#and beej just wants her to take the stick out of her ass and live for once

[howlingdemon13]

deep in brainrot

I need these two to interact...

I need them to have a verbal altercation about how one is a frivolous idiot with no respect for his own power and how the other is a shell of her former glory and bows to the very system that broke her.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

pegasus grounded (part one)

[horse racing au]

———————————

...and they’re off!

 “Lawrence will you stop cringing and HELP ME?”

Barbara’s partner peeked into the barn, his face pale and expression disgusted, then immediately yanked himself back out.

 “Oh, that is so gross! I didn’t sign up for this!”

 “You didn’t sign up for ANYTHING! I am letting you LIVE in MY HOUSE for FREE! So get your ass OVER HERE and HELP ME!”

Standing against the far wall of the barn, Adam, Barbara’s husband, and Lydia, their young farmhand, stood by, watching the exchange go down. Lydia was holding any tools that might have been needed. The barn cat, Hemlock, came strolling by, took one glance at the scene, then bounded out.

 “Are they…?” Lydia’s words trailed off as she scratched the top of her head. “Does this…?”

 “Oh, yeah,” Barbara said, looking over at her. “This is our process!” And then, shrilly, “LAWRENCE!!!”

 “You have your ARM in a horse’s VAGINA!! You never said anything about THAT when I came to live with you!”

 “I’ll stick my arm up YOUR VAGINA if you don’t get over here!”

 “I don’t have a vagina!!”

 “I DON’T CARE!!” Barbara then quieted her voice and stroked the fur of Latte, the foaling horse she was assisting, “Shh, Shh, Shh. It’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay… LAWRENCE I SWEAR TO GOD!!”

 “Okay! Okay! I’m coming!”

Beetlejuice dragged himself over to the fallen horse and did his best to not look at the hooves sticking out of the mare’s vagina.

After some time went by, Barbara was pulling on the foal’s front legs, sticky and wet with birthing fluid and covered in the placenta. She was doing her best to be gentle, yet firm enough to pull out the baby, but the mare continued to let out louder whinnies. Adam gripped tightly to his shirt as he watched. They had already lost three dams that season. They couldn’t take losing another.

Despite its name, The Netherworld was one of the most successful horse ranches in all of America. In terms of the equine community, Barbara and Adam Maitland were basically famous. They had bred several winning foals from the finest mares and the strongest stallions. People came from miles just to bid on one of their colts or fillies. All the horses on their farm were like family, and losing them was like a shot straight to the heart.

 “Come on, girl. I can’t do it alone. Push.” Barbara said encouragingly, pulling out more of the baby.

 “Come on, Latte, push. You can do it.” Beetlejuice said to the mother. The horse’s wild, tired eyes looked up at him.

And then, as if she was actually listening, she began to push harder. The foal’s head slipped out a second later, followed by the rest of the upper body.

 “Hey! She’s doing it!” Beetlejuice exclaimed. “Oh, that is disgusting. But she’s doing it!”

 “Almost there,” Barbara murmured as she got a hold of the foal’s middle.

After a few minutes, the foal was finally out. A spew of birthing fluids and placenta followed, and Beetlejuice was darting out of the barn, causing Barbara to laugh as she peeled off the soaked glove she had on her arm.

 “Good work, Beej!” She called.

 “Urrg…” Beetlejuice groaned from outside.

 “You okay, love?”

 “Fine,” Beetlejuice replied, then grumbled, “Like you care…”

Barbara laughed again and then looked back down at the baby. The new foal looked just like its mother. Under all that goo was a beautiful, chestnut-colored mustang, with a sweet little patch of white on its nose. She just about swooned when she saw those large, gleaming brown eyes look up at her.

 “It’s a filly,” Barbara called to Adam, who was taking deep breaths of relief.

 “Oh, she’s perfect,” Adam said, walking over slowly. “I was so worried for a moment there. You know, after Misty and Prancer and Baylock…”

 “Hey,” Barbara cupped his cheeks, making him look at her. “That isn’t going to happen. We aren’t going to lose anymore.”

Adam nodded.

The filly began to gather her surroundings, looking around to see where she was while her mother licked and nuzzled her from above. After a moment, she slowly began to stand on her long legs, wobbling and tumbling down a few times, making Lydia laugh a bit before she finally started to get the hang of it. She clumsily tottered her way over to her mother and instantly began to nurse.

 “Can’t believe you made birth your profession,” Beetlejuice said as he entered again.

 “What do you think doctors do?” Adam looked at him.

 “I--” Beetlejuice shut his mouth. “Shut up.”

Adam laughed. Barbara shook her head, then looked over at Lydia.

 “What did you parents say about tonight?”

 “They said yes,” Lydia said.

 “Awesome!” Adam looked excited. “FINALLY, we can show you proper horse racing! Barbara, go get changed! Hurry!”

None of them blamed him for his energy. Horses were everything to them, and there was no better way to pass the time than watching horse races. This would be Lydia’s first time watching one firsthand since she was employed by them.

Lime Rock Raceway was a huge, towering stadium, filled with sharply-dressed patrons, colorful slot machines, and expensive fine wine. Barbara, her two partners, and Lydia got to watch the races from the highest point, where the whole track was stretched out before them, eager for their attention. They discussed their bets on the contenders in the next race as they waited.

 “That one.”

Beetlejuice scoffed.

Barbara did not. She continued to stare down at the horses filing onto the muddy racetrack. The one that had caught her eye was at the back of the pack, head held low, ears flicking all over as if it heard something nobody else did. She checked the number.

 “Beside The Dying Fire,” Adam said, having already looked. “Jockey’s name is Jeopardy.”

“What a curious name,” Barbara mused. “Must be a nickname.”

“I sure hope so,” Beetlejuice snorted. “Or else his parents must hate him.”

 “Why are they always men?” Lydia grumbled. She wasn’t having nearly as much fun as Adam had been hoping for, but Barbara didn’t blame her. Watching a horse race wasn’t for everyone.

She looked up at Barbara, asking again, “Can women not race or something?”

Barbara chuckled. “Of course they can. A lot just choose not to. It’s a very male-dominated sport.”

 “That’s weird,” Lydia said, squinting down through the glass at the jockey in question. Despite how thin all the riders were, this one in particular was awkwardly small compared to his competitors. His silks were red and white with black and white stripes down the long sleeves. “Aren’t jockeys supposed to be, like, light? Wouldn’t it make more sense for women to race? It’s easier to be lightweight when you’re a woman.”

 “You got a point there, kid,” Adam said.

 “The weight thing is so fucking stupid. Also, no offense, Babs, but you can’t possibly think that will win?”

Barbara turned to Beetlejuice with a coolly raised eyebrow, a smile playing around her mouth. “Do you doubt me?”

Beetlejuice grinned at her. “Never.”

Nobody knew exactly where Lawrence “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth had come from. He had just shown up one day down in town, presenting himself at Yonkers Raceway with dyed green hair and barely the clothes on his back. But when he started to ride, nobody cared about that anymore. Up on that saddle, Beetlejuice was unstoppable force of speed and grace. Nothing stopped his stride, ever. The races he rode seemed to unfurl as though to a script he had written; a script that left everyone else trailing behind his broad shoulders like a wake left in water. He was the best rider Barbara and Adam had ever seen, but never got to actually become professional due to the weight limit required to be a jockey. Now, he had become more mellow, living among Barbara and Adam as a horse trainer, wanting to teach others about his methods, but still not finding the right student. Nobody he ever came across was good enough for him and his golden wonder: Sandy aka “It’s Showtime,” a magnificent black and white thoroughbred mare with bulky muscles and a knack for sprinting.

Barbara winked at him. “Exactly.”

Out in the mud, the horses were lining up at the gate. Barbara’s bet, Beside The Dying Fire, had drawn a bad position, way over on the outside. Barbara glanced over the information again. The horse was coming up to age four, stood at a staggering seventeen hands, and had terrible form. His jockey was basically a nobody, too, as scrawny and aloof as the horse. And yet, she was drawn to the stallion. There was something to look at with that dull grey horse, even if nobody else saw it.

The racers came under starter’s orders and then they broke from the gate as one at the siren’s scream. It was a small field- plenty of hooves had scratched their own trenches from the earth due to the weather. Beside The Dying Fire hunkered down the outside, ears pulled back against the driving rain. Barbara watched him gallop, watched the low, straight stride stretch and release over the sodden ground. She had grown up around horseflesh, had watched races obsessively for years; she knew a good horse when she saw one.

This was not it.

But all the same, she found herself unable to look away. There was something.

Slogging through the slippery mud, Beside The Dying Fire did not display the brilliance locked deep within him--but when the finish line passed beneath him, his nose was one of the ones in front. Barbara could see the jockey, slathered in muck all over, smiling with relief.

Barbara smiled too, which turned to a smirk as she looked at Beetlejuice. “I told you.”

 “Never doubt you,” Beetlejuice said. He looked back down at the horse in question. “I’m glad I listened to you. Let’s go have a chat with this one.”

——— ——— ———

 “How many times do I have to tell you? Use your goddamn whip!”

 “I don’t want to! It’s mean!”

The sound of arguing echoed down the stable corridor like thunder.

 “Mean? What kind of PETA shit have you been looking at? It’s a damn animal. It doesn’t know anything.”

 “Peril knows a lot of things! He’s smart!”

 “You’re losing us so much money.”

 “I can win without hitting him. I don’t need a crop. I did good today!”

 “You got third. You should have gotten first.”

 “At least I wasn’t last.”

 “Each day you prove that your kind doesn’t belong in racing. Not unless you use your fucking whip!”

 “Well, I think I raced really well.”

 “Your parents will be hearing about this.”

A grizzled man stormed past Barbara, Adam, Beetlejuice, and Lydia as they were making their way down the aisle, hissing and cursing underneath his breath. They all looked forward again to find the victim of his verbal assault: the jockey of Beside The Dying Fire.

 “I think we did good,” He said to the grey giant munching on some alfalfa inside the pen he and that man had been arguing in front of.

“Jeopardy?”

Saying that name made Barbara feel a little stupid, but her call was received when the jockey just about jumped out of his skin. He whirled around, startling his horse into a stomping, huffing fit. He blinked big, doe-like eyes at Barbara and her group.

And that was when Barbara realized he wasn’t a he at all.

Beside The Dying Fire’s jockey was a girl.

Well. That probably explained what that man had meant when he said “your kind.”

She was a tiny, skinny little thing, barley 5’1, bearing no muscle at all. She was young, too, much younger than any of the jockeys Barbara had ever seen before. At most, she had to be fifteen, but by how high pitched and youthful her voice was, she could be even younger. She was completely slathered in mud from head-to-toe, face smeared with sludge and blocking most facial features, but her youth was clear and her hazel eyes were bright behind her goggles.

 “Hi! Hi. Yes, hello. I’m Jeopardy.” She said, stammering slightly, and her voice was a lot higher up close, but not in an obnoxious way. It was sweet and silvery, like candy.

