Contributor’s note: Below is a story I posted many years ago on another long forgotten blog. Despite the fact that some of the story is dated, I am re-posting it here on Bums Logic because I think the world needs to see it again. Think of it like a movie you catch on late night TV on one of those sleepless nights where you find yourself on the couch instead of tossing and turning in bed. You might have never thought about watching the movie before but since you can’t sleep you figure, “Why not?” The only difference here is that instead of watching a movie you are reading a blog post. Oh and instead of on your couch not being able to sleep, you are at work sitting at your desk and not doing any actual ‘work.’
Without further ado, I present to you:
Make it Rain
So I got separated and I am heading toward the inevitable division of assets. Again, not the first and surely not the last, right? After fighting the good one, eventually it was time to throw the hands up and be done with it.
What next? Well after going through the whole “I am never going to find anyone else” woe is me crap, you eventually have to stand up and dust yourself off. All of my friends encouraged me to get back out there and give it a shot. And so I did, I got the courage to ask a girl out. Written below is a partial account of evening details.
*What you are about to read is completely one hundred percent true, I swear.
In the interest of saving time and conserving bandwidth usage on the series of tubes I am going to refrain from sharing how, when, where of meeting this girl. Believe me when I say it is no where near as interesting as how the evening came to a close.
Again, forget the details and just assume the usual dinner, movie, and cocktails, although I feel compelled to share with you that I paid for everything. (Toot! Toot!) During drinks I was definitely getting the ‘vibe.’ You know the one. The one that tells you, upon arrival at her domicile, clothing may become optional. All of the subtle signs were there, laughing at my jokes and not before the punchlines, brushing her hand against my arm when we shared a commonality, the gentle squeeze on my leg just above the knee when she shoved her tongue down my throat while we made out in the corner of the bar. Oh yeah, the signs were there.
The weather complimented our evening, DC was unseasonably warm this past winter, so we walked backed to her place stopping occasionally for her to pin me against random walls and proceed to make out with me. Thoughts at the time, “Ten years off the market and you’ve still got it. High five yourself in the morning.”
When we got back to her place it became clear that my hunch was correct all along, clothing became optional. As soon as the door was shut behind us, clothes started coming off. Maybe she seemed a little easy, but I wasn’t in the position to judge and I really wanted to touch bottom as it had been a few months without any action in that department.
She lead me down the hall and her bedroom was in sight. Not so fast. She stopped, looked me in the eyes and said, “I can’t have sex with you.” OK. “It isn’t that I don’t want to, it is just that I have a boyfriend, well we are on a break right now and I just don’t think I am ready to have sex with someone else.” My thought at the time, “This really is something that you could have brought up before you brought me back to your place for what I thought was going to be a fun game of the old in-out, in-out.” But something in my head told me to keep my mouth shut and to let her do all of the talking. Sorry this, sorry that, I told her it was OK (lie), that I completely understood (another lie) and not to worry about it (yet another lie.)
As I was about to depart, she grabbed me again and started with the kissing, touching and rubbing. The sadistic glutton for punishment in me kicked the level headed angel on my shoulder in the ass and decided, ‘We can pull this one out.’ Life just isn’t that easy.
She pulled away one more time, and I thought to myself, “The sadist wins again! Dammit!” With the most sincere look in her eyes she said, “We aren’t going to have sex…” I remained silent. “…but I will get you off if you will do something for me.” Oral for oral, I have no problem with that, but again, life is not that easy. She told me that while she had no problem with giving, receiving wasn’t her bag.
What then? What would I have to do to make it all happen for me?
“I will give you a blow job…if…well, I really want you to go on me.”
Go? Go on her? What was she talking about?
“I want you to piss on me.”
What? A golden shower? All my life I wondered what kind of person likes to be pee’d on, now the mystery was over. Apparently pee bodies look just like you and me, regular folk.
“Hmmm, she wants me to piss on her,” was one thought. Could I do that? Could I jump across that line? I say jump, because that is not really a line that you casually step across. I, in no way, have ever considered myself a prude but water sports is an entirely different arena. How could I go from the regular missionary, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, etc., to what can not be described by anything other than the word ‘fetish’?
Now I wish I could tell you that I got up and walked out only to never speak to her again, but I reiterate, life just isn’t that easy.
It was an amazing blow job. And well, you know how it is when you drink too many beers.