A Story And A Query: Your Worst Moment During Sex? - The Watchtower of Destruction: The Ferrett's Journal Page 2
A Story And A Query: Your Worst Moment During Sex?|
If I had to reduce my life down to two stories, I know what I would choose. One has already been written; the other I have never set to paper, since whenever I write down one of my best stories I can no longer tell it at parties. I launch into my funniest anecdotes, and people just wave their hand and say, "Oh yeah, I read that."
But this is one of my favorite stories ever - and I write it down now because it is my most embarassing sex story. It occurred to me that I want to hear yours. At the end of this entry, there is an anonymous comments feature enabled: Tell me the most hideously embarassing thing that's happened to you during, or in the pursuit of, sex.
The Ferrett's Story
Bari and I broke up so often, our friends had rules on how to handle us:
- Say nothing.
- Do not date either of them.
- Keep inviting them both to parties, same as always.
It wasn't that our breakups weren't serious; oh, they were so serious that they frequently involved three-hour shouting matches, suicide attempts in public places, and very often thrown items. Our breakups were like Amish barn raisings; if you were there, you were gonna lend a hand.
But the fireworks appeared to be some kind of crazy mating ritual. Bari and I would part, angry and furious and determined never to speak to each other again... And then we'd go to a party. We'd both be horny and angry, and nobody at the party would be interested in us. As the night went on, we'd look at each other across a room and remember the main thing that defined our relationship back then:
The best goddamned sex ever.
Bari and I were magnificent in bed, Olympic-quality. And as we all know, make-up sex is the best sex you can have - a gumbo of resentment, desperation, and love that becomes a sweet, sticky fucknectar. We'd have the best intentions, we'd both know this was bad for us... But near the end of the night, we'd be making out on the couch furiously, and sometimes we'd just go out and hump in the car.
Our genitals were magnets, drawn to each other despite any intervening forces.
But this breakup was different: She had dumped me.
I was always the one who decided that it was time to call it off, that our arguments were getting too pitched. The deal might have been engraved on stone tablets in Moses' handwriting: I, Ferrett, will dump thee and thou shalt lament my loss and crieth how thou needest me....
Nope. She just said, "This is bullshit," and left. And I was absolutely devastated.
I staggered into my friends' apartment, my cheeks stained a blotchy red from dried tears. They didn't even look up from their "Simpsons" reruns, completely used to my bimonthly Bari hystrionics... But their eyebrows raised when I upended an entire bottle of Scotch, dumping an entire pint of alcohol into my stomach, then shouted, "All right - where's more?"
They realized that triage was needed.
Wisely, my friends told me that more alcohol was nowhere to be found, but informed me that they did have some pot. Fine by me; I was so pissed-off and hurt that the only way I could work through it was to just obliterate my mind. I took at least eight deep hits, and held them until the room spun. And then it was time to go out.
I had emceed the Rocky Horror Picture Show for four years and had met a great deal of friends throught it... But over time, we'd grown bored with the RHPS itself and had just taken to showing up Fridays and Saturdays with a lot of booze. Sometimes we'd stay in the parking lot, sometimes we'd wander through the lobby, and occasionally we'd go in and work the show if we were in the mood, but the theater was unmistakably The Place To Be on Fridays and Saturdays. It was like a private club where the owner was too afraid to tell us to leave.
By the time I got to the theater, the world had narrowed to a crawl. The alcohol had threaded through my veins, lacing with the pot to present a surreal experience. Sections of my brain were shutting down like the Northeast Power Outage. Time stuttered and slowed, and all I remember is a series of snapshots....
- Me, stumbling out of the van and saying hello to some people.
- Me and my friends, meeting up with a new group of Rocky Horror fans, chatting animatedly.
- Me, talking with this girl from the new group, her leaning against a railing as I told her slurred jokes...
- ...Me and the same girl - although much farther out in the parking lot this time, our friends a distant speck....
I woke up in the theater during the Time Warp. Everyone was at the front of the theater, dancing and jumping, but for some reason my pants were down around my ankles.
And there was a head in my lap.
It took me a moment to realize that there was not only a head in my lap, but it was bobbing up and down and sucking my penis.
I checked in with my penis, asking, "Hey, can you give me status here?" It informed me cheerfully that this was go-around #2. It thought. Could be #3, but the drink made it kind of hard to tell.
Then, still a little slow on the uptake, I realized that I was getting blown in the middle row of a theater by a total stranger during the Time Warp. And I had evidently bonded with this woman; there was no shame in her enthusiastic choad-chowing. She was going at it with a fearful lack of restraint, and I had a sinking feeling that I was the one who had encouraged her to do this.
Apparently, I had discovered an alternative to Bari.
Damn you, alcoholic blackouts!
In any case, I was stumped. I had no idea who this mystery cocksucker was... But it seemed unseemly to just grab her by the hair, lift her up, and say, "Say... Who are you?" I sorted through my memories, trying to recall if I had gotten her name, but I didn't even remember meeting her. As of this moment in time, all I knew about this woman was what the back of her head looked like.
Was there some sort of Miss Manners etiquette to asking the name of an anonymous fellatist? I couldn't think of any. And time was creeping up on me; in a few scant moments the Time Warp would be over, and I sort of got the feeling that she really liked the idea of getting caught by a crowd of fifty people.
