Blog Blah Blah & Things I Remember

Anal Sex with Ann Coulter

   Thu, March 8, 2007 - 9:00 PM
It is time I exposed Ann Coulter in more of a way then she exposed herself to me several years ago in San Francisco.

She was a radio call and I picked her up at a Presidio Heights address just after 10 pm on a Sunday night. She had been drinking and didn’t want to go directly back to her Nob Hill hotel.

I recognized her and introduced myself. She made it clear within three blocks she had no great love for San Francisco. It was just a “faggot town,” but she wanted me to drive through the Castro because she just “had to see these fags” in their community. I’m always in to detours, especially those that add $20 to the fare.

From the Castro, I drove here to SOMA where she wanted me to park in front of a “gay disco.”

During all this time, through some slurred words, she remained confident, in control, articulate, funny, sexy and obnoxious. She wanted me to join her for a cup of coffee and I demurred saying I needed to keep working. “When the meter isn’t clicking, I’m not making a living,” I explained.

She said she would pay me well for my time.

I took her to a dark coffee house in The Mission where most of the other patrons were, well in her words; “You took me to a café with fags and lesbians?” But she agreed it was conducive to talking and people watching.

She wondered aloud at some point what “fags got out of anal sex?” I asked her if she believed “only gay men participate in that activity?”

She seemed stunned at the concept and I could see some sort of cognitive process in play.

“What does it feel like?” she finally asked.

“Orgasmic” said two men in unison from the next table.

Ann blushed and asked me to get her out of there. Quickly! She wanted to ride in the front, but I asked that we maintain our driver – tourist relationship in the taxi, so she reluctantly got in the back.

Back on Nob Hill, she asked if I’d walk her to her room & join her for a nightcap. I said, again, I needed to keep working and didn’t drink when I drove.

I guess she felt lonely and I accepted the two $100 bills she put in my hand as I opened the back door and she stepped out in front of the hotel.

But, something had changed, a major shift had occurred and I noticed it as soon as she swiveled in the back seat to step out of the taxi. Someplace between the Mission and Nob Hill, she had removed her underwear.

It was something I noticed and I thought about it as I parked the taxi and joined her to walk into the lobby.

She had a suite with beautiful views of The City. She poured herself a drink and I asked if she wouldn’t mind if I lit up some hashish. The next hour is a blurrrr.

Within the next few minutes, she had downed her drink and removed her skirt and blouse as she got into a playful yet sexually aggressive place. When I reached for my belt buckle, she went for my zipper. She began to masturbate herself while she played with me and before she put my penis in her mouth she wondered again what anal sex would feel like.

There’s not much more to share. I’ll only add that Ann Coulter paid me for anal sex. Twice that night!


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