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That Time I Thought I Killed A Guy

Love & Sex

That Time I Thought I Killed A Guy

That Time I Thought I Killed A Guy

“This article contains explicit material, please proceed with caution.”

Max* was the first guy I slept with after I broke up with my boyfriend back in December 2014. Enter January 2015, a new year, a new me, and new hook-ups to be had! Well, Max and I had known each other previously, and had been chatting since November. I of course was very clear to him that I had a boyfriend, and let him know that he and I could hangout, but there wasn’t going to be any funny business. (This is one thing I’m very strict on – it may seem to you that I have loose morals, but I’m actually extremely loyal to anyone I’m in a relationship with, and cheating just has no allure for me nor do I condone it).

So, once my now-ex boyfriend and I were over. Done. Finite, you better believe I was gonna get some action the easiest way I could get it. The easiest way I saw fit was to seduce this guy who I knew had been crushing on me for a few months. So. Let me describe him to you. He was reasonably aesthetically pleasing, 28 years old, and from Ireland. These last two bits interested me the most. First off, I was like dayum. An ‘older’ man… I bet he has some sexual expertise up his sleeve that will shock and excite! Secondly, he was Irish. Now, this could totally be some stereotype that I’ve made up in my head largely due to the film P.S. I Love You, but in my mind I always think of Irish men as super manly and assertive in bed. Put these two factors together, and I was about 100% sure that this was gonna be some mind-blowing sex.

So, we start texting back and forth, and I ask him when we’re gonna hangout. He replies that I could come over sometime and we could watch a movie. Ladies – BEWARE. ‘Watch a movie’ always means ‘a good excuse to cop a feel’. It never actually means watching a movie. So depending on what you’re after that particular night, keep this in mind.

Well, I was after The Sex, so I readily agreed to ‘moviewatching’, and practically skipped over to his flat the next evening. He greeted me with a beer, and we sat down on his couch and ‘contemplated what movie to watch’. When I say ‘we contemplated what movie to watch’ though, unfortunately I literally mean we contemplated what movie to watch! Apparently he actually wanted to watch a movie, but I was willing to play these silly games. Moviewatchin’ time it is, then! Good thing we decided to watch the film in his bed, I thought…

Someway or another, we came to the conclusion to watch The Wolf of Wall Street, which I hadn’t previously seen. Little did I know it was a THREE HOUR LONG EVENT AND ALSO CONTAINED THE MOST SEX SCENES IN ONE FILM KNOWN TO HUMANKIND! 1.5 hours into it I was getting really restless, and frankly, ready to turn up the heat in the metaphorical kitchen (of love).

I tried nudging him ‘accidentally’ with my elbow, and then again with my foot, but he wasn’t havin’ it. We were literally lying next to each other in his bed (comfy, for the record), hands at each other’s sides, WATCHING THE MOVIE. Damn. Oh well, I didn’t have much to do the next day, so I inhaled deeply and calmed myself down by thinking “this is all going to be worth it”.

The movie ended, and long story short, we flirted around a bit before he leaned in and kissed me. “Ah”, I thought. “And it begins…”

Well, the kissing lasted a relatively short amount of time before the clothes began (mysteriously!) sliding off. So, technically, the foreplay wasn’t the best, but I was willing to overlook this because Max was 28 and Irish. Ohhh baby.

Then, the sex began.

Let me just say that, I have (even now, after multiple different hook-ups) never experienced sex so boring. He moved on top of me like a lethargic sloth probably does to its mate (and he was way less cute so he didn’t even have that going for him), whilst the bed creaked at systematic intervals. There was no spontaneity, no switching of positions even; NOT TO MENTION that he had a slightly larger than average nose, and this got in the way of his kissing me. This clearly had something to do with impacting his breathing, because the whole time he was lazily pushing himself into me, he was wheezing in a most unsexy manner.

You know how stereotypical ‘nerds’ in cartoons breathe? When they kinda have that ‘mouth-breather’ thing goin’ on? Well, that’s exactly what Max sounded like. No joke.

At this point I would have rather been reading a chemistry textbook front to back, but I grinned and bore it. It was all over rather quickly, and with a great final wheeze he finished.

He finished. He was done. He had come. SO THEN WHY WAS HE STILL ON TOP OF ME?! He literally was lying on top of me wheezing softly for about 2 minutes before I summoned the courage to ask him “Hey, Max? You okay?”

No response.

I patted his back gently while cooing “How ya doin’?”

No response.

So, I decided to be a bit naughty and run my fingernails down his back in a sexy way, to kind of signal to him that I wanted him to get the **** off me. I did just that.

Which I guessed shocked him out of his stupor, for he shot up off of me, almost full-on into the air, and landed not on the other side of me (on the bed), but on the floor. He had Fallen. Off. The. Bed. 

“OH MY GOD I’VE KILLED HIM”, I thought. “I’VE REALLY DONE IT THIS TIME”!

Tentatively, I peeked over the edge of the bed and saw him lying on his bedroom floor naked, with the condom still on, WHEEZING…

I tried calling out, “You okay down there, Max?!” 

No response. Just wheezing.

At this point, I couldn’t take it any longer. This was soooo offing weird, and pitiful, and just, so the opposite of what I thought was gonna happen – So I just burst out laughing. I was naked, on his bed, while he was lying on the floor, doing his ‘nerd breathing exercises’ or whatever the balls that was, and I was cracking up. Oh well!

After about 5 minutes (I kid you not), he picked himself off the floor and without a word, went into the bathroom to clean himself up I guess? He returned, and I sat there, fully awaiting an explanation as to the lunacy that had just transpired… but there was none. No acknowledgement of what had happened… No “By the way, I have asthma”, no “I’m sorry I’m weird”. Nope.

Well, you can bet your britches I was outta there as fast as I could be. I was so scarred, so grossed out even, that the image of him lying naked on the floor, wheezing, still haunts me like a sullen ghost today. Talk about EW.

 

*Name has been changed

Written By Tinderella

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