I froze, trying to act like I was into it, bucking my hips - which would buy me time. I knew what I would do - I'd try to ease her off the tip of Little Elvis by claiming that I wanted to take her in back, and then I'd hope we'd run into someone along the way who might explain what happened.
I tapped her on her neck. "Um... Excuse me..."
That's when I felt a pair of rapturously-familiar arms wrap themselves around my neck in a tight, joyous hug. "Oh, Ferrett!" Bari said. "I'm sorry for what I said. I - "
She looked down. The mystery woman looked up.
There was an awkward silence, made even more awkward when I realized they were expecting an introduction.
(Later on, I asked around and it turned out that during my blackout, I had grabbed this woman by the hand, swept my way into the women's bathroom, and proceeded to fuck her so thoroughly that everyone who entered the theater that day heard her shrieking out my name at the top of her lungs. She was, apparently, quite well-known for her willingness to go off with strange men, and I had to get myself tested for VD afterwards. I gave her a fake phone number and promised to call; I never did get her name.)
So. I've shared.
What's your most embarassing sex story?
Current Mood: frustrated
|Date:||August 26th, 2003 12:13 pm (UTC)|| |
Hmmm. Which one?
I've got a few to tell.
I'll start with this one. It's not mine, but it's good.
I knew this guy who's dad divorced when he was a kid and then remarried to a women who had children herself. One of them was a girl, about a year younger than him. Eventually, as they got older, they got hornier, and one day it dawned on them-
they weren't REALLY brother and sister...
Yeah yeah. Just like 'Super Taboo.' Almost. Anyway, so this goes on for a few years. They're having sex, and fortunately they're never caught, tho it adds to the excitement. Finally one night he's drunk with us and we're all goofing around- making drunken confessions- and he tell us all about his "secret" and we find out.
We were all like, "Damn. You still grew up with her. That's just wrong."
Eventually it became a well known joke. We'd say stuff like "All of us had to go out on dates and come back sexually frustrated, but not you! You'd just go home and fuck your sister!"
Poor poor me, being an only child...
|Date:||August 27th, 2003 12:37 am (UTC)|| |
Unsolicited criticism, with love
Strangely, your two favorite stories are the two that have slightly tripped my fiction-meter, in different ways. Deanna plus a one-armed drummer plus the frozen tundra is a great story. Adding in the turtle moment and the shattered snare drum, it starts to remind me of James Thurber. In this one, even though I know you well enough to totally take your word, you end up having to tell us twice how good you are as a lover: "Bari and I were magnificent in bed, Olympic-quality," and "everyone who entered the theater that day heard her shrieking out my name at the top of her lungs." It's not your fault -- one's a long story, and one you can't recall directly -- but usually I never ask myself, "Is he exaggerating?" In these two I did.
I don't have a problem with fictionalizing. "The Ferrett" could be a persona you made up for the Internet, and I'd still love him. I don't know how much is autobiography and how much is essay, but it all rings true. (In "Oh Shit, I'm Dying!", the speaker's compulsion to write makes for great essay, but it also sounds like the motivation for your LiveJournal.) I'm really just writing because I think you like criticism and argument more than nonstop praise, and I had that little observation to share.
|Date:||August 27th, 2003 06:38 am (UTC)|| |
Re: Unsolicited criticism, with love
An interesting point. I don't think of it as tooting my own horn, though I do think I'm good in bed; rather, I think of it as that said girl was so into shady sex that she got off on being heard. In that sense, I could have been anyone willing to have sex with her in a public place.
And yes, they did hear her shouting my name. Perhaps not every theater goer, but pretty much everyone who passed knew that someone was getting banged thoroughly in the bathroom. It was embarassing for all concerned.
The Ferrett is me, carefully edited and polished for consumption. Alas!
|Date:||August 27th, 2003 09:27 pm (UTC)|| |
embarrassing sex stories
well hell i have several i could probably come up with.
one, I lost my virginity to an audience and got razzed about it for years.
two, my mom walked in on my boyfriend and I and it embarrassed the hell out of *him*. I laughed and said, "hi mom!"
three,...well three was bad. Three was the tequila party. I was dating Bob. He and I were both sleeping with my friend Amanda together. We went to a party at her house. I am on medication and decided to drink 10 shots of tequila in a matter of minutes on an empty stomach. After that things get blurry and I mostly have to have to be told what happened. I ended upstairs in amanda's room with amanda and my best friend Jeff. Jeff apparently went down on me and I was crying out amanda's name. Or was it, amanda was going down on me and I was saying Jeff's name? I don't bloody remember. All I know is that some of it was captured via webcam. And I got to hear/see it and rehear/see it for several weeks afterwards. Oh, and then, Bob came upstairs to find out what the hell was going on that was causing so many people to freak out.
four, oh shit...I'd forgotten about this one...I was visiting my friend at her apt. We both had friends in that complex. One of them lived next door to her. A very good looking guy, well-built...quite nice to look at. And I had been spending my weekends over there usually drinking and then stumbling mile-long walk to my house with a friend or two to keep me upright. Apparently one night we both got trashed enough to get the balls to tell each other we liked each other. Somehow or another I got ended up in the apartment with him. And we were sleeping on the living floor. And his windows are open. And I'm a screamer. yeah. The entire complex could hear us, including my best friend's mom who i've known since I was 13. Just a *little* embarrassing.
