I once had a boyfriend who aspired to be a stereotypical hipster. As a result, he often wanted to go on 'off-the-beaten-track' dates when we hung out. As an aspiring writer like myself, he asked if I wanted to go to Starbucks to write together. With nothing better to do, I agreed.
When we got to the parking lot, we chose to hang out in his backseat before actually venturing inside to get some work done. As we spooned with a blanket over us, I couldn’t help but feel him popping wood. Before I knew it, he had whipped his tool out and placed my mouth over it. I was more than happy to comply.
I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, though. Chevy Cruzes are pretty compact cars, and we were in the parking lot of a shopping plaza that many students and teachers from my school frequented. At one point, I looked up and saw an old lady putting her bags into a car beside us. Even though a blanket was covering my bobbing head, it must’ve still looked awkward for my guy to be in the backseat of his car with a flushed face. As I finished my man off, we quickly composed ourselves and went inside.
Now, the problem with me and Starbucks is that I always forget to ask for soy milk– I’m lactose intolerant. This was one of those occasions. Sipping on our frappuccinos and writing together, we appeared pretty normal for one of those rare times in our relationship. We stayed there together for about an hour, until my boyfriend got bored and asked if we could go somewhere else.
On our way out, we were both tempted by the sight of Five Guys for some fries. Though we passed on that, we couldn’t help but eventually grab some fries and Frosties at a Wendy’s drive-thru on the way back to my house. I managed to forget that Frosties were not lactose-free either. As we sat in the car dipping our fries into our shakes, we tried to figure out plans for the rest of the day. I told him that my parents were both at work, and upon hearing that, he made it clear that he wanted to head back to my place.
“Didn’t I already blow you?” I asked him.
“Yeah, but I’m filled with more cream now,” he said as he shook his almost fully eaten Frosty in front of my face.
We finished our food and headed back to my house. As we got into my room, I couldn’t help but notice that my cousin put headphones on when she saw us in the room next door.
“She’s catching onto us,” I thought to myself.
As my boyfriend went to the bathroom to freshen up, I quickly pulled out a Magnum and some lube, eager to get fucked today. As much as I loved pleasing him, I also enjoyed being used by him. With some music playing and a candle lit, he came back and we went right at it with the foreplay.
We spent a good 40 minutes on foreplay. He was able to last long on this occasion, since I finished him off once already today, and I was never one to cum easily. As I slid the condom onto his dick and he lubed me up, we began our fuckfest.
My boyfriend was never one to change positions for some unknown reason. We either usually stayed in doggie the entire time or with cowgirl. However, on this occasion, something came over him and he wanted to try out as many moves as possible. I went from missionary, to doggie, and then standing up and leaning against the wall. It was really driving me over the edge being used like this for once, and I could tell that he was into it, too.
Now, when I said that I was lactose intolerant before, I never mentioned how long it took to kick in—generally about an hour to an hour and a half. That magic period kicked in during this romp, and I was really feeling it when I was being deep-dicked in the most penetrative positions. I could feel my stomach grumbling, but I told myself that it was nothing.
We switched into cowgirl, and I was really enjoying myself on his dick. I was still ignoring my stomach and convincing myself that it would all be over soon. I felt close. That was, until, I felt myself bounce down and land on something wet. The first time it happened, I thought that it was just lube. After feeling it the first time, I found myself smelling the definite smell of shit the second time I landed in it.
I quickly dismounted when I realized what had happened. There it was: I had shit on my boyfriend’s dick. I quickly got tissues, but started to panic due to my embarrassment and the fact that it was also falling onto my bed when my boyfriend rolled over. We tried to clean him up quickly, and I shooed him away for the rest of the day out of shame.
I pretty much spent the rest of my day with a bottle of bleach and the laundry machine in attempts to remove the shit stains from my bed and to wash my sheets. It was easily the worst thing that could have ever happened to someone during sex, and it is still the most embarrassing moment of my life.