“You’re a girl,” Lydia said in wonder.

The jockey blinked, then looked down at herself. “Last time I checked, yes.”

Lydia laughed.

Jeopardy tried to dust herself off now that she was in the presence of other people, only to remember that she was completely covered in grime. She dropped her arms, looked back up at them, and said, “I swear, I’m not usually covered in this much mud.”

They all laughed. It was nice to see a jockey that had a sense of humor. There were too many that got cranky for asking simple questions or even breathing in the general vicinity of their horse. This girl was the complete opposite of that, and it perhaps had to do with her young age.

 “Does it get in your mouth?” Lydia asked.

 “Oh yeah,” Jeopardy answered. “And my nose. And my ears. ”

Lydia laughed. “How?!”

 “I have no idea!” Jeopardy exclaimed. “Usually it isn’t this bad, but it was rainy today, so it kinda got everywhere. My dinner tonight is going to taste like earth.”

More laughing, and Jeopardy looked delighted. She was giving off a strong sense of loneliness, like it wasn’t normal for people to talk to her in such a friendly way.

“I’m Presley Lind,” Jeopardy— no, Presley, said. “Jeopardy is just a show name.” She then extended a hand to Barbara, only instantly rip it away when she realized how dirty her glove was. “Oh dear. Pretend I shook your hand or else my Southern Belle training will go down the drain.”

“I’m Barbara,” Barbara said. “These are Adam, Beetlejuice, and Lydia.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Presley said politely, smiling, and her lips were caked with drying mud. “What can I do for you all?”

 “Oh, we just wanted to come down and congratulate you on your victory tonight,” Barbara said. “You were amazing.”

Presley perked up, as if it wasn’t uncommon for her to be congratulated. “Oh, really? Th-- thank you! But I didn’t really do anything. It was all this big guy!” She turned to her horse, who looked more brown than grey with all the mud sticking to his coat, and she had so much love in her eyes.

 “He’s beautiful,” Adam said. “What’s his name?”

 “Peril!” Presley told him proudly. “Presley and Peril- it’s kind of our thing.” She reached out and patted the stallion’s freckled nose.

Barbara felt a sort of endearment fill her heart. What an adorable girl.

And then Peril snorted and spit half-chewed alfalfa and huge globs of saliva right into his rider’s face.

For a moment, Presley was frozen, then spit the muck back out onto the ground and raised her gloves hands to wipe her face off. She took off her goggles, and the rings left around her eyes were perfectly clear of grime.

 “I deserved that,” Presley said. She looked at Barbara and her group. “Do not mess with this one when he’s eating.”

 “Say, Presley,” Beetlejuice spoke up. “Do you have a trainer?”

 “Yes, sir,” Presley said, and her manners shocked Barbara. “He was that guy yelling.”

 “Does he always yell at you like that?” Adam asked, sounding slightly concerned.

Presley nodded. “Usually. He doesn’t like me or Peril very much. But he was a lot nicer today. He didn’t hit me with my crop this time!” She laughed, and then realized the others weren’t laughing with her, so she stopped and cleared her throat. “I’m-- I’m totally joking. That was a joke!”

 “Well, it sounds like your guy right now is an ass, but you’re in luck,” Beetlejuice said. “Presley, I’d like to be your trainer.”

[musical-shit-show]

Two Sides: Chapter 5

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4)

Characters: Musical!Beetlejuice, Female!OC, Lydia Deetz, Barbara Maitland, Adam Maitland

Warnings: anxiety, awkward attempts at flirting, panic attacks, cursing, a little bit of angst if you squint

Word Count: 1,930

Author’s Note: Been on a writing kick so I figured I’d post Chapter 5! Not much to say about this chapter, just some good old fashioned character development a.k.a. Beej being a pissbaby and Cassandra being an anxiety factory. Please check out my Masterlist here and my About Me page. Enjoy!

Chapter 5

Both Cassandra and Beetlejuice called after the dark-haired girl, but she had already shut the door with a forceful yank. Causing mischief was something Lydia had perfected from spending a lot of time with Beetlejuice, and while she didn’t want to admit it, she was sort of glad her roommate had brought him back. Life without her undead companion was almost getting too normal for her liking.

She knew that this day was already turning out to be a lot to handle for Cassandra, but Lydia tried not to beat herself up about how everyone had been introduced. Nothing ever went according to plan in the Deetz/Maitland household, so it was just as well that the day had already erupted into total chaos. Still, Lydia hoped that her roommate would roll with the punches and make it through the weekend relativity unscathed.

After Lydia shut the door, Beetlejuice’s demeanor changed almost instantly. He leaned casually on the end of Cassandra’s wooden bed frame, his eyes scanning her, an impish glint in his eye. His green hair was now mixed with pale yellow and light pink colorations.

“So....does your hair always do that…?” Cassandra asked awkwardly, attempting to make some semblance of a conversation. The air in the room was still unbelievably tense, even after Lydia had properly introduced the two of them. A smug look flashed across the demon’s face.

“My hair’s sorta like a mood ring,” he said matter-of-factly, picking at the dead skin around his fingernails, “This shade of yellow means that I’m curious about ya. Pretty cool, huh?” He secretly wanted to impress her, and he thought the nonchalant act would do just the trick.

“And what does pink mean?” Cassandra asked, enthralled by the swirl of hues that now adorned his head.

“That I think you’re hot, babes,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He gave her another once over as Cassandra held back an uncomfortable laugh, taken aback at how forward he was.

“Oh, I’m sure you say that to all the girls you manhandle after they unwittingly unleash you into the mortal realm,” she said casually, doing her best to hide her discomfort with him. She did not take getting hit on well by living men, let alone men that had been dead for probably decades. Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows, wrongly suspecting that she was flirting back.

“What, are ya talking about that kiss?” he said innocently, his stocky frame inching closer to her, “Look, new girl, that was just a gesture of appreciation. You should be flattered.” Cassandra rolled her eyes, frustrated with the demon’s lack of self-awareness.

“Okay, first off, my name is Cassandra,” she said childishly, “Second, I’m not flattered by you fucking with me. The last hour of my life has been insane, and I really don’t need your help making it any crazier.” Beetlejuice felt the venom in her tone, but soldiered on until she cracked. Breathers like her always did, and he knew she was just putting on a front to seem tougher than she really was.

“Listen, babes, you gotta relax a little. Take a walk on the undead side,” he purred, “Why don’t I show ya—?” He stopped her pacing and grabbed her waist. Cassandra let out a small yelp of anger, pushing him away and plopping onto the bed. The comforter was now decidedly dirtier since the demon had laid on it, but she didn’t care. Hot tears of infuriation filled her eyes.

“Look, the last thing I want to do is get down and dirty with some dead guy that just appeared in my room and has been messing with me from the second I got here,” she said, in a quiet but sharp tone, “So please, for the love of all that is good and decent, could you, just, leave?” Instantly the pink and yellow swirls in his hair were mixed with a deep red and blue. Beetlejuice stared angrily at the floor, not used to being shot down so pointedly. This kind of rejection brought up emotions he wasn’t quite keen on revisiting, but he was too prideful to admit he had gone too far.

“Fine,” he muttered, not bothering to make eye contact with the already irked woman, “You’re not my type anyways, sweetheart. Guess I didn’t know Lydia had such a stuck up, goody-two-shoes breather for a roommate. See ya around, new girl.” With that he vanished from the room, a tiny *pop* emanating from the spot where he stood.

Cassandra let out another angry cry, overwhelmed with the day’s events. She understood where Lydia coming from, leaving the two of them together to get better acquainted. After all she was right: Cassandra was the one that stupidly summoned him. But it clearly didn’t occur to her that Beetlejuice would go back to his old self faster than lightning, making Cassandra incredibly uneasy in the process. A few moments later, a soft knock on the door broke her out of her emotional spiraling.

“Cassandra? It’s Barbara,” the blonde woman said softly, a tiny crack between the door and its frame forming, “Everything okay?” Cassandra quickly wiped away a small tear and cleared her throat.

“Uh, yeah, yeah everything is fine,” she said unconvincingly. Barbara took that as an invitation to open up the door fully and enter the guest room, Adam following quietly behind her. “I just, uh, met another dead person in this house. The guy who looks homeless and smells like a sewer.”

“Beetlejuice,” the couple deadpanned in tandem. Adam groaned in slight frustration, rubbing the back of his neck at the thought of the raucous demon back in his former home.

“Of course, of course he would be back here,” he said as Barbara rubbed his shoulders, attempting to relax him, “After we had just cleaned up from his last mess...did Lydia summon him?” Adam’s expression softened when he saw the guilt on Cassandra’s face. She had just met these people and had now accidentally freed an entity they clearly didn’t have much fondness for.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Cassandra let a few frustrated tears fall from her eyes, not able to even look up at the couple. Barbara sat down next to her on the bed, placing her hand on top of Cassandra’s. The living woman felt no sensation of being touched, but appreciated the gesture of comfort.

“It’s okay, honey,” Barbara said genuinely, her kind face illuminating the gloomy air in the room, “We aren’t upset with you, right Adam?” The woman nudged her husband quite forcefully, catching him slightly off-guard.

“No, no of course not,” Adam added, chuckling slightly, “It’s just, Beetlejuice can sometimes be...well, a handful.”

“Really?” Cassandra sniffed, drying her tears, “I hadn’t noticed.” The three of them cracked small smiles, slightly easing the disquieting air that hung in the room, “Is he always such a dick?” Barbara and Adam looked at each other, silently confirming the living woman’s question. Cassandra sighed. Not two hours into being in this house, and she had met three dead people and had already pissed off the most irritating of them all.

The Maitlands were at least acting civil towards her, even treating her with kindness. But there was something about Beetlejuice that made Cassandra’s temperature rise. The condescending smirk, the overzealous grabbiness, the complete unawareness of social cues...it all added up to a huge pain in the ass that she was going to have to deal with for the entire weekend.

‘You have to be nice,’ Cassandra thought, ‘For Lydia. He’s best friends with Lydia, and you need to be nice. Just for the weekend. And then you’ll never have to see that creep again.’ “Try and stick it out, just for a few days,” Barbara said sweetly, “He really isn’t that bad when you get to know him.” Adam smiled unconvincingly, doing nothing to quell Cassandra’s discomfort.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” she said, smiling as genuinely as she could muster, “I still have a little more settling in to do, but I’ll see you guys downstairs soon, okay?” The two ghosts nodded and disappeared in a flash, leaving the living woman alone once again. Cassandra closed her eyes yet again, finding it easier to process the events that had transpired since she had entered the house. She just had to accept that this was what Lydia’s world was like, even though she had no idea it existed.

She couldn’t blame Lydia for not telling her all these years, but she was still shocked to know that her best friend and roommate had successfully kept this from her for so long. A wave of emotions crashed down on her: hurt, anger, confusion, curiosity, excitement even. How was she supposed to make it through the rest of this trip without feeling like a mental patient? She felt a tightness in her chest, a telltale sign her anxiety had taken hold of her psyche.

