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
What's your most embarassing sex story?
Submitted for your approval: the girl who looked up at me and asked, in her most bored-sounding voice...
"Are you done yet?"
I've been there, so a good-bad scenario.
Good to know that it's common.
Bad to know that I have far more embarassing stories to tell.
Good to see the fabled Pengy showing up in my LJ.
|Date:||August 25th, 2003 10:13 am (UTC)|| |
The Offical Scumbag Sex Story
One day me and my lady were playing in a local Magic tourny. Typical 1.5 unsanctioned if-yer-convincing-during-a-rules-argument-it-goes-your-way tourny, right?
Eventually, I'm pitted against her. She brought along a proof-of-concept deck that was semi-working at that point, but wasn't working too great.
Well, the thing about Kara and I, is that when we're competing, we get horny. Big time. Our friend Linz once said "watching you two play basketball is like 2 steps away from you two fucking", or something to that extent.
I win, and thats her final loss, she's out. I can tell she's itching for some ScumWang, so I tell the guy to auto-scoop me from the rest of my matches.
We get home, and we're going at it like bunnies, I swear to god. We're talking close-the-blinds-and-turn-on-some-music-so-we-aren't-keeping-the-people-above-us-awake going at it, right?
In the middle of it, she slows down and stops. I ask "whats the matter"? She says "one second" with an empty look on her face. Pulls out, bow-leggedly walks over to the computer and pulls up some Magic website.
She comes back, throws a tennis ball at my jimmies, and screams "you cheated! Sacrificing a goblin is an additional cost of playing Goblin Grenade, so if I counter it, the Goblin is still gone! gaaah!".
Turned around, went into the shower.
And that, my friends, is why I have the weirdest relationship ever. I blueballed because I thought you sacrifice a Goblin after the spell resolves.
Damn them goblins.
She apologized later, and let me watch when she made out with Linz a couple days later.
|Date:||June 14th, 2008 09:40 am (UTC)|| |
Re: The Offical Scumbag Sex Story
I gotta say, I like the way your girl apologizes. She got a sister?
|Date:||August 25th, 2003 10:14 am (UTC)|| |
I've managed to puke from a blow job (though I did at least manage to hold onto it until he'd finished spurting, and then make it to the toilet). It wasn't that embarrassing, though.
The one that would have been embarrassing, but for one mitigating factor, was falling asleep during sex. I was at Estrella and met this cute girl, and, it being an SCA event, we had had quite a lot to drink and were both pretty tired. We went back to my tent, climbed into my sleeping bag together, proceeded to make enough noise to seriously annoy my tentmate, and then both of us fell asleep before either of us intended to stop...
First thing I said to her on waking up was, "I'm sorry!" She said the same thing at the same time, and so we laughed about it and proceeded to annoy my tentmate again.
On the puke theme (lovely!, I once went to a very smart party with one of my exes. We'd got really dressed up and I was especially proud of some very expensive gorgeous underwear I was wearing. After an extremely drunken evening we got home, probably had a shag (can't remember - it's blurry) and just crashed out. The next morning he had to go early and I slept in. I eventually got up and started to tidy up the clothes that were all over the room. My lovely new bra was by the bed. There was a funny smell. I bent down to have a look and discovered that he had, very neatly, been sick in it, filling one cup exactly. I confronted him with this later and he claimed to have no memory of it and was suitably apologetic (between snorts of laughter).
That bra will forever be the vomit bra.
|Date:||August 25th, 2003 01:08 pm (UTC)|| |
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.
My wife's most embarassing sex story (and not even on my radar):
Our eight-year-old daughter walks into our bedroom and picks up the chain and manacle that's tied to the underside of the bed, where it's slipped out. "Mommy, what's this?"
We explained that Toklat, our Golden Retriever, had taken to wandering at night and that we had to chain him in.
Uh... Yeah. Years later, if she remembers, she's going to have the same kind of moment that I did when I realized that I'd been rubbing against my face.
Your story and your storytelling style are awesome! Thank you for that laugh! :)
|Date:||August 25th, 2003 05:16 pm (UTC)|| |
For your approval...
My brother lost his virginity to a total skank at 16.
How's that embarrassing? Well, they were so drunk he didn't realize that:
a) I had only gone to bed 5 minutes before
b) I hadn't shut the door, so I had to hear everything. Praise Bob for premature ejaculators!
c) After a minute, it started feeling really good, tighter than before... and then he realized he had slipped out and was porking the space between couch cushions.
I suppose the time my sister made me show a friend of hers a porn tape also counts. All was fine, if a bit creepy(showing my 15 year old sister pr0n, not knowing she was a regular swiper of my stash already)...
The inevitable money shot "came", the guy whipped it out and blew a load all over the girl's back... and my sister said "GOD, I HATE IT WHEN GUYS DO THAT TO ME!"
Cue attempt to claw eyeballs out of my head.
Re: For your approval...
> My brother lost his virginity to a total skank at 16. <
> "GOD, I HATE IT WHEN GUYS DO THAT TO ME!" <
That is wrong on soooo many levels...
Sorry you had to go through that.
|Date:||August 25th, 2003 08:53 pm (UTC)|| |
linked to this, so blame her ;)
Many years ago, I had a long-distance and online relationship that drifted somewhere between friendship and dating. She lived in another state, so we didn't see each other often, and her two daughters were often present when we did. We spent a lot of time cuddling, and sometimes slept curled up, but weren't actually lovers. I don't know if the girls figured that out, or not.
