by Tucker Max
This time was different. After everything that had happened tonight, my conscious mind was like George Foreman in the fifth round of The Rumble in the Jungle: exhausted, punched out, and stunned by an opponent he underestimated. My subconscious, seeing my conscious mind on the ropes, did exactly what Muhammad Ali did to Foreman: Finished him.
Subconscious “Tucker…are you having fun? You like that soft supple flesh on your penis? That pussy you are penetrating…it is the same hole that just passed a dead five-month-old fetus. Isn’t she supposed to wait at least two weeks after that happens to fuck again?”
As my conscious desperately tries to fend off my subconscious, Mimi is no help. She keeps moaning and screaming. This only makes me more disgusted. My dick is not big enough to make a girl scream “FUCK ME WITH YOUR HUGE COCK” during sex, especially considering that I was barely hard. The only type of woman who would say that is one who is accustomed to propping up the egos of men who pay for sex.
Subconscious “I wonder how much she charges? You could be getting thousands of dollars of value here, all for free. Do you think she fucked anyone before you today? Her pussy does seem a bit slippery, doesn’t it? I wonder how much she made. After she passes out, check her purse.”
Mimi “OH TUCKER, JUST LIKE THAT! I LOVE YOUR GIANT COCK!”
Subconscious “Tucker, you realize that the only way a girl gets this whorish is because she was raped by her step-dad at age 10. Do you think your dick is bigger than the guy who sexually abused her as a child? I bet it’s doesn’t feel that way, even if it is.”
Mimi “FUCK ME HARDER! OH MY GOD!”
Subconscious “You know, she just miscarried… I wonder if there is still any embryonic fluid down there. That’s probably why she’s so wet. I bet she didn’t even miscarry. I bet she got a vacuum and sucked that nearly third trimester baby right out. That’s why she feels especially good—a pussy gets tenderized when it’s stretched for a dead baby head.”
Mimi “OH GOD YES! FUCK ME RAW! SHOOT YOUR CUM ALL OVER MY TITS!”
Subconscious “And if it was a partial-birth abortion, there is probably still some brain juice coating her pussy. That stuff is REALLY slippery. I bet you can feel it if you concentrate.”
There was the knockout punch. No standing eight count, no saved by the bell: My conscious mind was on the canvas looking up at the referee.
My dick went totally limp. Wouldn’t respond at all; it was like trying to get a marshmallow into a slot machine. I was done.
Not even pretending to cum, I roll off her and leave the room. I checked on her 10 minutes later, and she was passed out exactly where I left her, naked, lying on her back, her huge fake tits just sitting there on her chest. I momentarily considered waking her up to try again, but the immediate gag reflex that followed that thought stopped me. I don’t want any more of my subconscious tonight.
Sarah was indeed pissed, but she stayed around anyway. After the night I’d had, all I wanted was to be alone. I couldn’t kick her out, but I just couldn’t be cooperative:
Sarah “Did you take a shower after you fucked her?”
Tucker “No.”
Sarah “Well, would you take one?”
Tucker “Why?”
Sarah “Cause I want to have sex with you.”
Tucker “Do we have to?”
She left after that. But not before she asked me to cut her a check for half the cost of the abortion. As I wrote the $200 check, I momentarily considered asking her if she was sure the kid was mine, but I just couldn’t. I was still on the canvas.
After everyone left, I stopped and fully considered what I had just done:
I invited a girl over to have sex…
who is pregnant with my child…
AND has ovarian cancer.
While she was at my place hanging out with me seeking moral support for her difficult times ahead, I invited another girl over to fuck me… That girl is married…
And just had a miscarriage…
AND only wants to fuck so she can have something to throw in her husband’s face.
Then I fucked her, but had to stop because I couldn’t remove the image of dead fetus brains spilling out of her vagina from my mind… Then I refused to fuck the other girl because I was too disgusted with myself to get hard again.
Seriously, think about this scenario for a second, and ask yourself: Is it possible to be a worse person without breaking the law? Forget an upper management role in hell; I think I have the CEO position in my sights.
Well, I just hope that they serve beer in hell. Even if it is rodeo cool.
Update: Tucker and the Sociopathic Hooker Go to Court
About three weeks after the above story finished, I get this email from my friend Gigi, who knows Mimi and her husband, Ted. Before I show you the emails, some backstory:
The reason I can’t stand Ted is because, like I said in the story, he kicked me out of a party at his place when I embarrassed him. I put whipped cream on his shoulder or something like that, as a joke, and he flipped about it. Kinda weird, but that’s the truth.
After they got divorced, Mimi called the police on Ted and claimed that he tried to kill her, which is total and complete bullshit. I have several friends in common with Ted, and though he may suck in a lot of ways, he is not the type of person who would be violent against a woman.
Now the emails:
From: Gigi
To: Tucker Max
Date: May 13, 2005 1:13 PM
Subject: Mimi/Ted divorce
Ted is wondering if he could talk to you about anything Mimi said that might help him. She’s trying to seriously screw him out of everything, had him arrested last week and is telling the police that he tried to kill her (obviously not true).
