Vonnie

 

 

When: September 2006 to January 2007

Status: Married 12 years, two kids

Occupation: Stay-at-home mom

Meetings: 26

Age: 34
Quotable:  "Lunch and sex breaks up a day nicely."

I first met Vonnie around the middle of August of 2006. One day, I had just come back from a meeting with a client and stopped by our mailbox. I spotted this gorgeous woman getting her mail. We nodded a hello to each other and were both on our way. She seemed friendly and I loved her smile (and her ass).

The next day, I showed up around 1:15 to see if I could "accidentally" run into her again. I waited for a half hour, but she never showed. And the fucking apartment complex had hundreds of tenants and several different buildings and areas.

But Rome wasn't built in a day (it took over two months just to get the building permits alone), so I figured I'd give it a couple more shots and be done with it. Sometimes violating a married woman just isn't meant to be (no matter how noble it is.....).

The next day I showed up at 1:00 and just waited. And at 1:30, I saw her walking up. When I saw her enter the mail area, I got out of my car and went to get our mail. She was unlocking her mailbox as I arrived at mine and as I turned the key, she looked over and said, "Hello again."

Awesome. An opportunity to talk.   AND an opportunity to reference the great Neil Diamond!  

Neil, do "Forever In Blue Jeans" next!

"Hello. How are you doing?"
"Oh, fine I suppose. How are you?"
"Good, thank you.  I just beat up Rory Mcilroy and fucked a leprechaun." 

Sorry.

She thumbed through her mail and then looked up again.

"So do you work at night or something?"
"Self-employed. I have a home office."
"Nice."
"What do you do?"
"I used to work in retail but I stay at home with the kids now."
"How old are they?"
"Seven and nine."

We ended up talking for another few minutes until she had to leave.

"Nice meeting you.....?"
"Ryan."
"My name's Vonnie."
"Nice meeting you."
"You too. Hope to see you again."
"Yeah, me too."

I didn't see her the next day. I had to meet one of my attorneys about a project. But the day after that, I went down and waited again. And there she was.

"Hello again."
"Hello."
"So, good to see you again."
"Likewise."

Sadly, I don't think Neil has a song called "Good To See You Again."  That sucks.

This time, we chatted for about half an hour. She lived a few buildings away from our apartment and had moved into the complex with her husband and kids a few months earlier. Her husband worked as a technician for a cellular company and had been transferred to Georgia. 

"Where are you from?"
"Mason, OH. About a half hour from Cincinnati."
"I know that town. The ATP (Association of Tennis Professionals) holds a tournament there every year."
"Oh, yeah. We've been to that a few times."


By the way, I know the word "stalking" has probably popped into your head by this point.  I don't consider what I did to be stalking.  I consider it be....uh.....taking the opportunity to create a coincidental meeting.  Yeah.   

We continued to meet at the mailboxes over the next couple of weeks. One morning in early September, we met at our usual place and talked for a bit.

"So what do you have going on today?"
"Not too much. Housework. You?"
"Got a lot of work done today, so I figured that I'd grab some lunch."
"Sounds nice. Where you going?"
"Tampico's. Been there?"
"No."
"Care to come with?."

Just a harmless invitation to lunch, right?  She thought about it for a few seconds and said, "Yeah. That'd be nice. I'm kind of bored with the kids in school and all."  

We hopped into my van--remember, vans are cool, and people who drive them are cool and if you disagree,  you're like, stupid and stuff--and we drove down and had a great lunch. We really hit it off.

We ate and talked for about an hour and a half, then I drove her back up to the complex so she could pick up her car. As she got out, she said, "Thank you so much for lunch. It was so nice to have someone to talk to. Next time, I take you out."

That's right, Poacher Nation!  There would be a next time.  And you know why?  Because I'm just that evil and manipulative fun to be around (hey, Alex is right; that strike through feature is really cool).

I took out my business card and wrote my personal email address on it and handed it to her. She took out a piece of paper out of her purse and wrote her email address on it.

I took it and when I saw it was a Yahoo address, asked, "Is this your Messenger I.D."? She nodded and I said, "I'll send an add request." "Cool.  See you later, Ryan."

