He Couldn’t Contain his Excitement (part 5)

Mistake

Mistake (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He should never have given me that hug that Mexicans do.  It’s like they squeeze and relax, without releasing you; squeeze and relax; squeeze and relax. By the third squeeze I was lost and breathless and the moan that escaped my lips and entered into him through his ear must have been his undoing.

There was silence. The silence I told you about.

Then his lips began to seek mine. And then I heard that sound; the one that was both full of anguish and pleasure as he grabbed my hand merely placing it on top of the steel rod that he must of broke off of some car he was working on before he left his shop and stuffed it into his pants for protection or something… Or, what was I thinking? THAT had to be his you-know-what! It barely had time to register in my head before he was sighing with relief and his jeans were totally soaked.

And that was it. The end. He couldn’t contain his excitement.

What an incredible let-down. He went home on cloud nine because he’d got to release all that pent-up sexual frustration WITHOUT actually cheating on his wife–if you look at it in a certain way. For me, on the other hand, the sexual frustration was only beginning. I was outraged at having taken such a terrible risk; one that I’m not very proud of because I soooo do not believe in adultery; well under most conditions. A horrible risk and NOTHING to show for it in the end.

As usual, I went to bed alone and the only way I could console myself was to NOT focus on his dysfunction, but to convince myself that it was all because I am such a lovely enchantress that his climax just decided to rush right out and meet me, not asking for his permission first. Yeah, that’s what happened.

 

Butt-Ugly (or “Why Internet Dating is NOT for Me”) part 4

Online Dating. Oh Yeah.

Online Dating. Oh Yeah. (Photo credit: Devign Elements)

So, yes as you already guessed I allowed him to come over immediately, no more excuses. I was dying with anticipation. Oh, would to God that the anticipation had killed me indeed! That way I would never have had to see the face of the ugliest man with whom I was ever destined to have sex.  (Just in case you are wondering, the answer is YES. Roberto IS the guy who I referred to formerly when I said I’d only ever had sex with one truly ugly person in my whole life.)

Let me do the honor of asking the question so you won’t have to do it: Why on earth would I voluntarily have sex with what has to be the ugliest human being on the face of the earth? Well, the answer lies right within the question.

As a matter of fact I did not volunteer at all. I was so taken aback at the sight of him that I literally gasped, but when he unexpectedly popped the trick question, “I’m not too ugly for you, am I?” I failed miserably. How can you tell a person that you want to run away and hide underneath your bed because they seem to be the mythical Boogie man from whom you always hid as a kid? You can’t!

So we had to do it. But to my credit I was protesting and crying in self-pity the whole time. Or almost the whole time.

He embraced me as a greeting when I lied about him not being too ugly. And then things went from bad to worse. He used his weight to walk me backwards and close the front door with his foot behind him and then he literally attacked me with kisses. He wasn’t going to give me anymore chances to view his bulbous nose, pock-marked skin and lips that were fat and already wet.

He was kissing me and pawing me and ripping my clothes off like his very life depended on it. Yes, I was afraid, but not for the reasons you might imagine. Crazy stuff was going through my head like, Dear God what on earth will the child come out like if I get pregnant by this monster?

And then, totally catching me off guard, he pushes me onto the sofa because I am clawing him and threatening to call the police. In spite of my kicking and flailing and trying to pull my clothes back into place he murmurs gently, as though he is a completely sane person, “Baby why would you do something like that? I swear to you we won’t do anything you don’t want to.” And with that, he fell to his knees, pulling my underwear down with him and begins worshiping at the temple of my vagina.

KISS, don’t Vacuum! (part 1)

Kiss / 20080706.SD850IS.2510 / SML

Kiss / 20080706.SD850IS.2510 / SML (Photo credit: See-ming Lee 李思明 SML)

Thankfully, not all my sexual disasters were something that began and ended with actual sexual intercourse. That is to say, sex would have occurred if I had not been so keen as to recognize the potential for disaster before it actually happened. I know you’re thinking that it would have been great if only I’d learned a lot sooner to recognize such signals.  In my defense though, many times in my sexually checkered past I really DID see mishap and misfortune about to take place…I just denied it to myself and to my partner(s).

If you, like me have had a tendency to block out the voices of reason, caution, common sense, then do yourself a favor and pay attention from now on. I have made a firm commitment to look my subconscious square in the eye from now on and stop living in denial. In this way I have been able to avoid possible sexual ugliness, as I did in the example I will now tell you about.

They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, and I would assume that you also can’t judge a man by his physique, but to my own detriment I had a long stint of doing just that. It wasn’t purposeful, it’s just—well, wouldn’t YOU assume that a man who was tall, dark and handsome with nice thick thumbs and good sized feet would also be well-hung?! I’m certain that I’m not the only person who’s been taught to look for signs like that.

 

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)

Introduction
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: