Assholes Finish First Read Online Free PDF Page B

hadn’t been discovered yet.
    I was kidding of course, but it worked: She ended up coming home with me. The harder you push them away, the more desperately they want in.
    We started hooking up, she took off my clothes and her top, but refused to remove her jeans. Wait, what?
    She said she had some injury or something, but she wouldn’t elaborate on what it was or why it precluded her from removing her pants. She did have a bandage on her hip and I could sort of see it sticking out of her jeans, so I just let it go at first.
    We made out some more and she got more into it. After her initial reticence, she decided she did want to have sex with me, despite her “injury” and risk of death from HPV. OK, condoms work great, let’s get to the fucking, right?
    Is it ever that easy for me? Well, yeah, most of the time it is… but I wouldn’t write a story about it if it was just normal sex.
    As she took off her pants, she decided that this was the appropriate time to let me in on a little issue she had. She began by telling me that she had Crohn’s disease. I told her that a friend of mine has it so I knew what it was (FYI, a degenerative disease of the colon). Well, hers was pretty advanced. She kept dancing around the issue until, all of a sudden, it hit me:
    Tucker “That’s not a bandage on your hip is it? OH. MY. GOD!”
    Great Holy Mother of Jesus, this girl had a fucking colostomy bag.
    A COLOSTOMY BAG. ON HER HIP.
    [In case you are lost, let me introduce you to the Webster’s Medical Dictionary definition of colostomy bag: “A bag worn over an artificial anus to collect feces.”]
    About three inches to the left of her belly button a tube stuck out of a small hole and emptied into a bag—about the size of a small Ziploc sandwich bag—that was bandaged to her hip. I shit you not, there was a BAG FULL OF POOP—LITERALLY HUMAN SHIT—TAPED TO HER HIP.
    This was quite the shock for me. I tried to be cool about it. I told her it was no big deal, that everyone has issues, hers just happened to be more out in the open than most, and that I would be supportive… all right, who am I bullshitting? I laughed like a fucking hyena, right in her face.
    I mean, come on, the girl had a bag of crap on her hip, like some sort of old Western shitslinger. What do you want from me? Caring?Compassion? Sorry, we’re sold out. I immediately asked the first thing that came to my mind:
    Tucker “So if you shit in a bag, can we have butt sex and not have to worry about getting crap on my penis?”
    Girl “Not exactly. My asshole has been sewn shut.”
    Tucker “GET THE FUCK OUT! YOUR ASSHOLE HAS BEEN SEWN SHUT?”
    Girl “Uh, yeah.”
    Tucker “I want to see, right now.”
    I rolled her over and stuck my finger down there. Lo and behold, THERE WAS NO ASSHOLE. It was just all crack, from top to bottom!
    She told me that since she never used it, her asshole was sewn shut to prevent infection. I couldn’t hold off anymore. Sex be damned, there were jokes to be made:
    Tucker “So I guess opinions aren’t like assholes, at least not for you?”
    Girl “Very funny.”
    Tucker “If I go too hard, could I fuck your shit right into that bag. I could literally fuck the shit out of you couldn’t I?”
    Girl “Tucker…”
    Tucker “What happens if I’m too vigorous? Will the shit hit the fan?”
    Girl “Well…”
    Tucker “You’re only a two-holer! I couldn’t even three-hole you if I tried!”
    She explained that as long as she was careful, she could do anything any other girl could do—except shit out of her asshole, of course. Not wanting to lose the opportunity to mark a new type of handicap off my Sexual To-Do List, I coaxed her back into a romantic mood. Just as we started hooking up again, she whispered:
    “Be gentle, you don’t want this thing to break.”
    T UCKER AND H IS F IRST M ILF
    Occurred—April 2002
    At this point, the majority of my friends are married. Most of their weddings were in places like Vegas or