Archive for the 'Humiliation' Category
Submitted by Brian, Age 24, Boston, MA
I’m in college. Diane is the hottest girl I’ve ever dated, and things couldn’t be going better. Tonight is gonna be the night we finally have sex, I just know it! We meet for dinner and drinks. She’s looking fine and so am I. My best friend Becca helped me pick out these uber cool linen pants and I’m wearing my silk boxers for the occasion. Pretty soon, though, I realize the problem with this outfit. I’ve got a hard on that just won’t quit, and there is absolutely NO WAY to hide it. The more I try to talk myself down, the harder I get. We leave dinner and walk across campus. I’m dancing like Michael Jackson to try not to let Diane or anyone else notice the all too obvious bulge in my loose thin slacks.
We hit up a party. There will be many people I know there. This is going to be a disaster. As soon as we enter the door, I manage to slip into a bathroom and take a moment to myself. I’ve tried talking my little friend down, I’ve tried a few drinks. Utterly out of options, I decide to take matters into my own hands and I discreetly whack off into the toilet. There. Problem solved. I wait till my friend is grounded and I reemerge into the party.
But suddenly Diane doesn’t want to stay at the party anymore. She wants to head back to her room. I oblige. Can you see where this is going yet? That’s right. We get undressed, ready to have sex, and I . . . can’t. My drinking has turned me into a one shot wonder, and that one shot was fired back in the bathroom by myself. The ensuing battle with the gods of refractory vengeance was ugly at best. What could I say to Diane? Every excuse sounded lame and was. To make matters worse, this ended up being our last date. I never got a chance to prove to Diane that I actually wasn’t the world’s worst lover. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.
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Submitted by Sarah, Age 31, Philadelphia, PA
I met this marine biologist (yes, a marine biologist!) on match.com, and he seemed like a real catch: cute, funny, sincere. We exchanged a few emails, then he left town for a month on some research expedition before we could actually meet. While he was away, he emailed me, and I emailed him back. Soon, it got to the point where we were writing each other pretty much every day. It was fun and exciting to have this romantic pen-pal, and we both looked forward to finally meeting once he returned to town.
On date night, he arrived at my apartment ten minutes early. There was a little surprise on my part when I first opened the door. He wasn’t bad-looking exactly, but his internet picture was definitely a best-case scenario. So…no instant fireworks, but that was okay. I felt I had a good guy here, and I needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.
But first, I had to finish getting ready. I excused myself and returned to the bathroom. When I opened the door five minutes later, I found him leaning against the sofa waiting for me — BUCK NAKED.
“I just couldn’t wait any longer,” he said.
I suppose I should have been scared or freaked, but for whatever reason, I just cracked up. He looked ridiculous standing there with his average schlub body, naked as a jaybird. It struck me as really silly, and I could not stop laughing. He got VERY red in the face, colossally embarrassed. For some reason, I said, “no, it’s not you” — but of course it totally was.
He put on his clothes with great speed, and apologized profusely. Neither of us quite knew what to do at that point, so we ended up going to dinner as originally planned. The rest of the date wasn’t technically awful, but his bold disrobing cast a pall of embarrassment over the whole affair, and I was very happy when we skipped desert and said an early goodnight.
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(The Dangers of Alcohol: Part 3 — where our protagonist once again learns: Screw the sauce or be screwed by the sauce. — SF)
Submitted by TooCool, Age 36, Traverse City, MI
I was in my mid-20s, and thought I was just the coolest bitch ever. Just graduated a prestigious college. Big fish, small pond. I met a guy at work with an ego greater than/equal to mine, and I tried like hell to bag him.
We had had a one-nighter, which, fueled by way too much alcohol, was forgettable. Er, forgotten. I wanted another chance.
Long story short — I had a party at my parents’ house on the lake, about 40 miles from the city. It was a pain in the ass to get him to come all the way out there for the bash, but he did finally show up, with another cool friend.
By the time he arrived, I was so far gone on booze and hash that I made a total ass of myself. I allowed him to degrade my assembled local friends — and I joined in. I was unhinged.
Fast forward an hour or so, I puked all over the place. He and his friend made a hasty retreat while I vomited. I returned to the party to find everyone gone.
How cool is that?
P.S. Ironic ending — I am now happily married to Cool Guy’s childhood best friend — who has let me know in no uncertain terms that NO ONE who actually knows Cool Guy thinks he’s cool. He’s actually a whiny, insecure heroin addict (And the probable reason I don’t remember the one-nighter is because his dick is so small that it was like throwing a hotdog down a hallway).
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(Part 2 in our educational series about the dangers of alcohol. Part 3 to come in a few days. Listen and learn, children! — SF)
Submitted by Ron, Age 29, Austin, TX
It’s New Year’s Eve, 2006, and I’ve got a night planned with a very attractive co-worker of mine. She and I have been out enough for me to know I like her, and for her to discover I’m not quite her type… but it’s New Year’s, dammit! Nobody likes to be alone and neither of us had been intimate in ages. It had been two years for her, and almost five years for me. This was going to be a good night and I’ll be damned if I was going to let anything get in the way.
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Submitted by Dawn, Age 24, NYC
How Not to Get Laid? Simple.
Have the third date right outta the books: Simple sexy dress that wows him, a dab of perfume in the cleavage that’s purposely showing, candlelit dinner, delicious wine, flirtatious talk and under-the-table-teasing… dessert……..
