Archive for the 'How Not To Get Laid' Category
Submitted by Jessica, Age 19, Trenton, NJ
A party. Long time friends. We were both drunk, sitting close on a couch, our thighs pressed against each other's with the party going on all around us. He started running his hand up and down my back till his hand settled low, between my shirt and the top of my jeans, with his fingers on my skin and grazing the top rim of my panties. All of this with loads of people around, but everyone was drunk, and he was doing all of this in the "privacy" between the back of the couch and my back. We were both getting very hot, his hand pressing more, wandering more, our legs pressing more, shoulders, leaning, it became one of those, must-have-you-moments.
Finally, I turned at looked at him, he looked at me, and we both got up together, his hands not leaving me. I put down the beer I'd had, and we walked to this large walk-in coat closet at the entrance, closed the door and started going at it. My shirt was off, bra was next. I was unbuttoning the top of his pants. He paused for a second, backed away from me, opened the door, leaned his head out, threw up all over the floor, closed the door, grabbed my waist and said, "I'm good now! Whew! Much better." and leaned in for more… um… yeah… no.
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Random Girl, Age 29, Florida
This is probably a cautionary tale against dating the recently divorced, but there I was in the throes of what could have been a great time in the sack with a guy I had known and liked for years. We were alone, we had been dating for weeks, and we had a great night out… but for whatever reason the "equipment" was not cooperating. Suddenly he piped up with a suggestion. "Barb (not the real name of his ex-wife) used to do this thing…" and he went on to describe and demonstrate this all too familiar routine that apparently worked for her. As much as I wanted to be a good sport, I didn't want to become Barb2, and before my self-editor could stop me I blurted out, "Tell me you aren't asking me to screw you the way your ex-wife screwed you!!" Talk about a mood killer. He left, and that was the end of that night, and our relationship.
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Rob, Age 30, Tulsa, OK
There is actual sex in this one, but I think the tragic failure to follow-through qualifies.
So I had been out on one date with this woman, and she calls up later and asks what I'm doing that night. I tell her I'm watching a DVD to review for a newspaper, which is completely true. I'm watching it on my computer (this was 1999, and that was the only DVD player I had at the moment), but she's welcome to see it with me if she'd like. She takes me up on it and comes by.
Now, I'm watching it on my large, comfy old padded chair (like a recliner without the recline) and, like a gentleman, I offer her another chair, but she says "no, I'm happy to sit with you." So, she climbs in with her legs folded across me, her butt to the side, her arms around me and her generous breasts rubbing into me. She subtly but obviously rubs them against me (seems she's no stranger to using them to her advantage) while her head keeps getting closer to me, her long hair brushing against my cheek.
Read more »
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Nadine, 20, Germany
Imagine a drunk college party at my house. I had just moved in two months ago and had not yet met all of my roommate's friends. There was a guy at the party I had noticed earlier in the evening who was extremely good looking. However, I didn't talk to him at all.
Later in the evening, I made out with my best friend in the kitchen (we are really close and have slept together before). Well, he was really drunk, and, at some point, he went to my room and passed out on the bed. As I was tired too, I wanted to join him. I went to my room, removed my makeup and my lenses. My friend had already removed his clothes (except boxers) when someone knocked.
I opened and was confronted with the hottie. He just hugged me, thrust his pelvis forwards and managed to get out: "Do you need some company, honey?"
I made a few steps back into my room and he followed. As my bed was right next to the door, I nodded to the right and told him I already had company. He was disappointed, frustrated or embarrassed–I can't tell which–so he stormed out the door and left the house. Funny thing is, as I really liked this guy('s looks), his oh so subtle game might have worked had my best friend not been passed out on my bed. Oh well.
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Miss Kibble, Age 22, Newcastle
I had admired him a la distance for some time, emerging as I was from an absolute train-wreck of a marriage. Inevitably, we fell into a sadly clichéd, drunken one-nighter. Your astute powers of deduction will, even at this point, lead you to conclude that he failed to fulfill his reputation as a modern-day Lothario.
