Pajiba

Funny (to me) experience with a different college boyfriend: he jumped onto my bed once with a sense of silliness before some sexytime, and he bonked his nose on the footboard. Approximately 1.3 seconds later his face was covered in blood. He had to stand over the sink and act like he wasn't COMPLETELY humiliated while I went into the other rooms to get washcloths and laugh silently into my cupped hands.

Shutup, you would, too.

When I had first gotten married, my wife had friends, who became 'our' friends, but really, it was her high school best friend and her husband. After a night of drinking and condo-pool skinny-dipping, the wife's friend takes me by the hand and pulls me into another room, while at the same time my wife pulls the other guy into a different room. Apparently they had planned this evening as the old wife-swap thing. Being guys, of course we both went a long with it. It was interesting but not very. Afterward, we're laying there, basking in the uncomfortable glow of awkward sex, and the wife bursts in and says "we gotta go". Never saw the couple again. I asked her what happened and she wouldn't elaborate. Ever. I imagine it was a combination of the awkwardness I felt, combined with guilt and shame and whatever, but I personally feel that, even though the two of them connived the plan together, and acted together, knowing my ex, she couldn't handle the flood of jealousy she got from the idea of me there with her high school bff. I'm sure there was some old rivalry between them as it pertains to boys and her friend stealing them (she had actually tried to get me to cheat with her before).

You could say I was dumb for not seeing it coming, but what 25 year old male would turn down casual sex with another woman with his wife's permission?

You do realize that the photo coupled with the title makes it look as if you're saying "ew" to inter-racial relationships?

I know you're not, but a colleague just looked over my shoulder and asked me if I was on an anti-Obama web site.

[Now it looks like you're on an anti-ScarJo website. And I'm sort of okay with that. --JR]

When I was in high school, my girlfriend and I were flirting with going all the way, but really just kept firmly in the sphere of oral pleasure. Giving and receiving (I am a modern guy, afterall).
I have always been body conscious because I am so damn gangly. That extended to my, erm, uh, let's just say precious bodily fluids. I was always worried how bad it would taste to 'toot the trumpet'; I thought about how I could make it better for her. Maybe make it taste better. So, one night, before a date, I did one of the stupidest things I have ever done. I put toothpaste on my naughty bits.
Yes, toothpaste.
Good old original white paste Colgate.
The burning was everything you could imagine. As I write this, I am wincing in memory.
(This was years before I learned about such things as flavored condoms...I could have made a mint, haha.)
I made the mistake of telling my college roommate about it, and I was forever known as Colgate Dick.

My young girlfriend and I were trying new things in bed. We didn't know what we were doing thus far, and the prospects of sexual-lottery cards and edible underwear were very intruiging (I cannot urge you away from edible underwear enough -- I could win the actual lottery, but a 4 minute commercial during the super-bowl in which I regail you with the disgusting, sticky horrors of edible underwear, and some people will still try it).

I'd always wanted to try and integrate food in some way (thanks Mickey Rourke), so we got a bottle of whip-cream out of the fridge and brought it up to the bedroom. She layed on my matress in all her natural beauty (should note that my matress and box-spring were just laying on the floor -- very romantic). Smooth skin. Not a stitch of body hair. Like a young Linda Carter. Just perfect, bountiful breasts. I slowly dragged my finger-tips along her legs, simultaneously tickling her and demolishing the dam that held back the flood. Grabbed the bottle of whip cream and whoosh. There on her ankle. And her knee. Up along her thigh. Belly-button. Nipples. Neck.

And then I started to lick it off. Ankle was good. Cool and sweet. Knees okay. Up along her thigh. Not as cool anymore. Starting to get icky. It began to smell pretty damn awful. Okay, rush through the belly button -- just get that shit off her. Nipples, my favorite. Now spoiled. This is gross. By this time we're just trying to get the shit off of her.