Hm. I don't have any of my own, but I have one my friend Sancho told me once...
He was dating this incredibly ditzy girl named Stephanie at the time. She was giving him the first blowjob she'd ever given (him).
Sancho, being a nice, sweet guy who is perpetually worried about bothering girls, warns her a couple of times that he's about to come; this just encourages her to work harder.
So he gives up and blows his load, right down her throat. She swallows, sits up, smacks her lips and says, "Mm! Tastes like SweetTarts!"
"Tastes like SweetTarts has become an inside joke in our circle of friends that we looooove to embarass Sancho with by saying it around his new wife-- who of course always wants to know why we always say that.
's journal led me here. Most of the stories are light-years ahead of any of mine, but there's one that might be worth telling:
First, some context. First year of college. I had recently had my first and only one-night stand, and I was really pining for the girl. So, somewhat horny, somewhat heartbroken. And, a very important detail - I'm legally blind in one eye, and have terrible night vision.
So, as you might have guessed, the story takes place after dark. I walk by the girl's door and she has a ton of friends in, visiting. I feel lonely, out of place, definitely not comfortable with the idea of walking in there. I decide instead to meander towards the woods near campus. As I'm walking, I see a girl walking in generally the same direction.
"Where you headed?"
"The Pipe," I reply.
So, we walk together.
She asks my name and I give it. I ask for hers, and she mumbles something incoherent. "What?"
Or something like that. I couldn't understand her accent very well. And so it went, not much conversation, mostly her telling me about her classes, how people at the school conformed too much, stuff like that. And then we got to my destination. I sit down, figure I just need to do some thinking, get that girl from last week out of my head, or find the nerve to talk with her...when suddenly this latina has my penis in her hand.
After a little while of me staring, open-mouthed, I realize what's happening. I start to pull away, then reconsider; I'm still lonely, I'm still horny, and my self-esteem is pretty damn low - so this is the best I'll get, I think to myself...and I settle back down. Soon after she puts it in her mouth.
For the next ten minutes, I experienced some kind of pseudo-schizoid break; one part of me was finally feeling something good and soft and wet down there, but the other was feeling continually worse about myself. The latter part won out before I came, and I stood up to go. She invited me back to her room, I gave some excuse, and I ran back to my own room, crying.
I eventually told my roommate - I needed support, and he was as good an ear as I could have asked for. I told him the story; he nodded, sympathetic...and when I was done, he said, "My friend, there's one part of the story you missed. She
is a he
And, as I discovered after a bit of detective work, it was true. I guess the old expression about seeing someone in daylight holds. Strangely enough, I think back on that experience and it reminds me that sometimes the comedic and the surreal are just the recipe for a bad, bad day.
-laugh- Worst moment....
Um, that would be last weekend.
Background...Husband and I are both bisexual, and both of us polyamorists (non-monogamous with rules on it).
So we have A Date with a guy. We have stashed the kids with Grandma and gotten all cleaned up and go to the restaurant to meet him, with the promise of (wink wink nudge nudge) dessert elsewhere if we all click. We all clicked, and headed off to find a motel with a large bed. This duly procured, everyone strips off and begins having fun. Well, we've got me off several times, we've got my husband off, and we're getting Friend off...he's expressed a wish to shoot on my tits, so I'm leaning in there so he can. He shoots, and...giggling as I think about it...he's not a dribbler, he's a rocket. Hits himself in the EYE.
Kind of broke the mood, y'know? -laugh- Must not have been too bad, as he wants to get together with us again.
A few years ago I was dating the token old guy of the group. We were all 19-20-21...23 at the oldest. He was 27, 8 years my senior. Lived up in the mountains alone in what we called the "concrete trailer." Ugly, bald, fat, and weird...needless to say, I'm still not sure why I was ever with him, other than just being the girl that's dating Rob. So after one of our all-weekend parties, I wake up Sunday morning to find out he still hasn't slept, or stopped drinking since Friday night. He doesn't seem any more drunk or out of it than usual though, so we go back to have one more good session before I have to head home for the day. Everything is going as well as possible for him (it was never that great, or even good, even when alcohol wasn't involved) and he starts talking about a couch. I stop for a second, and say "What???" He keeps going and says "How are you guys gonna get the couch down the driveway?" It had snowed before and no one had been able to get their cars up the hill of the driveway but a couch? So I tried to stop him realizing he was WAY more out of it than I had realized. He keeps going and goes "How are you gonna get the COUCH down the DRIVEWAY??" and continues to slump more and more, all the while still thrusting. So I try to manuever myself out from under him and he collapses on top of me and IMMEDIATELY starts snoring. I roll him over, get dressed and leave the room. What I didn't realize was that with the walls as thin as they were, everyone there had heard him, including the snoring. Thank god everyone knew that he had been up/drinking that long because I didn't get the burden of the "bad in bed" rap. "Doin it" by LL Cool J did become the theme song for my relationship with Rob, though, and to this day I can't hear it without a shiver in my spine and a slightly sick feeling in my stomach.
|Date:||September 28th, 2003 04:31 am (UTC)|| |
*ponders* Well, being 18 and only recently having lost my virginity, I don't have anything hugely mortifying to tell. However, I do have a few discoveries to share which some easily amused people might find interesting.
