The following events are, for better or for worse, absolutely true. Names, specific locations, and measurements have been altered/omitted to protect the identities of those involved. Without further ado, I present to you five of the most peculiar sexual encounters of my life.
1. High On Life (And A Few Other Things): A “26-year-old” man (in reality closer to 35) made an appearance at my humble Harwood abode, at which point he procured from his backpack a bag of crystal meth that, within seconds, precluded him from counting past two.
A few huffs of keyboard cleaner, ample whiffs of poppers, a vigorous rimming session and a sincere inquiry into “whether or not this generation believes in vampires” later, what I would deem the strangest encounter of my life drew shakily to a close.
2. The Drinker: I will preface this one by mentioning that I did not realize just how — how shall we say — screwed this situation was at the time, given that it was only my second go at having sex and with the very same deflowerer. Back in my wayward youth, an innocent time in which “I was a top,” I consented to a game of “Backdoor Bop-It,” if you will. This was, of course, done using protection, which I thought was to prevent the slither-juice from entering the partner.
Let’s just say … he was thirsty in more ways than one. I’m no nutritionist, but I’m guessing there are better protein sources.
3. No Dessert: After spending a lovely lunchtime in Beverly Hills with an even lovelier (i.e. generous) fellow, we returned to his apartment to hang out and “watch Netflix.” With nothing but my newly-obtained Versace jockstrap and the confidence befitting a moderately depressed college student, I strutted determinedly into the bedroom and … well … nothing happened.
Apparently, the “mild hangover” he’d alluded to at the beginning of the encounter was actually a severe ecstasy comedown, one that took the will from his willy. Still wanting to please him in some way, I asked if I might toss his metaphorical salad, to which he replied, “But we just ate.”
4. Mommy Issues: This one kind of still bums me out. If you have any experience being gay or depressed (or both), you know that, when it comes to hookups, we forgo the ones that want us in an endless pursuit of those who, in turn, do not. Imagine my surprise when a friendly acquaintance from high school — someone I’d always found really cute — was not only queer, but also interested in me.
It all transpired at my friend’s house, and, with her blessing, our newly found mutual attraction was consummated on her living room couch. All was well, and I’d even give him a few bonus points for creativity (ice cubes? Bitch, yes!), until, in the throes of passion, he asked if he could call me Susan. “Who’s Susan?” I asked, to which he responded, “My stepmom.” Yeah … we stopped talking after that.
5. OMG How Did I Almost Forget This One: I am … what’s the word … gay. Very, very gay. But little did he know that on a dark, snowy night … all of that would change. Given that this scenario took place in Orange County, California, we can infer the only “snow” present was that venerable booger sugar, a.k.a. the stuff that had me running butt-naked through a public beach at one in the morning.
And, spoiler alert, I was still gayer than a special episode of “Glee,” but my friends, a self-proclaimed witch and a straight boy who insisted he was merely a “hedonist” (he was, after all, our plug), and I determined that we were feeling the love (or at least the coke) and needed to channel it into … a three-way. What else? The best part: This all took place in the back of my Fiat 500, Pablo.
Highlights include me winning the blowjob contest and hysterically reciting to myself the implications of the spotlight effect. We were, of course, in a public parking lot. Needless to say, I declared as a psychology major the very next day.
Cecil the Sagehoe loves long cocks — em, walks — on the beach and getting their beak wet. They subsist entirely on a diet of cummy worms, some obscure but definitely illegal drug found at Pitzer and the tortured souls of pretentious college students.