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Hooking Up Is Hard To Do

Discussion in 'General Discussion' started by rei, Apr 1, 2011.

  1. rei

    rei
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    there's way more room in the backseat of a jetta than you'd think. Stop porking fatties.

    Worst was when I was hooking up with a girl on a platform bed she built herself, my knee went through one of the boards. Nothing says sexy like pulling splinters out of your leg.
     
  2. Nom Chompsky

    Nom Chompsky
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    Long, but I believe the payoff is worth it. You can decide, I guess.

    Sex.

    Oh, sex. You messy whirlwind of fluids and odd noises. You dirty little tempest of oohs and aahs and ouch my hairs. You saucy maelstrom of pretty coos and dripping holes.

    I've had it, before. Oh yes. Upwards of six times, so I think I know of what I speak when I say that this time was particularly dirty. It started, as most such encounters do, with romance. I stopped on my way to her place and picked up some dinner and two 40's of the finest malt liquor I could find for under $5. I was off to a good start; buying cheap alcohol always makes my balls throb heavy with sperms.

    Over dinner and drinks, we danced the dance of seduction. Well, I drank. She wasn't much of a malt liquor fan, which was great for me, because it substantially increased the amount that I had to drink. Which was important, because she wasn't much to look at, or talk to, or be around. Or think about.

    After administering some of my best moves (slowly caressing her legs, taking off my pants, and whipping my penis back and forth so it made that fapfapfap sound across my thighs), she was putty in my hands. I don't mean that she was literally a clay woman of course. I just meant that I could mold and manipulate her like pottery.

    I'm not much good at pottery.

    And yet, I managed to get her naked and having sex. With me, no less. It was going well, in my mind. I was consistently driving in and out, in and out, and almost always in that order. Missionary style. Not just because she was on her back, but also because she was babbling about God to a black guy who was desperately trying to ignore her.

    I should do more charity work.

    Where was I? Oh, right. I'm at testes-depth in this lovely young lady, when I feel that familiar tickle. The one that tells me the dam is going to burst, and there's not much I can do but hang on for the ride. I grunt, squeal, giggle, then stand up. Proud of myself. A job well done. She also half stands, and we both happen to glance over to the bed.

    In the middle, right under where we rutted, lay a fresh piece of human excrement.

    You must imagine my surprise here: It is not every day that somebody evacuates their bowels whilst I sex them. In fact, it had been zero days in my life up to this point. While I am always one for new experiences, they usually involve some sort of food with "fusion" in the name, not somebody shitting themselves during sex.

    Embarrassed, she grabbed some toilet paper from the bathroom and cleaned it up. I think she would have been less embarrassed if she had shared some of the malt liquor with me, but what do I know? Ultimately, I didn't really feel comfortable cuddling in her bed after that, so I decided to go home.

    On my way home I bought some fried chicken. It was pretty good.

    The end.
     
  3. Kubla Kahn

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    Wait so do fat chicks fit the focus? Honestly I had always joked about "going hoggin." The first time I actually was black out drunk enough to have sex with one (Im talking Beluga fat). One I was surprised my dick could still function, two I was surprised about how much shame and revulsion I felt afterward (I had literally never had that much of an emotional reaction to something that wasn't a crime). Of coarse I was not sly enough while picking her up at the bar and made out with her in front of all my friends who rightfully bring it up at any opportune moment. The next week, same bar, same girl, same devil drink (Red Bull Vodkas with Extra Joss), except this time I came to consciousness only to request a Blow Job or two. In one of the great double standards of life I can get head from a fat chick all day but sex with the same chick makes me feel worse than when I rolled my friends truck with five people inside and got slapped with a DUI. C'est la vie!



    Ive also had sex with 2 girls after talking to them for less than 20 minutes. The first was the girl I lost my virginity to and another was a damaged girl I worked with who up until one day had totally fucking hated me, we had three conversations two where she bitched me out randomly, and the third where she invited herself over to my house where we talked for five minutes before we started shedding clothes. It never quite felt right but I never regretted it.
     
  4. Superfantastic

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    Posted this in the "awkward moment" thread a while back, but I think it's entertaining enough to re-post here. Enjoy.

    Back in 2003, I travelled the east coast of Australia, spending the first week in Sydney. It just so happened a girl I fooled around with in high school was there at the same time. Sydney is huge, so I agree to travel inland to meet up with her and her friends to party. It still ranks in my top five list of 'Hardest I've Ever Partied' nights. I ended up staying awake (to varying degrees) for 41 hours. Good times.

    Anyways, the bad sex came around hour 30, after we scarffed fast food and ended up at the furniture-less house she was renting with a few other travellers. Before we got the chance, her fat roommate passed out on the air mattress they had been sharing. So she grabs a sheet and says we can lay down in the sun-room dealy attached to the back of the house. So after a twenty-some hour drunk fest, we lay down on a linoleum floor in what was basically a greenhouse, under the hot Australian sun (+35 celcius, if I recall). Obviously, this lead to some sweaty sex.

    I'm on top, and my knees are rubbing raw. Her tits are great, but she somehow feels self-conscious:

    Her: Do I not make you want to cum?

    Me: (Wiping sweat from my eyes) What? No, that's not it at all. I'm just getting too hot and --

    My stomach turns.

    Me: (Hard swallow) -- and, uh...I just...

    More pointless thrusting.

    Her: Are you ok?

    Me: (Mouth watering)...I need to...

    Puke. And I do. Right beside her head on the floor. Not five seconds later, a roommate I never met walks in carrying laundry, sees me still inside (name redacted), and looks at the puke.

    We make eye contact. She screams.

    I was too drunk/recovering from the puke to really be embarrassed at the time, but looking back, that was pretty awkward. I still crack up at the idea that the only time Laundry Girl and I ever saw each other, I was half-hard and holding her roomate's hair away from my puke while she squirmed.
     
  5. Noland

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    I was dancing. That alone will give you enough information to know how drunk I was. We were at a bar called the Latin American. (Since closed, thank God.)

    She picked me out of the crowd and was easily 10 years my senior. She wanted me to walk her home, which I thought was a good idea. On the way back to her place we passed a big pile of trash on the curb that looked like someone had cleaned out their attic. She rummaged around in the garbage for a while and secured herself a broken picture frame.

    We got to her apartment which was surprisingly nice. I also got my first look at her in normal light. Not good. She then decided she was hungry and opened up a can of tuna fish which she ate, straight from the can, with a spoon. Then she turned her attention to me.

    No way was I kissing an ugly woman who had just bolted down a full can of tuna fish. But, yeah, I fucked her.

    I left her apartment faster than most bullets leave guns and made my way back to the bar where I had to endure the entirely earned jeers from my friends about my newly placed hickey.

    Not my finest hour.
     
  6. lostalldoubt86

    lostalldoubt86
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    The worst hookup I've ever had would have to be the night before my college graduation. I'm going to tell this story in flashes because that's how i remember it. I was drunk, he was drunk. This is the order in which I remember things:

    [*]Me pinned to the wall with my legs wrapped around him.
    [*]Still pinned to the wall, but now my shirt is gone.
    [*]Me lying across the kitchen sink. My pants are gone and panties are gone. His face between my legs.
    [*]Being carried to the bedroom. My legs are wrapped around his waist. His shirt is gone.
    [*]I am bent over my dresser, he is lying underneath me
    [*] 69. An undetermined number of fingers are in my asshole. I vaguely remember telling him to stop.
    [*]Lying on the bed. Telling him to cum on my chest. He threatens to come on my face, but I scream to do it on my chest.

    I woke up the next morning with bruises on both my breasts and I had to go to graduation with an icepack taped to my ass under the gown.
     
  7. Binary

    Binary
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    May I never have to utter this phrase.
     
  8. PewPewPow

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    Funniest: I was invited to this shitty little apartment party with a few of my friends. There was some married chick sitting on the couch by herself, so naturally buddy #1 sits down next to her and starts talking, he strikes out gloriously. Having some pride I throw my hat in the ring, three minutes into our conversation she mentions how her and the husband never have sex anymore, ka-ching! Now a couple minutes later she says she needs to go to the bathroom, buddy #2 tells me to follow her, which dutifully I do. Mind you, this is like a one-bedroom apartment with twenty people packed inside, everyone saw us. So I start fucking her on the bathroom sink, things are going well etc etc. Suddenly a knock on the door, "Married girl, what are you doing in there?". Turns out her cousin was there with her chaperoning our young, horny married girl. So, she pushes me off her and starts to get dressed, at this point I could give two shits about anything else than cumming so I jack off on her face while she gets dressed. Apparently this makes me an asshole, what really made me an asshole was pulling up my pants and flinging open the door so the cousin could see my handiwork. The boys and I made a quick getaway before the apartment owner was any wiser.
     
  9. Forest Ranger

    Forest Ranger
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    This is one of those high school stories where even your buddies dads cracked jokes.

    I had been at my buddies house for about 20 minutes when I had to make a phonecall in his kitchen. In comes his sister who was a year younger, with her two friends. I did the initial assesment as every guy does as soon as a girl walks into the room.