I told him I would help any way I could and that I thought you would be willing to at least relay to him your interactions with her in the last month or so. If you don’t want to, I understand, but just think about it.
From: Tucker Max
To: Gigi
Date: May 13, 2005 1:47 PM
Subject: Mimi/Ted divorce
Why should I help him? If that prick wants to kick me out of his party, why should I do anything to help him? As far as I am concerned, he can reap the wheat he sows.
Forward him my email. Let him read it himself. If he’s a man he can ask me himself.
From: Ted
To: Tucker Max
Date: May 13, 2005 4:35 PM
Subject: Please help
Tucker: First, before I even begin, I owe you an apology. You and I didn’t get off on the right foot and I apologize for that—I truly regret my actions.
Right now, I am going through a lot and understand you may be able to help me. I know, you are probably thinking, why should I help you—you’re an ass. Please know, I don’t claim to be a perfect person and I recognize my faults. However, I can only appeal to your sense of fairness.
I understand that Mimi told you about her plan to scheme me—i.e., that she got pregnant by someone else, planned to trick me into believing it was my child, and wanted to see how much money she could get out of me (which is quickly being depleted in attorney’s fees). Would you be willing to talk to me or my attorney about your conversation with Mimi? Right now I am facing criminal charges based on Mimi’s allegations—which I assure you are not true. I have been victimized and need your help. Thanks for considering this request.
Sincerely,
Ted
After this email exchange, I had a real decision to make. I am not a fan of this guy, and I think that when you marry a scheming whore you deserve what comes next, but at the same time, I honestly felt bad for this guy. He was getting blamed for something that he did not do.
But even beyond blatantly framing Ted, Mimi was one cold-hearted bitch. She got a restraining order against him and he wasn’t allowed to go home, while the whole time she was still fucking guys in his condo. His neighbor told him that guys were going in and out of there while he
was in Cook County Jail for the false charges she leveled against him. Can you imagine? Rage isn’t a strong enough word to describe what my reaction would have been. I would have killed the bitch.
Bunny put it this way to me, “Tucker, I know you don’t like him, but this isn’t just about helping him in his divorce. If the situation was reversed and some whore was trying to frame you, wouldn’t you want him to help you, especially if you were innocent?”
As usual, Bunny’s moral compass was pointing in the right direction. I had an obligation to help this dude, even though I couldn’t stand him.
From: Tucker Max
To: Ted
Date: May 15, 2005 9:37 PM
Subject: Re: Please help
Let me be clear about this: I think you are a douche, and in some ways I think you deserve what you are getting. But I’m still going to help you.
The ONLY reason I am doing this is because I think that her trying to frame you for something criminal that you didn’t do is the most morally repugnant shit I have ever heard, and it is just flat wrong. I HATE people who do that. You may suck, but at least you don’t lie to hurt people, and that is what she is doing and it’s wrong.
Unless there is a reason for you to talk to me, I’d rather not. Have your lawyer call me, I’ll tell him everything, on the record: 773 *******
I talked to his lawyer, told the same basic story as I outlined in my book, and then ended up going to court to testify to this. I never actually testified though; Ted’s lawyer told the prosecutor that I was there and what I was going to say, Mimi admitted that the whole thing was true, so the prosecutor stipulated to my testimony (in layman’s terms that means that she agreed to admit the facts of my testimony into evidence without me actually taking the stand).
The best part of the trial—and there was an actual bench trial—were the things I learned about Mimi and the case. She admitted on the stand, in open court, that she didn’t miscarry, but that she had an abortion… AT FIVE MONTHS PREGNANT, for no medical reason, simply because she didn’t want the kid and basically had gotten pregnant to make Ted marry her. Holy shit. Whatever your stance is on abortion (personally, I am pro-choice), you have to recognize how fucking awful that is.
The best thing was when I got confirmation of my suspicion: Ted found out that Mimi not only used to work as an escort, she CURRENTLY works as an escort. THE BITCH IS A PROSTITUTE.
And she’s not just a hooker, she’s a very high-priced hooker. Her minimum package is two grand for three hours. I had a $2,000-a-session prostitute coming over to my place to fuck me for free. Disgustingly awesome.
I posted a short blurb about this event on my blog. Not the whole story, just a little quick thing talking about the basics of the case and how this is the second time one of my stories has become public record.
A few days later I got this email:
From: Mimi
To: Tucker Max
Date: Jun 1, 2005 3:37 PM
Subject: Wow
I talked about you with my therapist today and he laughed so hard he cried. Also, thanks for the free advertising. I got over 100,000 hits on my site because of your link to my profile.
I hate to say it but you weren’t very memorable, but then again I fuck for a living, so most aren’t memorable. I can’t wait to buy the book, I love the Satan reference about me.
I’m sorry if you are emotionally scarred because I didn’t think much of our “relationship.” When TheBunny told me you were in love with me after our first tryst, I didn’t take it seriously. Perhaps I would have been more gentle, but I had no idea you were so sensitive. I wish I hadn’t been so drunk for the second and last experience with you because I didn’t realize we had actually fucked until I woke up naked in your bed.
