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Sex

OUR BODIES, OUR JUNK WIENERS

Last week, we asked for gross sex stories in exchange for a copy of Sex: Our Bodies, Our Junk, and now we are ready to share the winning entries with you. Many of the stories were grossified accounts of mundane things like not getting it up and having sex with fat girls (the horror!), a couple were clearly made up, but some of the others made us dry heave so hard our eyes clouded over and a trickle of sweat started streaming down the nape of our neck. Good job. The best three stories—or worst, depending on your point of view—are below.

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WINNING ENTRIES:

1.) At one time or another, we have all reached that point in our lives when we haven't had sex for a while. It happens for different reasons: maybe a break-up, maybe stress, or maybe we just didn't realize that eight months had gone by. But on that day when your mind awakens to the concept that a P has not been put in your V for a long, long time, things get a little weird. You think about sex ALL of the time. It's all you see around you. It's all you can think about. And you get to that dangerous state where it's best not to be drunk around your friends or coworkers….we've all been there, right? The worst part about this state of absolute desperation is that you are immediately unattractive to normal men. No matter how normal and natural you try to appear, they must be able to sense it. Your pheromones must be putting it out there, and you begin that slow spirit death known as "No one will ever have sex with me ever again, I might as well just get another cat." It is in weak moments like this that we make
that fatal mistake, and turn to the internet.

I met a man on a dating website. He was nice, divorced, not terrible to look at, and seemed fairly normal. We began the normal process of chatting and emailing. After an acceptable passage of time, we met for dinner, and afterward humped like, well, people who hadn't had sex in a while. It wasn't terrible. He had a very decent wang, and was covered in body hair
like a barbarian. It was kind of manly, in an old fashioned, rugged way. After this sexual encounter, he admitted his secret fetish to me: that he liked for women to wear strap-ons and fuck him. "HUH," I thought to myself. "That's kind of interesting. Ya know, I've always wondered what that would be like…" (Dum dum duuuummmmmm!)

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So, the next time I saw him, I wore a strap on and I fucked my first dude. It was okay. Honestly, it was all novelty, and I tend to be sort of clinical during the first time I do anything, observing events like a neutral scientist jotting notes on a clipboard, rather than allowing myself
to be absorbed in the moment. All I could really focus on was how submissive he suddenly became, begging me to pound his pretty pussy, to punish his little whore hole. It was freaking hilarious. I cannot really dirty talk myself, and while he might have been looking for a dominatrix, I am not one. Apparently my laughter at him worked, as he liked to be
degraded, so I was unintentionally filling this role for him.

Why I saw him again, I'll attribute to the memory of eight months without sex. But the next two times I saw him, it was all sex for him, no sex for me. He continued to cry like a pretty little princess, and after the second time, I called bullshit on the whole arrangement. I didn't get anything out of fucking him, I wasn't getting mine, and we weren't going to end up as a
couple, so thanks a lot, but I'm done.

Why I let him talk me into one more go, I'll attribute to me being a retard. He kept calling me his goddess, and telling me how amazing I was, and all sorts of bullshit, but it worked. I agreed to fuck him one last time. The day of the arranged meeting, I had a headache and was tempted to cancel. But, I thought to myself, that will only draw this on longer. I can just go tonight and be done with it. I show up at his house, and the scented candles and cheap wine do not help my headache. I put on my "outfit"--a corset, a harness and the big dildo, and my knee high boots. And I get to fuckin' him. But obviously, my heart was just not into it on this night, and no matter how much he cried at me to punish him harder, I couldn't give it 100 percent. After trying several of his favorite positions with no getting off, he asked me to lay on my back so he could just bounce on top of me, doing all the work himself. This seemed like a good idea at the time.

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So there he is, bouncing on top of me, and my head hurts, and I don't want to be there, and good god, I cannot breathe! So I look up at him, and ask if he could please hurry, I can't breathe. Apparently, he took this to mean, "Ejaculate suddenly, all over my face." And as he orgasms into my face, I scream, startled and attacked, and knee him in the gut, pushing him
off of me. I know some girls don't mind getting a load in the face, and hey, with the right guy, it can be special. But this wasn't the right guy, and I was PISSED.

