I was just leaving an electro show absolutely plastered on  my drug of choice, ketamine. For all you kids at home, ketamine, or k, is used to tranquilize animals, yes  that's right I'm an idiot. Anyway, this girl with the words "FUCK" tattooed on her neck whom I had been dancing with asked me to come home. This is a rare opportunity for me at a club, because usually I'm more concerned with  the fact I can see the planet Neptune out of the corner of my eye than any member of the opposite sex. Anyway, with my last ounce of rationality, I ask, "do you have a condom?" She said, "no, but fuck it I'm clean," cleanliness had not been a issue for me (pregnancy was). Cleanliness however became THE factor when I realized what I was dealing with: I'm not sure what alien from Mos Eisley Space Port  last had sex with her, but he most definitely did  not pull out. Reaching for any sort of  protection I could find, I grabbed my baggy for ketamine and sort of wrapped it around my head. Kids, this  will be your second lesson, if there is any remaining ketamine in this bag, as soon as you get hard your dick will sting a thousand stings. I wanted to stop, I HAD TO STOP! but tattoo girl was stiill clipping  hard on the uppers  she was on and I knew she would be able to take me in at least hand  to  hand  combat. So when we changed positions, I ran out the  door reaching for any articles of clothing I could find. My spoils: a sock, and  her torn t-shirt that had "slut" written on it. The sock came in handy as it acted as a little snuggie for my severaly injured penis. Regardless though, walking home in the winter in Montreal, with a torn t-shirt that says slut and a snuggie around your penis, isn't the most amazing way to cap off your night. I'm so bad at sex.

flashcard on Tuesday 10th of November 2009 | Comments: 3

I had just lost my virginity a few weeks ago, and was vacationing on an island off the coast of France. Needless to say, I was overly full of self-confidence/libido, but a little, ah, *tight* on actual sexual experience. Out at a club with some guys my friend and I had met, one thing started to seem like it was going to lead to another with this one Frenchman. We decided not to let his lack of a car, my extreme inebriation, or moral qualms get in our way, and left the club for "somewhere more private," a.k.a. the fence outside a nearby house. He started nailing me against the fence. Stark naked on a residential street and freaking out about being caught, I made him stop every time I thought I heard a car coming. Then we had to stop for real because he was much taller than me so had to hold me up, and his arms got tired. So we started having sex on the gravel of the driveway, with him on top. 45 minutes later, with gravel embedded into my back and ass, aching from the difference in diameter between my freshly deflowered vag and his freakishly short but thick dick, and wondering at the stamina of this Gallic Casanova, I had to ask him to stop. He started kind of hiccuping/sniffling (like you do when you're about to cry and really trying not to), presumably because he thought he was so shit awful or from the frustration, who knows. I don't know what was worse, finding the next day that it hurt to sit down, or finding out from my friend that it was his first time. I'm so bad at sex.

HellaAwkward on Tuesday 23rd of June 2009 | Comments: 1