Beetlejuice materialized in the room only seconds after the Maitlands vanished, watching her intently. Now he was intentionally making his presence unknown so he could further survey the damage without causing another scene. His hair was now a swirl of purple and red, creating a sea of maroon locks that adorned his head. He watched as Cassandra steadied her breathing and closed her eyes, attempting to gain her composure. She let a few stress-induced tears escape from her eyes but quickly brushed them away, as she shook her head and moved to unzip her duffel bag. Beetlejuice felt a twinge of guilt, a blue streak reappearing in his hair. He hadn’t met anyone new since he infiltrated the Maitlands’ home all those years ago, and the prospect of fresh meat to torment was too difficult to pass up. He feared he had gone too far, but those thoughts were replaced by annoyance and disdain.

‘Who does this breather think she is?’ he thought angrily, stewing in the corner of the room, still eyeing Cassandra as she methodically placed her clothes in an empty dresser, ‘Since when did Lydia get a new best friend? And how could that best friend possibly be a bigger mess than I am?!’

In all of his years as a bio-exorcist, Beetlejuice had never been turned down by a human so abruptly. Well, other than Lydia of course, but that was a different situation entirely. When it came to consenting adult breathers, Beetlejuice had them on their backs in no time. At their core, he knew that they loved the idea of breaking the rules, and getting pleasured by a demon was about the most sinful thing imaginable.

But this one? This trembling, crying, self-conscious mess that stood before him? She had made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with him, try as he might to be as friendly as he possibly could with her, though his definition of friendly was certainly more abrasive and forward than the average person’s, living or dead.

And the thought that this was the person Lydia was now spending all of her time with and not goofing off with him? Well, that only damaged Beetlejuice’s bruised ego even more. What made her so goddamn special?

Beetlejuice could feel himself growing more and more contemptuous towards Cassandra, but decided to at least attempt to be civil towards her, for Lydia’s sake. He was her best friend after all, and he wasn’t going to let this annoying breather change that over the course of one weekend.

Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun when Lyds wasn’t around...

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Please like/comment/reblog and feel free to drop an ask for any requests/feedback! 

[tropicalfreckles]

Friends Again CH 5

MASTER LIST found here

SUMMARY: A new dilemma has risen in Lydia that she takes to the only one she can talk to about it.

SOLIDARITY

B**TLEB*BES DNI

(TW mentions of J*no, mentions of murder(no murder tho), mentions of bullying, mentions of the wedding death scene)))

Another day of school, another day of Lydia having complex feelings bubble up in her stomach. This was getting borderline exhausting with all the thoughts she kept bottled up inside. Even though she had become more comfortable with her therapist, she still wasn't sure if she wanted to just spill her guts out about these thoughts. Closing the front door behind her, she swung her backpack off while exhaling a long groan. No one was home yet except for the Maitlands, of course. They were probably upstairs since she didn't see them after scanning the living room. Rummaging through her backpack on the table she pulled out things she needed for homework then sluggishly retreated upstairs. School wasn't engaging and often times left her yearning for more. The Maitlands had recently found a way to help make her learning more simulating through their ghostly powers. They were still learning themselves. They tried learning more from the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. However, as Adam put it, it 'read like radio instructions'. Lydia didn't have too much of a hard time understanding it personally. Though that probably was because she loved deciphering the nonsensical text.

Should she let the Maitlands know she's home?

She usually would announce herself. Yet, that feeling wasn't leaving her stomach. It dampening her mood. Lydia didn't want to bother the ghostly couple with her problem. Since she still didn't understand it entirely herself. It was days like these she wished her mom was still alive. Regret wove itself in her every once in a while for leaving the Netherworld. Missing her chance to reconnect with her mother again. She knew deep down it was for the best. She would've also liked it if Delia and her dad had waited for a while before getting wed. She understood though they felt the fleetingness of life and wanted to make the best of it as long as they both were breathing. That would be another can of worms for Lydia to tackle another day. Lydia tossed her things on her bed when she entered her room. Closing the door behind her then took off her shoes. Her nerves were starting to get the best of her when she walked over to her mirror and gazed at herself.

"Why are feelings stupid..." She muttered. Grabbing a hair tie off of her stand, she ran her fingers through the raven locks tying it up.

"That's because you breathers have too many feelings; It makes shit complicated." A gravely voice chimed in. Lydia flinched for a moment then turned to scowl at the older man.

"I told you that you couldn't come into the house yet!" She snarled at him. Lydia began rubbing the pads of her forefinger and middle in circles against the temple of her head. Beetlejuice snorted then crossed his arms.

"You ain't exactly the boss of me kid. I do what I want. Within reason of your dumb rules. Besides, I was bored waiting in the stupid cemetery. There weren't any breathers to mess with today so I couldn't get anyone else to say my name." Beetlejuice rambled on, giving Lydia a shrug. The young teen threw herself face first on her bed. She thought over for a moment how risky this was.

"You didn't let Barabara and Adam see you, right?" Lydia questioned, sitting up a little on her elbows. Beetlejuice hummed while pulling his eyes out from their sockets.

"Nope, not a peep!" He snickered while tossing them in the air like a pair of die. Lydia looked on unamused before rolling on her back to stare up at the ceiling. The demon popped his eyes back in.

"Oh boy, are you having one of those angsty teen moments again? Am I gonna have to leave while you recite goth poetry or some shit?" He floated up from the ground then whipped over to her. Lydia inhaled deeply before giving a loud groan.

"Go away if you're gonna be an ass." Lydia reached out for a pillow to grab. Beetlejuice tensed up as he knew it was meant for his face. He deflated a little when he saw her hug then bury herself against it. Just as the teen hated when he would get moody, he felt the same about her. Though it was strange, the past three months now that they've been hanging out he has started to feel something he never had before. Was it that gross thing called empathy? He sighed deeply while busying himself with picking at his nails. This was going to require some finesse.

"Alright, you twisted my arm Lyds. What's bugging ya? What can your ol' pal Mr. Betelboose do to, ugh, 'help'?" He peered from the corner of his eye to see if she'd budge. She did not. He did get a grunt in response. Some progress was a win for him. Lydia flailed her legs a little as a muffled groan rose from her. The demon patiently waited for her to speak.

"As bizarre as it is to say.." Lydia dug her fingernails into her pillow as she pulled it away from her face finally. Her features scrunched up, her lips pursed. Relaxing after a moment of what looked like deep contemplation from Beetlejuice's perspective she finally spoke. "I think you might be the only person I can talk to about this." Lydia softly spoke.

Now, this was interesting.

She was actually being vulnerable to him. He only saw her do that once and that was when she summoned him back from the Netherworld. That was because of everything that built up from before. This seemed to be a new dilemma on the young girl's mind. He waved his hand to let her know she could continue.

"Beej. When did you discover that you had feelings for guys, too?" Lydia drawled out while shiftily gazing around the room. Anywhere other than making eye contact. Beetlejuice stroked his scruffy chin while trying to figure out what she meant by that. Was there a boy she liked? Did his stoic bratty friend actually have sappy feelings as well?

Wait.

"You're asking how I knew I was into more than just women? Well, first off, there is one thing ya gotta know about the Netherworld. Most folks swing both if not all ways." Beetlejuice jokingly conjured up a baseball bat and took multiple swings in different directions with it. It earned him a snort which he grinned at before continuing.

"It kind of came as an easy realization for me. I know that the stupid shit you breathers go about here on the mortal plane carries off into the Netherworld sometimes. It doesn't stick for long cause who the hell are you gonna complain to? No one." He rolled his eyes remembering all of the bigoted folks that would come through and get their panties in a twist at how the rest of the Netherworld was. While he wasn't the biggest fan of staying there all the time it wasn't always horrible there. The world of the living was more of a party for him.

"How did you really know, though?" Lydia hugged the pillow closer to her while sitting up. Beetlejuice plopped himself onto the bed next to her. Lydia had a surprisingly smart melon in that goth head of hers. He was curious why she was doubting herself so much.

"Probably when I made out with that one famous painter." He picked at his teeth. Lydia arched a brow.

"Which one?"

"You know me, scarecrow, don't kiss and tell." He grinned at her. Lydia gently smacked his knee.

"Oh BS, you always name drop famous people." She snorted. Beetlejuice snickered, moving his hands behind him then slid back more on the bed.

"You're right, I just don't remember the guy's name right now. Listen. I guess I get it. I've been observing you breathers for almost a millennia. Feelings are gross. But I know when it comes to this stuff it can be hard. Especially for kids. If there's something ya gotta blab to me about." He tilted his head in her direction while making sure he had her attention. She gave a slow nod for him to continue, "Then I'm listening."

Lydia inhaled deeply. This was nerve-racking. She just didn't know how to even express herself.

"I... I might have." Lydia banged her head into the soft pillow and gave a small whine. "I might.. like a girl at school." She spoke barely above a whisper. Beetlejuice leaned over since he could barely hear her. Lydia wrinkled her nose at the smell yet allowed him to do so.

"What was that kid? Gotta speak up." He gave a coy smile. Lydia scowled at him then looked away.

"I said... That I might like a girl at school. I'm not repeating myself again." Her cheeks were heating up at how embarrassing this was. Not so much expressing her feelings. It was more talking about a damn school crush to her stupid demon friend she was starting to make amends with. She looked over to him after a moment of making sure he wasn't going to tease her then noticed him grinning wide.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. HA. Of course, you're into girls! Look at you, you're tiny, snarky all the time and goth." Beetlejuice yammered on as he elbowed her side.

"Ha-ha, is this amusing to you or something? I just spilled my damn guts out." Lydia frowned, her cheeks flushed. Beetlejuice shook his head.

"Eh, maybe a little, I just find it funny that widdle Lydia has a crush. Always figured you were too feral and hated people too much for that." He pinched her cheek. She was close to snapping her teeth at his fingers. She opted for batting his hand away. Lydia wiped her cheek with her sleeve. He snickered in response then rested his elbows on his knees.

"Call me 'widdle' again and I'll throw you off the roof as I did before." She stuck her tongue out at him then took note of him smirking at her. "What?"

"Nuthin'. Just weird seeing you actually act like a teenager instead of your usual dry, deadpan self." He patted her hard on the back to which she grunted at him. "Good for you! Better to be your real self than locking that shit away. Dolores and Chuck'll probably be. I don't know, what's that word you breathers use now? 'Woke'? About this. I know the Maitlands will be. Ugh, they are just soooo supportive it's disgusting." He gagged at his last sentence to which Lydia rolled her eyes.

"I don't know if I'm going to tell anyone. At least not yet." Lydia softly spoke as she played with the pillow resting in her lap. Beej quirked a brow at her then snorted. He gave a soft bap on her head with his fist.