Now, let me set the scene, and explain the circumstances of my relationship with my boyfriend. (I shall not name him, as his friends still believe him to be a virgin.) We both still live at home, and therefore have parents to deal with. I live very far away from my University, so my place isn't really a good choice for a location to copulate. Especially because my door doesn't have a lock. Now, his place, although very close to the Uni, is even less ideal. The reason: being spawned by an orthodox Christian family, his parents would have freaked to find an atheist such as myself in his bed, especially as at that stage, they barely knew of my existence. I was a girl he was keen on, and clumsily tried to woo by taking her to Kendo practise.
So. I hope you understand the predicament we were in. Constantly horny, but no more or less private place to fuck... except, well, the toilets. Yes, I lost my virginity in a toilet cubicle, to another virgin, in a two-hour long session on the University campus, and I have no regrets. But that's not what I was meaning to tell, really. What I did want to say is that during such encounters in a toilet cubicle, and still being the shy little rabbits we were/are, we of course stilled our activities every time someone came into the toilet. Now, the more perceptive type visiting the toilets may have noticed that there was an engaged cubicle with absolutely no sound coming from it and put two and two together (one such person camped out in the cubicle next to us once, waiting for us to start up again, much to our annoyance), but most people coming in to take a slash weren't that perceptive. Let me tell you, it is really quite intriguing to listen to people when they think they're alone. (BWAHAHAHAH!) Many a time, frozen in our passionate tangle, we'd hear a toilet-goer groan in relief, or "Hmmmm" loudly while perusing the graffiti answers to signs saying "When you go to bed with someone, how many people will you be sleeping with?" ("48."). At one point, the person taking a slash started singing loudly. The difficult thing is not to start giggling in such situations, hyped up on endorphins and adrenalin. My boyfriend and I have often looked at each other, biting back grins during such situations.
Here's another thing I have learned: the best toilets to have sex in on a University Campus (at least in my case) tend to be in the Science or Engineering buildings, as they are a)the cleanest and b)the least visited. They also are less likely to have that horrible echo-y ambience, I have discovered. And, as they are visited less, there's considerably less graffiti, which is kind of a turn-off.
So, there you have it. My cold analysis of the situation. Luckily, my parents are very very cool, and have told me to stop fucking in the toilets and just drag him over here for the night sometime. XD It's really refreshing to have parents who see videos of your activities on University camps and then call you prudish. (Fornication on the altar, anyone?)
|Date:||September 29th, 2003 09:07 am (UTC)|| |
I spent quite a bit of time over at my ex-boyfriend's house. He's my neighbor, and I'm usually hanging out there, so my parents don't care. Well, his current girlfriend at the time spent the night too. They slept on his bed, and I took the couch nearby.
Apparently halfway through the night, he got up to go to the bathroom, and on his way back, bumped into me on the couch. He asked me what I was doing sleeping on the couch, and guided me to the bed. (I was so sleepy I was remembering when I was his girlfriend. Not only that, I usually sleep in just panties.)
Still thinking I was his girlfriend, he started banging my pussy like you wouldn't believe. I was waking up at this time, and distinctly smelled SEX. Nautrally, I was drawn to it and buried my face in the pussy presented to me. The guy didn't know what was going on until he came in me and pulled out, only to have his cock sucked clean by
a mystery mouth before it started cleaning me out.
I wish I could have seen his face as he turned on the light and saw his ex-gf and current gf going at it, but I had my face buried in muff, and we were both to busy cumming to react. I think he spent the night on the couch, and I had enough girl-cum to last me a year that night.
What a way for a guy to find out his gf and ex are bi, eh?
|Date:||October 9th, 2003 09:48 am (UTC)|| |
My story is also Rocky-related, at least marginally. The local show had been bumped for a film festival or something for several weeks. In honor of the return of Rocky Horror, one of my friends decided to invite everyone he knew to get drunk at his place before the show. About a month before this party I had gotten drunk for the first time and gotten laid for the first time, and I thought it was lots of fun and wanted some more of that. So when my friend told me he didn't want to be the most intoxicated person there, I was more than happy to make sure he wouldn't be. I drank large quantities of alcohol, got more thoroughly smashed than I've ever been again to this day, and kissed a whole bunch of people. On the way to the theater, I was having trouble moving under my own power; it took one person on each side holding me up to help me stagger to the theater. On one side was a very hot girl I'd just met at the party; on the other was an okay-looking guy I'd met once before who I'd decided was going to be my easy lay for the evening.
This is where things get blurry. The next thing I remember is sucking that girl's nipple ring. Then things get fuzzy again; the next memory features a whole lot of people on a dorm bed involved in various sexual activities, but none of them are actually having sex. I, on the other hand, am on my hands and knees on the floor with my skirt up and my panties down, with the aforementioned guy frantically thrusting in the general viscinity of my groin... but failing miserably to get hard enough to fuck. (Apparently he did get hard enough to push the condom in at some point, causing my first and only lost condom incident, which actually isn't that memorable compared to the rest of the evening.) For some reason he was also spanking me, which I couldn't feel very well because I was so completely trashed. Later I remember the same almost entirely sober guy drunk-sitting me for a while in somebody else's room, after which I went with him to his room and demanded that he fuck me. Which he did.