"Motherfucker," I yell at him. "Fuck you, you piece of shit. FUCK! Fucking fuck, fuck, mother fucker," I scream out, wiping jizz off of my face and off my neck, flinging it at the ground. He is rolled into a ball clutching himself and crying out in pain. There I stand over this crying man, corset twisted, boobs flying out, the big lube-covered dildo flopping around like crazy as I jump up and down yelling FUCK and trying to scoop cum out of my eyes………..and then I see his 8 year old son standing in the doorway. The kid he never told me about. This 8 year old, standing in the doorway, wet eyes glued to me, saying "Daddy?" in a meek and timid little voice.

I was out of there in a flash, ignoring pleas to wait while the child was calmed and soothed. I ignored all calls and emails. I wanted to pretend it had never happened, but I also wanted to tell everyone I knew, because no one was ever going to believe what had just happened.

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-DF

2.) Last May, I was in Toronto for a photography workshop that had me running around the city all week and culminated in an exhibit of our best work at a seriously nice hipster-ish hotel/bar/club called The Drake. The photos were shown in the basement bar until 10pm, and then the group I was with (the friends I was staying with for the week, their girlfriends, and a few others) opted to explore the upper-level bars. This took us to the rooftop patio and bar.

Initially, I went out for a smoke with another friend and next to us were two women, 30-ish. This guy I'm out with has no filter, and after speaking to them and finding out that both are recent moms out for their first night of freedom, he began asking whether or not they had ever heard of or done "pregnant porn." That didn't go over so well with either of them. Needless to say I was mortified and did my best to wish them an enjoyable evening. (In fact it was going to be very enjoyable for one of them in the hours to come… cum?)

Getting back to the rest of the gang I proceeded to tell them all what a moron the "pregnant porn" guy was, and pointed out the women he told this to. Well, suck my balls, it turns out that one of the girlfriends knows one of the two mommies, named Sharon. They hadn't seen each other in years, so she goes over and says hi. She points me out to Sharon, and it turns out that the pregnant porn dude did me a favor, because my attempts at an apology as they left put me in Sharon's "gentleman" category. With a bit more of a talk-up by the friend's girlfriend, I was promptly flagged over for a proper meeting.

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Pleased with my in, and how hot this mom was upon proper inspection (honestly, easily in the top three girls I've ever been with), I began to feel like my old self and wasted no time in turning on the charm (slime?). The convo' leads to me mentioning I'm just visiting from out of town, to which Sharon says "Let's not dwell on that tonight, otherwise I may not sleep with you." With that, she grabs my cell phone and adds her number, "Just in case we get separated." Well, after this display of apparent enthusiasm I make sure to stay pretty close all night, ESPECIALLY when two firemen next to us try and put the moves on Sharon. Thankfully, it was with their advances that she began putting her arms around me, and then asked to sneak out for a smoke together. The look on their faces was fantastic, being beaten out by a much smaller and hairier starving artist. Outside, she asks me to hold her because it's so cold, and this turns into a 20-minute make-out session among the other smokers. Early on she said, "Wow, you're good at kissing without a tongue," to which I responded, "Then you're going to love this" and proceeded to cram my tongue down her throat. Classy, right?

SO, after a few more drinks and being joined by everyone else we all head back to her place. We're enjoying more drinks and chit chatting among the plethora of baby goods (the baby was at her parent's place for the night). At one point while grabbing me a beer from the fridge she asked if I'd ever had breast milk. I said no, and she pulled up a cup of it and told me to try some. Not wanting to offend her as a new mom, I dipped the tip of my pinkie finger in and licked it. Pretty sweet tasting. Trust me, things are going to get much weirder than that, if you're already disgusted.

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After an hour everyone leaves, I stay. She folds out her futon bed, and the kissing starts again. After some trouble with the clothes, they all come off and we take turns going down on each other. At one point she stood up and I couldn't believe how tight her body was, you'd never know she had a kid seven months ago. Finally, after some tip-teasing, I slip inside and we are both going wild… it'd been a while for both of us. I have bite marks all over my shoulders. After this is going on for a while, she says, "So did you like that breast milk?" "Sure," I say. Yeah…that's where this is going. She pushes my head down on her large (albeit milk-filled) boobs, and what starts as kissing and licking degenerates into sucking. Full on. And yes, I'm getting some. Not cupfuls, but I'm tasting it. So she's writhing in pleasure with this, moaning really loudly, saying "fuck yes, oh fuck yes." And THEN, she starts saying, "Oh God, you piece of shit, Yes, you piece of shit, fuck yes." Yep, I was being called a piece of shit while suckling a mom's boobs. On Mother's Day.

