Archive for the 'Foot In Mouth' Category
Submitted by Anon, Age 20, UK
I’ve always been a bit shite with girls. In my 20 years of life I’ve slept with only two girls, one of which was more of a “was mounted by a whale” than a proper lay.
I broke up with my ex about 15 months ago now. I haven’t had sex in the last 16 months or so.
So that’s the backstory over and done with. Now, I’m a beatboxer, which (for those who don’t know) means imitating sounds, mainly percussion instruments, with one’s mouth. This also gives me access to the single finest chat up line in existence.
At a house party there was a stunner showing a very real interest in me. I danced around with her (about as well as a lanky white boy can anyway) and did some beatboxing for her. Ten minutes of beatboxing later and she’s obviously impressed. “That’s amazing” she says, “how can you do all of that?”
“Well, you know what they say about us beatboxers”, I replied. “We’re good with out mouths”.
That should have been the end of it, but I was drunk.
“I bet you are”, she said with a wink. “You’ll have to show–”
But she was interrupted by me suddenly bursting out into loud laughter, incoherently babbling about us beatboxers also having big willies, before I walked off giggling to get another drink.
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Submitted by Rolf, Age 25, UK
It was my brothers stag do. A weekend of getting extremely drunk and a chance to chat up different women in a city I’d never been to before. I’m from a small village so you tend to chat up and get rejected by all the girls pretty quickly. I hadn’t had any action for a while and was starting to riled about it. You know it’s a lean spell when your mates start taking the piss out of you.
The first night was a good laugh, everyone getting extremely drunk, and the next day continued in a similar fashion. It came to the last, and we all went out for a quick bite to eat and then on to the hot spots of the town. We ended up in a super club. Five floors full of different music and about 2000 plus people. I couldn’t fail. I didn’t. We were all dancing (well, if that’s what you call it) when I noticed this not-too-bad-looking bird eyeing me up. I’m thinking “hello,” and the next thing you know, we are getting off with each other. Now, pulling on any stag, especially ones away, is legendary.
The bird then goes to me, “lets go back to mine,” then for some reason I will never know, I suddenly thought, “I don’t have a condom!!” I leave the bird and run ’round the club trying to find my mates, and when I do, they all give me a look of fright. The sight of me, shirt half un-buttoned and sweating frantically, asking for a condom, must’ve, I’m sure, amused them. I eventually manged to harrange some spare change out of one of them and grab some out of the machines.
We then left the club and started to walk back to hers. Then, bizarrely, she insisted on stopping off at the hotel she worked at. We called a taxi and then got back to hers, by which time I was really starting to feel the effects of the weekend’s boozing. We made it into her bedroom, but it was an impossible mission, adding to that about ten text’s asking for mobile phone pictures, and I was done. We fondle around for a bit, but I think I was a big disappointment to her. I said to her at one point, “ I want to do you from behind,” to which she replied, no chance.
I woke in the morning and thought perhaps some better luck, but she was having none of it, and as she went to make a cup of coffee I snuck out the door. Lost in a city I had never been in before, it took me two hours to get home.
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Submitted by Lauren, Age 21, Toronto
When I was in my last year of high school, a very sexy older boy asked me out. Naturally, I accepted. It is a mark of prestige, attractiveness and intelligence for a high school girl to be with a university boy.
We began dating. We didn’t go far for months, never getting past ‘first base’. However, I was crazy about him, and he about me. I decided that he was the one I would “lose it” to. And, being an inexperienced virgin, I set out to create the perfect night for us to “physically express our love” (as I delicately described it to my equally inexperienced friends).
I invited him to my home one night when I knew my family would be gone. I went out, bought special underwear, soft sexy music, candles, the whole shtick. It was going to be beautiful and perfect.
Or so I thought.
He came over. I immediately steered him to the bedroom. The carefully planned ambiance tipped him off to my intention. We began kissing and fondling each other, slowly rounding out the bases.
I was pleased that everything was going so well. I was turned on, ready. He began breathing heavily and whispering sexy nothings in my ear.
Then it happened.
He said “I want you so badly”. which, in itself, is not a bad thing to say. Except that he said it in a baby voice. I’m talking five year old with a lisp baby voice: “I want you so badwy”. A little, horny Elmer Fudd. It caught me off-guard, but I decided to ignore it.
