The story goes, I was a tender 16 years of age, shy in the ways of women and song, but a fairly talented amateur skateboarder. My father, recently divorced, was about to leave on his second legitimate date with the woman he had a strange sexless affair with over a decade previous. Somehow, they thought it would be cool if I met her slutty 15 year old daughter and we became best friends or something. So they brought her over to my dad's apartment and left.
If I remember right, things were awkward until she found my dad's stash of tequila under the sink. Whereupon she poured a drinking glass and we shared it. I hadn't drank at all before, strangely enough -- only having smoked the weed (much like a Catholic teenager might be more likely to have anal sex than cast off their virginity the normal way) and so I proceeded to get rather drunk, but not know that I was drunk.
We got naked, she laid on her back, I got on top of her, and freaked out that I couldn't feel my penis. By which I inferred that she must have had a lot of sex to be wide as a house and considering that we weren't using condoms, there was no other logical conclusion than that I was going to die of the AIDS! I freaked out, got off her, put on my swimming trunks and went swimming.
We didn't really talk at all after that.
My dad married her mom a few months later, and I moved into a punk house.
I suppose it would be weird seeing her now at family christmases and such, but I've ignored her for so long that communication between us consists of a disinterested, "Hi." Since we were kids, she's had three abortions, and two children (both by different fathers.)
I heard from my sister that she once had sex with a guy while he was sitting on the toilet, pooping.
More importantly to my 16 year old self though, my friends all thought I was cool -- and they discussed endlessly whether I would, in fact, die of the AIDS.
LankaKitten wants me to stop telling her things. Lucky for her, I've run out of things to tell. Everything from here on out is new tellings full of shock and amusement.
If I remember right, things were awkward until she found my dad's stash of tequila under the sink. Whereupon she poured a drinking glass and we shared it. I hadn't drank at all before, strangely enough -- only having smoked the weed (much like a Catholic teenager might be more likely to have anal sex than cast off their virginity the normal way) and so I proceeded to get rather drunk, but not know that I was drunk.
We got naked, she laid on her back, I got on top of her, and freaked out that I couldn't feel my penis. By which I inferred that she must have had a lot of sex to be wide as a house and considering that we weren't using condoms, there was no other logical conclusion than that I was going to die of the AIDS! I freaked out, got off her, put on my swimming trunks and went swimming.
We didn't really talk at all after that.
My dad married her mom a few months later, and I moved into a punk house.
I suppose it would be weird seeing her now at family christmases and such, but I've ignored her for so long that communication between us consists of a disinterested, "Hi." Since we were kids, she's had three abortions, and two children (both by different fathers.)
I heard from my sister that she once had sex with a guy while he was sitting on the toilet, pooping.
More importantly to my 16 year old self though, my friends all thought I was cool -- and they discussed endlessly whether I would, in fact, die of the AIDS.
LankaKitten wants me to stop telling her things. Lucky for her, I've run out of things to tell. Everything from here on out is new tellings full of shock and amusement.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
fractured:
What parts of the GUI stuff are hard?
strongmad:
That's so much better than my virginity-losing story.