    I didn't even socialize with them besides saying hello when all of a sudden they leave the room and come back with only skimpy t-shirts and boxers on. Trying to ignore the temptations before me while making my call, I turned towards the doorway and tried to make it look like I wasn't interested.

    I kid you not, one of the girls actually walks over to the doorway while I am on the phone, puts her hands on the top threshold, which caused her thong to ride up and boxers to stay low. Any man with a single ball and two cents worth of common sense knows this is a clear "take me" sign.

    I remember telling myself to walk downstairs and forget what I saw, but somehow I ended up taking her hand and going upstairs.

    In my inebriated stupor, I decided the best place for us to go would be the bathroom. Started out with her just fine, went for another 40 minutes before I called it quits. And then the trouble started. After we were all done, I was basically so fucked up I just got up and left so I could go sit down on a comfortable couch. I see the girls friends run upstairs to consult their friend on the recent events, and to my surprise I hear a scream.

    I run back upstairs, look in the bathroom and behold....chaos. I had just taken a virgin, and did not notice. I thought I was given a real nice girl who doesnt get laid too often but still has amazing looks, but instead got a really good looking catholic virgin. And when I say virgin, jesus christ was she ever virgin.

    The fucking toothbrushes were covered with blood. Everything that was on the counter was now on the floor, the fuckin floor had blood all over it. I fucked a virgin geyser. Got toothpaste? No, theres blood on that too. Every fuckin thing.

    The next morning she went to church, and I scrubbed the blood off my dick.

    And since that day, I walked the halls known as: cherry blaster
     
  10. Parts

    Parts
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    It had been roughly a month since I'd broken up with my first serious girlfriend, and I was going through that sad and pathetic phase many do after their first relationship where you feel like nothing will ever feel right again. Not my proudest period. The result of this, however, is that I was attempting to go through women like a knife through butter. I know I already stressed the emphasis on attempting there, but I feel like it should be noted just one more time. I wasn't bad at picking up women, and was certainly better at it than many of my peers, but my tactics were... well, unsubtle is a bit of an understatement. This was before I learned the value of not that being the dude that grinds on random girls on the dance floor. My greetings to girls off the dancefloor generally consisted of a mixture of grunts and "So, how come we haven't gone home and fucked yet?"

    I was one smooth operator.

    So imagine my suprise when this approach actually worked on an acceptably attractive blonde girl I'd just met, whose friend I had made out with minutes before incidentally, and who seemed to find my constant yelling and apparant hatred of meaningful conversation endearing.

    "Wait, what?"

    "I said yeah, let's get out of here! It's too busy anyway."

    Looking back now, I'm hoping she mistook my confusion over actually getting an agreement without an hour of obnoxious attempts to convince her first for deafness due to the noise in the club.

    During the taxi ride home is when things got weird.

    "I've just got to make a call."

    Some guy picked up, and I could hear the vast majority of their conversation. She was breaking up with her boyfriend while he cried down the phone and she rubbed my crotch through my trousers. Now, looking back this doesn't seem like that much of a big deal due to the world having gradually beaten a touch of healthy cynicism into me, but at the time I felt horrifically guilty. After she hung up I started to protest a tad.

    "Woah, woah, don't break up with your boyfriend just for me!" Yes, Parts. She was breaking up with him just for you. I'm sure there were absolutely no underlying issues. You're just that good. Maybe it was the classy conversation that persauded her to abandon Prince Charming for you, you roguish devil you.

    "It's fine, he was kind of a pussy."

    For some reason inexplicable reason this made me feel better at the time, and, not feeling so guilty anymore, he got back to my place and things got busy. It was all going so well. She was enthusiastic, pretty, and loud. However, as I was eating her pussy, devouring away like a starved man just given a trough filled with minced steak, her phone started to ring. I assumed she would ignore it, so I kept going. Nope. She picks up the phone while I'm going down on her, and over the course of ten minutes, between moans - Lord knows what the poor fucker at the other end of the line thinks she was doing, from what I remember she just avoided anything to do with the topic - convinces her now ex-boyfriend that she just needs some time to think, and promises not to do anything with anyone until the following Wednesday.

    As an impressionable young lad, I was already worried I'd stepped into morally dubious territory. However, when she then began to egg me on by telling me that she was imagining that I was fucking her in front of her ex, and that she wished he knew what was going on, and the many differences in certain areas between me and her ex... this was starting to make me uncomfortable. I, for some reason I can no longer remember, found it hard to enjoy sex when I was thinking of another man crying over her soon-to-be-battered vagina. And so when she encouraged me to start choking her this was a welcome relief as this was a pretty good method of keeping her quiet. When the phone rang again twenty minutes later, however, I knew what was coming (not me), and so slowed down in anticipation of another drawn out conversation. Yep, called it. Crying man was back, and for some reason I can't fathom now I didn't just grab the phone and throw it across the room. However, a couple minutes into this call she started to panic, and insisted I stopped. I could hear what was happening. The dude was saying that he was chucking her out of their place, as he'd guessed what was going on. He was moving her stuff to outside her mum's place (it was three in the morning at this time).