It quickly became one of the most disgusting, embarassing sexual experiences we'd ever had (if only I could have warned me away from the edible underwear later on -- that was never topped). I don't know if my whip-cream was just old. Or if we should've just dabbed one whip at a time before licking it off. I had no idea that the heat from her body would do such awful things to the cream in the whip. But it had. It was bad.

She was grand. This was bad.

Nah. Ever get hit in the face with a whipped cream pie? Even after you wipe it off, the smell lingers. Blech.

Ian, nope. Just crazy.

Suprasente, I hear you. I tried it and the areas that had whipped cream ended up smelling like fresh vomit. No joke.

During another occasion, I was with a date where a lit candle and back massage was involved. (both happening on the floor) Without knowing, the candle was knocked over and the date's sock caught on fire. For probably a good 10 seconds before it was noticed.

Wasn't very romantic after tending to the 2nd degree burns.

Not me, but my college roommate. She had been planning to give up her V-card to the boyfriend and a lot of planning went into getting the room right, the lingerie, the wine, etc. We talked her throught the prelims and helped her get herself together. Imagine our surprise when three hours into the night in question, we get a call to meet her at the emergency room. Apparently, homeboy was built like an anaconda that had just swallowed a pig and it did not go well. She was hemorrhaging. Guess who had to call her parents to fly in? Not a fun call. Made the boyfriend pick them up at the airport, though.

Without being too graphic. An old girlfriend and I wanted to "spice" things up. She says one day "I have a toy, why don't you use it on me?" I say "okay." Should be cool. To my dismay she pulls out the TOY and it's you know, bigger than yours truly.
I thought okay, let's see where this goes. I just wasn't into it. It made me feel inadequate. But I thought whatever, it's just a toy. So I try and give it the old college try. Then I realize I can't use this thing on her. I can't have her getting used to this. So I just ended up telling her that it didn't do anything for me.

Without being too graphic. An old girlfriend and I wanted to "spice" things up. She says one day "I have a toy, why don't you use it on me?" I say "okay." Should be cool. To my dismay she pulls out the TOY and it's you know, bigger than yours truly.
I thought okay, let's see where this goes. I just wasn't into it. It made me feel inadequate. But I thought whatever, it's just a toy. So I try and give it the old college try. Then I realize I can't use this thing on her. I can't have her getting used to this. So I just ended up telling her that it didn't do anything for me.

Damn superasente, have you ever considered a career in writing romance novels? Even after the grossness, I was still turned on...

And considering edible underwear, it's an underwear shaped fruit roll up stuck inside hot, sticky, possibly hairy creases. There's NO WAY that could end badly.

My brother told that once, for his wife's birthday, he had a whole night of pleasure planned for her. It started with making her a delicious, spicy meal for her- jalapenos galore.

Eventually, he drew her a bath, with candles and rose petals. He then rubbed her down, and started to insert his fingers to start the sexy-time. After about 1 second she jumped out of the bath, screaming and grabbing her vag. Evidently, the vagina is unwelcoming to jalapeno-soaked intrusion.

Moral of the story: don't tell your brother things he doesn't want to know about. Gross.

The Altoid trick should not be used with those melt-on-your-tongue Altoid strips. They burn in your mouth, and in other places. And they are sticky so it lingers.

Protoguy,

You're among "friends".

Just tell us the goddamn edible underwear story.

It happened with my college boyfriend (first serious relationship involving copious amounts of sex). We hadn't been together very long, and I wasn't very experienced, so the idea of being on top seemed extremely titillating to my naive self (I weep for that innocent girl). Well, it's going okay - better than okay, actually, it's going great. I'm into it, he's really getting into it, so much so that he fucking bucks me off! I go flying off the bed and plant a facer right on the nightstand. This, of course, unleashes a fountain of blood out of my nose. I'm mortified that this is happening and he's mortified that he was so enthusiastic that he bucked me right off the bed, so it was pretty much a shame spiral for both of us.

It was a while before we tried that again. Though we evntually got it right. Silly children.

