The Mark Of A Man

Welcome, welcome! Who's that knocking at my door? Well, it's one of my blogging besties SAHMlovingit popping in for a visit. I just absolutely LOVE when I tell one of my embarrassing and raunchy tales and someone emails me saying, "Oh My God, you reminded me of something that happened to me!" That's what I strive for - reminding people of all those misadventures we'd all wished we would rather forget - but then where would be the fun in that? I say dredge up those memories like rotting garbage from the bottom of a stagnant pond. So what if it's sloppy and it stinks... I will gladly come to take away that festering heap with my virtual forklift. SAHMlovingit? I hand my forklift over to you - scoop it up, baby! Scoop-It-Up!

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I’d been out on a couple of dates with this guy who was a fair few years older than me. I was 17 or 18 I think. He was a bit of a dickhead scummer rebel so I thought it was worth a shot, if only to try and look good in front of the ‘cool’ kids.

We’d been to the pub where we’d both consumed quite a large amount of cider. Him more so than me and, as usual, I found myself propping him up most of the way home. It was late and all the lights were off in his parents house as we stumbled around in the dark living room. His parents weren’t that well off and I clearly remember the room smelling of piss, electric fire and dust; hardly the most romantic setting.

Still, we were young and drunk, so what the fuck?

We started making out and even the over-riding smell of beer didn’t put me off. It made me feel a little icky but hey, I’d take that any day.

He quickly indicated that he wanted to try a 69 position. I do have to say, although it can have its moments, it wasn’t my favourite move at the time and it certainly isn’t now. I was on top – much easier.

I began to chow down on his hard cock. I was finding the moment all too strange. Normally I’d be turned on by the fact we may get caught at any moment but I didn’t quite fancy the idea of being battered to death with a rolling pin by his mother in a flannelette nightgown and a hair net! I had my eyes shut just hoping we could get this over with. He’d turned the living rooms lights on by this time too. I felt so vulnerable.

But the worst was yet to come.

A bad odour filled my nostrils.

It smelt like shit.

He didn’t have any pets and we’d left our shoes in the hallway so neither of us had stood in anything.

I panicked. Seriously, WTF?

I didn’t want to open my eyes but I knew I had to.

I opened them to see his boxer shorts right in front of me, still around the bottom of his legs only a foot or so away from my head.

There, staring right at me was the biggest skid mark I’ve ever seen in my life.

Needless to say, he was history and I still gag when I re-tell this story.