After a few minutes, and the initial freaky curiosity waning, I pull up, push her down and start going at it again, so hard in fact that we both fall off the bed and then just keep at it on the carpet. With the sun up, and my knees raw and still no cum in sight (too much to drink I think… so to speak) she stands up and says she should stop so that she can pump her breasts. All this excitement actually had her lactating right onto the both of us. And so, while I got cozy in bed, she lay next to me with her breast pump working away.

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We woke up, watched some TV and had some coffee (cream, from a cow), and then I was on my merry way. Reborn as a man, and more nourished than I've been since I was six months old.

-SP

3.) Back in college I was in the process of ending a relationship but I had one last hurdle: I had already purchased a ticket for my new ex to attend a formal event with me. I didn't mind taking her because of her period; I'd easily be able to avoid sex, and the regret that would follow. Of course, it was not that simple. We both got sloppy drunk, which led to her and me (I'm so weak) wanting sex. Due to her menstruating, she suggested anal sex.

I had only tried it twice before and never with her so, in my drunken state, I was game. During this glorious intercourse I popped out, as all sizeable men do (if you say you don't you're small or lying). She stopped me at one point to ask if I was still inside her anus. Perplexed and drunk I questioned how she herself would not know the answer to that question. My confusion must've shown on my face because she just said, "Fuck it!" and we did. And here is where the story gets foggy…

I woke up the next morning feeling like a champion! Who doesn't when they got inebriated and laid (anal no less)? I turn to check on my ex and realized that she was wearing a very peculiar plastic bracelet. I woke her in a panic asking what happened. Half asleep she was able to tell me that she had to go to the hospital. I felt terrible because my initial thought was that she had alcohol poisoning and I was unable to take care of her but what really happened is much more interesting: T.S.S. At the time I had never heard of that acronym so she explained it stands for Toxic Shock Syndrome. She went on to explain it is a severe and potentially fatal illness usually caused by prolonged use of a tampon. Still puzzled I asked her to fill in the gaps (HA!).

She started off by telling me that after my manly climax I collapsed on top and inside of her. After she wriggled out from under me she went to the bathroom to freshen up and replace her tampon. There was no visible string so she had to go digging. After an hour enough panic had set in for her to call one of my good friends to drive her to the hospital (waking me up while I'm passed out drunk is quite impossible). Of course my buddy didn't come alone, he also brought his girlfriend to help with these lady problems. When they walked in I wish I could've seen their faces because what they found is something no innocent should have to see: Me passed out still wearing the bloody condom filled with spunk. I think out of spite she opted not to cover my shame. They went to the hospital and after hours in the ER waiting room she finally got to a doctor who removed the offending tampon.

At the moment she finished the recap of the night I received a call from a female acquaintance that I rarely spoke to. She was calling to verify that we would be showing up to the scheduled brunch that morning. Instantly alarms went off in my head because my friend's girlfriend who assisted is a real Chatty Cathy. I told her I'd be there knowing a trap was set. To avoid the embarrassment the ex and I went for our own breakfast. Eventually I knew we had to show our faces so we decided to join everyone poolside later in the day. As we walked up there was no snickering, nobody even looked our way. Something was wrong, there were paramedics at the pool. Another one of my friends that was there has seizures when he drinks…but he loves to drink. He had an episode which saved my trip. Now I'm not happy that he had a seizure but dammit that is great timing. A cool wave rushed over me and I felt reborn. The rest of the weekend everyone's concerns were focused on the health of our friend being attended to at the hospital. Even the next week at school the focus of chatter was the seizure and not my bloody prophylactic. To this day I still feel in debt to that guy and his seizure. Thanks Ben, I owe you one.

-RP

If you're not one of the sick fucks on this list but still want a copy of Sex: Our Bodies, Our Junk, just click here.