The rest of the day was pretty boring. None of my playmates were available, so I just jacked off to some lesbian porn worked and completed some projects. That night, I sent my add request and immediately got one back.

Very cool.

I PM'd her and said hello and we ended up chatting for an hour. Finally, she had to go to bed and said, "See you tomorrow at the mailboxes?" "You bet. Noon?" "Sounds good."

The next day, I pulled up to the mailboxes. As soon as my van came to a complete stop, Vonnie walked up to the passenger side. I unlocked the door and she climbed in. I didn't really know what she was up to; we hadn't planned anything.

"Chili's sound good? My turn to take you to lunch."

We made the short trip to Chili's and had another great lunch. Vonnie was a blast to talk with, even more fun to look at, not that I place a great emphasis on looks, of course.  I'm deeper than that.

Cough cough.

We finished and when we got back into my cool van, Vonnie said, "Can we talk for a couple of minutes before heading back?"  Then turned to me and smiled and said, "So...is this leading somewhere?" and laughed.

"My intentions are strictly honorable.  I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yeah, right, liar. So ever cheated?"
"Well, it's not cheating if the wife approves."
"Ah...one of THOSE marriages, huh?"
"Yeah....one of THOSE marriages."
"I wouldn't mind that......"
 "Ever talk to him about it?"

"No....doubt he'd go for it....."

We were quiet for a moment and then Vonnie said, "Well, if we're going to do this, let's go back to my place. Or your place. I don't care."

So we went back and I parked my van by the mailboxes and we took her car over to her place. 

We walked in and went straight to the bedroom.  She kissed me and said, "I have to run to the bathroom.  Make yourself comfortable."

I assumed that she meant for me to get naked, so, hey, I did.  Then I stretched out on the bed and saw a picture of her husband.  

Hey, dude, I'm about to have sex with your wife.  What are YOU going to do about it?

Nothin'.  That's what. 

She came out and saw me and looked at a hard Mr. Happy and said, "I like that--ready to go!"  She got undressed and crawled on top of me and we started kissing.  I helped her stay in place by placing a firm grasp on her ass with my hands.  I try and be helpful whenever possible.

A couple of minute later, she said, "You gonna let me move down?"  I released my grip and she kissed her way down my chest and stomach until she reached you-know-who.

That's right.  The artist currently known as Mr. Happy.

And Vonnie made Mr. Happy very happy.  I didn't want to interfere, so I just let Vonnie do her thing (I'm really cool like that) for a couple of minutes.

But while it's fun to just receive, I guess giving does have it's rewards.  So I told Vonnie to move her hips around and....well, let's just make it quick and say we started 69ing.

Having a little fun behind the apartment complex.

And she continued to blow me and I ran my tongue up and down her lips.  Mutual giving rules.

After a few minutes (I can't tell you exactly how long; I didn't have my stopwatch), Vonnie came and got up.

"You got a....."
"Headache?"
"No, condom."
"Oh.  In my wallet."
"Still in high school, huh?"
"Yes.  I'm never going to leave, either."

She rolled her eyes and laughed and got out the latex love glove and unrolled it onto Mr. Happy.  Then she crawled into bed and laid down with her back next to me and raised her leg up.

"This is my favorite position."

Fucking pushy, man.  But okay.....

I slid right in, and she groaned a little and put her leg back down.  

I like this spoon-fuck type of position.  Much like the doggy position, I can hold off cumming for quite a bit (instead of the usual 22 seconds).  And it gives me lots of time to reach around and play with a woman's breasts.  I mean, to turn her on, not because I like playing with breasts.  As you know, I'm all about my partner's needs.

Cough cough.

We continued in this position for about ten minutes, with Vonnie cumming twice.  Finally, she got up and pushed me onto my back.

She reached down and took off the condom and proceeded to start jacking me off.  This woman had some mad hand job skills and soon had me cumming.  

"That was great.  Now get out."

She was joking around, so I figured I hadn't done anything wrong.

"Something I said?"
"I gotta go get my kids."
"Let them walk home."

She laughed and said, "Maybe next time.  Thanks, honey.  I think we're going to have fun together.  Just promise me to be discreet?"

"Sorry.  You had to ask that BEFORE we got nakey."
"Shut up and get dressed, dork."

