The Watchtower of Destruction: The Ferrett's Journal - Post a comment
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01:08 pm

rollick

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I'm here through shadesong as well. I've been reading through the rest of your journal, and loving your stories, and your storytelling style. Thanks for the entertainment.

As to embarrassing sex stories… I don't really have a good one for myself, but I can give you someone else's embarassing sex story from my point of view.

My second year in college, I shared a dorm room with a girl I'll call Beth. She was dating a guy named David; I was dating cassielsander, the guy I'm still with some 13 years later. We'd both met our boyfriends through the same mutual friend, and the four of us and the friend and HIS girlfriend were all a big chummy clique. Usually, on the weekends, Cass slept over with me in my dorm room, and Beth slept in David's room.

Every Friday night, Cass and I went to this amateur theater thing that happened in the Theater Building at 11 p.m. It usually lasted an hour or so, and then we'd go to dinner with friends afterward. So for some reason we decided to stay at his place that night, but we went back to my dorm room so I could grab a nightgown and a toothbrush. I unlocked the door to my dorm room —

And heard SHRIEKING. In two voices. From inside. "Don't come in! Don't open the door!"

So Cass and I stand in the hallway, grinning at each other, imagining Beth and David grabbing for clothes and blankets and whathaveyou to cover themselves. We can hear them whispering frantically inside. Then giggling. Then whispering more frantically. The whispering takes on a desperate quality. Minutes go by. More minutes go by. They're still whispering and giggling, and we're still standing out there wondering what the hell is going on.

The key is still in the lock, and the door's unlocked. I'm getting a little tired of standing in the hallway, so I decide they need to be hurried along. So I wink at Cass and turn the key again. That actually LOCKS the door, but Beth and David clearly aren't thinking very straight, because when they hear the lock-noise, they start screaming "WAIT! DON'T COME IN! JUST A MINUTE! HANG ON!" Cass and I laugh.

More whispering. Some scrambling around. More giggling. Some 10 minutes after I first tried to walk into my dorm room, they finally say "It's okay, you can come in now!" So I unlock the door and go in. They're both in her bed (the top bunk) with the covers pulled up to their necks, flushed and grinning like loons. I say "I just wanted my nightgown," and I grab it, and seriously consider just walking out, just for the comedy value of sweeping through in five seconds after whatever they've just been through.

Then it occurs to me that I should grab my pillow, because Cass only has the one. So I walk over to my neatly-made bed.

Sitting on it is a hunk of slashed nylon stocking. Another piece is tied around one of the bedposts. I realize what the problem was — one or the other of them was tied to MY BED a minute ago. (The top bunk, apart from being an awkward place for a dom to come and go from, only had little nubs where the bedposts should be, so they wouldn't have been able to use her bed). Clearly when they heard the key in the lock, they tried to break off, but they couldn't get the knots undone, and whoever was running around loose had to find something to cut the nylons with.

I picked up the loose, cut bit of stocking, stood up, gently set it on the top bunk next to them, said cheerfully "Oops, I think you forgot this," and walked out.

The second I locked the door, I heard them both break into a hysterical giggle fit.

Oddly, we still didn't come up with a "signal" after that. And I never did find out who had tied up whom.
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