I later pieced together my memories and the information I could obtain from the participants who were still speaking to me. Apparently when we all reached the theater, we were told that Rocky was cancelled for one more week. A few people decided to go home at that point; the rest of us went back to someone's dorm room to watch a movie. (I think it's telling that the only two people at this party who I'm still in contact with went home at this point.) I'm told I started things by throwing myself at the hot girl. I'm also told that all the noise I was making disturbed the sleeping/studying neighbors of the unfortunate person who actually lived in that dorm room, to the point where they felt the need to come over and stop the pseudo-orgy.
There were people who were too weirded out to so much as say hello when they passed me on the street for well over a year after that.
Oh, and as I unfortunately discovered a few months later, the guy was spectacularly bad in bed when I wasn't drunk, and had all the personality of a particularly oblivious lamppost.
ahhh Rocky times....
The first time I had sex, I was at my casts convention for Rocky (horror picture show). I met this guy the first night and we fooled around a bit. The second night I took him up to me and my sisters hotel room and we start fooling around again and we were both getting into it. (yeah he knew I was a virgin) Finally he asked if her should get a condom. Decision time for me, so I just went for it. He kept stopping and starting again. He finally told me that he had to "b/c he didnt want it to end b/c it looked like I was enjoying myself". Afterwards we cuddled and he kept telling me that he didnt want me to hate him tomorrow. I told him I wouldnt. But the next day, he blew me off and appeared to have a girlfriend!
I suggest you read a book called Flowers Of The Attic. I don't remember the author, but it's seriously funny and disturbing. The movie version of the book is also just as .. strange.
|Date:||October 27th, 2003 01:34 am (UTC)|| |
V.C. Andrews. I don't like her books much, but they're fairly popular. The first sequel to that book was better, though.
|Date:||November 2nd, 2003 01:29 pm (UTC)|| |
A long time ago there was a young man (me) that was flirting very heavily with this very lovely young woman. Now she was the kind of person that everyone greatly desired: smart, witty, beautiful; I had decided that she was exactly the kind of friend I needed in my life and she also found me as interesting as I found her. That being said, we found that hanging out and having fun (platonicly that is...) was good for the both of us, and neither of us had thought to change things. Until...
One day she come to school saying that she had broken up with this guy she had been seeing for a long time. She was crushed and elated at the same time. She was super-charged with new found freedom in that "I'm single again!" kind of way. Being the bold a silly person that I am, I said "well, now there's time for us, let's go." 'N' looks up at me and without missing a beat says "where?". After some discussion, it was decided that we sould use one of the faculity offices (I had keys as part of my work-study job) to have our 'alone time'. Waisting absolutly no time, we are stripped down and going at it when we suddenly hear the door-knob being turned. We freeze--mid pose--like deer in headlights wondering what we should do... should we stop?...should we keep going at it?...should we get dressed? Eventually, whoever it was leaves, and we get back to work, chearing each other on that we didn't get caught.
But the world works in strange ways and the next day, the professor who's office we were 'using' keep looking at me very strangely. She was asking me all sorts of questions and trying to get me to admit that I was the one she overheard in her office. Remaining calm (at least on the outside) I told her that I had no clue what she was talking about. Days, then weeks, pass before she finally more or less believes my story. That is until my favorite painting instructor, myself, and the afforementioned teacher are critiquing some of my paintings. The three of us are engaged in a lengthy discussion when all of a sudden the favorite looks over at 'the office' and says "I hear that someone has been having sex in your office...is that true?" She looks at me and says yes it's true but she doesn't know who and doesn't know why they would use her office anyway. 'The favorite' looks right at me, the 'the office' and says (while putting his arm around my shoulder)...
"That's why I don't have carpeting in my office. How are your knee's Mark?"
|Date:||November 4th, 2003 06:29 pm (UTC)|| |
Most Embarrasing Sex Moment
I think I've just experienced the worst possible sex moment I will ever have!!! I've read a few of these posts and I think my story beats a lot of them. While I was having sex with my b/f...he was behind me with me on my knees giving it to me from the back (and i don't mean anal).....I thought everything was going great.....but all of a sudden he started to slow down, then stopped and laid on the bed beside me. I asked him what was wrong he he wouldn't tell me at first.. I asked him if he had cum but he said no....I couldn't understand why he had stopped so I continued to ask.... Finally he said to me " I am going to be completely honest with you, your butt is emitting a smell...." I just froze... he started to say that's he's never noticed this ever before....I just zoned out completely and my face must of turned 16 shades of red....Thank God the lights were out...what was worse was that I had taken a shower earlier in the day and first thought he was joking...I will never forget this moment from now to the day I die!
|Date:||November 4th, 2003 10:22 pm (UTC)|| |
Since I've only been having sex for two years, I can't say I have a lot of stories, but this has to be my most embarassing.
my boyfriend and i usually have sex in his room, although he lives with his parents, we try to limit it to when they are out of the house, or at the very least, downstairs, with the TV on, across the house. Now the two of us, me in particular, can be quite loud, however usually we can muffle ourselves.
Now I should mention said boyfriend just got a new bed, and we were both relatively excited about it, because it had a metal rail headboard type thing, perfect because I enjoy handcuffing him to the bed. So we go to...break the bed in one night.