We continued to meet, sometimes at her place, sometimes at mine.  The next time we got together, I even--all together now--took her to the pilot.  

This will sound strange, because Vonnie was gorgeous, and had a decent personality and sense of humor, but there was nothing really special about this particular affair.  I liked her well enough, but she was nobody I would have dated (had we both been single).   We just never clicked.  The sex was great, but it wasn't like I ever particularly relished the idea of staying around and chatting which, aside from a couple of nights at a hotel, didn't happen too often.

BUT....to quote Jerry Seinfeld, "she IS a woman" (that quote is from the Donna Chang episode).  And she was a pretty woman who was willing to have sex with me.  And that, fellow poachers, is just fine with me. 

We continued to get our groove on--as you young whippersnappers might say--until January (luckily, we had already had New Year's sex, and boy, it was.....uh....sex) when one cold day in poacher lore, I heard a knock upon my door.

Nevermore said that raven!  Nevermore!

 An-ti-ci-paaaaaation.....is making me wait!

It was my good, semi-close personal friend, Vonnie.  Well, she wasn't going to be my sei-close, personal friend for too much longer.

"Hey, what's up?"
"Some asshole told my husband that he had seen me hanging out with another guy."
"Oh, that's not good."
"No.  He's had it in for me ever since I complained about him playing his music too loud.  I guess this was his shot at revenge."
"Is that what you told your husband?"
"Uh huh.  I just told him the guy wanted to hassle me.  I think he bought it.  But I don't want to take any chances."
"So this is it?"
"Yeah.  Sorry.  It's been a blast.  Thank you for everything."

She kissed me and then left.

No, I didn't buy that story.  Sure, it might've been true.  Or she might've wanted out--and a suspicious spouse (say that three times fast) is a sure way out of an affair--and didn't want me to try and talk her out of it.  Or maybe she didn't want to hurt my feelings.

Honestly, though, any time a woman's wanted to end something with me, it's always been cool.  Affairs aren't supposed to last forever. You know that going in.

I saw her around the complex for another couple of months after we ended the best sex she ever had (LOL, I'm like funny and shit) and then I never saw her again.  I assumed they moved out.  I know that they were looking for a house, and maybe they found one.

I guess posting Vonnie's pics wouldn't be classified as "discreet", but oh well.  

Vonnie

Greetings Poacher Nation

I know that I've been away for awhile, but I have some exciting news!  As you know, The Most Interesting Man in the World is a member of Poacher Nation, as is the Energizer Bunny!  Now there are two new, distinguished members! 

Mayhem!

"I'm your bed.  Your wife, suffering from low self-esteem and frustration from your shitty lovemaking skills, runs into my boy Ryan on-line.  Before she knows it, he's hammering her like  an angry contractor attacks a nail while you're out bowling with your buddies.  Soon, under the pressure of the intense sex between your wife and Ryan, I break.  Ryan injures his back and sues you for millions.  If you have some cheap insurance, you'll be paying for his pain and suffering for decades.  Get Allstate.  We'll have your back while Ryan has your wife's ass, bitch."

Yeah, one day I went outside and some guy was under my van fucking with my brakes.  Usually, something like this would upset me, but then I saw who it was!  When Mayhem saw it was me, he fixed everything AND gave my van an oil change (although I'm thinking of having my van checked out, just in case).

Thanks Mayhem!  Good to have you aboard, buddy!

And our other new member.....

 "Aye, he bitchslapped Rory and then poached me wife's pot o' gold, he did!"

That's right!  The Lucky Charms Leprechaun!

Funny how it all came about.....

One day, I was stalking Charlie Laine on Twitter and I ran across Caroline Wozniacki's Twit account.

If you don't follow tennis (and aside from Roger Federer, there's no need to--the game's terrible now, due to those idiotic, high-tech rackets), Caroline is a pretty good player on the WTA tour.  

So one day, little Miss Cutie-Pie decides that she's going to campaign to get everybody in the world to take shorter showers.

No joke.

Well, Caroline, go fuck yourself.  I'll take as many fucking showers as I want.  And if I want to take a thirty minute shower, I'm going to.  And if you don't like it, you can shove the handle of one of your rackets up your pretty little ass.

