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Tucker Max. If you're in college, you probably know him and his infamous stories.

If not, let me enlighten you. Tucker Max is a blogger-turned-author-turned-movie-producer who's basically famous for drinking to obliteration and having sex with girls whom he later savages in graphic detail on his site, TuckerMax.com.

Why does anybody care? Unfortunately, he happens to be pretty smart and a funny writer, so he landed a book deal. A few years later his collection of tell-all drunken sex essays, "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell," was made into a movie.

I met him at a bar after his premiere in State College. And I slept with him.

This is my story.

It was a Monday night, about a quarter to 11, and I was watching TV with my roommates. I'd asked a few people to go out but no one was feeling up to it. Then, I got a text from my friend Steph: "If you want to meet Tucker Max, come to Cafe 210."

I was a longtime fan and I'd been dying to meet him, so I got dressed as fast as I could and ran out the door. It was only the second week in school, and in my apartment I was already getting teased for my promiscuity. My roommates laughed as I left and told me to make sure to bring him back! "Yeah, like I'm gonna have sex with Tucker Max," I thought.

I was expecting a huge line at the bar, but when I showed up, it was totally dead. I asked the bouncers if they'd heard anything about Tucker Max coming there. "I hope not," one of them replied. Inside, I found some of my friends and some girls who were clearly Tucker's tour groupies assembled. We waited a little while, and just when I thought he wouldn't show, Tucker finally arrived.

The Manwhore, the Myth, the Legend

Immediately a drunk girl latched onto him, hugging and kissing and falling all over him. She was cute, and I was just about to sigh, "Well, he's already got his hook-up tonight," when my friend Rosie snarled, "That's pathetic. Who wants to be that girl?" Regardless, we worked our way into the crowd surrounding Tucker, until we were face to face with him. I shook his hand, and told him I was a huge fan. His response? "Will you f--k a virgin?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'll f--k anyone." Big mistake.

Tucked yelled for his friends to go get some kid, apparently the aforementioned virgin, because he'd "got one" for him.

"Wait, wait, wait," I interrupted. "Is he cute?"

"No," said Tucker. "He's fat."

I replied that I had standards; Tucker replied that I was a whore.

Well, this was off to a great start. Tucker continued to try and get this kid laid while this drunk girl continued to follow him around like a lost puppy. My mission forgotten, I went back to chatting with my friends. Finally, Steph handed me her camera and suggested that Rosie and I ask to take a picture with him. We did, and this time, Tucker blatantly looked me up and down.

Sealing the Deal

"34 C?" Tucker asked.
"32 C," I replied, "but good guess. What, are you trying to touch them or something?"
"Oh, I know I can touch them," he said. "But I like to guess first."

When I went back to sit with my friends, they'd been joined by a couple of Tucker's tour guys. Eventually, the man himself showed up.

"So," he asked, scooting in next to me. "Are you coming back with me tonight?

I have two options. One: dignity. Two: a good story to tell later. So I snuck off and texted my best friend, Matt. Should I f--k Tucker Max? His response: You will be a GOD in my eyes.

It's done. Around 1:30, I told Tucker that I would, in fact, go home with him. "Oh, I know," he replied. "We have a cab waiting, let's go."

Back at His "Place"

We got into the cab with everyone at the bar waving and giving the thumbs up. The best part? I didn't even know most of them. Tucker took me back to the Hampton Inn where he was staying, showed me his tour bus (which was pretty sweet) and I met his dog, whom he talks to like an somebody's aunt talking to a baby, except that he told him, "Say hello to the new slut!"

Finally, in his room, he wasted no time getting completely naked. Like, no foreplay at all. Well, girls? Here's everything you wanted to know about Tucker Max: His body is nice, but a little too hairy. He's a great kisser. He screws like he's jackhammering a sidewalk. I faked orgasm to get him to stop. After he was finished he told me we were going to do it again in the morning. Great! I should have gotten up and left, but then he wanted to chat.

Pillow Talk, Tucker Max-Style

We talked about normal things, like how he eventually wanted to get married and have kids, which was a shock.

"You're 33," I said. "shouldn't you get a move on?"

He said that he wasn't interested in being in relationships, and I told him I liked being in them, at which point he totally misunderstood me and proceeded to tell me that we couldn't date.

"You're not a real person," I replied, by way of explanation. I also told him about this guy I was kind of hung up on and he was surprisingly nice and insightful, telling me that I was a cute girl and that I shouldn't pin my hopes on some dude at my age.

The next day, he woke me up for sex, as promised. It was worse, because he was panting this time, and when he was putting his clothes on, he farted loudly, multiple times. I called a cab, and he gave me 20 bucks for the cab which I gladly took. (Hey, I'm in college.) He hugged me and said, "I'd totally hook up with you again. Call me if you're ever in L.A."

Eh. I think one episode of stunt sex is all I'll ever need.

(If you want to read Tucker's account -- which is slightly different from mine -- you can read it here.)

Writer and student Courtney A. attended Penn State University, where she accumulated lots of stories.