    In a panic she signalled to me to get off, jumped up, started yelling down the phone and got dressed while I lay there feeling rather confused about just how my evening was turning out. She hung up, gave me a goodbye kiss, a promise that we'd do this again some time properly and without the drama - we never did, although I saw her around pretty often. Once was enough for me - and belted down my stairs, out my front door and into the night.

    I didn't get to finish, felt disposable and cheap, - as in between attempting to use women and sex had always liked to think of myself as a special flower and therefore didn't like getting blown off due to a little matter like 'being thrown out of a house' - felt insanely guilty for no great reason looking back, and soon realised that I'd broken my shitty bed due to over aggresive thrusting, probably somewhere in between trying to find some desperate enjoyment through violence in the whole ordeal and wishing that she had a shitty mobile connection. While I've probably done worse since then, this felt like such a surreal and crappy experience at the time that I'd have to consider it the worst I've gone through.
     
  11. mekka

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    Last October I was at a bar with a buddy of mine who worked at said bar. He introduced me to a girl who, after knowing me for less than an hour, said that "I better have condoms because she might feel dirty fucking a guy she just met without a condom." Because the condom or lack thereof was really the breaking point.

    Rather than a drawn out story, I'll just leave it at this run-on sentence:I thought I lost my keys so we tried to find unlocked cars to fuck in after getting caught hooking up in my friend's apartment by people sleeping on the same couch, tried to find an unlocked car to fuck in (failed), went to campus to fuck in a classroom (delayed), stopped on the way to the building I knew was open to fuck under a bridge (success), made it to said classroom, did dirty things to each other, then I found my keys (in my pocket - oops) and we went back to my apartment and fucked. Twice.

    Then she woke up 2 hours later, cabbed back to my friend's house (where her friend was also sleeping) and drove to the other side of the country. I wound up hooking up with her a few times after that, but nothing was quite as fun as the first night.
     
  12. Crown Royal

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    One of my favourites is intersting because of how the conversation started, which is a fucking riot. I was at a bar near my house and I noticed a hot brunette cougar in a "little black dress" drinking alone at the bar. Usually I didn't walk right up to women, but I had a feeling. Then, well.....Christ. I started off with the dumbest line imaginable, but hell if she didn't surprise me. It went exactly like this:


    ME: You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?
    HER: Do you watch PORN?
    ME: (double take, ten second pause)..umm....why, what's your name?
    HER: (looking me dead in the eyes) The name is Slut.
    ME: Get your coat.

    That's honestly all it took. I don't think she actually WAS in porn, but who the fuck would complain? Not THIS guy.
     
  13. JPrue

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    WORST: This is the worst for her, most embarrassing for me. I'm having sex with this girl and we're both especially drunk. Midfuck we agree that it's pretty dry, so I suggest we grab some KY. We were in my bedroom so I, drunk and in the dark, start fishing around for the lube tube in my bin under my bed. I squirt some on my hand, then realize that the tube in my hand is double the length of the KY tube, so I promptly flick the lights on to realize I'm holding a tube of IcyHot in my hand and the lube is in my left hand. SoberMe, I would have gone to the bathroom to wash it off, but DrunkMe just made a mental note not to use that hand, and put KY on my right hand. I shut the lights out and apply it to the condom and start going at it again. 30 seconds later we are both cursing and screaming out loud, because apparently I mixed the two gels together. My roommates overhear the commotion think there is a fire in my room (I guess there was, in a sense). She bolts out of the room to the bathroom, while I try to get that shit off me. It felt like I was fucking a listerine bottle, and I had a condom on. I can't imagine the excruciating pain that she was dealing with. We clean up and get back to it, rather unsuccessfully.

    Fast forward to 3 days later and I get a text message saying that she had to go to the doctor to get 3 medications to deal with the complications of that little mix up.
     
  14. Luke 217

    Luke 217
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    I was raised Baptist motherfucker. Get your shit straight. It also means that you can subtract "Father" and insert "Pastor" into this little homoerotic scene. And thanks to all that special attention I received from Pastor Thomas, I can now now add Stage II Diabetes to go along with my numerous mental issues. In hindsight I should have had him pay me off with something other than snickers bars. Maybe handjobs. Wait. That was the problem in the first place. I'm so confused.