Happy Monday Lovers!
Morning sex anyone? I’m more of a fan of the midnight monkey business, but these days the most action I get is when my cat sits on my face to wake me up. Yes Lovers, I’m in a drought. It is summer time in my vast, dry pantaloons and I yearn for a man to bring the rain! Luckily, part two of my interesting date may get a little damp. Read on if you dare…
Ok, where were we? Ah yes, with excitement literally dripping down my legs (and a little dripping down his too I’m sure) we darted out of the adult store. Giggling like idiots we crossed the road and put some distance between us and the scene of the crime.
“What now?” laughed Tim a little breathlessly.
My head was still spinning a little from our wild escape but I managed to blurt out “More beer?”
“Yes please!” he cried, and we skipped our way over to the nearest establishment.
Again I ordered some food to try and settle my swirling head but again Mr Gobble McEateverything demolished most of it before I could demurely pop anything into my mouth. I didn’t know why I was bothering being demure anymore, that’s usually saved for the part of the date before you put the guys penis in your mouth, and we were well past that.
It was then that I got a call from a friend. She was at a nearby restaurant and insisted it would be terribly rude of us not to drop in for a quick hello.
Not one to be rude in any situation I obliged, and we trotted up the street to the address. Not without stopping first for two bottles of wine of course, because what is dinner without a little refreshment?
We burst through the doors, frightening the life out of the tiny Chinese lady behind the counter, not to mention her dog. (If I had been sober at this moment I may have questioned a dog in a restaurant, but at that particular moment it was the most normal thing in the world.) After scrounging through my purse for treats and coming up with nothing except a half sucked Chupa Chup, I broke it off and threw it to the dog, just hoping he liked watermelon.
Seats were pulled up and Tim and I sat, chatted and did all the humdrum Sunday night dinner rituals, but inside, we were both itching to get into a cab and onto each other as fast as possible.
Luckily by that point we were drinking at the speed of light, so within half an hour our wine was gone.
With a quick wink and a wave to the girls I headed outside with Tim and jumped in the first yellow car we saw, thank god it was a taxi.
Tim lived in a slightly rundown but fairly charming federation house with his two room-mates. His two female room-mates. Did I mention one was a lesbian?
Now don’t jump the gun Lovers, it didn’t get that crazy. The only carpet I got near was the one I sat on as I patted her sausage.
That’s her dog’s name people! Dirty minded bastards.
After sitting for a while with Sausage on my lap I started to feel the beginnings of something unpleasant.
Five minutes later I was face down in the slightly run down but fairly charming toilet, trying to convince them I had food poisoning in between the incredibly audible heaving sounds I was producing.
Thirty minutes later I was in Tim’s bed with a glass of water in one hand and about sixteen mints in the other.
When Tim finally came in after saying goodnight to the girls (and probably taking bets on whether I’d pass out before he got any.) he slid into bed next to me and gave me a little kiss on the forehead.
Then it was fucking time.
Off came the dress, away went the bra and snap went the knickers. Boom, jeans shot down, shirt went up and boxers disappeared.
He was between my legs like a shot, I didn’t even get a chance for a ‘yes hello we’re definitely going to do it now’ kiss. Doesn’t everyone get one of those?
Ooh but he was good. I’m not usually a fan of the old cunnilingus but he kept me conscious and that in itself was no mean feat. He was very good with his hands I must say. If I had to guess I would say he had played the piano in his early years, he certainly had a good range!
After he had sufficiently greased the pan, it was time to pour in the batter (pun intended obviously) After the quick condom conversation that everybody so adores,
Me: “You got one?”
Him: “Yeah I think so.”
“Well get it!”
“Yes, I think with your colouring and my hair our babies would be a crime against humanity.”
“Oh my god just get it!”
We finally got the show started. I don’t know if it was the booze or the drought doing the thinking but I had never enjoyed boring sex so much before!
He was doing plain old missionary, your standard in and out formation, barely any speed or force behind it, but man I was going nuts! He had to put his hand over my mouth twice to shut me up but hey who cares when you’re having that much fun?
Of course he could have just kissed me instead of burying his face in my neck the whole time.
Eventually his thrusts slowed to a halt and I asked the obligatory question,
“Did you come?”