Really, I am very sorry if I hurt your feelings. You really can’t expect much emotional attachment from a working girl. But I’m happy we used condoms because we both fuck quite a few people. I really am sorry about the court situation, I feel bad that none of it was admissable [sic] because the story is funny.
Best,
“Mimi”
From: Tucker Max
To: Mimi
Date: Jun 2, 2005 10:37 AM
Subject: Wow
Honey, let’s clear a few things up:
1. You are welcome for the free advertising. I knew that it would drive a lot of traffic to your site. But what confuses me is why, if you like the advertising, you would change the URL of your pictures (thus rendering the links I put up bad)? I mean, you left your profile up and I eventually changed my links to reflect that, so obviously you didn’t quit. Either you like the traffic or you don’t. Which is it?
2. As to the court situation: My testimony was actually admitted. The prosecutor stipulated to the relevant parts of my testimony, so it is actually on record, even if I never took the stand.
3. The idea that I was ever in love with you is laughable. Bunny swears she never said that (but maybe she did, who knows, she talks crazy when she drinks tequila). Though I am going to believe her on this, as you once told Bunny that I called you every day, which again is laughable. I think I have called you a total of three times since I’ve known you. For not being memorable, you sure do come to me a lot for late night booty calls.
4. The only emotional scarring I have came because I WAS fucking you. You’ll understand when you read the story.
After I sent this email, I actually went to the Verizon website and checked my online call records to see how many times we’ve called each other, to make sure I was right. A search showed I was a little off—I’ve actually called her five times in the year and half I’ve known her. The number of times she’s called me in that same span? Thirty-six. Yeah, I’m obviously in love.
As of this writing, Mimi is still living in Chicago and still fucking for money. Ted won his case against her, thanks in large part to my testimony, and had all charges against him dismissed. Ted and Mimi are fully divorced, obviously, and you can fuck Mimi if you are willing to drop $2,000 to do so. Sarah underwent cancer treatment and made a full recovery. I am happy to report that she is just as good in bed as she ever was.
SNOOP STORY
Occurred—November 2003
Written—January 2008
An average afternoon in Chicago, I get a call from my buddy JoJo.
JoJo “What are you doing?”
Tucker “What am I always doing? Drinking and playing with myself.”
JoJo “And people say you are wasting your law degree.”
We start the night at a bar called The Union. They have a special every Friday, $5 all you can eat and drink from 5–8pm. We arrive at 4:59. Before we are even three pitchers into the night, the bar looks like an American Idol casting call. Everyone at the three tables around us has to be in high school. I start talking to some of the girls, and lo and behold, they are all either 18 or 19, all freshman in various colleges home for the Thanksgiving break, and all went to high school together. It turns out they attended the same school as JoJo, and when they learn this they get excited and ask him when he graduated.
JoJo “It was a while ago.”
Girl 1 “Oh come on, you can tell us.”
Girl 2 “My brother is probably your age, he just graduated college.”
Tucker “HAHAHHAHAHAHHHAHAA.”
JoJo “No, I’m a bit older.”
Girl 1 “Tell us! Pleeeeeease!”
Girl 2 “It doesn’t matter, we’re just curious.”
JoJo “Fine. I graduated in 94.”
They kinda stop and look confused, as if they can’t believe it.
Girl 1 “Oh.”
Girl 2 “Don’t worry. You’re not…that…old.”
I am not sure why they were surprised that someone in a BAR was almost a decade older than them, but I guess their naiveté is part of what makes teenagers so precious. Still laughing, I head to the bathroom. There is a guy standing at the mirror preening like one of the Gotti idiots.
Tucker “Y
es, yes, you’re very handsome.”
Douche “What?”
This was not a “I’m curious what you said” tone, more of a “I am an insecure guido and I worry a lot about respect” tone.
Tucker “How do you get your hair to stay so stiff? Musk?”
Even though he didn’t get the joke, he was smart enough to get that I was mocking him.
The open bar ends and JoJo and I start buying shots. Because we have credit cards that work, we become the heroes of the teenage freshman. After about four rounds, one of the girls—who is ridiculously hot and obviously not accustomed to the effects of the drink—starts confiding in me about how none of these people were friends with her in high school, and that she blossomed last year and now they are all nice to her now because she’s pretty, but they weren’t when she was ugly and unpopular.
Tucker “Baby, welcome to hotness. It’s a different world for beautiful people. I have dated hot girls and seen their universe, it’s quite wonderful.”
I’ll be honest: I’m not sure what I said to her in the next 30 minutes, but whatever it was, I wish I could bottle and sell it, because at the end of that half hour, she and I were in the women’s bathroom hooking up. Apparently, we were not being subtle about it, because the bouncers came in, banged on the door—rudely interrupting her mid-fellatio—and proceeded to throw both of us out of the bar. The girl was so embarrassed that all of her new “friends” saw her get thrown out for hooking up in the bathroom with a guy she just met, once outside she burst into tears and ran down the street.