Somewhere along the way, the company I was working for had a close-the-doors type layoff, and I had an interview offer from an outfit based where she lived. I agreed to fly up for the interview, and they put me up in a nice hotel downtown. She picked me up at the airport, and took me to the hotel. She normally worked nights, so she had said that she was going to work, so they didn't expect her home.
We cuddled and talked and fell asleep curled up in each others arms, partly dressed, partly not - although mostly not. A bit more risque than normaly for us.
During the night, I woke up to find her tugging down my undies and climbing on top of me. I was somewhat surprised, but wasn't about to argue! As we climaxed, she pantomimed stabbing me with a knife, and slumped on top of me. OK, at this point I'm somewhat disturbed.
When I try to talk to her, she mumbles and seems half asleep, so I hold her and fall back asleep, puzzled.
In the morning, she wakes up, sits up, and asks:um... why am I not wearing any panties?
I responded, "You... took them off last night, before you took mine off and climbed on top of me"
Her response: oh
Of course, by now I'm thinking "Shit. She doesn't remember."
So I tell her about it, including the pantomimed stabbing of my chest...
Then she goes on to explain how she had an odd dream, where she had to infiltrate someplace, and seduced a guard to do so, and stabbed him.
She's talked about dreams like that before and after, so I believe her.
Um. So yeah. I was a 2-bit actor in someone's dream. not even worth a name...
And she didn't even know she'd done it for real.
I blame my wife for everything, of course.
In the "not quite as bad" department, why don't you ask her to tell you about the night before our wedding? There's an amusing blackout story as well, but why should I have all the fun?
Wait. By making her tell it, I AM having all the fun...
Surfed here through rollick
. Loved your story. Pimped your post. Hope you get more most excellent tales. I can't think of a truly great embarrassing sex story, so here are some fun, brief highlights:
*College boyfriend and I are going at it, same routine as always, night after night, always the same. (that relationship didn't last for a reason!) In the middle of coitus, we both simultanously just stopped (not FINISHED, mind you, just stopped going at it) and rolled over. He picks up the TV remote; I say "oh yeah, The Simpsons is on", and we proceed to watch TV. Yeah, it was that bad.
*Same college BF as above decides he wants to try something new; the ever-famous tittyfuck. I say sure, I'm up for new things. He's going at it, enthusiastically, I'm thinking 'well, this is kind of fun'; I look down to see the action just as he starts going off; I get a shot of cum right in the eye. Whee! Semen stings! Who knew? :)
*OK, this one's pretty funny, but it's not mine. My gay college roommate had his BF down visiting one weekend. They go out to see a movie. In the meantime, I'm puttering around the house, cleaning, playing with the ferrets, etc. Some time after they left, I see Luna, our 1-pound little white female ferret, come running out of said roommate's bedroom...in her mouth is a rubber dildo that is longer than her. She proceeds to drag said dildo by the NUTS to her hidey-place under the couch. Nothing is more fun than having to rescue your gay roommate's boyfriend's dildo from your ferret...unless, of course, it's having to explain to your roommate and his boyfriend WHY their dildo is perched on top of the TV in his room when they get home!
That's it for me. :)
Um... The Simpsons bit...
Oh my God, for me, that's second only to Gothiksukkubus's. Oh my God, I've never been there, but I could see it. *chuckles*
And any story that involves a ferret-propelled dildo is a winner in my book. My first ferret got into the garbage can and dragged a used maxipad around the house after getting stuck on the lining. My mother and I, overly amused by this, took pictures.
|Date:||August 25th, 2003 10:01 pm (UTC)|| |
Senior week 1989. Myrtle beach.
I lay on top of her and we were basking in the afterglow. She'd decided that when we met, two days ago, that she'd have me in bed by the end of the night. And she did.
She said I was her second, I think she was adding one to that number. And as we lay there panting, she curled one finger around my face, and said my full name in a breathy, Wow tone... and I looked down, and smiled... and drew a complete fucking blank.
She had to tell me her name again.
And she didn't kick me out of bed.
And to this day I won't sleep with someone whose name I have to ask for (at least from them) twice.
|Date:||August 26th, 2003 08:41 am (UTC)|| |
not so much embarrassing as disturbing
being only 17 and not having enough experiance to say anything worthwhile i just thought id read and see what everyone elses has done.. but then some weird shit came to mind...
when my sister was younger, maybe about ten or eleven or so, i think she must have had a bit of a hormone rush. growing up and onset of teenagerism and all of that.
she used to touch herself in the middle of the living room while we were watching tv.
i dont think it was properly masturbating as much as just seeing what was there and why it felt weird, but IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LIVING ROOM. while we were in there.
i had enough of it eventually and told her it was disgusting and you dont do that shit in public. she hasnt done it since, and i dont want to think about it anymore. that to me is severly disturbing.
oh, and then theres the standard walking in on the parents going at it on the living room floor. dad was totally naked and mum had her pants around her ankles. being a very quiet 12 year old i just turned around and backed off knowing full well what was going on, and got my drink from the bathroom ((where i later saw dad cleaning himself off. he looked a bit embarassed, but made an excuse of just having a 'pom wash' to not waste water)). they didnt notice a thing, and to my knowledge still dont know i saw.
|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.