Both hot, both turned on as all hell, you somehow make it back to your place, up the stairs, and as he goes down on you, have him find out with his tongue that you weren’t keeping track of your cycle and you hadn’t noticed that you started to bleed an hour earlier. Is that what was in my panties? Not exactly the wetness he was lookin’ for.
Say good night, Gracie.
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Submitted by Trevor, Age 20, New Jersey
I got into an accident on my skateboard and broke the fall with my face. Sucked, but I didn’t think too much of it at the time. Later on, I’m making out with my girlfriend, and my tooth comes out in her mouth. Yeah, that kind of killed the mood. Definitely didn’t get laid that night.
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Submitted by Paul, Age 36, Baltimore, MD
I’m in high school. My girlfriend Laura is driving. She parks her Toyota on top of a hill in the middle of the woods. You could call this make-out point except I don’t think anyone else knows about this place except us. At last, we’re alone, two virgins, and the moment is right.
We start making out furiously, and it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced in my 17 years on earth. So hot. So incredibly hot. The parking brake keeps poking me in the side, but I push it down; nothing is getting in between Laura and me now. I climb on top of her, and our limbs intertwine with a passion I’ve only dreamed about up until that point.
… which is probably why neither of us noticed the car slowly rolling backwards. Until …
“Holy shit!”
Suddenly, the Toyota is in the woods and rolling backwards downhill — FAST! God bless, Laura, her foot somehow found the brake before we killed ourselves. But not before the rear of the car had sustained major damage. We came to rest with the back fender hooked around a tree trunk, and we were stuck.
Laura tried starting the car, I got out and pushed, but it was muddy and the car was not going anywhere. For a fleeting moment I thought, “hey we’re stuck, we might as well have the sex we were planning on having anyway,” but one look at Laura’s panic-stricken face and I wisely shelved that plan. The rest of the night only got worse. We had to walk for three miles to find a house where we could call our parents, who then called the police and a tow truck. We gave elaborate explanations for how we happened to be stranded in the woods so suspiciously, so late at night, but it couldn’t have been too hard for anyone to guess what had really happened. We were both grounded for a teenage eternity, forced to pay for repairs, and prevented from seeing each other for so long that it would be more than six months before we finally managed to have sex with each other.
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(Not every story has a funny punchline. I like this one for that reason. A bit more explicit than our standard fare, but also more risky and revealing. Check it out. — SF)
Submitted by Chuck Morgan, 46, Putnam’s Landing, CT
My wife rarely wore a bra and when she did, it was a flimsy sort of affair, not like this push-up thing Rachel wears. Or at least that’s what I think this contraption is because I’ve never felt anything like it. It has metal rings about the cups that do a fine job of holding up a breast to maintain an inviting and sexy shape, but it’s also prevents fingers from slipping in. I try from the bottom. I try from the top, but those breasts are sealed in as if they are under the protection of Homeland Security. We’re still kissing and there’s no way to maneuver about for further reconnaissance, to spot a weakness for entry.
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Submitted by Tom, Age 23, New York
I had a crush on this chick from work, and one day I managed to actually get her back to my apartment. A little conversation, some vino, and we start making out. What a lucky bastard I am! This girl is amazingly hot and totally … well let’s just say: enthusiastic. I can hardly believe it, but it looks like we’re actually gonna sleep together.
Then her phone rings. She answers it. Short pause. Annoying … but, hey, we go right back to making out, so it’s cool.
Then another call. She answers it again. This is less cool. But at least it’s brief. And she apologizes.
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Submitted by Rich, Age 26, Oakland, CA
I was in college and really hot for this girl. We’d hooked up and teetered on the brink of full-blown sex, but the timing of her monthly cycle had prevented us from going all the way. Then I skipped town — more bad timing — for an extended Spring Break in Russia. For the two weeks I was gone, I fantasized about her constantly. We exchanged a couple flirty e-mails. I was crazy with anticipation, and I arranged to see her on the very night I got back. I couldn’t WAIT to get it on with this girl.
Only one thing I hadn’t counted on: jetlag. My last night in St. Petersburg, I partied straight through till morning. My logic was that this would make it easier to sleep on the plane. No such luck. Door to door it was a twenty hour day of travel, and I hardly slept a wink on any of my three flights. I got home barely an hour before I was set to have my date, and I was running on pure adrenaline.
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Submitted by Devon, Age 19, Miami, FL
If you lean in to kiss a girl and then notice she wears the same perfume as your Mom, it’s probably best not to mention it to her like I once did. Your girl might say something like: “that’s really weird.” And then you might say something like, “nah, that’s okay. It’s a sexy smell.” And then, you know what? You might just be spending the night with your right hand. I’m just saying . . . keep your mouth shut!
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I went on a cross-country teen tour for a couple summers in high school, and the second time around, I got lucky. Her name was Amber, and she was a total firecracker of a girlfriend: hot, adventurous, and horny, every high school boy’s fantasy. Problem was, this tour was heavily chaperoned, and finding time alone with Amber was difficult. Most nights, we stayed at youth hostels or in cabins, and the boys and girls were strictly separated. But as luck would have it, we had a couple nights ahead of camping in the woods. An ingenious plan was hatched.
Amber would be spending the night in a two person tent with her friend Sara, who just happened to be going out with my friend and tent-mate Matt. We agreed that at two in the morning, after everyone was asleep, Maria would slip out of her tent and sneak into ours. I would then sneak into Amber’s tent, and the two couples would spend the next three hours getting down and dirty. Condoms were purchased in anticipation of the campout, and the four of us could hardly contain our excitement.
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(36 votes, average: 4.47 out of 5)