Handle me with care...

It's me again! I was talking with my aunt, a fellow blogger (who should NEVER, EVER READ THIS), about pageviews, of all things, and it made me realize that I actually spent more time checking statcounter.org than I did writing in this blog. Which is absolutely ridiculous, because a. nothing I write here is particularly interesting to anyone besides me, b. I started this blog to have somewhere to write where people WOULDN'T be reading it, and c. my pageviews don't actually fluctuate whether or not I write here, bwahahah.

Anyway, just to give anyone desperate enough to still look at this SOMETHING to read (tee hee), here's a post I made a while ago in the livejournal community bad_sex. A week in the life of Sam. Enjoy ever so much.

So this past week, I went to the Jersey shore with a friend, a guy I'd hooked up with before, and his friends. To get there, I had to drive from my house up to my friend's house outside Philadelphia, park my car there, and drive with him down the shore. Since I'm not really a morning eater, and we didn't stop for lunch, I was understandably quite hungry when we got to the house. We attempted to make some burgers (and by we, I mean they, because I'm not especially domestic), but the grill wouldn't stay on and it was taking forever, so out of frustration I just started drinking. Champagne. On an empty stomach. Yeah...

I'm not a lightweight by any stretch of the imagination, but after a bottle and a half and no food, I was extreeeeemely drunk. Like... EXTREEEMELY. All five of us are horny (mostly) single gay boys, so pretty soon the clothes start coming off, thanks to a little friend I like to call "Strip Catch Phrase." Right about this point... is where my memory of the night ends. Yay!

I wake up the next morning naked, which is not altogether surprising, given what I remember of the previous night. What IS surprising is that I am in a room with the boy I'd previously hooked up with, who is also naked, with the door locked. Oops. We rejoin the rest of our little group, me with a THROBBING hangover, and all chuckle a bit, except I don't really, because... I don't know what happened the night before! Eventually I get the boy alone and get him to give me some answers, and it turns out that I was so drunk I a. couldn't even get it up and b. fell asleep while he was going down on me. STRIKE ONE!

The next night, I do actually eat prior to beginning the drinking, so I manage to stay coherent and non-blacked out! Kudos, me! We have another booze-soaked night, with plenty of sexual tension (as two of the other three people in the house were also somewhat secretly hooking up with each other), and eventually people break off to their respective rooms. Naturally, the boy from the night before and I head off to our same room, with me excited because he made it very clear that he only goes all the way on the third "date," and this would be that date, right? WRONG. Apparently my inebriated inability to keep an erection doesn't count as a "date," so we were again being somewhat limited in our... activities, shall we say.

Slightly disappointed, I pick up where we had left off the night before (as far as I know), but before long, the fact that I've had sevvveral highly carbonated beers in the past few days is catching up to me, and my stomach is gurgling. I'm trying to keep my sphincter closed, but it's like trying to cover up a hose with your thumb. Sooner or later, something has to just let go, and this night, it was sooner. So as he's balls-deep on my cock, I let a fart rip loose... directly into his face. Andddd that is the end of the sexytime for the night. STRIKE TWO!

So I return home from the beach, turn around, and head up to New York the next day to visit my aunt and uncle, who live in Hoboken but think of themselves as New Yorkers. I had been internet-flirting with this guy doing a summer program at Parsons (although I felt a little dirty because he's only seventeen), so I met up with him and some of his friends to go sake bombing. He drinks two beers and two shots of sake and is WASTED (which shouldn't be that surprising, considering... umm, he's seventeen), so we head back to his sexy sexy dorm room.

Now, it isn't that he's especially bad at anything, but he is a bit sloppy in general, and to be honest, blow jobs and hand jobs don't tend to get me off very often as it is. However, although for once I remembered to bring a condom, I'm not really in a bottoming mood, and he's never bottomed before (which isn't a bad thing, per se, I just didn't feel like dealing with that right then). So... I ask to just straddle him and get myself off, which he agrees to. I'm about to come, so I ask if it's okay if I finish on his chest. As he's saying yes, I come hard (it had been a few days since I'd last gotten off) and hit him DIRECTLY IN THE EYE. He took it pretty well, responding to my apologizing with "Ow... It's okay, don't worry about it... ow... no really, (ow) don't worry about it!" So... STRIKE THREE! I'M OUT!