And it was fine because no one was home....right? wrong.
The next week, his mother says to him "we have got to do something about your bed."
"what? i mean, uh, we weren't even doing anything last night."
"no, not last night. A week ago. We could hear it all the way in here".
Now thats downstairs, across the house, with the TV on. And to make matters worse, his mother is "wait until marriage" type that refuses to believe that her baby is 21, and thinks i'm the devil.
i don't think we've had sex in that bed since.
Guy I had been dating for a while, we decided to move past oral sex. Now, I was a virgin at that point, but due to previous actions and horsebackriding at a younger age, lacking a hymen. Being young and stupid, and not planning on actually going at it, just having him inside of me (great excuse, ne? I'm such an idiot) there was a lack of condom. Anyway, he gets in me, and he pushes my shoulders down so he's all the way outside. We sit like that for a minute, then I get off of him and prepare to give him a blow job.
Thats when I saw it.
Now, I'm thinking, what the fuck? That is _so_ not mine. Turns out his foreskin went down too far.
Story #2: Same guy wanted to mess around a bit in the shower. I was happy to comply. We waited until his mom and his brother were at a hockey game, then got in the shower and started with the heavy petting. About 10 minutes later, I pause. "Was that the door?" The guy peeks outside of the bathroom door. Turns out his dad had come home early from work! We scrambeled to get our clothes on and made this bullshit story about me getting peanut butter in my hair and having to wash it out.
Not quite as bad as any here.
|Date:||November 27th, 2003 11:29 am (UTC)|| |
Embarassing, try this on
This is more stupid than embarassing. When I started college I still lived at home with my parents in the basement. Well, occassionally I'd get girlfriends and I'd bring them to my house to spend the night. And of course, we would, you know, do the sex thing. We were always relatively careful to be quiet because my mom still thought I was a virgin. But, that's not important right now. Well, we'd get done and instead of throwing the condoms away in the trashcan upstairs, because I didn't have one in my room, I would stuff them in a dirty sock and put them under my bed. So, one day I'm cleaning out under my bed and I find all of these dirty socks. Not remembering why they are there I throw them in the dirty clothes. They are washed, dired, and folded. So, my stepdad gets up one morning to go to work and grabs a pair of sock. He puts his foot in and pulls out a handful of used condoms.
Here is part two to the story. My mom had gotten me a plastic filing cabinet for christmas. So, since I was quite embarassed over the dirty sock escapade and being that I still had no trashcan downstairs, I began putting the used condoms into the filing cabinet. This was all fine and dandy until my mom decided she needed a new filing cabinet and that I had one in my room she thought I wasn't using for anything... Well, she comes to me the next day and says "You know what's really disgusting?" "What?" "Used rubbers in a filing cabinet."
She bought me a trashcan and trashbags for my birthday.
(I swear I wouldn't do this all again...really)
I'm not exactly new to sex, since I've been randomly participating in it for the past three or so years (okay, so I'm a newbie compared to a lot of people) but, being a rookie at the game, I generally have always tried to stick with the only legal sexual position in my state: missionary. And even that gets difficult--I get bored and my hips start to ache, but I've found that if I buck wildly and yell OH GOD, OH GOD YES! and perform manual contractions from deep within, the guy generally decides that he's done his part and he can finish now.
A few weekends ago, a friend and I decided to go meet two guys. One guy (Ryan) I had known for several years and had fooled around with him on several occasions, and the other guy (Ian) was Ryan's friend whom I had never met before but had talked to online and made tentative plans for casual sex. My friend (Dana--unisex name, but a definite female) was to date Ryan for the evening and Ian was mine. Dana and I had made out a few times but nothing serious--we usually just did it for a small crowd when someone was willing to buy us pizza or let us into the movie theatre for free.
We end up at Ian's house, all sitting on his king-sized bed. Dana and Ryan (just meeting for the first time) are making small talk, and occasionally poke at Ian and I, suggesting we hurry up and make out because they think it would be funny. So we do. Soon he's on top of me, thrusting his fully clothed cock into my fully clothed vagina, biting my neck and squeezing my tits. Fine by me, except now I'm getting really horny and try to take his shirt off, not realizing that there were still two more buttons. Yep, I broke his shirt. Oh well, he left a bruise the size of a fist on my neck that didn't go away for three weeks. Damn those bite marks.
Somehow, Ian and I manage to get naked and he's standing at the end of the bed as I suck his dick, only vaguely aware that Dana and Ryan are still at the head of the bed, jaws dropped in awe and disgust as Ian grunts and I make embarassing slurping noises. Apparently he was bored with fellatio and pushes me back on the bed, grabbing a pillow right out from underneath ryan's head and jams it under my hips. Throwing both my legs over his right shoulder (I didn't know that was allowed...it's definitely easier on the hips) he starts pounding away, and I never knew sex was supposed to actually feel good! Sweet. Dana is starting to freak out--she had no idea the night was going to go like this. Ryan is laughing like it's the greatest thing ever and starts to fondle Dana, but realizes that being within my flailing range is a bad idea, and I'd managed to hit the both of them several times already. Damn, I like it when he bites me...
Dana and Ryan move to the chair, and every once in a while I look over to see her head bobbing in his lap. Apparently she has a 'no fucking on the first date' rule, too bad for Ryan.