I really should have been skeptical at the start of the evening, when – breathing in the nape of my neck – he murmured, “Mmm… You smell like my mother.”
Not overly burdened with tact myself, I willingly overlooked this slight faux-pas. At which point, his phone started to ring. And ring. And ring. Most anybody else would have turned it off; however, it was quite beyond his gentlemanly capabilities to postpone an opportunity to brag about his conquest, early though the night was…
In hindsight, I too am shaking my head at this point – though this is by no means the end of the sorry liaison. The potent combination of countless martinis, lust, and pent-up bitterness was humiliatingly irresistible.
Having pulled him into my bedroom, I worshipped at the altar, so to speak. No result. I’m still not sure who was more mortified – him or me. Both of us adamantly claimed a zero failure rate.
The tremendous pressure of so very many embarrassments weighed heavily on both of us, and we reached the conclusion that we should leave things until the morning.
As I was turning off the light, I chanced to look down, and the horror of what I had done slammed into me… I was sleeping with a naked man in socks!
For those of you living in blind ignorance, no woman with even a morsel of self-respect will ever, ever sleep with a naked man in socks… This is a fundamental tenant of womanhood; akin to our obsession with putting the toilet seat down, or our love-affair with potpourri.
Cathartic though this has been, at yet another head-hanging moment in my life, there is a sequel to this sorry saga.
But I wouldn’t want to give it all up at once, now, would I?
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Rachel, Age 18, New Zealand
How not to get laid?
End a date by saying "hugsies" and opening your arms invitingly.
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Mary, Age 22, Raleigh
He said we'd go see "He's Just Not That Into You".
Instead of taking me to the film, he took me to his place because he "forgot something," then said - "but come up with me for a second, I want to show you something."
So I went up, he grabbed and kissed me and said, "why see a movie about what he's not when he so is?"
Would this have worked on someone? Did this work in his head? Maybe if she was into him… but she bolted. Apparently, she "so wasn't."
Anyone see the movie? Any good?
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Cee Ehm, Age 32, Ontario, Canada
It’s funny that you should post your request for more stories on Valentine’s Day as my story actually takes place on this past February 14th.
I spent Valentine’s Day with two male friends. Let’s call them Zane and Seymour. I have had a crush on Zane for as long as I have known him. But he is shy, so very shy. While I have been known to be a fairly forward girl when it comes to letting a man know I am interested, for some reason, Zane stops me in my tracks. He is very handsome and sweet and funny and I love spending time with him. I also know that he is not very comfortable with many people, particularly women, and I am one of the anointed (very) few. So, whenever I think about making a move, I imagine it going poorly and not only suffering humiliation but losing a good friend as well. So when we hang out, I get all hot and bothered but do nothing.
Seymour is Zane’s best friend, and he's as gregarious and open as Zane is reserved and quiet. Seymour beds woman after woman after woman and is always on the prowl. If you were to line the two of them up and ask someone which fella they think would get more play based on looks, the resounding answer would be Zane. But that is not the case. Not even close. While I adore Seymour, I have never been attracted to him. Well, maybe once or twice, but not really. And while he has jokingly flirted with me in the past, it was always just jokes.
As the three of us are single, we decided to spend Valentine's Day together by getting drunk and going dancing. Seymour recently bought a condo in the city so Zane and I drove into his place. We had a lovely dinner, drank lots of wine and then went out to a club. Zane doesn’t dance so Seymour and I and a bunch of my girlfriends hit the floor and danced ourselves silly. At one point the DJ played a slow song (Son of Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield) and Seymour and I started to dance. Suddenly, he stopped, said, “Some is cutting in,” and stepped back to reveal Zane with a shy smile on his face. We danced and he stared into my eyes and sang to me. I was absolutely melting. When the song stopped, he sat back down. Seymour and I and the girls danced a bit more until it was time to go home. The three of us piled into a cab and went back to Seymour’s place.
Read more »
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
(6 votes, average: 4.67 out of 5)
(6 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)