It was an average Saturday night that I was having with a few friends from school, until the Magic Mushrooms were presented. It wasn’t our first time eating them, but it wasn’t something we did on a regular occasion. Once the mushies kicked in, we mostly just sat around, tripping out on my friend’s stucco ceiling in her basement’s rec room and laughing our asses off for the next couple hours. We had heard her mom come home at some point that night, but she didn’t take much interest in her daughter’s activities and had went straight to bed, I guessed. The herd of friends thinned as the night went on and before we really noticed, it was only my friend (who’s house it was), and myself. By this time, it was about 3am and there was no way I was going to make the walk back to my house at that hour, so we decided I should just crash there.
I had often shared a bed with girlfriends over the years, it was no big deal. This particular friend of mine was very beautiful in that smouldering siren kind of way. She had a reputation for being a bit of a sexual temptress, but always only with guys. It didn’t even cross my mind that something could possibly happen between the two of us that night.
We made our way to her bedroom, as quiet as we thought we were being... still experiencing some effects of the mushrooms and whatever else we ingested that night. I was usually a lot more conservative than she was and assumed that I would just sleep in my clothes, but when she stripped down to her bra and panties, I followed her lead. My clothes stunk of nicotine anyway, so I guess it made sense. Then, she took off her bra as well and got into bed. I just chalked it up to her being her usual exhibitionist self. I kept my bra on and joined her in bed, initially with my back facing her and declared, “Goodnight Diana!”
She pouted, “Don’t I get a kiss goodnight?”
I was slightly suspicious by this point, but we did normally kiss on the cheek as part of our greeting routine, so I reluctantly rolled over and laughed, “OK, but no funny business.”
She kissed me on the lips; they were so soft. I kissed back, and then she kissed me a second time, deeper and with an open mouth. I don’t know what came over me, but I gave her my tongue. It all happened so fast, and it then turned into a very normal, hot and steamy make-out session... just with a girl! We were still a little high and uncoordinated but even still she managed to remove my bra quickly, with no problem. I guess that is a bonus when being with another girl, we are pros at bra clasp removal already, intoxicated or not! It felt a bit strange when our nipples rubbed against each other, but I was extraordinarily aware that I was in the middle of a unique experience and I was curious to see how it played out.
She was definitely the dominant one in this sporting event, so I let her lead the way. She took off my underwear and proceeded to give me the best head I had ever had in my life. I tried to be as quiet as possible, but it really did take me by surprise at how intensely amazing it felt. I always thought that the guys that I had been with were pretty good at it, but after that night I knew they actually paled in comparison to what she was doing to me. It was fantastic and I completely forgot that it was a female that was performing this on me; the orgasm came quickly and full on! I did my very best to contain myself, but there were a few giggles and squeaks that escaped from both of us.
All of a sudden, her mother came into the room. I could tell by her face she was expecting to catch her daughter with a guy. Both of our heads were above the sheets; she couldn’t see that we were naked. She didn’t know what to say, but I don’t think she pieced together exactly what had just happened. “G-girls, be q-quiet! It’s almost 5 o’clock in the morning!”
“Sorry!”
It was a near miss as far as humiliating situations go, but it was actually a saving grace. She had totally killed our momentum and we quickly got re-dressed and went back to bed... to sleep. I still maintain that it was one of the best sexual experiences I had in high school, but I wasn’t ready to return the favour to her, nor did I think I could have done it anyway. I definitely enjoyed myself that night, and although parts of it really did turn me on, I still felt like something enormously significant was missing... like a penis.
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 23, 2010
Questions & Answers
My boyfriend and I were sitting in the sterilized doctor’s room, waiting for answers. The doctor finally arrived, fully equipped with a judgemental frown on his face. He sat down across from us and let out a big exhale through his hairy nostrils while looking at the two of us. “So, you are pregnant. Do you have any plans?” His tone was a perfect blend of sarcasm and superiority.