Seriously, the next time my wife or one of my girlfriends wants some shower sex, do you really think I'm going to say no......we must save the planet?  Save the planet from WHAT?  Hygiene?

Hey, Golden Girl, if you want to save "Mother Earth", then start taking a fucking bike or riding Greyhound and taking row boats to every tournament instead of flying first class and riding in limos all the time, you hypocrite.

That doesn't look like a bus.  Really roughing it there for Mother Earth, huh Princess?

So I got on her a little on Twitter.  She didn't respond.  I guess I wasn't "sensitive" enough to the planet.

Anyway, a few days after I called Little Miss Sunshine out, I got a Twit on my Twit page from a real motherfucking twit.

Rory McIlroy....famous golfer and Caroline's boyfriend.  He talked some shit, told me to apologize to his mentally-challenged girlfriend, all that.  I told him to suck off his daddy's putter once his mother was done with it.

And it was on like Donkey Kong!

We went back and forth for a bit and he finally challenged me to come to Ireland and "talk to me man-to-man!"  Obviously, Rory didn't think I would.

Rory, much like his girlfriend, was wrong.

I found the most fuel-inefficient plane I could, booked a flight--first-class, of course--to Ireland by way of Australia,( just to waste fuel and piss the planet-lickers off) and was there about two days later.  And just for laughs, I convinced the pilot to dump the plane's trash onto a bunch of humpback whales while we were flying over the Indian ocean.  It was so cool--a bunch of dolphins saw it and were totally cracking up.

After my long flight, I rented a huge gas-guzzling Rolls Royce (called the Fuel Imperialist--2 kilos per gallon), and drove into downtown Dublin, where Rory said he'd be.

There was some karaoke contest going on and Rory was on the stage singing--or trying to sing--"Midnight At The Oasis".  

Yeah, by all means....pick one of the worst songs EVER for karaoke, Rory....because it isn't like karaoke isn't horrible to begin with, right?   That song's so bad I won't even link to it.

I stood there, listening to him mangle a horrible song and for a moment kind of felt sorry for how stupid he was.  I began to have second thoughts about kicking his ass.

Then.....he did the unforgivable.

He held the microphone up and said, "Now, I will do a selection from Tom Jones, the worst singer ever!"

The crowd booed.  Everybody loves Tom Jones.

Tom is a member of Poacher Nation.  And forget the Vegas image he has--the guy's a terrific singer.  Go get his greatest hits and you'll know what I'm talking about.  Tom's awesome.

Rory was ripping on him.  Not acceptable.

Rory started belting out a hideous rendition of "She's A Lady" and I rushed the stage, grabbed his ankles, and pulled him to the floor.  As I was destroying him, I said, "Hey, can you guess who I am, bitch?  I'm Poacher Boy!  Thanks for the invite!"

I stomped a mud hole in him and then walked it dry to the cheers of everybody in the pub.

He squealed that he couldn't take any more.  So I leaned down and said, "If Tom Jones came in here and wanted to fuck you in the ass, what would you say, Rory?"  Rory said, "I'd....I'd....say.....'please sir, fuck me in the ass'....that's what I'd say....."  

I smiled and said, "That's right, bitch.  Now get the fuck out of this pub and tell your enviro-freak girl that I'm taking five showers today."

Rory started to get up and I said, "No."  

He wasn't walking out.  No...no.....

So he started to crawl on his hands and knees.  Again, I said, "No," and shoved him face-first flat onto the floor with my foot.

Rory would have to drag himself out by his hands if he wanted to save his worthless hide.  And he did, crying the whole way out.  I stripped this bitch of every shred of dignity I could.  And you know what?  It was pretty cool!

I'd be an EXCELLENT TSA agent!

I sat down and ordered a beer.  Everybody in the bar came over and patted me on the back and thanked me.  They hated Rory, too.  It turns out that Rory had been lobbying for a law to have the government put in "shower governors" that would limit everybody to a thirty-second, lukewarm shower.  The same legislation, of course, would have outlawed baths.  Oh, and his singing sucked.  And like I said before, everybody loves my boy, Tom Jones.


I didn't pay for one beer that day.

