Sperm in the Eye? Blindness may result! (part 2)

Sign for "London Handjob Centre" car...

Sign for “London Handjob Centre” carwash company (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My friend who I was telling you about was very inexperienced. And the guy she was with was pretty forceful and insistent. Two other things were working against her. Number one, he kept pushing her head down closer to him—in my opinion because what he really wanted was a blow job. But she didn’t know how to do that either.  And number two, she’s a nurse with a genuine fascination with the human body, so she keep putting her face ever closer to his little rifle.

You can imagine what happened when this guy erupted. Gee whiz! He exploded right in her good eye. The left one. What would have been a totally wonderful moment for him was spoiled by her startled and then terrified screams. She was in both mental and physical agony as the burning started.  He—a total moron—sat there speechless with a now-limp and empty prick.

Well, as you can imagine, she thought she was going blind because this was a long time ago before she became a registered nurse and found out that sperm in the eye does not actually necessarily lead to blindness.

Still, I feel very sorry for her every time I think about what she must have suffered for those first few minutes as they argued about whether to go to the hospital: he didn’t have a valid license and she temporarily had only one valid eye, which wasn’t even the good one. Neither of them wanted to be responsible for the exorbitant costs of ambulances. (Have you called an ambulance lately?! OMG) Neither of them had insurance because he didn’t have a job–unless you counted the illegal drug transaction–s and she only worked part-time as an NA. Neither of them wanted to explain how she came to have a massive load of sperm in her left eye.

Okay, so she didn’t die and she didn’t go blind, but that is not the point. I just want everyone to know how seriously dangerous it can be to attempt the intricate art/science of jerking a guy off if you have no clue what you are doing. So BE CAREFUL. Absolutely no good came from her foray into this unknown terrain. Well, accept that she allowed her infatuation with the workings of the human physique to lead her to go back to school and become an official RN. But some people would say that the two things were not even related. Me, I know differently.

Again, you have been warned! And if I were you, and I was with a guy who wanted a hand job…well, I’d just tell him to go jack himself off!


He Couldn’t Contain his Excitement (part 4)

Stop X

Stop X (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He knew that anything he said would incriminate him.  Yet he knew that everything rested on what he said next. I picked up where I had left off. “And that’s why I’ve tried to maintain my distance from you: I know you are faithful to your girl and I’d feel like crap if I attempted to interfere with that. I know you’re not the kind to would even consider such things anyway…”

“Oh, sweetie,” he half-moaned.  “Don’t look so sad. I can’t stand to see you with that expression,” he said, taking my face in his hand. I knew this was the beginning of the end.  He was resolved about what he would do, how far he would go.  He groaned, stroking my cheek with his thumb, “What can I do to take away that sad face, huh?”

“Stay with me,” I said plainly.  No need to mince words anymore; it was time to cross over together.

“Stay?” he repeated like he was in a daze.

I nodded like a little girl, not sure yet which character he most liked.

He chuckled faintly.  “How long?”

“As long as you want,” I said, instead of what I really wanted to say: forever.

He made a final brave effort to go. He stood up from the sofa so abruptly that I felt disoriented and humiliated.  My cheeks burned from embarrassment at having been so confident that he couldn’t resist me. “Uh, I better—“

“Yeah, I know,” I said, looking down at the floor.

“Well,” he sighed awkwardly. “Come here.” I guess he wanted to hug me goodbye. I couldn’t. Defeat had me glued to the sofa. I shook my head no.

“Don’t worry,” I said.  “I understand why you have to go.”

“Oh alright then,” he fake-grumbled, feigning gentle exasperation with me and with the situation. “Even if it’s just a little hug…” he said, almost to himself; as if he was explaining to someone like his absent girlfriend or whatever god, or whatever principle may be listening.

He sat back down on the sofa, scooping my unresisting body up into his arms.

The Drooler (Part 2)


drool (Photo credit: VinceFL)

I should have known not to continue once he drooled into my mouth during a long, passionate kiss. He was on top of me bringing the foreplay to a close and getting ready for the big entry. Things were going pretty well and I was admiring his muscle tone his thick hair and his broad shoulders. Oh, and the weight of his body crushing mine. That’s when I felt as much of his spit make its way down my throat as from a full Capri Sun packet! OMG, how horrific.

And it happened so fast that I couldn’t even say or do anything. I just lay there trying to control the gag reflex activated by the lukewarm spit from another human being that had just traveled down my throat.

I didn’t know what on earth had just happened! I mean was this old geezer so excited that he’d totally lost control of all his bodily fluids at once? Like was he suddenly going to pee, poop a loose stool, sweat, cry, and cum on me all at once in addition to this saliva outburst??

