I resonated with the below extract from VSB blog. That inspired me to do a VERY short compilation of some awful/bad sex stories
2. The f*ck buddies who don’t even really like f*cking each other
A couple years ago, a friend told me about an arrangement she had with a guy who’d come through once a week, have a couple glasses of moscato with her, and then would proceed to have terrible, awful, unbearably awkward sex with her. They both hated it — apparently he once fell asleep while she was on top of him, woke
up, gave a couple more pumps, and fell back asleep — but this “relationship” continued for a couple months.
Thinking that this friend was an just a sad anomaly of coital despair, I told the story to another friend, who expressed that she also was in a similar arrangement — a full NBA season (seven months) of awful sex. When I asked her why she continued a friends with migrant worker benefits arrangement, she replied “I don’t know. I guess I just liked the way he smelled.”
I was fifteen. My first boyfriend had talked me into giving him a blowjob, his and my first one. After some hesitation, I began and everything seemed to be going as he described it would be. Half way through, I noticed my chest felt really warm and wet. I looked down and to my horror, there was an indescribable amount of diarrhea covering my white shirt. To this day, I'm not sure what happened. Of course the real fun part was when I had to left my t-shirt over my head to get it off.
A few years ago, my French bf-at-the-time took me to Paris to meet his family....His mother, a haughty Parisienne who believes that her only son is GOD, and that no girl could possibly be classy enough to deserve him. Their regard is mutual - he worships her as much as she worships him.
One evening after a champagne-soaked dinner, she left to go to the theater. Expecting that she'd be gone for several hours, we started having regular sex, and then anal sex, on a couch adjacent to the table at which we'd had dinner. Things kept getting hotter, and my b.f. started f*cking my ass with the slim end of a champagne bottle. This felt good at first... but then I realized that something felt off. I slowed him down in an attempt to understand what on Earth my body was doing, and I realized that my bowels were moving. And I kind of realized that it was too late to stop what was happening.
At this already Godforsaken moment, we hear a key in the door and his mother pops into the room. The bitch had forgotten her shawl or something. So there I am, naked, on her couch, while her son, also naked, is holding a champagne bottle that is obviously deeply embedded in my ass. We shriek, and he yanks out the bottle. And immediately out comes a LARGE, dark brown, smelly piece of poop. It just rolls out - this felt like it was happening in slow motion, and I kept trying to stop it but I couldn't - and lands on her couch.
The French boy and I broke up shortly thereafter. I dumped him - pun intended.
3. RIVERBLOODI was "manually prepping" him and thought it was weird that there was so much precum. Eventually, I flicked on the light to grab a condom and he said "Oh my god, you're bleeding!" I started freaking out. How could this be?! I just got off my period. My hands, stomach and thighs were COVERED in blood...but my nether region was clear. Then, I look over and I see blood literally GUSHING out of the head of his dick. I was so freaked out I just yelled "YOUR DICK IS BLEEDING" and ran out of the room....
He was more mortified than I was...if possible. He told me about a month ago, he was really wasted and zipped the head of his penis in his pants. Being super drunk, he couldn't dislodge it, so forced the zipper down/yanked his dick out. He then passed out to later find himself on a blood soaked mattress. The doctor told him he needed stitched to close it back up, but didn't do it...leaving both his penis and me scarred for life.
“And a lot of �I always� and �I nevers� can be nuetralized by the right place/time/person.”
This is why I have given up on having “a type.” There is so much complexity that goes into attraction and retention of a mate. Not an exact science at all.
MicTheMessenger on said:
I also agree about complexity being a turn on. I like having to figure someone out. Unless I don�t like what I�m seeing, then he goes back in the box and I take out a new puzzle.
…well dang, what happens when you figure them out? Do you frame them and hang them on the wall as a reminder that you’re good at figuring ish out? Do they sit on your dining room table for eons cuz youre too lazy too frame them? Do you break them down and put them back in the box, losing interest for all eternity?
I’m curious as to why i asked myself these same questions as i typed them…
TheAnti-Cool on said:
Maybe he has an inner beauty. Like his bone marrow is ruggedly handsome or something.
Mahogany Princess on said:Maybe it was his decomposing liver that was of interest. Or maybe some were intrigued by his ability to be unattractive at all times. He was ugly no matter the angle, lighting, or effects. Somebody found that attractive. I mean take Hoops for example, no matter big or small she likes ugly.
Come on People on said:
I absolutely love this article!!!! Yes, you are right, the unexpected is much more desireable. I remember telling my mother I would date a guy that smelled good and ugly over a man that was funky and cute. Reason why, you can put a bag over someone’s head or even close your eyes much longer than you can hold your nose…lol
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