“How did this happen?”
His eyebrows and ears shifted back on his face. He looked annoyed, but then quickly realized that we were very serious. This was a time before they had compulsorily sexual education in school and it wasn’t exactly a topic that was ever discussed at home. To make things more complicated, I had been abused by my older brothers for as long as I could remember, and this never happened with them. I genuinely didn’t know why it had happened this time. The abuse was so extensive that it was engrained in my understanding of what boys and girls did with each other; like it was normal.
My boyfriend’s excuse was very different, but equally naive. He was from a very strict Catholic family and he was taught from an early age that if a married couple wanted to have a baby, God would give them one. Period. Well, he sure didn’t ask God, so he was stumped. He had heard guys make sexual innuendoes and jokes at school, but he just laughed along and pretended that he understood.
Doctors have come a long way since that day, although I still maintain that we were especially unlucky to get that asshole. After a few long pauses of him glancing between us and the chart, he cleared his throat and replied, “If you REALLY do not understand how you two have gotten into this predicament, I suggest you take a trip to the library. I am not a public health nurse!” He gave us some family planning pamphlets and left us there in the room, still confused.
So, off we went– directly to the public library.
Ahhhhhh... So THAT’S how it happens! Oh crap! Once we were more ‘informed’ about the birds and bees, I had made an appointment with the family planning unit at the hospital. Apart from our families going absolutely ballistic if they found out, I didn’t have any second thoughts about what had to be done... Never! Yes, we loved each other, but at 17, we were too young, too broke, and not ready in the least bit to bring a child into the world.
After our unpleasant experience with the doctor, I was a bit reserved, but the people at the clinic were wonderful. They were kind, understanding and very gentle. My boyfriend was with me throughout the entire ordeal, which made it a lot less stressful. It’s been a lifetime since that day, and although I will never forget what happened, I have never regretted my decision for a single moment.
“How did this happen?”
His eyebrows and ears shifted back on his face. He looked annoyed, but then quickly realized that we were very serious. This was a time before they had compulsorily sexual education in school and it wasn’t exactly a topic that was ever discussed at home. To make things more complicated, I had been abused by my older brothers for as long as I could remember, and this never happened with them. I genuinely didn’t know why it had happened this time. The abuse was so extensive that it was engrained in my understanding of what boys and girls did with each other; like it was normal.
My boyfriend’s excuse was very different, but equally naive. He was from a very strict Catholic family and he was taught from an early age that if a married couple wanted to have a baby, God would give them one. Period. Well, he sure didn’t ask God, so he was stumped. He had heard guys make sexual innuendoes and jokes at school, but he just laughed along and pretended that he understood.
Doctors have come a long way since that day, although I still maintain that we were especially unlucky to get that asshole. After a few long pauses of him glancing between us and the chart, he cleared his throat and replied, “If you REALLY do not understand how you two have gotten into this predicament, I suggest you take a trip to the library. I am not a public health nurse!” He gave us some family planning pamphlets and left us there in the room, still confused.
So, off we went– directly to the public library.
Ahhhhhh... So THAT’S how it happens! Oh crap! Once we were more ‘informed’ about the birds and bees, I had made an appointment with the family planning unit at the hospital. Apart from our families going absolutely ballistic if they found out, I didn’t have any second thoughts about what had to be done... Never! Yes, we loved each other, but at 17, we were too young, too broke, and not ready in the least bit to bring a child into the world.
After our unpleasant experience with the doctor, I was a bit reserved, but the people at the clinic were wonderful. They were kind, understanding and very gentle. My boyfriend was with me throughout the entire ordeal, which made it a lot less stressful. It’s been a lifetime since that day, and although I will never forget what happened, I have never regretted my decision for a single moment.