Or was it that he’d been concentrating so hard on maintaining control of the other stuff that he forgot about his spit? My beleaguered mind was racing with thoughts. What to do? Should I jump up and call the whole thing off for some bogus reason? Should I confront him about this senseless and inexcusable mishap and demand and explanation or apology or a promise that it would never happen again?

The Wayward Butt-Bullet (Part 1)

English: A "tabooboo" sex toys vendi...

English: A “tabooboo” sex toys vending machine. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It promised to be one of those long, lonely nights and my libido was in overdrive. I had known that this could happen, so I had already equipped myself for a night of auto erotica with a huge purple dildo, a couple of cheap porno flicks (I refuse to pay good money for a TV station that I’m rarely going to watch) and I had treated myself to something I’d never used before: an amazing little butt-bullet!

You may ask yourself, how is it that someone who has so much sex with so many different partners could find herself in a position to need to procure such novelties? Yeah, I used to ask myself the same question! But the pendulum has swung back from abundance to lack so many times, that I rarely bother to ask anymore. It’s amazing that when you’re getting it, potential partners abound (I’ll never forget the time I had to do it with two different guys on the same night, within a matter of a few minutes of each other…but that’s another story.)

But when you have no one, no one is forthcoming! Believe me, I have studied the phenomenon. My conclusions are that it is all based on the phases of the moon, which I have lots of Dummy and Idiot Guide books about. But you’re probably not nearly as interested in that stuff as I am. Anyway, I was in the middle of one of those stints of going without a partner and since I had already been through this a number of unfortunate times, I made my way to my secret hiding place that I’d have to rummage through at least 4 or 5 days out of every month.

Introduction to Sex Gone Wrong: Inexplicable Sights, Smells and Sounds from 101 Misadventures, Misdeeds, and Misdemeanors

Women on Top: How Real Life Has Changed Women'...

Women on Top: How Real Life Has Changed Women’s Sexual Fantasies (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I try to be a friend to people; that’s just how I am. So it shouldn’t be surprising that people tell me their deepest darkest secrets, their funniest jokes, their most tear-jerking tales and horrendous histories. I’m not a professional counselor or anything, but I have learned over the past few decades that what most people want is just for somebody to listen. They aren’t necessarily looking for help, advice, or direction. They just want five minutes to unload. And unloading can be therapeutic whether the listener is a therapist, pastor, or psychologist.
I’ve got this friend who has had a rather checkered sexual past, to say the least and she has unloaded whole volumes of hilarious sexual disasters and misdeeds to me. I’m going to tell you about them now. Don’t worry, I have her permission. I assure you that you will pee in your pants from laughing before you are finished reading, just as I always did whenever we would talk. She doesn’t do much writing, so she asked me if I would write a book about her exploits and adventures (while not mentioning her name, of course.)
Writing a book is serious work. I know, because I have done it. So whereas I haven’t compiled her tales into a book, well this is the next best thing. She is okay with that.
This blog is dedicated to her, and the following comprises a verbatim account of what she told me. From here on out, I quote:
“I believe in honesty for the most part, so I’ll give it to you straight. What I want to do is to make an exchange. Frankly I’m broke like the majority of my acquaintances so I’m trying to make an extra dime just like everybody else. I had one swell idea: A Christian Brothel, Resort, and Spa. But the legal ramifications and the unlikelihood of being able to remain anonymous like I can here made me put that plan on hold for a while.
In the meantime, I want people to read this and laugh at my expense. I’m hoping that these words will one day be printed in a book; and if they buy the book then we will have made a fair exchange and everybody wins! I predict that they will laugh, not because I am a comedian, but rather because I am dead serious. People always laugh at me whenever I’m being my most sincere serious self. Every single incident and anecdote will be 100% based on fact. Only the names will be changed to protect the guilty and allegedly innocent.”
That’s what she told me, just like that. I like the idea and since I already know the stories I agree with her that whether you agree or disagree with her; whether you love or hate her, one thing is for certain: you will not be able to resist laughing out loud. So read on, dive right in and enjoy your reflection in the mirror.
A word of caution! This is NOT a guidebook. This blog is not intended for explicitly educational or overtly religious purposes. Nor is it merely to poke fun at human sexuality. It is neither to condone nor to condemn her promiscuity. It is simply to fulfill promise that I made to her to make a written account of some of the observations she has made during the last 35 years of her active sexuality. While you’re laughing, you’re free to think whatever you like. I merely write these tales as a witness. I will blog in the same first person point of view in which these accounts were related to me: