Archive for the 'How Not To Get Laid' Category
Submitted by Shy Nerd, Age 24, Portland OR
So I entered and exited adolescence a shy, bashful nerdy type who had many chances to get laid and ended up successfully avoiding each one. The funniest story, however, came when I was still a virgin and in college. I had this female friend who I had developed a huge crush on, but I didn’t tell her because I knew she had a long distance boyfriend and I was much too awkward to entertain the idea that someone I was sexually attracted to shared an attraction for me.
We had been friends for a while and sexual tensions developed, but I figured they were all on my end. One night, after a dorm party, we ended up in her room, alone. We sat on her bed and talked for a little while, both a little buzzed from some rotgut vodka. After a short time talking, she gets up and says, “I’m just going to put on some music.” She puts on some soft instrumental music and we continue to sit on the bed. I have a stupid grin on my face (as I usually do) and continue to think about nothing. After a couple minutes of silence, she says “I’m just going to dim the lights.” I continue to sit on the bed and think about nothing.
After a few more minutes of silence, she says “I’m tired. Do you want to lie down?” So we both lay in her bed, and a few more minutes of silence pass by. Slowly, the gears in my head are in motion and I start to wonder if she may have an ulterior motive. After at least five more minutes pass by of us both lying in bed together underneath dimmed lights with soft music playing in the background, she says “Look, maybe we shouldn’t hang out so much anymore. I’m afraid something is going to happen.”
And this is exactly what I thought: “Something was going to happen?”
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Submitted by Cleanup man, Age 49, Denver suburbs
Just found this site and thought I’d confess a story that NOBODY knows. It happened freshman year of college.
We went to another school to meet girls and one came back to my dorm room with me. I was a virgin when I went off to college but had been doing pretty well in catching up to my slow start.
We had been drinking heavily and the last thing I recall is sitting down on the bed with her.
When I awoke from my drunken stupor in the morning, she was gone. My underwear was gone, yet my jeans were fully zipped and buttoned.
As I puzzled through that concept, I turned and looked at my dorm floor and there sat a pile of feces in a large golden pool.
I have no idea what the hell happened or why she crapped on my floor. But I sure cleaned it up before my roommate got back.
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Submitted by C, Age 27, Europe
So I had been traveling for a couple of months, kinda slumming it, and hadn’t been laid in a while. It was beginning to grate, getting to that stage where desperation was soon to follow. Then, a new girl showed up at the hostel-come-beach house where I’d been staying for a couple of days. She was cute, killer accent, and, most importantly, seemed pretty loose. I spent the next three or four days alternatively trying to woo her then surprise sex her. Progress was limited.
Finally, one night after a tantalizing water fight with wet t-shirts, we did a little kissing in the club. She told me she liked me but that I was getting too wasted every night. I promised I’d take it easy on the booze and show her a good time. We wandered back to the house and chatted a little on the veranda. Critically, we had a few more drinks. Then, she announced she was going to bed. She walked toward her room, gave me a meaningful look that I felt in my pants, and went in, leaving the door ajar behind her. I could see her pulling off some clothes as she got into bed.
I walked to her doorway.
I was pretty excited.
But I was pretty drunk.
I stubbed my foot on a litre bottle of water.
I had a funny idea.
She rolled over in the bed when I came in. I could see she was naked. I soaked her with a litre of cold water.
Two minutes later I was back outside her door again. This time it was closed. And locked. And the desperation settled in nicely for the foreseeable future.
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Submitted by Mark, Age 50, Michigan
After my divorce when I was 27, I moved back in with my parents so I could get back on my feet. I started hanging out at a bar across town near where I worked. I made real good friends with the bar maid after a few weeks. We used to play darts when nobody was in the bar later at night. I could tell she was into me as much as I was into her.
She got off early from work one night and suggested we take our relation to the next level. Since she was a single parent we couldn’t go back to her place because the babysitter was her sister, and my parents just wouldn’t understand. We decided to go to a motel on the other side of the river.
As we were crossing the bridge, my car hit a pothole and dented the tire rim enough to cause the tire to go flat. I pulled over and got out to change the tire during a pouring rain storm. 15 minutes later we were back on the road and heading to the motel. Once we got there I went in to get a room when I reached for my wallet I found it wasn’t in my pocket. It must have fallen out when I was changing the tire. I had no money and I couldn’t ask this hot looking woman to pay.
When I got back into the car and told her what had happened, she looked at me with this very sexy sad face and said maybe another time then because she had to get home to her children. On our way back, I stopped where I fixed the tire and found my wallet right where it fell out of my pocket. She leaned over the seat in the car and kissed my cheek and said maybe next time.
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Submitted by Too much head, Age 24
This isn’t a story of how not to get laid, this is a story about how not to get laid a second time.
I had a crush on this guy, small one, but a crush. He made me laugh. And he was always talking about how long it’d been since he had sex. So I decided to sleep with him. I offered him a place to stay when he was in town, did a little flirting, and then he was off. He took my pants down, and proceeded to rub the top of his bald head against my vagina. I was not sure how to respond, so I just sort of laid there. Then he started having sex… I’d say with me, but he didn’t look at me, talk to me, pretty much ignored I was there. I started to have a panic attack, so I asked him to stop for a moment. He did. Then he started again. I asked again, for him to stop. He did, then immediately started again. I finally pushed him away, rather freaked out and feeling like a sex doll rather than a person, and told him I was done for the night. He shrugged, and started finishing himself off, on my breasts, while I was crying.
His advances the next morning were met with complete disapproval, and I finally had to be blunt. “I am never sleeping with you again.”
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Submitted by Stewart Fox, Age 29, Los Angeles
After a wonderful April and a spectacular March, May has been strangely silent here at HNTGL. Just when I started to think that more and more people were visiting the site and submitting stories, the flow of new material suddenly and mysteriously stopped. Why? I’m not sure. I’ve long since given up trying to understand the logic behind when people submit stories and when they don’t.
But as I wait for my readers to once again share their tales of intrigue and humor, I thought I’d submit an entry myself. You see, my inbox hasn’t exactly been empty these past few weeks. I’ve had quite a lot of e-mail — only, of the spam variety. Spam irks me because I don’t understand it. Can spam actually be successful? Do spammers actually make money? How? Who, in this day and age, is foolish enough to actually give a spammer their money? The nonsensical spam irks me the most, the random letters and words that don’t even attempt to sell any bogus products, the meaningless sludge that pollutes without purpose.
But the most amusing spam is the penis spam. And that stuff seems very much in the spirit of this website. For anyone who actually responds to such spam is clearly barking up a tree that is planted in Notgettinglaidanytimethiscenturyville, USA. So, without further ado, some penis spam subject lines that I’ve received this year:
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Submitted by Mosa, Age 31, San Francisco, CA
I am an old married lady – almost five years, baby. I am always looking for interesting ways to spice things up (translation: get laid). A while ago, I decided it would be fun to do a strip tease for my husband. Being the nerd that I am, I got a “how to” strip tease book from the public library. I even read it. After a week or so of practice, I felt confident enough to try out my new moves on my man.
I chose a sexy song, established some mood lighting and sat my husband down. I wriggled and squirmed and danced about. I moved slowly and touched my body just like the book told me to. I opened my eyes a few times and was gratified to see my husband smiling and staring back at me. I slowly pulled my shirt over my head letting it get sloppily tangled in my hair. I writhed on the floor as I stretched and pulled at my bra. Damn! I was hot!
As I rose to my feet, I began to unbutton my jeans. I rocked my hips gently back and forth and side-to-side as I shimmied the jeans down over my ass. I let my husband get glimpse of my lacy g-string underneath. As my waistband reached my calves, I gave a dramatic kick and sent my jeans flying across the room in the direction of my husband. My husband, who had been silent up until this point, let out a sharp cry. Wow! I must really be turning him on; he’s not usually a screamer. I must be the sex goddess I always knew I was!
I opened my eyes to take a peak at my husband, expecting to see him ecstatic with lust. Instead he was doubled over clutching his shinbone. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. Some years earlier, my husband had purchased a pocketknife for me. I wore it religiously in the right hip pocket of my jeans. In all my prep prior to dancing, I hadn’t thought to remove the knife. When I sent my jeans flying across the room, my knife had become dislodged. It went hurdling through the air straight into my husband’s shinbone.