Jun 16, 2010
Tampon Rodeo
I had gone camping with a friend, my mother, and her friend. She happened to bring along her 2 sons– a 4 year old and an infant – whoa, whoa, whoa. My friend and I tried to stay away from that mood killer as much as possible. It’s not that I didn’t like all children when I was in high school, but this toddler was exceptionally annoying and out-of-control. There wasn’t any room for us in the trailer anyway, so we stayed out in the tent and only really went inside for food and toilet breaks.
So there is always one thing you really don’t want to have when you go camping... your period. If that Mother Nature woman from that stupid commercial appeared, I would have taken great joy in bitch-slapping her right across her smug face. There weren’t any guys around or anything; it was just the simple inconvenience of it. I hated not being able to flush my tampon – so gross! Turns out, I had an even stronger argument for that factor after that weekend.
After I had done my afternoon routine in the bathroom, including tampon re-fresh, it was time for the 4 year old to have his bath. His mother began running the water and undressing the kid when her infant son required a bit of her attention. No more than 1 minute could have lapsed from that moment to when she had returned to her eldest son in the bathroom. He had not only gotten into the garbage and discovered my dirty tampon, but he must have dunked it into his bath and then proceeded to twirl it around like a rodeo cowboy. He seemed to be pretty impressed with his work as well. The entire bathroom, including the kid, looked like a horrific murder scene from CSI. The still-running bath had a thick marbled effect of blood spreading like a disease throughout the tub. The shower curtain, mirror, sink, window, toilet, towels, floor and every wall was splattered – as if the entire room was just decorated by Jackson Pollock.
It was totally disgusting, not to mention humiliating. It was even my own blood and I could barely keep my lunch down when I saw what that little shit had done. My mother was the one that did most of the cleaning up, bless her! I was never so grateful for ugly wallpapered walls than I was that day; it wiped off fairly easy. If it had been painted dry-wall, we probably would have had to re-paint the room!
That ghastly visual will be forever etched in my mind. If I am ever somewhere that I cannot flush my tampon, I get a flash of that scene and I gag every time. My anxiety level rises while I am forced to mummify the damn thing in toilet paper and hide it deep within the garbage.
So there is always one thing you really don’t want to have when you go camping... your period. If that Mother Nature woman from that stupid commercial appeared, I would have taken great joy in bitch-slapping her right across her smug face. There weren’t any guys around or anything; it was just the simple inconvenience of it. I hated not being able to flush my tampon – so gross! Turns out, I had an even stronger argument for that factor after that weekend.
It was totally disgusting, not to mention humiliating. It was even my own blood and I could barely keep my lunch down when I saw what that little shit had done. My mother was the one that did most of the cleaning up, bless her! I was never so grateful for ugly wallpapered walls than I was that day; it wiped off fairly easy. If it had been painted dry-wall, we probably would have had to re-paint the room!
That ghastly visual will be forever etched in my mind. If I am ever somewhere that I cannot flush my tampon, I get a flash of that scene and I gag every time. My anxiety level rises while I am forced to mummify the damn thing in toilet paper and hide it deep within the garbage.
Jun 11, 2010
White & Nerdy
I really couldn’t answer or explain any of it. A few weeks had gone by and it had gotten worse (or better, depending on your perspective) and I still had my boyfriend. I was at my friend’s place again and she had to go help her dad for a few minutes, and left me to my own devices. I went downstairs where her brother was lying on the couch watching TV. Neither of us said a word as I approached. I kneeled down by his head and he propped himself up on to his side, resting on his left elbow. We paused for about 3 seconds, looking directly into each other’s eyes, almost as if we were daring each other to make the first move.
My heart was pounding out of my chest; it was so exciting. At the same time, we both leaned towards each other, and meet in the middle. The kiss was deep and very enthusiastic, to say the least. We stayed in that position for a few minutes, with his one free arm caressing the small of my back while we released all of our sexual tension. The intensity was progressing, so he rolled off the couch and joined me on the floor to partake in a bit of dry humping. We made out for maybe 10 minutes at the most; it was superb!