"Listen. I don't normally give pep talks that aren't about scaring, murder or crap. I guess I can try to understand. Daphne might be too intrusive about it. Chuck might just be super awkward about it and say something embarrassing. The other nerds are definitely gonna dote on you." Beetlejuice picked at his teeth. "Eh, take your time if you wanna. Just know that the Netherworld when ya shed your meat-sack body is gonna be fine with who or what yer into. Fuck what anyone else thinks." He let out a long yawn then stretched a little. "Trying to be nice makes me wanna take a nap or doing something nasty. Or hurl. Can't decide, this is gross."

Lydia looked over the demon while taking note of his words. She snickered at him dramatically pretending to upheave then shoved him.

"Stop being gross for five minutes." Lydia snorted then sat back on her bed finally letting go of her pillow. "Honestly.. My stomach is in a knot still. Part of me kind of wants to tell her however I don't want people to.." Midway through Lydia trailed off into a soft whisper. "I just don't want more of a reason for people to target me at school. I can handle myself for the most part. Just kind of hard when they gang up on me." She tugged at the edge of her school uniform. Without skipping a beat Beetlejuice responded.

"Want me to kill 'em for ya? I mean, if they're that big of lil assholes I'd probably be doing their parents a favor." Beetlejuice grinned while taking out a knife from his sleeve. "I'll 'cut' them down to size!" He cackled while swishing the knife around. Lydia ducked down then snorted.

"No. Murder isn't the answer to everything, BJ. Those girls are jerks but they aren't the root of the problem. Kids don't naturally act like bigoted brats. It's probably coming from their parents or something, to begin with." Lydia grabbed his arm to make him stop swinging the knife. Beetlejuice clicked his tongue then thought over what she said.

"Alright. Kill the parents and the brats. Two for two-plus no sad little orphans!" Beetlejuice hovered off the bed in glee while throwing his arms up into the air. "It'll be a real scream Lyds! Just let me loose on 'em! Come on! I haven't killed anyone since Juno!" He flexed his fingers while looking to her like an overjoyed child in a candy store. Lydia raised her hand up with a shake of her head.

"Didn't I just say murder wasn't the answer to everything?" She answered dryly while quirking a brow at him.

"I don't know, you murdered me pretty fast to try and kick my ass into the Netherworld," Beetlejuice muttered. Lydia inhaled deeply through her nostrils then slapped his thigh with her pillow.

"I'm serious. No murdering people on my behalf. I appreciate the enthusiasm but I don't want the cops on me. Making people suffer is more fun anyway." Lydia dropped the pillow then stretched her legs out. Beetlejuice floated back down to the bed then gave a little pout.

"Bah. Thought you were more fun than that, kid. Though torture also sounds like a blast." He stroked his scruffy chin. The goth teen kicked her feet against the edge of the bed.

"I was thinking more about pranking." She chuckled. "You know.. I might try talking to that girl. Just not yet." Lydia lulled her head against her shoulder to peer back at the demon. "I hate to stroke that big ego of yours. I wanna tell you that I kind of appreciate you talking to me about this. It's nice to talk to someone else who is attracted to the same gender." She took out her phone then opened the browser.

"Plus I see myself as more than one gender. Though that's a topic for another time, kid." He waved his hand as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Lydia swung her head up to stare at him.

"Oh; does that mean you're genderfluid?"

"Gender what now?" Beetlejuice quizzically stared at her while scratching the top of his scalp. Lydia quickly brought something up on her phone then showed him.

"You identify as more than one gender. See?" Lydia began scrolling through a website about the LGBTQ+ community while Beetlejuice crossed his arms and tried reading over it.

"Huh. Well shit. Guess so? Then what's being attracted to more than one gender?" He quickly snatched the phone out of her hand to look over it more.

"Well, that is a broader category. You could be either Bisexual or Pansexual." She sat up on her knees as she pressed the pad of her forefinger into the screen. Slowly she scrolled back up on the browser and pointed out the two. Beetlejuice hummed then plopped the phone back into her lap.

"Learn something new every day!" Beetlejuice grinned. The two froze when they heard the familiar voice of a woman echoing through the house.

"Lydia?? Are you home? We can get started on your homework if you want!" Barbara's hand began phasing through the door. With that Beetlejuice flung himself out the window as Lydia swatted grave dirt he left behind on her bed.

"Coming Barbara!" Lydia called.

She couldn't keep hiding him forever.

[meangirlsx]

Delia Appreciation Post

I originally posted this as a reblog of an ask to the kind soul @emily-deetz who encouraged me to make it its own post so here it is.

I think we as a fandom really do love Delia but she deserves so much love and appreciation and here are my thoughts/reasons:

In one of the first interactions we see between Lydia and Delia, Delia calls Lydia weird and scary. This doesn’t seem to faze Lydia, especially considering we know at the time she’s trying to be weird and scary, so arguably, it could be taken as actually sort of matching Lydia’s sense of humor.

Or, at the very least, it’s showing us Delia cares about interacting with Lydia and it’s the starting place to show her growth by the end of the show.

Not much later, we hear Delia say to Charles, “I don’t see race.” The line is played for laughs because we as an audience know that’s not the right response to what Charles is saying (that Maxie Dean could be his white whale) and, in addition, we’ve all heard the reasoning for why not seeing race isn’t a thing and doesn’t solve anything.

I think, though, the fact that Delia says that tells us that, while she’s not always the brightest, she really is always positive and trying to be good, compassionate, and open.

In one of the next interactions we see between Lydia and Delia (possibly the next one, I can’t remember), Lydia takes a picture of Delia and sort of sarcastically says she wants something to remember her by when she’s gone.

Delia immediately responds in a very kind, gentle tone that she’s not going anywhere, and she doesn’t say it like she thinks Lydia is messing with her or challenging her or anything like that. She says it like she doesn’t want Lydia to worry.

Delia was hired to be Lydia’s life coach to help with the loss of her mom, and Delia and Charles have been together for a bit at this point, so I figure it may have already crossed Delia’s mind at least once to consider the concept of Lydia being her stepdaughter.

I can’t help but wonder if, in that moment, Delia thinks Lydia is saying she thinks Delia is going to leave just like her mom (and Delia might even think Lydia is starting to see her as a maternal figure but that could be a stretch) and Delia wants to make it clear to Lydia that she’s not going to lose her, too.

Delia tells Lydia she knows she’s paid to care about her but she wants them to be real friends, and she really seems to mean it and be excited about it.

Then she tries to dab, which is of course again played for laughs, but she probably sees kids around Lydia’s age doing that and she thinks it will make her relatable and cool and maybe give her more appeal as a possible friend for Lydia.

Delia tells Lydia she bought her a dress for Charles’s dinner party and maybe she just did it because she was trying to help Charles and knew Lydia wouldn’t have a dress that he thought was good for the dinner, so maybe this is a stretch, but I think it’s also possible she figured Lydia wouldn’t want to go shopping so she went and got the dress so Lydia wouldn’t have to go shopping.

I also think it’s worth noting that the dress fits, so Delia knows Lydia’s size.

We also see later when Lydia does wear the dress that she’s also wearing white tights and light-colored shoes to match, which we don’t see or hear Delia mention, so maybe Lydia already had them, but it’s also possible Delia got them to go with the dress and had to know those sizes, too.

Delia says that the dress says, “I’m warm, I’m friendly, and I think about death only a normal amount,” and the phrasing of that feels very in tune with Millennial and Get Z speech patterns and senses of humor, so even though it could be taken like it’s Delia sort of judging Lydia for being so focused on death, I think it could also be her actually sort of understanding Lydia at least a little bit.

Delia then offers to help Lydia clear out the attic and build a dark room for her photography in it.

She’s paying attention to Lydia’s interests and offering major support for them, and what she’s offering is definitely not a small task. She’s committing.

While “No Reason” is funny, not always containing the best advice, and a little too personal at times, it’s really well-intentioned and full of different ways to try to think positively.

Delia, speaking as the universe, sings, “You’re on the right track, girl / I got your back, girl / I’m helping you grow” which shows us that she wants Lydia to feel like the universe is on her side even when it feels like the world is against her and things hurt and don’t make sense.

Also possibly a stretch, but while Delia is pretending to be a voice for the universe, I think it could also be taken as her herself, saying that Lydia is on the right track and she’s got her back along the way, because she had to get the thought for the universe to say it in the first place, and we have seen Delia seem to be committing and wanting to stick around for Lydia.

During the song, Delia does a dance from Fortnite which, again, she probably saw some kids around Lydia’s age doing and thought it would make her seem cool and relatable and less like some strange adult or her life coach, just not realizing that that’s not how adults trying to act like teenagers come across.

Our girl has actually been through a lot.

It’s all played quickly and as humor, but in this scene and in the proposal scene, we learn that

1) Delia lived in an apartment in Queens that probably didn’t have air conditioning because she says it was really hot, and the doors locked from the outside.

2) She was kicked out of a band when she felt like she was just starting to belong.

3) She was rejected as a disciple of Vishnu when, again, she felt like she was just starting to belong.

Furthermore on that point, wanting to be a disciple of Vishnu says a lot about her, because Vishnu is about good destroying evil, restoring Dharma, and relieving the burden of the earth.

Also in the proposal scene, Charles expresses concern that Lydia needs something more stable, and Delia says Lydia is stubborn but that she just needs more time. She’s not ready to give up on Lydia.

When Charles proposes, he specifically states that he would like Delia to sign a prenuptial agreement and, obviously, become his second wife.

Delia doesn’t even hesitate. She says “You bet your ass I will!” She doesn’t care that he wants her to sign a prenup or that she’ll be his second wife.

She doesn’t consider it a competition with his deceased wife or anything like that. She just loves him so much, and I think she loves Lydia too already, and she’s so ready to become part of the family.

Right before Charles’s Very Important Dinner, he asks Delia for an update on Lydia. Maybe he had kept track of her earlier in the day, but at least for the last while, he’s left it up to Delia.

So, maybe Charles knew from checking in on Lydia previously, or from Delia if she was the one who checked in before, but Delia knows that Lydia is locked in her room and says “still” like she knows she’s been there for a long time.

Delia also tells Charles that Lydia is still locked in her room with a voice that doesn’t sound judgmental or harsh but rather concerned.

I will say, this could also simply be because Delia appears to be coming downstairs after finishing getting ready and it would have been convenient for her to check on Lydia while she was up there and that Charles could have been checking on her and was just hoping that maybe, now that the dinner is approaching, that Lydia is getting ready.

When Lydia suggests that Delia give a toast, Delia thanks her and calls her “future stepdaughter” and holds up her engagement ring, which is clearly showing off a bit, but I think she’s also genuinely excited to know that Lydia will be her stepdaughter and that she’s marrying Charles.

During her toast, Delia calls Charles an “amazing, amazing man” and at some performances, she begins to cry as she says it. She has so much love in her heart and she’s so happy.

So much of what we see of Delia has her quoting her guru, Otho.

She clearly really respects and kind of idolizes him. Before she met Charles and became like part of the Deetz family, Otho was probably the first time she felt like she belonged somewhere and wasn’t pushed away.

She repeats his quotes frequently, seeming to figure that they’re catchy and that if they worked for her, maybe they can work for other people, too.

She trusts Otho so much that when she and Charles go to try to rescue Lydia from Beetlejuice, she cancels the exorcist and calls Otho instead. She wants Lydia back and she believes Otho can do that.

On a side note of that, this woman is a true ride or die.

She doesn’t even get what’s going on. All she knows, or at least thinks she knows, is that their new house is super haunted, the ghost scared the living shit out of everyone, the ghost is clearly violent and pretty merciless, and the ghost took Lydia.

But Delia is having none of it. She believes this ghost took Lydia and Delia is ready to fight to get her back.

When Otho reveals on Beetlejuice’s spinning wheel of death that he’s not at all who he says he is, Delia calls for Beej to spin the wheel.

Obviously that’s a pretty harsh reaction, and is again played for laughs, but can show us how hurt and betrayed she feels by someone she had put so much trust and faith in.

When Juno tries to threaten Lydia after she thinks she’s gotten rid of Beej, of course everyone starts to surround Lydia and announce that Juno’s gonna have to go through them first.

Interestingly, though, and maybe it’s for staging purposes because Lydia is shorter than the other characters and they don’t want to block her, everyone gathers behind her.

Except for Delia. Delia firmly announces that she doesn’t understand anything that’s been going on but she’s a part of it, and she moves in front of Lydia, sort of on the side but closer to the side Juno is on (which I will say, again, could be for staging purposes so no one is upstaging Lydia).

Not only does she place herself in front of Lydia, (I think) she’s the only one to get in a fighting stance. She crouches and raises her arms like she’s ready to fight to protect Lydia.

Basically Delia is a ride or die who would do anything for these people she’s made her home and I think she deserves so much love

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 12/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,668 Warnings: M for Suggestive Content and Language

Notes: The best laid plans blah blah blah...

Chapter 12 - In Which Phrasing is Key

According to the pitch-black darkness outside, it was late.

Holidae stared at herself in the mirror, fidgeting around and trying to psych herself up for what she was about to do. She was happy that Lydia had gone to bed hours ago, satisfied that she would be too deep into slumber to be awoken by any clandestine conversations. It had been several days since their heart to heart in the attic, and neither of them had been the first to summon back their resident ghost. An unspoken stalemate between the two women, not out of anger, but out of reluctance.

“Okay, Holli, you can do this. You can be firm and fair. Just… tell him…” She pointed sternly at her reflection, as though giving herself a lecture. “You look into those gold-yellow. Gross yellow. Eyes and you tell him that you want to take things easy. Ease into things. Take it slow and steady. Not getting crazy. Keeping our wits about us.”

Leaning forward, she tapped on the mirror glass, “You are a grown ass woman, how hard can this be?”

After a beat, she slumped over on the vanity, groaning in frustration, “…who are you kidding, Holidae? You’re going to crumble like a ruin.”

Holidae stood upright, beginning to pace the room, tugging at the end of her nightshirt. There was no point in delaying it anymore, was there? The longer she put off the conversation, the more her overall resolve would weaken until there would be no conversation to be had.

Taking a breath, she spoke into the empty air, “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice… Beetlejuice?”

There was no crash of lightning or billowing smoke as she had expected; he just materialized in the middle of her bedroom, taking a few steps before realizing the scenery had changed. Beetlejuice had been tearing around the Neitherworld; angry that he was so helpless in situations like this. There was no way for him to appear in the mortal realm without a summons, and the only two people in the world who could see him had been refusing to bring him back.

His entire form was stained red as he took note of his surroundings, whirling around to spot Holidae staring at him quietly. She looked so small in that moment, not buried under layers of intentionally baggy clothing, dressed in a ragged shirt and long pants; her hands picking at the stray thread at the hem.

“Where’s Lyds?” Beej finally asked, brushing something off his sleeve.

“Sleeping.” Holidae shifted her weight back slightly.

He chuckled, “Oooh, sneaking around and summoning ghosts behind her back? Shady. I love it.”

Beetlejuice brushed past her, going over to examine the objects around the room, making a point of ignoring her completely. One particular object caught his attention, his clawed fingers dragging across the familiar pages, taking note of the bookmarked passages.

“How did you get the book open? Got another dead guy hanging around?” Beetlejuice turned glanced at her, tempted to shut the Handbook in spite. “Trying to find a way to get rid of me for good?”

“Recently Deceased is a really vague term once you think about it. One of the houseplants died and she pried it open with one of the stems.” Holidae explained, crossing the room to join him. “They really should take at a look at phrasing once in a while and revise that Handbook. There are so many loopholes. Lawyer’s dream text.”

Beetlejuice abruptly moved away before she could get too close to his back, spinning on his heels to face her head on, his hand covering part of his chest, “I take it you’ve done a little light readin’, Jolly Holiday? Did we find out anything interesting? Exorcisms? Seances? You could have just asked me about stuff like that, you know. A genuine denizen of the Neitherworld.”

“I don’t want to exorcise anyone! If it’s anything like the movie, I want no part of it. No sir. Too sticky and gross and ugghhh…” Holidae made a face, trying to hold back the involuntary dry heave as she recalled the film. “Nevermind. Listen. We need to have a serious discussion.”

“A serious discussion? Oh… well, in that case, we need to be in a serious mood.” He nodded, “But we can’t be serious like this. This calls for a more adult theme.”

With a snap of his fingers, he transported the two of them onto Holidae’s bed. Beej was settled against the headboard, and Holidae was facing him while straddled over his lap. His hands were holding onto her waist; fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt to keep her balanced. Holidae tried to pry herself out of his grip, or at least move his hand so it wasn’t pressing against her green-yellow bruises.

“Hey, I mean it when I say it’s serious, Lawrence.” She thought the use of his proper name would get her point across. “Lydia and I were talking when you left…”

No longer covered in his angry red hue, his tone was turning more azure by the moment, “Yeah? And what, pray tell, does that have to do with my beautiful self?”

Falling silent, she tried to think of the best way to speak her peace without upsetting him, staring at his necktie as if it held all the answers she required, “Is it true you’re promiscuous?”

Not the most tactful way to phrase the question, but it was the only thing that sprang to mind. The ghost blinked at her slowly… once, twice… before wetting his lips with a noticeably long tongue. Holidae caught the last bit of he before it went back into his mouth, momentarily distracted by the appendage. Her resolve was already failing and they hadn’t even started talking.

“Loaded question, babes.” Beetlejuice’s voice was low, and he pulled her in a bit closer. “What brought up my sexual history?”

“It… may or may not have been implied that you are prone to sleeping around for fun.” Holidae’s pulse jumped, already regretting her whole plan. “Which… is something I’m not… I mean. It’s fine, do what you want, I’m not going to judge. I’m not your keeper. I just… it’s not something… wait, that’s not going to sound right. I-I-I don’t know what… how… to do this.”

“Whoa whoa… hey now, take a breath. That’s something breathers need to do. It’s in your name.” He let go of her waist, bringing his hands to the sides of her face. “Whew, you’re a little toasty there. I think you’re circuits are frying, ya know? I’ve seen spontaneous combustion and it is not pretty. Chunks everywhere. Don’t do that.”

Taking a few hiccuping breaths, Holidae tried to get her mind back on track, “I don’t sleep around!”

“Why are you so fixated on this- wait. Wait wait wait. Let me take a wild stab in the dark and say that my bestest best friend just happened to let slip my sex life after she happened to catch us together? Even though we weren’t even doing anything fun yet. Trust me, you’ll know when the good stuff happens.” He ran a hand through his fluff of hair, the color shifting from blue to deep green in moments. “What did she say?”

Holidae was picking at his necktie now, rolling the fabric between her fingers, “…that you’ve never talked about the same partner twice.”

He rolled his eyes, knocking his skull against the headboard, “Ugggh. Wow. Could she have picked the worst phrasing or what? I just tell her that kinda stuff to gross her out. It’s fun. If she wouldn’t get all squidgy about it, I would find something else to talk about. Do you like hearing about your friend’s sex lives in graphic detail? …wait, if you do, that is actually a very attractive quality and I would like to know more.”

She shook her head vehemently, “No no, that stuff isn’t my business.”

“Annnnnnd that is why it’s so fun to annoy Lyds with my sordid sexual conquests. She gets all weird and throws stuff at me, it’s hilarious.” Beej’s hands settled on her thighs this time, his claws tapping lightly in random patterns. “So you got the impression that I was just gonna pull the old money’s on the dresser routine with you?”

Nodding, Holidae was still fiddling with his tie, keeping usually focused and quiet.

“Did you summon me here with the intention of telling me we shouldn’t fuck if that’s all I wanted?” He pinched her leg, trying to get her attention.

“Ow,” She dropped the tie, rubbing her sore skin. “I would have said it more politely, but yeah.”

With a toothy grin, Beetlejuice tossed her on the bed next to him, rolling over her and pinning her to the mattress. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, feeling her pulse flutter underneath the skin, nipping along the vein with his teeth.

“There are plenty of other things we could do, ya know. Why jump to the main course without savoring the appetizers?” He laughed, sticking his hand under her shirt, gliding along until he could feel the slightly raised bruises. “Could give you another one of these as a little treat, hm?”

“N-no, that’s not… what I meant.” Holidae panted softly, trying to gather up the will to stop herself from giving up too easy.

“I know.” He ran his tongue along her collar bone, dipping below the fabric of her shirt. “You’re adorable, you know that? I can hear that brain of yours firing on all cylinders wondering how you can get it through to me. But don’t you see, Holidae, you don’t need to. I know exactly what you’re afraid of, and surprise surprise, I’m not that kinda demon. You gotta trust me, babes.”

Holidae slipped her hand into his hair, gently pulling him away from her neck, watching as his eyes turned darker and his head leaned into her touch. He seemed sincere through his words; his deep, gravely voice somehow soothing her fears like a balm.

“Lydia’s going into town for the weekend, some photography camp out in the woods.” Holidae whispered, lightly scratching his scalp with her nails.

He let out a sound that reminded her of a large animal purring deep in its chest, “It’s a date.”

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit @asriells

[deetz-n-beej]

The Surprise

((Here, have a smutty drabble based on something @xxx-theartofsuicide-xxx said. You’re welcome!))

Son of a bitch. 

Summer vacation had started hours ago and Beetlejuice had yet to be called into the land of the living to start on the Beej and Lyds Super Summer Power Hour that they’d been planning for months. In fact, he hadn’t heard from his girl in a couple of days. Usually, they were inseparable, but with school ending and her parents fucking off on another vacation she wasn’t invited on, he’d wanted to let his wife have some space. Being seventeen is a hell of a thing. 

He sighed softly as he leaned against the back side of her mirror, waiting to see if today was the day he’d be let out. He could hear Delia’s shrill voice from downstairs, going on and on about whether or not Charles had packed appropriately for the Virgin Islands, and he rolled his eyes. Was his girl really having to deal with this shit?