Ian has changed positions several times now, flinging my legs left, right, upsidedown, whatever. That's cool, I'm getting more and more flexible as the night goes on and the emo tape automatically flips sides in the background.
Then fear begins to take hold on my stomach before I fully realize what is going on. Ian has pulled out and is pulling at my sides...what? what...you want me to...."Turn over" he says. Um...okay...
I flip over, and he props me up with another pillow under my hips. At this point I'm praying for doggystyle because the other option is terrifying. I hear the slurping and moaning from the chair stop and look over to see Dana looking at me with terror in her eyes. She's scared for me, bless her heart. I wait for it...wait for it...What the fuck is that...it's vibrating. Dana screams and I have no idea what's going on. Ryan laughs hysterically and Ian is trying to pin me down but I'm squirming out from under him in a frenzied panic. It's just a tiny little pink battery operated thing, but I'm terrified of where he's going to put it.
Re: (apparently it's too long for the lj gods)
Maybe I forgot to mention before, but Ian is built. He prides himself on his two hours at the gym every day, even though he still has a bit of a beer gut. He's hot and shaved and I can tell he's a pro, and knows just how to pin down a frightened little girl when she's trying to escape the pink ass pirate. He's got one hand holding my two wrists together, knees on the back of my knees and the other wielding my certain doom.
He starts biting my neck again and I feel my body betray me....mmmm yeah, those bruises were worth it.
I can't write in detail about the next few moments because it still makes me feel dirty and I hate that it kind of turns me on. Unfortunately (yes, unfortunately, because I have no idea what this means) I kind of liked the little pink thing but swear to never again let anything enter my ass. I think he felt kind of bad afterwards because after he eventually got off, he wiped me up and cuddled for a few minutes, which surprised me seeing as how this was clearly a one-night thing and he'd never have to see me again.
On the uncomfortable ride home (even with a pillow under my ass on the driver's seat) Dana admitted that she enjoyed the show. I'm kind of offended because her favorite part was the one with the little pink demon, but amused because she's a wicked jesus freak and now has a taste for voyeurism.
I haven't talked to Ian since, but Ryan says that he's working on finding some new friends for us all to hang out with. Dear god, I think I'll pass. At least let me turn 18 first so I can rent pornos and see how the pros do it.
My most embarrassing moment? Having my son walk in while I'm busy screwing on the sofa in the living room. He was 7 years old. He walked over to the trashcan, urinated in it, and went back to bed. It turns out he was sleepwalking. When I spoke to him about it the next day, he said he had no memory of it.
|Date:||January 15th, 2004 08:53 am (UTC)|| |
surfed on in
This will be a good 'hello' and first comment on your journal...
I was in Rome with a girl I'd met in Hungary, and we were staying at this bed and breakfast run by, oddly enough, an old japanese couple who didn't speak english or italian. We were going at it a third or fourth time one evening, and all of a sudden three Italian police burst into the room. The police were doing some form of raid. We're really not sure, because we didn't speak italian or much japanese, and they didn't speak english. They let us get dressed and searched us, whence we packed up and decided it was as good a time as any to leave rome.
why am I doing this?
oh, that's right, it's funny. this thread has afforded me a good 20 minutes of entertainment.
reading festival last year, I had an excellent time and met some lovely people.
[person #1] was charming and pretty and I'm still with him... despite this</b>:
it's thursday night, I've been pilling and drinking shitloads of fluids. you meet people easily when you're all loved up, and, unsurprisingly I ended the night in his tent.
decent toilets are hard to come by at a festival, and you might say I was otherwise engaged and didn't spare a thought for my bladder. anyway, mid-coitus I suddenly feel all warm and in my confused state of mind I'm thinking: "this is good stuff for a first night, I think I came".
uh, wrong. *goes wee wee on top of someone I quite fancy*
luckily it was mostly water, and he didn't mention it for 3 months. and I'm still with him. but, really... that's horrible!
I'm worried that this may well have happened with another random over the course of the weekend
then there's the standard story of when your 14 year old brother and his friend lee thinking it would be funny to open shut doors when they're pretty sure they would be MOST unwelcome. and happening across parents on a sunday morning when you were 8. but everyone has those stories. don't they?
nice journal by the way. although after a couple of hours I haven't a clue how I got here.
*apologies for my html abuse, but LJ doesn't like people editing their comments.
|Date:||January 27th, 2004 05:05 pm (UTC)|| |
I have so many of these it's hard to pick.
I was in grad school in Massachusetts. It was my first year; I was working on the school paper, and I'd found a fuck buddy who was senior editor. We would put the paper to bed, and then go to bed. Every now and then we'd go to dinner, and go to bed. A perfect grad school relationship. I was doing theatre too, and there was a townie gal who had a part in the show we were putting on. What with one thing and another ("it seemed like a good idea at the time" is the motto of my sex life) one February night the three of us ended up in bed. This would be in his single bed, in his dorm room, which was in a building across the square from mine.