Then, his sister yelled downstairs, looking for me. “I’m here! Hold on... I’m coming!”
And just like that, it was over and we never spoke of it, or did it again. Maybe we just needed to get it out of our systems. I had about 2 inches in height on him; he had braces, bad hair and acne... and for 10 minutes of my life, he completely rocked my world.
Jun 10, 2010
Orgasm Junkie
I dated a guy when I was 19 that I had picked up at a nightclub. This never happened to me before so it was a cool experience, but not fool proof by any means. I actually liked his friend a lot more, but it was him that took interest in me that night. After last call, we went back to his place and had fantastic sex. It was more that that... it was the first time I had ever been brought to orgasm. WHAT THE HELL WAS I EVER DOING BEFORE THIS? I had thought I had had one in the past, but until you actually have one, YOU – WILL – KNOW! He was going down on me and all of a sudden, I started getting a warm, tingly feeling in my toes. Then it spread up my legs and exploded out my bellybutton like a geyser of pure ecstasy. He succeeded in giving me 3 that night! After that encounter, I wanted to gorge myself on this pleasure every chance I got.
There was 1 problem... the next morning I got the opportunity to get better acquainted with my talented suitor – he was friggin’ annoying as hell! I worked with it for a while and tried to ignore it. Luckily, his friends were all really cool and we had a fantastic time together, as a group. One other guy in their group even started dating one of my best girlfriends. The guy I was dating had a great “hang-out-friendly” house, so everyone always ended up at his place. I rarely had to deal with him on a one-on-one basis, except when we went to bed (where there was little talking anyway).
Time when by fast, and before I knew it, this guy had been my boyfriend for 7 months! 7 long months of mind-blowing multiple orgasms... from the most annoying guy I had ever met. I was completely hooked and I even became a little demanding about it, like a jonezing addict. Luckily, he LOVED performing his duty for me. It turned him on so much that sometimes he would climax on his own... while he was going down on me! How often does that happen?! I barely had to do a damn thing. I knew I was being a selfish lover but I didn’t care... up until that point.
After the 8th month, I started to feel a bit guilty, mainly because by then I could barely even stand to look at him anymore. Every time I heard him laugh it was like nails on a chalkboard. I knew I wasn’t being fair to him; I was using him for his tongue, just as long as he didn’t use it for talking! I tried to break up with him every weekend for the next 4 weeks, but it was never the right time. Finally, one afternoon I had gone over and on this rare occasion none of his friends were at his place. 2 hours of mind numbing conversation with him had sure helped me to finally muster up the nerve to initiate the “break-up” talk. He took it rather well; it went better than I thought. Then, all of a sudden I started to cry... hard! He gave me a raised-eyebrow sympathy look and rubbed my back, like he was touched that I was upset about our break-up. Yeah, right! I couldn’t care less about him. I was crying because it had just hit me that my once endless supply of orgasms-on-demand had just been cut off – COLD TURKEY! It was hell.
Time when by fast, and before I knew it, this guy had been my boyfriend for 7 months! 7 long months of mind-blowing multiple orgasms... from the most annoying guy I had ever met. I was completely hooked and I even became a little demanding about it, like a jonezing addict. Luckily, he LOVED performing his duty for me. It turned him on so much that sometimes he would climax on his own... while he was going down on me! How often does that happen?! I barely had to do a damn thing. I knew I was being a selfish lover but I didn’t care... up until that point.
After the 8th month, I started to feel a bit guilty, mainly because by then I could barely even stand to look at him anymore. Every time I heard him laugh it was like nails on a chalkboard. I knew I wasn’t being fair to him; I was using him for his tongue, just as long as he didn’t use it for talking! I tried to break up with him every weekend for the next 4 weeks, but it was never the right time. Finally, one afternoon I had gone over and on this rare occasion none of his friends were at his place. 2 hours of mind numbing conversation with him had sure helped me to finally muster up the nerve to initiate the “break-up” talk. He took it rather well; it went better than I thought. Then, all of a sudden I started to cry... hard! He gave me a raised-eyebrow sympathy look and rubbed my back, like he was touched that I was upset about our break-up. Yeah, right! I couldn’t care less about him. I was crying because it had just hit me that my once endless supply of orgasms-on-demand had just been cut off – COLD TURKEY! It was hell.
