and says, “Well?”
I say, “Well, what?”
She looks at me with disappointment.
Again I say, “WELL, WHAT?”
She says, “WELL…aren’t you going to count them?”
I say, “Count what?” knowing full well she wants me to tally her freckles but the only thing I’m calculating is the time it takes for the cab to get here. To humor her, I inspect her back, awkwardly laugh and say “seven” but she’s horribly let down because she’s plagued with sunspots.
I don’t feel too bad because it’s kind of her fault.
She should have had me scrutinize her body before her boob fell out onto her thighs.
I would have been all over her with a magnifying glass.
I light another couple smokes and hand her one. She lights a joint and we make a little small talk till the taxi arrives. I tell her it was fun and we should do it again sometime but don’t really mean it…
Though I’m sure she could tell by my lousy intimacy and lazy addition…
It’s still snowing like crazy, so it takes about triple the time for me to get home. When I’m safe and sound, I put my EXACTO knife away and patch up my hand properly…
With some more two ply.
I crawl into bed to make sex with my unscathed hand and as soon as I cum, I start wondering about how many freckles I have.
I tell myself “seven” and feeling satisfied with that number, I pass out.
I wake up the next morning (late for work) and there is an email from Big Red sitting in my INBOX.
She wanted to thank me for a great night.
Well Big Red, you’re welcome.