Several minutes after the slamming of the car door that announced the Deetz’s departure, he finally heard the bedroom door open and sprang up to press his face against the glass, trying to see Lydia from his limited vantage point. “Babes? Ya there? Lemme out already! We gotta get started on our summer vacay!”

She smiled weakly as she came into view, dressed in a black day dress that covered her from ankle to neck. There were thick tights underneath and a sweater over the whole mess. How rude… it was summer! She should be traipsing around in bikini tops and short shorts. He looked forward to the eye candy every year. “Yeesh, babes. Who died?” 

Lydia rolled her eyes and turned her back on him. “No death, just something I didn’t want you or my parents seeing… yet…” Yet? Seeing? What happened? He immediately took the defensive, standing up straight against the glass. “What? What happened, kitten? You get hurt or somthin’? Point me in the right direction, I’ll kill who I gotta…”

She scoffed and shook her head. “That won’t be necessary… I’m fine. It’s just a surprise....” 

He lifted an eyebrow, squishing his face to the mirror. “A surprise? For me? Can’t wait babes… lemme out and I’ll unwrap it myself…” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly, making her laugh from where she watched him over her shoulder. 

She shook her head, humming as though deep in thought. “You know… I think I’ll leave you there for a while. That way you can’t interrupt me.” 

He growled softly, glaring at her playfully. “So ya finally admit to bein’ a tease?” She giggled. “I never said I wasn’t…” As if proving her point, she started to shed her layers, the sweater coming off first and being tossed carelessly to the side. He saw then that the high neckline belonged to a sleeveless dress, his first glimpse of her snowy skin making him smile. He could almost feel the soft, warm flesh under his fingers. 

The tights went next, her skirt hiked up teasingly until it just covered her ass, her long legs revealed inch by inch. Despite her petite nature, she was nearly all legs, her torso short in comparison. He loved those legs… liked watching them move. Really liked having them wrapped around him. 

He groaned from his place pressed up against the barrier keeping him from her. “Fuck, baby… if I’d known I was gonna get a peep show I’d have brought some ones.” She snorted and turned to look at him as she reached behind herself to undo her zipper. “You know you don’t have to pay me… I like showing off for you once in a while.” He smiled and leaned on an elbow, his bottom half slowly floating up until he was reclined in mid-air. “Well, I love watchin’ ya show off, so I guess that works out.” 

She continued her little show, letting the top of the dress fall away and immediately turning away again, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Are you ready for your surprise?” He raised an eyebrow. “The show ain’t my surprise? Well, hell… hit me, Lyds.” 

She took a deep steadying breath. “I… Should I let you out first?” He chuckled. “This is yer circus, babes. I’m just yer favorite clown.” She let out a breathy laugh and braced herself before turning to face him. 

It took him a long moment to find the supposed gift. His eyes raked over her hungrily before finally settling on her right hip, where a newly-done tattoo stood in stark, black contrast to her alabaster skin. Whoever had done it had real skill. This wasn’t some back alley stick and poke job. She must have actually gone to a shop to have it done… 

In scrolling black font, it stated the facts quite plainly: Property of BJ. A red rose bloomed behind the words, the veins of the leaves so realistic that it seemed to grow directly from her body. Property of BJ. 

He was on his feet in an instant and pounding on the glass. “Let me out. Lemme out right now, Lydia… god damn. COME ON!” She blushed, taking a step back. “Do… so you like it?” He growled, a hungry sound that went straight to Lydia’s core. “Lemme out and I’ll show ya, kitten…” She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together to fight off the surge of arousal that his words caused. She’d put a lot of thought into this… She was going to college soon, and she didn’t want her husband doubting even a little bit how she felt. 

She licked her lips. “Beetlejuice…” He grinned. “Yeeaaah?” “Beetlejuice…” He rubbed his hands together, ready to get them on that soft, embellished skin. 

“Beetlejuice.” 

Three things happened all at the same time. There was a crack of lighting overhead as Lydia was thrown backward onto the bed. Beetle cackled as he appeared above her, and the last shreds of Lydia’s clothing disappearing. 

She gasped and instinctively put her arms over her head, ready for the ravishing that was sure to come from her little stunt. His hands raked down her sides, the fingers of one trailing over the tattoo curiously. It was raised slightly, scabbed over and still healing. The skin beneath the ink was still as soft as the rest of her, the words breaking up the pale pink expanse of her in an intoxicating way. 

“Did it hurt?” She lifted her head to look at him and shrugged. “A little… not bad. The.. the machine buzzes.” She blushed, suddenly embarrassed by her answer. He smirked. “Oh? Ya get a little excited on the table, baby?” He slid the other hand between her legs and over her already-damp core hungrily. 

Lydia’s back arched, her hips lifting up toward him deliciously at the first brush of his rough calluses over her. “Oh.. I… M-maybe.” It was adorable how quickly her confidence had left her. Once again, she was pliant and wanting beneath him, a soft whine leaving her throat.

“Naughty… my nasty, tattooed little punk.” He dropped his mouth onto her collarbone, groaning at the warm, delicate taste under his tongue. The serpentine appendage slid from his mouth and curled around her nipple, flicking over the end in a teasing motion. She gasped and moaned loudly, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. “B-Beej!” His finger quested deeper into her soft cunt, slipping down to brush over her entrance before coming back up to pull gently at her clit. “Yes, love? You need somethin’?” She whined and shoved at him. “Stop teasing and fuck me already…” 

He chuckled. “Is that why ya did this? Ya know you don’t need stunts like this to make me fuck ya… you can just...ask…” Her eyes met his with an intensity that he wasn’t prepared for. He shirked back under the emotional gaze. “What?” 

“BJ, I… I did it because I wanted a piece of you with me… when I have to leave Peaceful Pines…” He frowned softly. He didn’t like thinking about how little time they had left. “Babes… Ya know I’m gonna come with ya… we’re gonna figure it out.” She ran her hands up his neck and through his tangled blond hair, nodding.. “I… I know, but… if we can’t…” 

He’d had enough of this conversation. He slid a thick digit into her, curling it against the place just behind her clit that he knew drove her wild. Like taking a cue, a choked gasp left her and her hips jerked against his hand, her eyes going wide. He chuckled. “Enough, baby… we’re gonna make it work. I promise.” 

He snapped and his suit vanished, leaving them both completely bare. His sweet bride reached for him again easily, pulling him into her to press their lips together in a firm kiss. He leaned into it gladly, his finger rocking in and out of her gently, just to keep her on edge. 

She could feel him hard against her hip, his cock pressed straight against the brand she’d put onto herself. The cold of his skin was a comfort to the burning itch that had set in as the tattoo healed, making her press further into the soothing sensation. He, of course, took this as an invitation and hauled her up halfway into his lap, her shoulder blades still pressed into the mattress. 

“God, yer so beautiful… I’m a lucky bastard…” She giggled under him, lifting her hips so his erection was forced to slide over her heat gently. “You really are… wonder what you did to deserve me…” He snorted and landed a firm slap to her thigh. “Little brat…” 

“Your little brat.” 

“True…” 

He grinned and pushed her legs open, rising on his knees as he bent her upside down to rock more firmly against her. “Says so right there.” The head of his cock fumbled against her and pressed against her entrance, making her jump. “Oops. Guess that’s a sign, huh?”

She grinned and nodded, reaching over her head to brace her fingers against the headboard. If sex with Beetlejuice had taught her anything, it was how to prepare herself for an attack. 

He pushed into her in a single thrust, grunting like the old man he was as his balls pressed into her ass, the tight- warm-wet of her knocking his consciousness aside for a moment as he adjusted. His wife was panting under him, her chest rising and falling in that enchanting way that it did. He could remember when she was younger, laying on the other side of the mirror just to watch her breathe in her sleep. 

He bent over her to kiss her tenderly. “I love ya, baby… so much. I promise we can make it work.” Tears came to her eyes as he started to thrust into her, the looming doubt of the future making her heart ache in her chest. She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak the words aloud in return. 

The romp was doomed to be a short one, the tensions both emotional and sexual looming too close over their heads. Minutes after it began, it was ending. Beetlejuice pulled himself free of her, stroking his cock with one large hand while the other rubbed furiously over her clit. “Come on... Come on, baby… come for me.” She whimpered and arched against him, her hip bumping against his hand making her moan both in pleasure and pain. In moments she was tensing, her back leaving the bed as she sat up, her hands gripping his wrist tightly as she rode out the orgasm he’d forced her into. 

He was moments behind her, his release spattering onto her skin and over the tattoo, marking her in more ways than one. He huffed and puffed as he came down, taking deep and unnecessary breaths. “Fuck…”

She laughed breathlessly and nodded. “Agreed… Love you, Beej.” He kissed her soundly, lowering her back into the bed. “I love ya too, Lyds. More’n anything.”

She smiled and made to roll out of bed, stopped by his heavy weight behind her and one large arm slung across her waist. “B… I need to clean up…My tattoo could get infected, you know.” He pressed his lips behind her ear, his fingers trailing through his cum against her hip. 

“Oh, Lyds...Ya didn’t think we were done… did ya?”

[adambstingus]

23 Men Reveal The Absolute WORST Sexual Experience Of Their Lives

Found on AskReddit.

1. Her false eye popped out and I felt it on my balls.

Met girl at rave. Went to cemetery. Getting beej, she deep throated, her false eye I was unaware of came out.

Felt it on my balls.

Yes.

2. There was a swamp-green streak in her panties that smelled like a fish’s asshole.

Was back in high school. Things were getting hot and heavy until I tried taking her pants off. There was a swamp-green streak in her panties that smelled like a fish’s asshole. We didn’t even get to the sex part and I still consider it the worst sex I’ve ever had. It still haunts me to this day.

3. My balls got tickled by her fart.

With my now ex-wife. Standard sexy-time up to a point (kissing, boob play, a little oral), then I go to put it in. She farts. I felt it tickle my balls.

It tickled my balls, man. You can’t keep going after that. I’m a nurse and not much grosses me out but…My balls got tickled by her fart.

4. I lay there….unspent and sad.

Does masturbation count? Im going to tell it anyways.

I was having a dry period of about a month. I woke up after a really vivid wet dream and tried to rub it out.

I proceeded to slip in and out of consciousness for a good ten minutes, rubbing it until it is hard, falling half asleep for a minute, waking up again, rubbing it again. After those ten minutes, I just gave up. I lay there….unspent and sad.

5. I was gagging the entire time.

Was quite drunk and in a miserable period in my life where I’d fuck just about anything. Hooked up with a neighbor’s friend. She had dreads. I was gagging the entire time. Barely managed to finish. Showered for what felt like an eternity after.

6. She shit right in my hand.

I pulled out to give myself a break, we were in the doggy position. I started fingering her and she started to orgasm. She shit right in my hand.