Jun 7, 2010
6-Pack Pretty Boy
When you leave high school, you get a fresh start; a clean slate. I moved on to campus in my first year of University. A guy had taken interest in me that would NEVER have done so– if he was from my old high school. He was the super hot quarter-back with a sprinkle of smouldering bad boy. Many teenage girls’ secret fantasy (even if many would deny it). Now, this wasn’t love, per se. It was purely physical, and we were both cool with that. We didn't really have much in common anyway, except for partying and sex. He actually had a girlfriend that was attending another university about 6 hours away. They probably had that delusional talk before high school graduation: “Yes, we’ll stay together after high school... it won’t matter that we’ll be so far apart...nothing will change. We love each other.” Yeah, OK.
One night, after a good romp in the sack with my 6-pack pretty boy, he left and I migrated to the living room where some of my roommates were hanging out. About 10 minutes had passed and he came bursting back into our place, white as a ghost and panicked.
“She’s here! She’s asleep in my bed!”
“Who?”
“My girlfriend! She must have taken the bus for hours to come and surprise me! Oh shit! What the fuck should I do now? I can’t go back there like this!”
OK, so I got him to calm down; deep breaths. All he really had to do was take a quick shower to get the sweat and sex off him. No worries. My roommates thought it was pretty entertaining... so did I. Although I had met his girlfriend once before, I had zero connection to her. I didn’t feel any kind of “sisterhood betrayal” towards her. He showered, dried off and left for a second time. He didn’t come back again that night, so we thought that was that.
The next morning the two of them came over for a visit, which we all thought was slightly bizarre. I could tell he was extremely uncomfortable about it. Apparently, out of all the people she met last time she was over, she particularly liked me. She thought I was funny, and wanted to come over and hang out. She was so doe-eyed and astonishingly naive. OK, so that tweaked a tingle of guilt deep within me, but I still never lost any sleep over it.
One night, after a good romp in the sack with my 6-pack pretty boy, he left and I migrated to the living room where some of my roommates were hanging out. About 10 minutes had passed and he came bursting back into our place, white as a ghost and panicked.
“She’s here! She’s asleep in my bed!”
“Who?”
“My girlfriend! She must have taken the bus for hours to come and surprise me! Oh shit! What the fuck should I do now? I can’t go back there like this!”
OK, so I got him to calm down; deep breaths. All he really had to do was take a quick shower to get the sweat and sex off him. No worries. My roommates thought it was pretty entertaining... so did I. Although I had met his girlfriend once before, I had zero connection to her. I didn’t feel any kind of “sisterhood betrayal” towards her. He showered, dried off and left for a second time. He didn’t come back again that night, so we thought that was that.
The next morning the two of them came over for a visit, which we all thought was slightly bizarre. I could tell he was extremely uncomfortable about it. Apparently, out of all the people she met last time she was over, she particularly liked me. She thought I was funny, and wanted to come over and hang out. She was so doe-eyed and astonishingly naive. OK, so that tweaked a tingle of guilt deep within me, but I still never lost any sleep over it.
Jun 3, 2010
Biking with Sandals
When I was 12, appearances were already very important to me.
I was going to go for a bike ride with a close neighbour friend of mine, and I was wearing my cool new sandals. My father had taken to yelling at me in front of my friends, and stopped us before we left. He instructed me to change into socks and running shoes if I was going to ride my bike. Are you kidding? I was wearing shorts! Shorts with socks and shoes were so uncool; nevermind the sock tan I would get!