There are good threesomes and okay threesomes, and then there are situations where one party realizes that, really, their company is surplus to the activities at hand. We'd been in this (very small) bed for half an hour or so before it became obvious to me that she hadn't wanted to go to bed with us, she'd wanted to go to bed with him. So I got out of bed and left the room -- only to realize after the door closed and locked behind me that I'd forgotten my shoes. There was probably a foot of snow on the ground outside. So I sit in the lounge for a few minutes, alternating feeling sorry for myself and being struck by the absurdity of the whole situation. Then I decided they'd had long enough to finish round 1 and that I'd better get my shoes before they started round 2. I called him on the house phone and said, you know, hon, I forgot my shoes, could you grab them for me? Sure, he says, and hands them through the door.
So about 6 a.m. my phone rings, and it's him. Calling from the hospital. Turns out that although neither of us knew it, our playmate was an epileptic, and had proceeded to have a grand mal seizure not too long after I left. He'd had to call 911 and then try and get some clothes on her before the paramedics showed up -- and then had to admit to them that he didn't know her last name.
Good lord. I start writing these and they just come back to me in waves. Alcoholic blackouts. I've had maybe half a dozen of those, and I can never figure out which is worse -- the sheer unpredictability of them, or the fact that nobody else realizes that I'm completely non compos. Later that same month, I went out with a gal from my dorm to play Trivial Pursuit with some guys she knew who lived right down the street. She had the hots for one of them but wasn't getting very far. I remember the beginning of the evening. We were drinking champagne. I kinda remember him walking the two of us back to the dorm, saying goodbye to the two of them at the door to my room before he walked her upstairs. The next thing I remember is him kneeling over me with his cock in my mouth. All I can figure is that he came back and knocked on the door and I let him in. I know it was consentual, because the next morning I discovered that I'd remembered to put my diaphragm in. The worst part about this was that apparently he thought we'd had a marvelous time; I would run into him in the cafeteria or in classes and he always had a warm smile for me. Meanwhile, I couldn't even remember his name.
My husband and I were having sex with the children in the next room.
A few moments before the anticipated climax I hear the doorknob rattling. It's my 2 year old. She can't open the door herself and we've probably only got about another minute to go so I decide to let her chill out there for the time being. Then I hear her big brother offering to help. I hear the door unlatch and I climb off the hubby and turn to the door, assuming he'll cover up.
I'm having a short conversation with my daughter about glasses of milk and how to procure them when she looks over my shoulder and her eyes open wide. "Mummy, why does Daddy have a band-aid on his penis?" I turn around and there's my husband, still uncovered, condom hanging off the end of his dick. (Two children are quite enough for us). He had assumed that I'd be able to keep her distracted for the few moments that she would be in the room.
Now, I'm all for giving kids the frank sex talks, but this was SO not the time and place. We were not prepared. My husband blurted something about an "owwie" just as my son (age 5) pushed his way into the room. He wanted someone to play dragons with him. Mid sentence he stopped. (By this time we'd more or less covered up) "what's going on in here?" he demanded. "Why did you guys take off all your clothes?"
Talk about a mood killer.
|Date:||February 26th, 2004 09:43 pm (UTC)|| |
I don't have any good sex stories, because I haven't had sex. However, I do have this slight problem. I have trouble forming memories, and moreso when my new brain isn't functioning well. The handful of times I've made out, I would talk to the other person shortly thereafter and ask what exactly we'd done because I'd only have the dimmest of recollections of it.
Stumbled onto this via The Ultimate LJ Quiz, got one to throw in.
When I was 17, I had a girlfriend, Rebecca, for the first time. Loved her, but she was schizophrenic about sex. Mainly, this stemmed from the fact that she couldn't reconcile her sexual urges with her religious tendencies--leading to sexual activities on one date, extreme prudishness the next, and more sexual activities the next date. It was a weird relationship, but hey, like I said, it was my first girlfriend.
Fast forward to the last date. We're at my house, hanging out and waiting for my parents to get home so we can eat dinner. I start fingering her--definitely not a pro-religion date. I'm not bragging about my skills, but she enjoyed it, to the point where fixing her clothing did not immediately register. And, because I was a dummy and I was excited at fingering a girl for the first time, I forgot to wash my hands.
So my mom gets home about fifteen minutes after this encounter, and she immediately begins talking to Rebecca. The conversation goes into the kitchen, and I follow and join in. My mom's back is to me, and I'm facing Rebecca. That's when it hits me:
Rebecca's shirt is unbuttoned down to just below her bra. Her jeans are unbuttoned, and her fly is somewhat open. And my mom is just chatting away as if nothing is going on.
I gesture to Rebecca that her clothes are askew; her eyes widen, she excuses herself, and heads to the bathroom to straighten up. To this day, I have no idea if my mom noticed--she would have had to be pretty stupid not to catch on to the fact that my girlfriend was dressed like she'd been getting pleasured for the better part of a half hour, but she never brought it up if she did. And this is the woman who screamed at me for half an hour when she found porn on our computers--figuring out that I'd been masturbating a chica on their couch would have earned at least an hour and a half lecture on celibacy. Not to mention that, though I have no idea what it smells like (no sense of smell), I'm sure that normal people can smell Extremely Wet Pussy--especially when it's on their son's hands as he helps put the groceries away.
|Date:||March 14th, 2004 04:56 pm (UTC)|| |
Well, what happened yesterday
was a bit blush-inducing. There's also one of my many failed threesomes
. I can't say I'm embarrassed by anything I've done, though. Either that or I've blocked it out.
(I added you today, and I'm entertaining myself quite well reading the posts you linked to from your userinfo.)