7. I threw up on her snatch.

I went down on a girl and it smelled exactly like an Arby’s cheddar melt. I threw up on her snatch, and that wasn’t a deal breaker for her. It just made her want it more. She knew I liked it a little rough, from previous conversations, and so she straight up launched herself, puke beef cootchie and all, right onto my face and starts grinding. I was so caught off be-fucking-wildered that I froze, internally screaming this is a bad dream. This has got to be a bad fucking dream. Meanwhile in grind town, the aroma of Arby’s and half-digested oatmeal smeared my face as I finally screamed in horror and ran out.

You try getting that out of your beard.

8. She insisted on watching while blowing me.

Ended up losing my virginity to my first girlfriend while watching I asked her if we could maybe turn it off, at which point she removed my penis from her mouth and said, But it’s my favorite movie?

9. It was like my penis rolled a sticky tear.

I had a pretty sad jerk off the other night.

I guess my heart wasn’t into it or something but the run up to the orgasm started fine but then it just became a chore. I kept thinking about other stuff. My arm was getting tired. I farted mid-way through and the smell was a distraction.

I start to cum and it immediately got soft and just like seeped out. No energy behind it at all. No happiness or excitement. It was like my penis rolled a sticky tear.

Then my dick was like a sad old drunk slumping into a puddle of his own sick. I just sat there all heavy with shame for a few seconds as this gif looping on my monitor that, with the haze of arousal fizzled, was just awkward and weird. All titties being mashed and slapped around like they owed someone money.

Then I got a sandwich and played Minecraft.

10. I found out in the most painful way that I was in fact too big for her once her teeth shredded my dick and filled her mouth with blood.

Was dating a girl a few years back and after a month of intense make out sessions and heavy petting we decided it was time to take things to the next level. It started off well enough when she pulled out my junk and exclaimed I was the biggest she’d seen, and she was proud of her ability to deep throat and was insistent she could take me on. So without any warm up at all she tries to shove my entire dry dick down her throat and I found out in the most painful way that I was in fact too big for her once her teeth shredded my dick and filled her mouth with blood. We didn’t get to the sex part due to my crying

11. I accidentally told a girl I loved her and proceeded to have awkward coitus.

I was once having sex with a girl I’d been dating for a few weeks. I thought she said I love you so I was like Oh I love you too but she actually just said something completely different. She stopped dead and questioned what I’d said, but I just said never mind and carried on. TL;DR I accidentally told a girl I loved her and proceeded to have awkward coitus.

12. She kindly informs me I wasn’t in and was rubbing between her ass cheeks and sheets the whole time.

First time I ever did it. I was thrusting hard and doing well, so I thought. Then she kindly informs me I wasn’t in and was rubbing between her ass cheeks and sheets the whole time. I almost came from that.

13. I banged a hoarder in the closet of her smelly apartment. Afterwards she fished an old condom out of her pussy.

So, Im at a bar and I start working on a girl. Shes pretty hot. We dance, we drink, we talk. She makes it pretty clear she wants to go back to my place. At one point, she was even joking how its been forever since she’s been laid.

Im only in town visiting a friend and crashing on his couch so I insist on going to her place. Initially she resists the idea but I elaborate on the couch thing, plus he lives super far away, he doesnt have a car so I dont know how she would get home, etc., etc. Eventually she caves.

She lives walking distance away in a pretty nice apartment building. We go up the elevator and when we get to her front door she warns me that she shares a 1 bedroom apartment with a roommate and that, Its a little bit messy.

She opens the door; we go in and Im slapped across the face with the stench of weeks-old garbage and a pile of dishes festering in the sink. I have no idea how someone could live with that smell emanating from their kitchen but perhaps even worse is the whole place looks like an episode of hoarders. Junk is everywhere. It covers every conceivable surface, and is several feet thick in some places with piles of laundry and random items littered across the floor.

At this point, a better man would have called it. Thanked her for the lovely evening and taken a very lonely but far more sanitary cab ride back home. But its been a while for me and shes probably the hottest chick Ive ever landed. So instead her and I waded through the piles of garbage to make our way to her bedroom.

She leads me to a windowless room that I can only describe as a closet. Its barely large enough for a single mattress, which is placed directly on the floor. We are surrounded on all sides by piles of junk and clothes but Im relieved to be away from the chaos and stink that is her kitchen.

We go in and I close the door behind us and we are plunged into blackness. There are no lights in the room. She fumbles around and says Just a second! while she rummages through her purse, takes out her cellphone, activates the flashlight app, and MacGyver’s the worlds saddest desk lamp by propping it up on a pile of dirty clothes.

We get down to business. At this point Im so thoroughly disgusted with myself that Im having trouble getting ready for action. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), she sucks dick like a champ and we get things underway. I put on a condom and were off to the races. At this point all I want to do is blow my load and make my escape from this smelly dungeon.

Then she stops me: Wait a second I think the condom broke. My heart immediately seizes up and sinks to the pit of my stomach as I consider the possibility of being connected to this hot mess and her garbage dungeon for 18 years.

I withdraw and she sticks her finger into her pussy, fishes out a broken condom, and flings it at the wall. As shes rummaging through her trash heap looking for another condom I look down and I notice something. Im still wearing a condom And its totally intact.

tl;dr I banged a hoarder in the closet of her smelly apartment. Afterwards she fished an old condom out of her pussy.

14. I projectile-vomited from the realization I had been banging a 15-year-old for a month.

This one is sad and I’m disgusted with myself for a reason that will become clear. I was 21 and had been dating this girl who was 18. I met her mother and they were even talking about how they were planning her 19th birthday party and how she couldn’t believe how fast her little girl was growing up and her mom even said her daughter scored big time landing a handsome 21-year-old man yadda yadda. It was weird and felt like I was missing an inside joke. Fast forward a month and lots of pretty good sex.

We had left party at a beach house to fuck in my car. She gets sick and vomits at one point, super drunk, but thankfully she managed to vomit outside the car. We keep going at it, or trying to; I was drunk myself and drunk me and erections dont work so well, windows had fogged up and the car was rocking.

There’s a sharp knock at the window that I ignored, kept fucking. Then there’s another knock and its insistent. I get angry at this point and yell leave me alone, we are fucking! I thought it was a friend looking for us. Nope. I was met by a blinding light being shown and an obvious cop tone telling us to exit the vehicle.

Two cops were outside and asked if we were at the party because they had a noise complaint. Yup. I’m freaking out because she’s clearly wasted and she was only 18. I was 21 so I just knew I would be hit with a charge for supplying alcohol to an underage person. The dreaded question comes up. How old are you? I responded with Im 21 sir, but I haven’t supplied any alcohol to anyone but myself. Cop smirks but looks at my GF and asks her her age.

She looks around shyly, albeit drunkenly, and says Fifteen. It took me a moment to clock it but the cops looking at me wide-eyed confirmed what I thought must have been a misheard statement. The moment the statement was confirmed was met by a What the fucking fuck!?! scream of disbelief and projectile vomit from the realization I had been banging a 15-year-old for a month. She did not look like she was that young.

I immediately went on a rant about how I met her mom and how the fuck that was even possible. Apparently my reaction was so genuine that the cops believed it. They even had the girl call her mom and her mother confirmed that they had lied to me. All I received that night was being pulled aside by cops and a lecture about checking girls IDs.

15. The smelllike wet garbage in the hot sunhit me.

Back when I was in law school, there was a girl, M. M was a wholesome gal from Wisconsin: blonde hair, blue eyes, a slight gap in her front teeth. A real girl-next-door type (in the traditional, non-porno sense). She grew up on a dairy farm.

M was what we called law school hotlate 20s (and just starting to show it), slightly pudgy, finally trying harder to dress professionally than to dress sexy, generally attractive, but didn’t really stand out in a crowd. Her biggest assetliterallywas her awesome rack. To quote , they hung enormous, the way you’d think of God’s as big. Her daddy would have been lucky to have a milk cow endowed like her.

It was the end of our first semester, which for new 1Ls is a huge deal. (The stress during the initial year in law school is tremendous; if you’ve ever seen the movie Paper Chase, it’s 100% accurate.) The tradition at my law school was for everyone to saunter over to the bar a block away after their last exam and hang out. M and I had a friendly relationship up until that point, so when I saw her walk through the door, I waved her over and she joined our group of about ten or so.

At some pointprompted in part, I’m sure, by large quantities of boozewe of course started talking about sex, and because one of the guys with us was gay, the topic of anal sex came up. After a bit, M admitted that she had never tried anal. I was drunk and feeling saucy, so I said, ‘We should rectify that. Rectum-ify, she giggled back, and at that moment, I decided to put all of my drunken intellect towards coming in her back door before the night was out.

After a few hours our group was dwindling, but some of us were determined to continue celebrating for a while longer and M was looking like she was ready to head out. She needed to eat, she said, and was running out of cash, too. We still had about ¾ of a pizza left, and I was trying to convince her to stay, so I offered to buy her next drink if she’d stick around.

When I came back with her drinksomething with tequila, I believeshe turned to me and said, I shouldn’t be eating this, I’m lactose-intolerant. I hope you’re happy, because I’m doing this for you.

After that round, more people headed out, and M couldn’t be persuaded to stay. But I wasn’t ready to give up, so I offered to walk her home, since our apartments were next to each other, and only a few blocks away. When we got to her place, she invited me in. We went through the standard fooling around routine, ending up naked and horizontal in her bed.

Emboldened by earlier conversation, M’s apparent enthusiasm, and a large dose of alcohol, I eventually suggested that we try anal, and M agreed. After some shuffling, we ended up with her on top so that she could control the depth and speed, and for a few minutes, I was happily watching M’s magnificent mammaries jiggle around while she gingerly bounced on my rod.

After a few minutes, her expression switched from drunken sex stupor to pain and fear. Assuming I had hurt her somehow, I began to push her off of me, but she told me to wait. Sudden pressure and heat on my tool tipped me off to her digestive distress, and I could feel something trickling down my balls. I started to get up again, but she said, No, please. Stay inside. Just for a minute. I protested, but she was panicked, and begged me to help her to the bathroom before I pulled out.

We flailed around for a moment, and awkwardly switched to doggy style. We tried to shuffle to the bathroom, but drunkenness, the physical difficulty of the act, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all meant we didn’t make much progress. In a moment of inebriated genius, I hoisted her up by the hips and suggested she walk on her hands.

It turns out that wheelbarrowing a crying drunk girl across her apartment with your dick stuck in her ass isn’t particularly sexy, and a combination of internal pressure and my rapidly deflating member caused what is probably best referred to as an uncorking.

I watched in slow-mo horror as a fountain of diarrhea blasted out of her butthole, point-blank into my crotch. Spattering my torso. And my arms. And my face. And I dropped her. She hit the ground, hard, sobbing. The smelllike wet garbage in the hot sunhit me. I was painted from waist down with her special brand of brownie batter.

I was in shock. I just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at this poor girl, suffering the world’s worst case of mudbutt, crying on the floor of her shitty apartment, shit oozing out of her ass, shit dripping off of me.

