Drunk

[Reylan Talonspyre]

You fucked a milf midget with a nice rack?

No, I fucked a goth midget with no rack.

She was a dead fish.

[Gerien]

You fucked a milf midget with a nice rack?

No, I fucked a goth midget with no rack.

She was a dead fish.

My eyes! My imagination! My god! Make it go away...

[Reylan Talonspyre]

I am afraid there is nothing anyone can do for that. I suggest rum.

[Sturm]

You fucked a milf midget with a nice rack?

No, I fucked a goth midget with no rack.

She was a dead fish.

Priceless

[Nagash]

We do raunchy quite well... we really need a 'sex blooper' montage.

But no details.

Sorry suckas!

We'll just fill it in for ourselves, mate. Between MoP, Rey, Portia and me, I think we have all degrees of sodomy and deprevation covered.

*grin*

Trust me, you're better off telling us.

You fucked a milf midget with a nice rack?

No, I fucked a goth midget with no rack.

She was a dead fish.

She was a dead fish, or did she just smell and taste like a fish which deceased a long time ago? Important difference there. And Gerien, do try to imagine that.

[MoP]

What would Gerien know about that?

[Nagash]

I trust in our friend's vivid imagination.

[MoP]

Yeah, I'm sure he has a very vivid imagination. How one earth would you be able to kiss a man if you don't have at least that (if you're not a woman that is)?

[Nato]

SEX BLOOPERS!

A friend of mine was sexing when she fell off the bed. Her boyfriend laughed at her hysterically. But he actually laughed so hard that HE FARTED.

[MoP]

What's wrong with farting?

[Atla]

I don't recommend it during a blow job...

I had a girl fart on me once during doggy style. I no shit, screamed, and without thinking stuck my thumb in her ass.

Now she's a flight attendent out of ChicagaHO.

[Gerien]

written when I was 19 and published in a queer anthology the next year

Coming of Age

I wanted to sit down and write about the first time I made love to another man, but for some reason I can’t really remember what it was like. I remember vaguely some of the details about it. It took place in my mother’s old house in Monterey (you know, Steinbeck country, place of life-changing occurrences) and it was late at night while she and my brother were asleep in their rooms. It was with a friend that I’d had a crush on for a while and I remember that that afternoon he had completely surprised me by giving me a kiss in my driveway. Wham, bam, out of the blue, I’m giving my usual routine of teenage, not yet out of the closet, scared as hell he’ll know I’m queer but praying he is flirting too. Next thing I know his arms are around my shoulders and his lips are pressed against mine. Let’s just say that for a moment I was caught completely off guard. Before I even had a chance to think about what had just taken place he was saying something about showing up later that night and I was standing there, leaning against my mother’s car kind of going “Duh...” like a brain dead idiot. After a few seconds of thinking “I just kissed a boy... I just kissed a boy...” I gathered my wits enough to realize I was standing there, leaning against my mother’s car kind of going “Duh...” like a brain dead idiot. I don’t think I need to remember the rest of the day except that I wandered around with that stupid look on my face wondering what he meant when he said he was going to show up later (talk about naiveté). Luckily my mother and brother didn’t notice anything different about my behavior. (There are times to be grateful for teenage mood swings. It’s amazing what you can get away with when no one knows what’s coming next.)

After a few hours of floating through my own male torso filled world I finally got into bed for what I knew, by then, was going to be a sleepless night. Thanks to my only slightly marred innocence (or refusal to believe what was right in front of my face, I’m still not sure which) I thought it would be sleepless because of my anxiety over the possibility of a midnight chat with my new found beloved. Obviously I didn’t know what was coming. Once between the time I crawled into bed (quite a bit early, too) and the time my anxieties/prayers were to be fulfilled my brother decided to barge into my room and pester me about the kind of garbage younger brothers pester big brothers about. Regardless of what it was, I remember thinking “Oh god, not now. Please don’t bother me now.” After a few well-chosen words and a few more well placed punches (boys will be boys you know) I managed to escape back into my own realm of angst ridden, moonlit waiting. (I got a lock for my door not long after.)

Throughout the night I watched the moon throw pale light across my bed as I lay there thinking that every cloud that cast a shadow over my tense body was the arriving figure of the man of my dreams. (My but teenagers do get melodramatic, don’t they?) After countless clouds, countless glances at my window and countless depressed moments of not seeing anyone there, I suddenly felt a soft hand gliding over my shoulder to rest firmly on my chest. Hopeless romantic though I might have considered my self to be, I assume I must have dozed off during my vigil because I remember jumping half out of my skin and completely out of my bed at the awakening discovery that someone else was there. Instead of a passionate, long awaited encounter with the man I was going to offer my somewhat reluctant virginity to, I was left with a frantic moment of wondering what was happening while my erstwhile partner fell through the open window to land in a relatively unromantic heap on my now hurricane imitating waterbed. (Let me interject here that climbing through someone’s window and landing face first in their waterbed is not only as unromantic as it sounds but also makes quite a bit more noise than you might imagine a waterbed could ever possibly make. Trust me.)

Upon realizing that the man in my bed (not a phrase I’d had an excuse to use until that moment) was the slightly moaning personage of the lover I had pledged my virtue to I rushed to his aid, reassuring my querying mother that “Yes, everything’s fine. I just fell off the bed.” After a few excited kisses and a few very quiet words of welcome, trying to make sure no one heard me again, I found myself lying again in the bed, but this time with a much different thought in my mind than sleep. In a pattern similar to that afternoon’s mantra about boy kissing, I found myself repeating my new lovers’ name in a kind of disbelief and awe that he had really shown up. He quieted me down quickly enough.

Strangely enough, I don’t really remember the sexual encounter itself at all. I’m sure it was full of awkward moments and grimaces of discomfort at the new discoveries of how our bodies could connect. (Experience not withstanding, I’ve had some moments like that since, as well.) But instead all I clearly recall is an anguished moment when I said good-bye to him, (leaning out of my bedroom window no less) and a newfound feeling of satisfaction.

To provide an epilogue, I should say that we had a secret affair (to us anyway, all our friends knew already) for several months followed by a shout filled breakup where each of us vowed never to see the other again. But to this day, in spite of how much I hated him then, I will always hold a special memory of that emotion laden first encounter with my sexuality, and a soft spot in my heart for men who crawl through windows into quivering waterbeds.

[Atla]

Why the fuck did I read that?

[owly]

lol i did too *slaps forehead* i shoulda had a V8........

[Portia]

I tore my calf muscle once (damn near tore it in half) when I was mid-coitus.

Had to go to a doctor and everything.

[Reylan Talonspyre]

Good thing he was the lucky bastard who was mid.

[owly]

that happened to me once.......

[owly]

oh btw i'm glad gerien was vain in his description of his first sexual encounter and saved me the mental image.......

[Sturm]

Ummm....
Isn't it amazing how we can go from "Drunk" to "Sex with a midget" to "Sex act injuries" to "Gay Sex" to "Farting"....

[owly]

i farted three times this morning each one i was proud of