As I pounded down my nineteenth free mug of Guinness, this hot leprechaun chick sat down next to me and said that her name was Ciara.

We totally hit it off and soon she invited me to her place.  Her husband was at work, so we had the place to ourselves.  Man, we fucked, like, all day.  During breaks, we'd smoke some pot and listen to Supertramp's "Breakfast In America" and REO Speedwagon's "Hi Infidelity".

I remember at one point, I stood up, picked Ciara up, and slid her right onto Mr. Happy and then walked around the house with her yelling "Giddyup horsie!"  I can say I literally fucked Ciara in every room of that house.  One time, I spun her around quickly like she was a top with Mr. Happy as her base.  

It's awesome fucking a leprechaun.  And I didn't even need to use a condom--leprechauns can't get STDs and she can just will herself to not get pregnant through leprechaun magic.  So awesome.

Finally, she curled up on my chest and we fell asleep.  Soon we were awakened by a male voice shouting "Ciara, how could you?????????"

Oh shit.  Her husband.

Then I looked over....and saw Lucky, the Lucky Charms Leprechaun!

Ciara bolted out of bed and explained to Lucky that I was the famous Poacher and that I had just bitchslapped Rory McIlroy--and that she wanted to thank me, on behalf of not only Ireland, but the entire world.

I was pleading for Lucky the Lucky Charms Leprechaun to forgive me.  For once, I truly regretted poaching another guy's wife!  I've been an admirer of Lucky since I was just a little poacher in kindergarten (I was fourteen, I think).

Lucky smiled at Ciara.  "I understand, me love.  We all owe a dept to Ryan for pounding Caroline's cuckold.  Rory's a pussy, we're all ashamed of him, he always sings that shitty Oasis song, and I like me showers long and hot.  Ryan, it's an honor to have you hit me wife's shit!"

Then we all went out and grabbed some Chinese food and dropped some acid.  Lucky let me fuck his wife again and the next day I came home.  Ciara wanted some double penetration, but Lucky was too tired--he had kicked the shit out of Cap'n Crunch earlier in the day. 

Yeah, another Twitter war.

But Lucky and Ciara are coming to visit us next year!  Alex can't wait!

Ciara was magically delicious! 

Rory, anytime you want to get beat down again, just look me up!

How's your jaw doing, Twitterbitch?

It wasn't the Buffalo Inn, but I sure loved the 

Foul-Mouthed Fuck Pub!

Actually, I was feeling Lucky's wife!  Whoa!

Then I got on a plane and flew around the world twice before coming home because I wanted to....."take the long way home"!  Hahahhahahahahahha!

If you're under 25, you'll probably have to figure that joke out for yourself.

Anyway, the moral of this story is that you really haven't lived until you've beaten up Rory McIlroy, tapped a hot leprechaun's ass and smoked pot and dropped acid all in one wonderful, magical day.

The best thing that ever happened to Puff was that those kids stopped visiting him so he could tap some hot female dragon's ass. 

And don't worry.  Fucking Lucky the Lucky Charms Leprechaun's wife--as well as beating the snot out of the world's former number one golfer--has inspired me to get back to business of writing up some more poacher entries.  As Fergie of the Black Eyed Peas said as I took her to the pilot, "Let'ssssssssss get it starteddddddd...in heeeeeeeeeeereeeeeeeee."

"Inch by inch with the new solution!"

Oh, and I almost forgot!  Just last weekend, I had one of my most impressive poaches EVER!

 "We had bland, effective sex and then I made Ryan au gratin potatoes."

That's right!  I did Betty Crocker!  Then, after we ate lots of au gratin potatoes, Alex got the strap-on out!  

And then we took a 45 minute shower, Caroline!

Remember to get Allstate!  You DON'T want Mayhem to get mad at you!

To my readers in Ireland:  I don't endorse or condone the stereotypes found in this entry, even though I'm the one who wrote it.  I apologize if I offended you with the leprechaun stereotypes as well.  And I'm totally sincere.  I really am.

Although if you actually believe I'm sorry, you probably really DO believe I plowed a hot leprechaun, got my hand on Fergie's happy zone, beat up Rory McIlroy and au gratined Betty Crocker's potatoes.