He shook his head and blamed the alcohol. I didn’t mind one bit, just meant more action later. And boy was there more action. Once at 2am and again at 4am. Needless to say I woke up desperate for a pee. You can’t poke someone’s bladder that many times and just expect it to keep quiet.
After a quick dash to the bathroom and a failed attempt at stealth trying to hide from the judgy lesbian and friend (there is now a small Claire shaped dent in his hallway wall, but you didn’t hear it from me.) I darted back into Tim’s room and jumped under the covers.
“Morning.” He mumbled sleepily
“Ditto.” I replied, my hangover slowly starting to make itself known.
Tim opened his mouth to say something, but there was no way my brain could handle sentences at that moment. I grabbed his balls and mouthed “handjob?” at him.
He grinned and nodded, putting his hands behind his head in readiness.
After twenty minutes the only thing that seemed close to exploding was my head. My arm was killing and I’d swapped arms so much I could medal at the ambidextrous wanking Olympics (if only they existed)
Finally I had to pull the old, you should wank yourself off, it’s so sexy to watch.
It wasn’t really, it just meant I could have a rest and close my eyes when he wasn’t watching.
But dear God, I was not expecting what was to happen next.
When people use the expression “When I come, I come with the thunder” I just laugh it off. With Tim, it was true.
Sweet baby Jesus, it was everywhere! Great spurts of joy juice went flying across the sheets, slathered his chest, even reached his face! I could only gape with my mouth open as his pristine black sheets were festooned with thousands upon thousands of hapless swimmers.
But the noises, the noises were the icing on the cake.
Imagine if you will, quite intense constipation, suddenly followed by explosive diarrhoea. I know it’s graphic, but just imagine the noises you would make when confronted with such a situation. Starting off as a sort of deep grunt, then spiralling into a surprised squealish noise as it all comes free. Now picture your eyes bugging out and your body taut and repeat the grunting and surprised noises four to five times.
What has been seen can not be unseen.
After I towelled myself off on one of his old shirts, the hunt was on for my clothes. Strangely enough my undies were under his pillow. That’s… different.
We ran for the tram and just made it. I was exhausted. Hours of bonking followed by an unexpected shower had really taken it out of me.
As the tram rumbled along Tim chatted away merrily. God he was loud, why was he talking so loud? I nodded and smiled my way through the conversation, counting the stops till my station.
Suddenly I was very hot. Sweat beaded my brow as I fervently swallowed in rapid succession. All the while Tim was gabbing away next to me, oblivious to my situation. Finally my station was in sight. I didn’t even wait for the tram to stop before I practically leapt out the door, a quick bye and thanks for the sex on my lips.
I ran to the station bathrooms and knelt on the urine soaked floor. Hell I was already covered in jizz why not add a couple of the other food groups while I was at it.
But nothing happened. I sat and sat but it seemed to pass. With a sigh of relief I stood up, brushed the toilet paper from my knees and walked to my train platform.
My train pulled up and I sauntered on, hungover but pride still in tact. I took a seat and picked up a discarded paper. And that’s when it happened. I heard the announcement as if from a dream. “Doors closing” she was saying. I heard the beep, beep, beep as the doors started to slide shut. But I had to get off. Now.
I scrambled up, hand over my already filling mouth and shot through the doors just as they were about to close.
Bin, bin I need a goddam bin! I looked left and right but of course all the bins in the station had been taken away due to terrorist threats. Dammit! I hate terrorists! There was nothing for it. I had to empty my stomach and I had to empty it now. I stumbled to what looked like a secluded part of the platform and sunk down. As soon as I took my hand away, the awfulness unfolded. I gagged, I choked, I vomited all over the ground. Then to make it worse, the only thing I had to wipe my mouth with was the Liquorland receipt from the night before.
Low point reached right about there.
Until I turned to my left, and to my horror realised I had just thrown up right in front of all the commuters coming down the packed escalators.
Oh dear me.
So Lovers, my advice to you is, if you are going to have a one night stand, plan ahead and make a note of the nearest vessel you can safely and privately throw up in to your hearts content, because nobody wants to slip in vomit on a Monday morning.
Great banging tune: Boom Boom Boom Boom
Best used: Any and every time, it’s Vengaboys!