Well, well, well. Welcome back. I knew you’d come. The time has drawn to answer the question: did she or didn’t she do the nasty with Tom on their 24-hour third date?
So come with me on this ride. I’ll skip the boring details about the pizza and the movie and get right down to the nitty gritty.
We were sitting on Tom’s sofa pretending to watch Juno (we all know popping in a DVD is just pretense for “we’re about to get busy”) when we started kissing.
Now, before the date started I honestly wasn’t sure if I was going to sleep with him or not. I was going to wait and see how things went, and if it felt right, I’d go for it.
The moment our tongues touched I felt a thunder from down under and I knew I wanted him. He was being all gentlemanly so I took matters into my own hands. I climbed on top, straddled him and gave him one of my most sensual kisses. Hey, it’s been four months and I like sex, motherfuckers.
We moved to the bedroom, made out some more and began to disrobe.
Whenever I start dating a new guy, the inaugural penis unveiling is always an exciting event. The unzipping-of-the-pants and pulling-out-of-the-dong always makes me feel like a kid at Christmas. I’ve been waiting and wondering for weeks — now lemme see what’s in the package!
Will it be an anaconda or an earthworm? Will it be fat, skinny, long, short, curved to the right, curved to the left, big head, little head, veiny, wrinkly, what, WHAT?
I have seen a dick or 30 in my life, and I can attest that no two are the same. So tell me, Tom, what lies beneath?
I’m talking holy Trojan Magnum XXL, Batman! I am quite petite and was seriously afraid this guy might split me in two. And truth be told, I’m not really a big cock aficionado. If I had my pick from a buffet-o-dick, I’d probably select a medium-sized one.
I’ve always viewed giant penises as more of a novelty than an indicant of hot sex. As in, “WOW, look at the size of that thing! Now, get it away from me!” They’re fun to marvel at but the sex isn’t always better and there is often pain involved.
Nonetheless, Tom was gentle and it was actually going pretty well. For a while.
We were going at it for several minutes until I felt what every woman has experienced at some point in her sexual life. All of a sudden, I was making love to al dente pasta.
I never know how to handle this. I used to get upset, thinking I just wasn’t turning him on, but I’ve read enough men’s magazines to know that it probably had nothing to do with me. I wore the sexy underthings and he kept telling me I looked hot, so I didn’t think it was my fault.
I was supportive and understanding. I told him I’d heard those drugs could in fact cause such reactions (I had) and we kissed and cuddled. But damn. I wanted to get my freak on.
I saw him again on Wednesday and we decided to give it another go. This time, he had no problem staying in the game… he just couldn’t bring it home. We tried a few things but alas, his wad was not to be shot. In fact, he said he hadn’t ejaculated in two weeks, even through self-love. The medication was clearly tampering with his system.
On the up side, I got a nice long romp out of it, but I felt bad for him. I want my man to shoot his wad. What can I say? I’m a giver.
It’s a bit of a quandary because he says the meds are helping him, but he wants to stop taking them if this is the result. We’ll keep trying but the decision ultimately has to be his. It’s not my place to make decisions for someone else’s mental health… or gargantuan penis.
So long story short: yep, I got laid!
Categories: True Story