I realized the other day that two of my TMI Thursdays thus far have centered around an incident that induced blue balls for yours truly. Despite the fact that two is twice too many, I am soldiering forth and giving you a third blue balls tale. Cross your legs.
When I think about it, this was probably the worst case I ever endured because there was nowhere to go for release. At least immediately. It was the middle of the relationship of bad handjobs. I was at her school for the weekend, still not getting any. A bunch of us had gone out the night before and hit some parties before coming back to her dorm and crashing out in her top bunk in a flat out drunk state. At the time, her roommate’s whereabouts were unknown.
In the early morning, we awoke groggily. In a tiny top bunk bed, practically entirely on top of one another, three things were abundantly clear to me: 1) The alcohol has worn off and I am fully functional, 2) it would be awesome if the roommate had not come home because 3) now’s a good a chance as any. I initiated pre-coital activity, and before long I was engaging her in simultaneous dual-hemispheric stimulation. Use your imagination, kids. Then she uttered the words that she might as well have shouted from the rooftop:
“Is [roommate] there?”
I paused and processed, thinking to myself that the chances that she would have been able to drunkenly stumble into the room and not wake us either by turning on the lights or falling into something loud were somewhere in the 35-40% range.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I didn’t hear her come in.”
“Can you check?”
I slid gently over to the edge of the bed with my eyes squinted closed, like someone was about to surprise me with something awesome. I opened them, looking down at the bed below, and my first sight was her roommate, fast asleep. Yeah, if “something awesome” was a turd sandwich. Deflated, I sort of hung there for a second before sliding completely back onto the bed and confirming the roommate’s presence. Boobs were put away, pants were re-secured, and balls were blued.
Most of the people I’ve told that story have said that I should’ve lied. I should’ve said that the roommate was gone. Too risky. Not only was the bed creaky, but there would’ve been moaning, and the bed would’ve been swaying at the least. Have you ever had quiet sex in the top bunk of a bunk bed? And even if I had lied and we actually paid a visit to Penetration Station and stayed for awhile without waking the roommate, I would’ve been made when either the roommate got up, or we got down out of the bed. And then I know I would not have gone anywhere near the Station again for awhile. In the end I think I made the right call. You know, along with that whole honesty thing.
Filed under: TMI Thursday