I can barely remember this. Soo long ago. Since I can’t really discuss anything that’s happening now, I have decided to start posting older stories from pre-Fwasted.com days.
Why no current stories? Well, I’m in a lull. Note: a “lull” is to be considered a monogamous relationship. There are no rules as such, but we’ve been talking a while and, well, I’ve been lazy.
Anyway, that’s boring. Here’s a sex story:
I went to my dad’s for dinner on a Friday night about, shit, I dunno, maybe back in December? Something like that. This sucks, as any 26 year old with a penis can tell you. Friday isn’t exactly family time in my head. Either booze or boobs are priority. Usually booze, truth be told.
I had already sold out another friend whom I had told I would photo-document his gig, and finally told The Roommate that I wouldn’t be home to chill. Plus there were countless other parties to be crashed….
Dad calls, “Come over for dinner anyway.” My Friday night looked to be shot.
Fuck it, might as well get the free chow. I still have a receipt from the Check Cashing Store around this time. Still might make it home in time to hang out in Miami with The Roommate anyway.
I arrive and my dad is grilling in the front of his house. There are people in his driveway hanging out. One girl, not cute, around 21 or 22. Whatever. I forget her name over the course of the next ten minutes.
Not to be a dick, but it seems like I always have trouble with this, and it must look bad or make the feelings of the object party a little tender. But what can I say? Lose some weight, I’ll remember you. Facts of life.
I have some wine, chat with the Dad, hugs for the little brothers. Then, she arrives. Hot pursuit comes her boyfriend. All right… Whatever. She’s easily an 8, but I’m not about to game a chic in front of my dad, brothers AND her BF. That’s just, well, one doesn’t do that in polite society.
Little did I know how far I’d stretch “polite” society later.
That gets me thinking though…this story has no alcohol involved until later. That’s boring. I’m writing about sex stuff, and I’m bored because I won’t be shitfaced in this. Wow. That’s gotta be relevant to something.
So her and I get to talking. Everyone eats. I don’t, because I get anxiety attacks and potentially throw up. So, yeah, there’s that. Try talkin’ a bitch with that in your pocket.
Anyway, it bubbles to the surface that Dude Lumber (he was wearing a lumber yard uniform) is NOT her boyfriend. He is a roommate. And they in fact seem a little annoyed with each other. Not the cute way (I’ll show you in the following, read on…), but more like the he’s the douche that leaves his socks in the bathroom sink and she’s the cunt that never does dishes way that only roommates can accomplish. Fine. I’ll leave that dynamic alone. No sense bouncing them off each other. She clearly is done with him, whatever they might be besides roommates.
As far as the other girl…whatever-her-name was…she managed to piss off my girl here and was largely out of the conversations.
[I cut a page worth of boring shit here. Suffice to say me and the Neighbor hit it off.]
The wine fogs the mind from that evening, but if I recall, she and my brothers came in the house not too long after me and we all roughhoused a little while in the living room as my dad cleaned up around the house.
“Hey, [brother]!” she said to my brother. “Your brother Fway likes me.”
My brothers giggled and ran around.
[More cuts here. Vonnegut would be proud.]
We ended up watching TV on the couch.
Some 20 minutes in my father and brother were snoring and asleep. Using her knees to tent the blanket, she grabbed my hand and put it in her crotch (not the sexiest of words, I know).
I would make a move to reach in, she’d quickly grab my hand and toss it. The cycle would repeat until before you know it, I was a full two knuckles deep in a girl I met that night.
This had not happened since fucking high school! Well, sex at my dad’s house that is.
Wait a minute…
No, no…
I had stayed the night at my dad’s with an ex-girlfriend, and we did bang in the guest room. But that’s not the same.
This was clumsy “we can’t wake up my dad” sex.
Awesome! And, by turns, a little odd.
Lame. I told you. If I’m not drunk these stories are stupid.
I am not particularly proud of this story. Not for shame, but because I didn’t shame myself in it. See how much I love you, reader? See?
