best of sex
So I got drunk and f***ed this guy on our second date. He kept telling me he loved me and tried to get me to tell him I loved him, which was a bonerkiller like you would not believe. I had to threaten to put my pants on and go home before he would shut up. Right after we finished, he asked “Wasn’t that the best orgasm you’ve ever had?” I was irritated enough to answer, truthfully, that it had not been, at which point he got really pouty.
Aftermath: Immediately started avoiding the hell out of him, although he continued to drunk-dial for almost a year. Wow, seeing this in writing makes me way more embarrassed about this.
We argued for an hour about anal sex. Apparently this was a favorite endeavor of his and his ex-girlfriend and he was insistent that I engage in this act as well.
Aftermath: Two weeks later I went by his house at 3:30 a.m. and found his ex-girlfriend’s car parked outside.
best of sex
Everything was going fine until she gained about 25-lbs. I was willing to go with it, until she started complaining about how said weight made her look fat. Near the end, she was literally crushing my goods when she was on top. I should have won an Oscar for those performances.
Aftermath: The relationship lasted for another 5 lbs, then I was in actual fear that I would lose my ability to procreate through the constant abuse.
He stopped having sex with me. Have you ever heard of a man stop having sex with anyone, particularly his wife? I consider myself an attractive woman, and the response I get from men confirms that. I wondered if he was having an affair. He said no. I believed him if only because I could actually imagine him being too lazy to cheat.
Aftermath: Too long. Humiliatingly, we spent another four sexless years together. Eventually, I found a box of condoms in the computer room. That actually made me feel better. At least there was a reason.
I reconnected with an old girlfriend after a few years. We went to her place one night for an “it’s great to see you again” session. Following the session I went to the bathroom, turned on the light and realized she had pets—and not the cute and cuddly ones. Hundreds of them were on the walls, in the sinks, in the refrigerator…totally disgusting. I couldn’t tell who paid the rent, her or them!
Aftermath: I never slept there or stayed longer than necessary after that and brought plastic bags to keep my clothes safe. Eventually the “sessions” became old and not worth the extra trouble.