Oh Em Gee! Like, totally, for real.
I ignored my dad, even when he continued yelling at us from the driveway as we rode off.
We were no more than 2 blocks from my house when I hit a tiny pot hole in the pavement and my bike when slightly out of control. Instinctually, I put both feet to the ground, dragging my toes. Now, if I was wearing shoes, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but since I was wearing my “cool” sandals, I succeeded in taking about 10 layers of skin off both of my big toes. It was repulsive and I think the combination of disgust and adrenaline masked the actual pain. There were 2 narrow but noticeable trails of blood on the road. I immediately fell to the nearest lawn and screamed in horror. It looked like my toes had just been mutilated by a meat grinder. I begged my friend, “GO GET MY DAD!”
She rode back to my house to get him. It couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes later, but it seemed like forever. She came back, accompanied by my father. He could run faster than we could ride on our bikes – he had very long legs. He said nothing and threw me over his shoulder, fireman-carrying me, while he did a brisk walk back to our house.
I had to get 2 mini cast-like wrappings on both of my toes and they ached for a long time after. I couldn’t walk for a couple days. My father never said “I told you so”. He didn’t have to; but I’m positive he was thinking it the entire time he was carrying me with my skin hanging off my toes.
I loathed my father that day, not for being an unreasonable jackass (this time), but because he was 100% right.
I was going to go for a bike ride with a close neighbour friend of mine, and I was wearing my cool new sandals. My father had taken to yelling at me in front of my friends, and stopped us before we left. He instructed me to change into socks and running shoes if I was going to ride my bike. Are you kidding? I was wearing shorts! Shorts with socks and shoes were so uncool; nevermind the sock tan I would get!
Oh Em Gee! Like, totally, for real.
I ignored my dad, even when he continued yelling at us from the driveway as we rode off.
We were no more than 2 blocks from my house when I hit a tiny pot hole in the pavement and my bike when slightly out of control. Instinctually, I put both feet to the ground, dragging my toes. Now, if I was wearing shoes, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but since I was wearing my “cool” sandals, I succeeded in taking about 10 layers of skin off both of my big toes. It was repulsive and I think the combination of disgust and adrenaline masked the actual pain. There were 2 narrow but noticeable trails of blood on the road. I immediately fell to the nearest lawn and screamed in horror. It looked like my toes had just been mutilated by a meat grinder. I begged my friend, “GO GET MY DAD!”
She rode back to my house to get him. It couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes later, but it seemed like forever. She came back, accompanied by my father. He could run faster than we could ride on our bikes – he had very long legs. He said nothing and threw me over his shoulder, fireman-carrying me, while he did a brisk walk back to our house.
I had to get 2 mini cast-like wrappings on both of my toes and they ached for a long time after. I couldn’t walk for a couple days. My father never said “I told you so”. He didn’t have to; but I’m positive he was thinking it the entire time he was carrying me with my skin hanging off my toes.
I loathed my father that day, not for being an unreasonable jackass (this time), but because he was 100% right.
Jun 2, 2010
Italian Twins
The pair of them were the most gorgeous things I'd ever seen; Italian, chic... The shop assistant wasn't bad either. I almost pressed my nose against the shoe shop window, the perfect shoes looking back at me. If they could have blown kisses, they would have.
I was never a big shoe fan to be fair; never really got into the whole fashion thing. I swear some of my friends had shoegasms sometimes, no word of a lie. This time, though, I totally got it! These shoes were to die for.
I never did buy them though; I guess there were more important things to think about. Eventually, they drifted out of my mind, replaced by chic Italians of a different kind...
I was never a big shoe fan to be fair; never really got into the whole fashion thing. I swear some of my friends had shoegasms sometimes, no word of a lie. This time, though, I totally got it! These shoes were to die for.
I never did buy them though; I guess there were more important things to think about. Eventually, they drifted out of my mind, replaced by chic Italians of a different kind...
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