I suppose my silence read as an indication that I liked dirty baby talk. He started saying dirtier and dirtier things and I grew more and more disturbed. The deal breaker was “I wanna spwit you open wif my cock”. At that point, I rolled off him and said I was “too nervous” to continue. It seemed like a backhanded way to compliment him and to get out of sex with little explanation. In reality I was just too creeped out and turned off.
For several days, every time we interacted, all I could think about was “I wanna spwit you open wif my cock”.
The relationship didn’t survive.
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Submitted by Innocent Loverboy, Age 22, London
I was in my university’s union bar, trying not to let the music get to me while sipping my usual non-alcoholic cocktail. Keeping in line with my life from the age of 18 onwards, I was perpetually single, and to be frank, the idiots getting off with other idiots on the dance floor were offending me. Not because they were getting off, exactly; the dance floor was meant to be used for dancing, in my opinion.
I weaved through the interlocked couples and noticed a discarded condom on the floor. It was still sealed in its packet, and looked fine to me when I inspected it. I pocketed it to add to my stock when I got back to my room.
“Have you met my friend Laura?” asked a girl I vaguely knew from sight. I turned around, and there she was: Laura. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a few extra pounds, and a cheeky, attractive quality. I shifted uncomfortably and flashed my default ‘flirting’ smile.
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Submitted by Michelle, Age 20, California
I was in college (this was not too long ago), and I was doing some volunteering through school. I gave rides from the work site to the school for a few weeks. Usually I got stuck with two annoying girls and this one good looking guy. I was shy so we all just talked about music. The last week, the girls don’t show, and I tell the guy that he looks like one of those kids who gets stoned right before class. He said he did that in high school and asked me if I did too. I am hung over from the night before (and that is another how not to get laid story) and I decide to practice some flirting on him since this is the last time I am volunteering (which means the last time I will see him). So I decide to tell him that all I did in high school was have sex. I told him how I probably had sex more times than he got high (I left out that it was with one boy and I haven’t done it since). He seems shocked, and I feel stupid, but we are almost back to school. Then, just as I am pulling up to the parking spot, he says, “I have an hour before class. Want to go to my dorm?” Suddenly, what I have been hoping for has come to pass, but I can not get myself to say a word. I am speechless. And he just says, “That’s okay,” and gets out of the car and walks away. And I bang my head against the wheel and go, “why?!?!”
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Submitted by Bradley, Age 25, Quebec
I’ve never been much of a pick-up artist; in part because the idea of one night stands has never particularly interested me, and second (which might really be the reason for that first part), because I’ve never managed to hook one up, rare though the attempts were.
That being said, I guess I’m not so great at picking up signals from girls who might actually be interested. And by signals, I mean blatant offers… Case in point:
I’m at the bar. Now, when I go to the bar, it’s to get drunk, not laid. So, I was, well, pretty damned drunk. To date, that’s my excuse.
So I’m at the bar, and I see a girl I knew vaguely from work. By “know,” I mean that I knew her name. She knew mine, and we’d exchanged the occasional hello. That’s about it.
So we get to some small-talk at the bar, and I don’t think we’d properly gotten past the “how’s it goin’?” phase of the conversation before she asks me if I need a place to stay for the night.
Now, like I said, not so much with the picking up on (blatant) signals.
So in a confident voice, I tell her, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m crashing on my friend’s couch.”
And that was that. She went off hunting for more apt candidates, and I took a couple of hours to figure out that I’d essentially declined a bald offer of sex…
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Submitted by JP
note: this falls a little outside the norm for stories, but it seems to be in the spirit of the website.
I was getting physical with a girl I worked with at a Christian camp. We had spent the entire summer focusing on our work and not noticing our increasing attraction to each other until camp ended and things got intense fast. Over the course of our encounters throughout the week, we had approached second base, but were still admittedly some time away from “sealing the deal”, so to speak. Things were definitely headed in that direction though, and as young infatuation tends, our conversations crept towards speculations of the future and long-lasting love.
On one of our frequent walks, we had a discussion about marriage, as a principle. I made the mistake of telling her about some of my more unconventional (considering our conservative context) views of marriage- as in, I didn’t need the government’s approval to be married and I doubted I’d be interested in a legal ceremony.
Well, it was as if the wind rushed through the window and blew the candle out. This notion of mine flew in the face of her more traditional views, and she said, not quite so plainly, but on the spot, that if our views on marriage didn’t complement each other, well, what was the point of going any further?
Needless to say, there would be no doubles or triples from that point on, much less a trip around the bases. The fire had been doused by a bucket of holy water.
The first lesson? Know your audience. I would have liked it if things had gone on a little longer, but I was too idealistic and naive to think that something as simple as an opinion on marriage could deter blinding passion.
The second? Think twice before getting involved with a conservative.
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Submitted by Elizabeth, Age 25, Austin, TX
I was drinking with one of my really good guy friends (or so I thought). In the past we had hooked up. So why not again? I told him to use a condom. In the middle of the deed, he messes up the condom. He tells me “I did not get off,” then asks me “are you on birth control?”
I said “no.” He began grilling me about why I was not on the pill. To me, this is the kind of conversation you only have with someone you are dating. I actually had another condom in my purse, but by this point I was completely and utterly turned off. Then, not once, not twice, but three times he offered to buy me the morning after pill so we could finish having sex.
I had no idea how to respond. Honestly, I have never had a guy suggest that. For the first time in my life, a guy made me speechless. I would expect this kind of behavior from a one night stand but not a friend. So, I got dressed and left. I have not talked to him since. Maybe, eventually, we will be friends again, but the sex thing is a no go.
So boys/men: never offer a girl the morning after pill unless you are in a serious relationship. Practice safe sex and stock up on condoms.
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Submitted by Claire E., Age 22, San Francisco
If you want to sleep with the girl…
…spend less time brooding about your luck with women, and more time touching her goodies.
…spend less time vocalizing your concerns that she doesn’t want to sleep with you, and more time touching her goodies.
…spend less time arguing that you deserve sex because you are a decent person, and more time touching her goodies.
…spend less time bragging that you nearly never come because you like to please girls so much, and more time… yes, touching her goodies.
Try on some positivity, try to have some fun, and enjoy her company. Quit fussing out loud over whether or not she’s going to fuck you and quit trying to uncover the mystery of why not when she doesn’t.
Most of all, quit calling me. You blew it.
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Mr. Romance texted me a picture of his penis.
Submitted by Jenny, Age 33, Knoxville
***
He kissed me like he was trying to massage my esophogas with his tongue.
I suddenly remembered I had laundry to do.
Submitted by Deb, Age 23, Michigan
***
He wore pleated pants and no deodorant.
Submitted by Mabel, Age 29, San Francisco
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Submitted by Jackson, Age 25, Philadelphia, PA
I was two years out of college when I found myself on a date with this younger girl who was still going to school at my alma mater. I’d always thought she was hot, but I was being realistic and not really expecting too much from this date. She seemed like a good girl, and I doubted that she would put out unless she was in a serious relationship (which I was not about to enter into with her). So, I figured my chances of getting play were pretty slim, but I went out with her anyway because she was a nice person and, hey, hope springs eternal, doesn’t it?
It was an enjoyable evening, but nothing to write home about. I had never thought much of those guys who graduate and then stick around school to poach underclass ass rather than moving on with their lives, so I will admit to being a bit self-conscious picking her up and dropping her off from school. When I pulled up in front of her dorm to drop her off after our dinner, I was ready to cut my losses and call it a night. That’s when she invited me up to her dorm to hang out.
“Hang out”? As in: “hang out with all her underclassmen dorm friends and be that lame guy who graduated but still needs to slum at school just to flirt with some girl who isn’t going to give him any action anyway?” No thank you. And if you are screaming right now as you read this, wondering how I could be such an idiot and miss such an obvious invitation for booty, you are absolutely right.
“Do you want to come up to my dorm room and hang out?”
“Oh, man. It’s tempting, but I’m afraid it’s getting late, and I do have to work tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
Yes, yes, I know, I know. Sometimes we miss things even when they are staring us right in the face. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am a moron.
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Submitted by Lynn, Age 36, Atlanta, GA
It was an evening of firsts. The first date since my divorce, the first with a gentleman I’d met online, and the first with a man over forty. He seemed great on paper: tall, chiseled face, a banker. But from the moment we said hello, I could tell there was something not quite right about him. When browsing his online profile one last time before our date, I wondered: how does a man like this get to be forty-three without ever being married? I soon found out.
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(4.72 out of 5)