On the beach with new BF. Sand is NOT a lubricant.

Same BF, on top of a high hill in a field of tall grass, got bee-stung on the bottom of my foot at a very inopportune moment.

Basically, the great outdoors isn't, when it comes to sex.

Grace B - Took me forever to get em outta my crack

I've been with my husband for going on 19 years, so there's not a lot we haven't tried. But off the top of my head I can say that sex in hot tubs and swimming pools doesn't work as well as you might think it would. Water tends to get in the way of other fluids necessary for enjoyment, and in hot tubs the whole thing just gets too damn hot. Like, I'm going to pass out soon hot. This is especially the case when copious alcohol has been consumed beforehand.

And we learned our lesson on post-hot-pepper-preparation sex too. Ouch!

Oh yeah, and sex in the woods at the height of mosquito season = bites all over MY ass. He had the fortunate benefit of not needing to pull his pants down very far.

Sex in the ocean. I was not prepared for that kind of burn.

Sex after a day of sports is fun and sexy. Accidentally getting your boyfriend's IcyHot in your vag? Not so much.

I think the worst part was that it actually took a bit of time before I noticed the burn was not a natural by-product of our sexy times. By then, the product had worked its way far, far up into my lady cave. So, so not good. It pretty much killed the mood when I pushed him off the couch and ran screaming to the bathroom.

Sex in a field under the stars is very romantic, but hell on one's back. The ground is NOT as comfortable as a mattress

ditto for romping in hay. . .you ever felt hay? it's like a porcupine rug

I tell this story whenever I am drinking with male friends whom I'd like to see cringe: An ill-fated high-school hand job that, due to an unnoticed and unattended-to hangnail, became a scene of incredible [hilarious] carnage.

BF and I are getting hot and heavy whilst watching a movie on his downstairs sofa -- his mom and bro are out of the house for a while, so we're taking full advantage. I decide to up the ante and I start giving him a little manual attention. He's VERY into it, and like our friend superasente above, I assume it must be because I have the hands of Aphrodite herself. I am a golden goddess.

I notice things are starting to get a bit... sticky. I look at BF quizically, because I'm pretty sure he hasn't finished. We turn the lights back on, and it's fucking 'NAM, man. Blood. EVERYWHERE. White carpet, light blue sofa, and his boxers and khakis are soaked.

I am HORRIFIED. [So, I suppose, was he.]

Apparently, an engorged cock on the receiving end of a vigorous and enthusiastic handjob bleeds quite freely, even from this tiniest, most painless nick from a jagged hangnail.

Who knew?

We immediately go into crisis management mode, since we realize we don't actually know when Mom will come back and a bloodbath is a lot harder to explain away than an errant cumstain.. whoops!

Pants and boxers go into cold wash cycle, I bust out the carpet cleaner and go full-on Pulp Fiction crime-scene cleanup. By the grace of God, whom I wholeheartedly believe thinks this shit is hysterical, we manage to mop up the last of it riiiiight before we hear the garage door opening.

Our explanation for the damp [but clean!!] sofa and rug? Spilled a soda.

[AND a couple pints of your son's blood... but who's counting??]

oh my. my boyfriend and i have pretty ridiculously good sex- and despite his oddly sadfaced reasoning that it's only because he has a delightfully well-endowed groinular region, i'm quite sure it's due to a rather lovely combination of love (i know, gag, but whatever it happens even to the most cynical), physical desire (when we're drunk, even more so, but i suppose that's humanity in a nutshell) and emotional investment in each other. i mean honestly, only three people in the world have been able to make me finish- my first bf, whom i'm convinced was able to because we were both so inexperienced that any graze to my nethers was heavenly, my experimental girlfriend who was rather proficient with her tongue, and the aforementioned current boyfriend. nobody else has been able to make me come even close. (no pun intended.)

