Midnight Orgies at Earvin’s House
Many Lakers agree the most beautiful women they ever met were encountered at Johnson’s. They were models, strippers, actresses, exotic dancers. There was no hotter ticket than an invite to the mansion, but—while Laker players and opponents were almost always allowed—women had to meet certain criteria. First, they had to be gorgeous. Second, they had to be promiscuously dressed. Third, they had to be willing to do . . . things.
Johnson fancied himself not merely an entertainer, but a maestro. “If you ever die and go to heaven, you want heaven to be Magic’s house parties,” said Frank Brickowski, a future Lakers teammate. “He would have the finest girls in L.A. there. The absolute finest. And at midnight you had to get busy with somebody or you had to get the fuck out. So if you were a guy, at midnight you’d get as close as you could to the hottest possible woman. Magic went around in this freaky voyeuristic way. He’d check on you. He’d go throughout the house, the pool. He’d order people to start doing things. All you had to be was near a chick. There were guys who would yell, ‘Magic, she’s not getting busy! She’s not!’ He’d run over and she’d get busy. Celebrity is seductive in L.A. Girls have this desperation about them, like moths to a flame. It’s sad. But when you’re young and single, fame matters.”
Earvin’s Sexual Conquests
Just because one was a Laker didn’t mean sexual conquests always came easily. Yet Johnson wasn’t merely the most eligible bachelor in Los Angeles—he was the most eligible bachelor in California. He once wrote of his rendezvous: “Some were secretaries. Some were lawyers. Quite a few were actresses or models. Others were teachers, editors, accountants, or entrepreneurs. There were bimbos, too, but not that many. Most of these women were college-educated professionals. Some were black, some were white, some were Hispanic, or Asian. Some of these women were very open about what they were doing, and some were more discreet. A few would even brag about all the players they had slept with. For others, this was all a part of a very secret life.
“Most of them were in their mid-20s. Every now and then you’d come across a teenager, but if you were smart you stayed away from her. These kids were simply too young—not only legally, but emotionally, too.”
This was the Sodom and Gomorrah-esque world that greeted A. C. Green.
The AC Green Bet
he team opened with a two-game Texas road swing at San Antonio and Dallas, and Johnson and company wasted little time. While taking the bus from the San Antonio International Airport to the hotel, the Laker star yelled toward Green, “Rook, we haven’t figured you out yet, but we’re going to take a bet.”
“What sort of bet?” the rookie asked.
“Once you start seeing these girls around the NBA,” he said, “you won’t be thinking any of that Christian and God stuff.”
“Really?” said Green. “You think so?”
Johnson liked the newcomer’s confidence. He also laughed at it. The NBA was the land of long legs and quick bangs. Few could resist its charms. “We’ll give you two months, and you’ll be done,” he said. “Two months.” Johnson removed the baseball cap from his head and passed it around, urging his teammates to plunk down some money. By the time the hat returned to its owner, Green was staring at nearly $300 in crumpled bills. “You don’t get laid once in two months, the money’s yours,” said Johnson. “But there’s no fucking way. . . .”
Less than a month later, the Lakers were in Portland to face the Blazers. Green, who was reared in the city, scored 11 points in 27 minutes of action (“I played lousy,” he said), and afterward stood outside the locker room, chatting away with a striking young woman. “I saw all the guys sorta looking over, wondering what was going on,” Green recalled. “Finally someone comes over and says, ‘Hey, rookie, who is this?’”
Green smiled. “Oh, meet Vanessa,” he said. “My sister.”
So Jeff Pearlman from The Bad Guys Won is at it again, exposing all outrageous escapades of another one of sports’ most infamous teams. “Showtime: Magic, Kareem, Riley, and the Los Angeles Lakers Dynasty of the 1980s” more or less chronicles Magic Johnson getting AIDS. I mean for real, when you really break it down, thats whats going on. Thats what you’re reading. I’m sure there’s some basketball talk but you’re basically reading about all the orgies and all the gang bangs that eventually turned Magic HIV positive. Good times, great oldies!
What a fucking creepy, awesome friend Magic Johnson was, huh? He’s like some sort of Magic Fairy Godmother running around making sure everyone is getting fucked by midnight. Ordering chicks to fuck all his teammates. Hosting full blown orgies all across his mansions. And if the clock struck midnight and your dick wasn’t inside someone, you get kicked the fuck out. Like a game of musical chairs. When the music stops if you don’t have a seat, you’re gone. Well when the clock struck midnight at Magic’s house if your dick wasn’t penetrating some sort of hole, you’re out. Incredible.
And how about Magic listing the type of women he fucked. They are as follow:
So if you’re keeping track at home, that is all of them. All of the women. Magic Johnson more or less fucked every single type of chick on the planet. I suppose the only thing left off that list is goddam Eskimos and midgets. But I’m more or less willing to bet he fucked an Eskimo dwarf somewhere along the lines.
And then there’s AC Green. Who either has more willpower than Jesus Christ himself, or he just didn’t have a dick. Thats gotta be the only rational explanation. Only way a man can hang out with Magic Johnson in the 80s and not fuck chicks is that he just didn’t have a dick to do it with. What a goddam waste, huh? He should have at least swapped in one of his buddies and let them reap the benefits of Magic pimping hoes out for free.
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