I tried to kiss away his pain and go on with my dance, but it was no good. The mood was lost. My husband, and his bruised shin did not appreciate my knife throwing skills. Ah well. It took me years of marriage, but I finally learned that my husband is not a masochist.
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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 lola, age 35, mouseville, FL
I had been married for eight years when my husband up & left for… I dunno, greener pastures or something. I was a 32yo MILF who’d finished licking her wounds and crying like a whipped puppy, and had found a great 21yo guy online. Before you pass judgment and make all the “cougar” comments, we were together for a year before I reconciled with my husband. I was only hoping for something casual, too, and got a bit more.
We met on the world of internet dating, and he sent me pics of himself when he was in the Israeli army at the age of 18. I thought that the pics were no more than a year old as he’d just moved to the States. We decided on a chain restaurant known for its great drinks, and met. He was easily 45 pounds heavier than in the pics, but I was OK and decided not to bail on him.
I still wasn’t sold all the way through dinner, but then he flipped the Sex Switch and did the whole “Don Juan DeMarco Finger Trick” (just look for the “restaurant scene” and you’ll know what I’m talking about) and we were back off to his place as soon as I screamed, “CHECK, PLEASE!”
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Submitted by Oblivious, Age 26, The Netherlands
I met this pretty young girl at sports, but didn’t really pay her much attention. We basically never said a word to each other for half a year, maybe a year or so. Then one evening, the group went out to a club, and all of the sudden, she came on to me quite aggressively. There was some close/erotic dancing, some kissing, but then she had to go, as she had to ride home with somebody.
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Submitted by James, Age 29
This story is not nearly as funny as most on this site, but I think it’s got something important to say.
I was dating this girl, Tina. She was amazing. Big brown eyes, long blonde hair, hourglass figure. Not only was she beautiful, but she was well-spoken, sweet and intelligent. Even after a couple of dates, I was falling for her. Hard.
One thing bothered me though. At every meal, she would order a salad and water and bust out her diet book to write down absolutely everything she touched to her lips. She even wrote down the number of popcorn kernels she ate when we went to the movies! I asked her why she did this and she said that it was just to keep tabs on what she ate. I thought it was weird, as she was an athletic-looking trim girl, but I let it go.
About a month after I first saw her, I knew that it was going to be “THE NIGHT” when I picked her up. We had a sexually charged dinner and I was just aching to get the bill and get out of there to take this goddess home with me.
I brought her back to my apartment and started kissing her right away, moving straight to my bedroom. She undid my pants and pulled off my shirt. I started to unzip her dress, but then she jumped up to turn off the lights. She got back into bed, and I unzipped her dress. She squirmed out of it and dove under the covers.
I put my hand onto her belly. “Please don’t touch me there” she whispered. I slid my hands down her thigh. “Please, not there.” Her arms. Everywhere.
I got off her and asked her how I was supposed to make love to her if she didn’t let me touch her. She burst into tears about what a “fat cow” she was and how she didn’t want me to see her disgusting “rolls”. It made me so sad to see such a gorgeous wonderful girl so crippled by her low self-esteem.
I spent the rest of the night hugging her close and letting her cry. I’m still with her, and I’m really glad that we didn’t have sex that night because it was the most intimate thing either of us had ever done.
Trust me, ladies, you’re beautiful. There is nothing more beautiful than a naked woman, no matter what she weighs, no matter what her flaws are. From pin-thin to rubanesque, have confidence in yourself and your body and don’t let your weight control you.
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Submitted by “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Age 24, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
I’m not sure how to describe the place. It was a typical street outside a bar that played loud heavy-metal music and was packed with depressed teenager in black, which I was at the time. I was there sharing beers with a friend. While I was still sober, a girl came to talk to me and said she thought I was cute.
I didn’t respond. Not that I was embarrassed or anything, but I didn’t find her very attractive.
In response to my silence she said, “You don’t liked me. Okay,” and left.
Many beers later (and I do mean MANY) I saw the same girl and told my friend “She’s ugly as hell, but I’ll take her.” I tapped my friend on the shoulder and went to talk to her. I don’t think she gave me time to finish a whole sentence before kissing me. After this kiss, she took me by the arm, heading to the corner.
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(68 votes, average: 3.94 out of 5)