unfortunately, there have been some endeavors that have not ended so well. we're both on the rather freakshow end of the spectrum when it comes down to brass tacks, and we're involved in a D/s relationship, which some people may not undertand but to the two of us, it makes perfect, sublime sense. most of the time we have amazing sex, but as a sub sometimes i wind up as the guinea pig for experiments that don't go...well...all that awesome. for example: golden showers? i'm game. (i take a medicine that turns my pee blue, so, whatever. regular pee doesn't scare me. bring it.) but sadly, after we talked about it and he finally got up the balls (no pun intended...again) to do it, it was not as sexy or awesome as it could have been. he insisted on doing it in the shower. i mean...why not just take a piss and accidentally get in my way? to me the entire sexiness of an odd sexual act is the oddity itself- doing it and immediately getting clean afterwards kind of negates the whole thing. is that weird? i don't know.

also? you never know what might or might not end up sexy. one night several months ago, we had probably drunk enough to kill a small village in some parts of the world, and he insisted on shaving me with his electric razor. i never in my wildest dreams would have imagined this scenario to be anything sexy. but when he lathered me up and shaved everything with the utmost of care, it was a beautiful, sweet, and lovely experience. however, minutes later we decided to get into fisting. i pride myself on being an insatiable fuckwit who can handle any object the world throws at her pajingo- and his hands are beautiful and not too man-handish. unfortunately, he tried and tried but couldn't get the whole shebang inside (even with lube) without breaking me into painful tears. it was frustrating and ultimately disappointing for both of us. sadface. we're able to do most any weird sexual act you can think of (or can't) but when physical limits take hold...oh dammit. that's frustrating.

-But THEN...she grabs the candle, puts it down on the table and tells me to pee on her.

Posted by: Paultera at April 20, 2011 4:17 PM

-Paultera, was she on fire?

Posted by: Ian at April 20, 2011 4:22 PM

-----

Read that, can't be bothered reading the rest.

Well played.

doing it with the lights on is not quite as exciting as I thought it would be.

This past summer my boyfriend and I were goofing around in bed. Clothes still on, just being silly with tickling and wrestling and whatnot. I was kissing him in areas that made him cackle like a schoolgirl, and in the midst of it I bent down to kiss his knee. Without thinking he went to jerk it away and instead kneed me directly in the middle of my forehead. He's a BIG fucking guy. Boom. Concussion. After a flash of light I woke up lying on the bed with him writhing on the bed going "My KNEEEEEE!" Then he saw me dazed on my side :)

I spent the next five days with blurry vision, headaches, and dizziness. Now I wear bubble wrap to bed.

One of my girlfriends had that "let's do it in public because the idea of getting caught makes me hot" fetish.

I had the "Let's not do it in public, because the idea of jail and a sex-offender label makes me flaccid" fetish.

So yeah, sand in her vagina, gravel in my knees, splinters in my ass, mosquitoes on my balls, completely unsexy animal humping in the woods with your pants around your sneakered ankles against the nothing-is-comfortable-outdoors dirt/tree/rocks/water danger-in-lieu-of-real-passion fetish really turns me on.

This happened to my poor older brother. To be clear, when we were younger our parents travelled a lot, and left us alone in the house.

So he invited his girlfriend - his first - over, and they slept on the pull-out sofa. I was in my room at the other end of the house, and left them alone.

Next morning, girlfriend is gone, and brother asks me, with considerable shame and worry in his eyes, how to clean blood out of sheets.

What happened? I ask.
She got her period, he says.
Oh! Poor girl. That's OK, come on, let's soak them in cold water.

Turns out he was lying.

This was at least six years ago. I found out this year that she didn't get her period at all.

HIS FRENULUM (google it: it's that thin bit of skin connecting the head of the penis to the remainder) RIPPED. COMPLETELY OPEN. HE NEEDED STITCHES.

He and my parents managed to conceal this, and the minor surgery he needed to make it better, for five years.

AND IT WAS HIS FIRST TIME. So my brother's answer to this question might well have been: 'Sex.'

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