Kinda knew I was going to hook up with this guy this weekend. I was at a wedding out of town and just was in that mood to have a random guy, don't ask. So we met Friday, tension built that night, all next day (he was part of the groom's friends that me and my friend hung out with at the pool) and then Saturday night it was on.
So we had a lot of whiskey that night, plus two shots of Patron. The second one put me in near blackout mode. I almost never get that drunk. I remember starting sex and parts of it but definitely not the whole thing. I remember making him wear a condom, and honestly I'm shocked I had enough wherewithal to even remember that.
So Sunday we wake up and of course he wants a blowie. All guys do when their hung over. So I start going down on him and then I start getting into it and we have sex again, but this time I tell him he can pull out. It was pretty fun but toward the end I was getting queasy and when he shot it my mouth I almost gagged (normally I love the taste but getting a huge load when you're already feeling sick is not the greatest thing in the world).
So we ate breakfast, had a smoke, talked about it, traded numbers, made out a little and then I cabbed it back to the airport. All day I felt like shit … and I am like why???? I drank like 10000 waters and coffees and ate and took Advil but then my stomach felt like crap.
So I try to go to the bathroom and it happened … I felt something up in there. YUP: the fucking condom. Welp. Glad I had him wear it, basically it must have come off when we fucked and I was too wasted to realize and imagine how big a blow to your ego THAT SHIT is in an airport fucking stall.
I spent the hourlong flight back basically feeling like a trash whore and trying to mentally expel his jizz from me. I had like 4 cigarettes on the way home (normally that's how many I smoke in a whole day), went to Walgreens for Plan B and took the longest fucking shower when I got home, curled up and watched trash TV to feel better about myself.
So there! Now let's hear yours so my self-image can improve please
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3hdaf4/whats_your_most_embarrassing_sex_story_i_had
Ah regrets… make life interesting… I once had a first date from match.com,the lady was cute, if ~30 pounds overweight and a typical soccer mom… it was summertime so we drank outside at a bar, played shuffleboard and cornhole, went for a late walk in the moonlight, which just happened to take us by my apartment… took her in and we got after it. The sex wasnt all that great, honestly, we were both pretty drunk. And yes I barebacked it. A couple days later she texted me… to let me know that her "other boyfriend" just told her he has chlamydia… thought I should know… yep. So, off I go to the local clinic for my shot. Paid in cash so it doesn’t show up on my insurance.
Did you still test positive? and did you pull out?
I did pull out. Never took a test, the doc just said for the cost he might as well just write a prescription. Done.
It was the 2010 primary election night and their candidate for governor had come in a pathetic second place. We were all at the bar after the bar after the bar where we watched the results come in. I had seen her before, Lauren, and had considered it, but had decided no, not my style. She was a little too something, I couldn’t really put my finger on it. If only I had let my dick know. We were all crushed up against the bar, her and coworkers in failure, including the stuck up blonde I had my eye on and who was insisting I buy pay for her drink. And I’m not sure why I didn’t just play the blonde’s game, but I blanched and bought the drink for everyone but her. We cheered and sneered at the conceited tart and I relaxed into the mellowed out bliss of being drunk and esteemed. And sure enough as the night wound down my chivalry was not forgotten and Lauren and I made our way home, stumbling and groping and ready to forget. The evenings magic wore down my sense of regret, as we climbed the stairs to my bedroom and by the yellow light of my bedroom began to undress. She was cute, certainly, but the stain of my decision lingered over every touch, every kiss, every thrust. This was nothing like the other sloppy drunk sex I’ve had in the past; a riotous dance where you may miss a step or the beat from time to time, you’re always so enraptured with your partner and the moment, that you can always find your way again quickly. Instead it was clinical and one sided, her moans and sighs almost grating as I mechanically licked and sucked and fucked her to sleep. It’s recognizable now as sex where neither of us where really interested or listening to eachother; two fleshy blobs rubbing up against each other to feel fleetingly good and fleetingly less lonely. In the morning I was chagrined and she was oddly appreciative, but I couldn’t erase the feeling of having made a mistake and let myself down. And because I’m an idiot, I took her to brunch.