With an ex...
As baw_bag's story reminded me, making sweet love whilst the painters are in, is often unpleasant.

A few years back, whilst seeing my first proper girlfriend, we were getting a bit frisky on the sofa downstairs when she decided she wanted me there and then.

As I knew she was painting the town red, I was adamant that my hobbit was not venturing into the crack of doom on such an afternoon, as memories came flooding back of a previous experience where she forgot to take her plug out and a long time was spent retrieving it... *shudders* (and no I do not understand the logistics myself, she was tiny and I am definitely not)

But she kept going on and on til I gave up and made sure she gave herself a wipe and removed the previous occupant. So we went at it a while on the floor, a bit of rolling and such. Some fun was had, not by me, she was rubbish... Finished up just in time as her mum got home, so I scurried upstairs and left the ex to tidy up as any loving boyfriend shit-scared of parentals would.

All was fine, nothing was out of place I thought. Her mum called us down for dinner a while later and I sat and ate my jacket potato with relish as it was the most interesting part of my day, had a quick chat with the mum and then me and the ex scurried back upstairs.

"Oh...My...FUCKING...GOD!"

I spin around... "WHAT?!" I yell in utter shit-your-pants-surprise.

"Your....your back!"

Yes, I had rolled over onto a used tampon and the back of my shirt was utterly covered in blood, then I had sat and had dinner with the mother whilst not having a clue.

I never thought it was possible to die from embarrassment but I'm certain I came within a flea's whisker.

and I'm certain a few flea's came in their own.

Apologies for length, I don't know how she took it with one already in either.
(RizzJizz doesn't do life., Fri 8 Aug 2008, 5:00, Reply)