But as horrible as the sight and the smell were, the worst was the sound. That sound will haunt me for the rest of my life. No language on Earth can approximate the cacophony of her crapping everywhere. It was a combination of the most over-the-top whoopee cushion, someone snapping gum through their teeth, and the glug of a water cooler. That sound blared above all, the way classical music plays during the hero’s against-all-odds rush into death in war movies. The sobbing was a distant drone, almost outside my notice, but the burbling of her bowels was deafening, in perfect sonorous clarity.

I must have stood there for maybe 10 seconds, but it felt like an hour. In a daze I pulled my pants on, then ran out the door. I mean ran. I sprinted. I left my shirt, my shoes, my socks, my boxers. All of it was abandoned in my mad dash to get home. People on the street saw me, but I didn’t care. I ran the 100 yards to my apartment door, past everyone, and I threw myself in the shower, and I cried.

16. She yelps like a pup and I spent the next 15 minutes cradling her as she whimpers, calling me an idiot.

Was having sex with my girlfriend at the time shes this cute little thing but really strong (she actually joined the Army later) anyway shes on top, I grab her and pull her to me and flip her onto her back and now I’m on top. She fucking loves it. She decides she wants to put her hands in my hair, small problem her one arm is in between my hand holding me up (This was spontaneous hiking in the woods and on top of a picnic blanket sex and not soft bed sex) and her body. She decides to quickly pull her hand out just as I was thrusting. She knocks out my support and I start to fall so I lift my other hand and throw it to center the balance. Her seeing my fall turns to her side so we dont whack skulls. Now this girl weighs 110 soaking wet, I’m 250lbs. My center balancing position threw my hand down at Mach 1 with 250lbs behind it directly onto her breast. She yelps like a pup and I spent the next 15 minutes cradling her as she whimpers, calling me an idiot.

17. I lasted like 4 pumps max.

tl;dr Couldn’t get it up and repeatedly embarrassed myself night after night for two weeks.

So I met this girl overseas. She was also American and was working in the same area I was. Short, great curves, cute face, overall way hot. Started talking to her on Facebook, and found out she was an awesome conversationalist and that we had a lot of personality traits in common. Unfortunately, things didn’t escalate quickly enough before I ended up going home for a few months.

While I was home, we kept talking of Facebook and really hit it off. Flirting became sex references became overt I want to have sex with you. This went on for like two months. We were Skyping and messaging all day long. We even discussed that we would be making out and banging as soon as I got back.

Finally got back and saw her again, and we immediately went back to my room and got down to it. 0-100mph in the space of about 10 mins, and we hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol.

I really liked this girl. A lot. Too much. So much that my nerves overruled my basic biological functions and I went soft as a bar rag as soon as she was above me about to put it in. Try as we might, there was no getting me stiff again. I’d never had trouble keeping it up (while sober) before and was highly surprised and disappointed with myself. I’d also never had this strong of an affection for someone before ever having sex with them.

Freshly inspired by some illuminating time with a therapist back home, I decided that honesty with her and with myself was the best policy here and just explained that I was nervous as shit and didn’t think I could be performing tonight. She hid her disappointment very well. We cuddled up and went to bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night, hard as a diamond, and decided to try again. Minimum amount of foreplay and I lasted like 4 pumps max. She actually thanked me for waking her up to try again!

I could get plenty hard enough when we tried from there on out, but as soon as the shuttle approached for reentry, all the heat shielding melted away, the structure collapsed, and the crew went down in burning flames. My nerves persisted with no sign of relenting with her over the next few days.

This saint blew me every day and I disappointed this woman who wanted my cock so bad every day for like two weeks. She stuck around enthusiastic and persistent (which blows my mind because she could have left and pulled any slab of hot meat she wanted) for two weeks. Expecting her to give up and leave made me even more nervous, but she never did.

Finally, in a night of just the right amount of tipsy, I pulled it off! Had drunk, short, sloppy sex, but I was mildly reassured that I at least was capable. Over the next few days, I gradually got over my nerves enough to at least keep hard enough to penetrate. When I was finally batting 100 instead of zero, we basically opened the floodgates and fucked at least daily for months. Sex got better and better and she stuck around.

She moved in with me last summer and I can’t imagine a cooler girlfriend.

18. We get 4, maybe 5 thrusts in before the girl’s friend barges into the room and starts screaming bloody murder.

Coincidentally my first go at sex…. Party at a good friends’ house, talk to a girl all night and end up in one of my friend’s bedroom, my friends were siblings, this is important because my friend had gotten in trouble earlier in the week with her mother resulting in her door knob being removed so she couldn’t lock the door. Things are getting hot and heavy, clothes are off, dick is slid in, and we get 4, maybe 5 thrusts in before the girl’s friend barges into the room and starts screaming bloody murder, for no reason beyond being a drunk high school girl encountering an awkward interaction, whole room rushes in as the girl sits, petrified, on top of my softening dick.

19. Girl blew me. Somehow she made it boring.

Girl blew me.

Somehow she made it boring.

Also dry like desert.

Painful, could not convince her to do something else.

Her begging me to cum had opposite effect it should have. Normally wind blows I cum, but not this day.

Finally take matters into my own hands (A, normally wouldn’t want to, B, she stopped me every time before she developed lockjaw an hour in) finish myself in her mouth.

Collapse from exhaustion and sadness.

She tells me she loves me.

This was our first sexual encounter of any kind.

Bizzaro world of future with her as my wife getting blow jobs I somehow don’t want every night flashes before my eyes.

I bolt.

She proclaims as I fade out of sight, that was the best I’ve ever given.

Her roommates were in living room, though I didn’t see them, I’m sure they shook their heads.

Sad.

20. The whole time I was thinking, Im gonna fucking die.

She was drunk, I was drunker, it was like trying to stab someone with a piece of soft rope, so I had some…enhancement pills, not a great combo being drunk, horny and all worked up so I basically ended up at near heart attack levels of strain on my heart, I mean I did it and she seemed happy enough, but the whole time I was thinking Im gonna fucking die, I’m gonna die fucking someone in doggy and pin her down with my body when I do.

Ironically I bet that made me last longer. Also when I woke up I was still erect.

21. And that, ladies and gents, is how I began the year of 2016 by contracting syphilis.

She was 5 foot nothing, perky breasts, and a shapely backside. Cute as a button.

She laid next to me on her single mattress in the dingy apartment room she was forced to rent in order to dance in the local strip joint of my home town. Both of us fairly hung over, though no less frisky for it.

As we lay there dozing in and out of sleep, and mumbling conversation her intentions for my company became clearer the more often her ass made its way to grinding against my groin.

Bedraggled state of affairs I was in, I tried to ignore her silent request for attention. Whether a result of anxiety at being in bed with a real live exotic dancer, the effects of my diet consisting solely of beer and cigarettes for 3 days solid, or a combination of both, junior was not up to the task.

However my companion was determined. Given her increased advances I refused to allow myself to miss the opportunity of bedding a stripper. Reaching a free hand into my boxers, I began to tug one out.

After a brief minute of awakening my member, I felt sufficiently hard enough to see through the task at hand. Rolling over into a spooning position I guided my cock to her awaiting opening, and did my damndest to enter her.

Unfortunately it became obvious that my wedding tackle wasn’t sufficiently warmed up, as I began pushing rope after acquainting myself with the first couple inches of her vulva.

Propping my would-be lover onto her knees, I assumed my position behind her and tried to go to work once more. I attended her vagina with one free hand while stimulating my rod with the other.

It only occurred to me after the first few strokes how long my willy had gone without attention. Before I could rethink my strategy-or convince junior to take any other form besides that of an over cooked pasta noodle-I felt an all too familiar sensation rushing through my vas.

I tried to clamp my trouser snake in a death grip as a last-ditch effort to stop the inevitable, but to no avail. Bat and balls pulsed in unison, erupting a fountain of jism far more enthusiastic than I would have expected given the setting. It was all over.

Kneeling there, unbelieving, I looked brokenly to the web of cum enveloping my hand and the considerable dollop on the sheets. My attempted consort still positioned patiently, eyes closed, anticipating more than the idle digit I had planted in her baby chute.

I did the best to compose myself, wiped the spunk off on a nearby scrap of fabric, and managed to splutter the words I need a cigarette.

And that, ladies and gents, is how I began the year of 2016 by contracting syphilis.

22. I found a long yellow dead piece of grass up my dickhole.

Was young and was having sex in the grass in the backyard, I felt a giant spider skittle across my chest and bucked the bitch off of me. Turned over and got up, later in the house I felt a weird pressure on my dick, went to the bathroom and found a long yellow dead piece of grass up my dickhole. Hurt the whole way out.

If youre going to have sex outside kids, put down a blanket.

23. The story of Vampire Girl.

Oh boy. Let me tell you the story of Vampire Girl.

Many years ago, I had just gotten out of my first relationship. That first relationship included all the other firsts – kiss, grope, sex, etc. Upon its ending, I was a total wreck. A pitiful mass of ridiculously maudlin sentiments. My friends kept telling me I needed to rebound. Get under someone to get over someone. You know the drill.

So a perfectly lovely girl invites me out, then we head to her place. I was not into it. I was and remain pretty much unable to differentiate the act of sex from romantic feelings, and I was still in love with my ex. So things weren’t really working down there.

This lovely girl takes it in stride, and decides that some kink will help turn the cooked noodle back into hard, raw spaghetti. Cue something that I, the veteran of one fairly vanilla sexual partner, was not prepared to hear.

Her: Do you want me to get out my whip?

Me: Uh

Her: We can taste each other’s blood.

Me: can we just go to sleep, please?

She kept stroking my face all night.

Listen, S, I don’t know if you’re reading this, but current me would have been willing to work a bit with the whip. Still no blood play. Sorry for being awkward as all hell about it back then.

Read this: 23 Women Reveal The Absolute WORST Sexual Experience Of Their Lives

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/23-men-reveal-the-absolute-worst-sexual-experience-of-their-lives/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/178460796597

[allofbeercom]

23 Men Reveal The Absolute WORST Sexual Experience Of Their Lives

Found on AskReddit.

1. Her false eye popped out and I felt it on my balls.

Met girl at rave. Went to cemetery. Getting beej, she deep throated, her false eye I was unaware of came out.

Felt it on my balls.

Yes.

2. There was a swamp-green streak in her panties that smelled like a fish’s asshole.

Was back in high school. Things were getting hot and heavy until I tried taking her pants off. There was a swamp-green streak in her panties that smelled like a fish’s asshole. We didn’t even get to the sex part and I still consider it the worst sex I’ve ever had. It still haunts me to this day.

3. My balls got tickled by her fart.

With my now ex-wife. Standard sexy-time up to a point (kissing, boob play, a little oral), then I go to put it in. She farts. I felt it tickle my balls.

It tickled my balls, man. You can’t keep going after that. I’m a nurse and not much grosses me out but…My balls got tickled by her fart.

4. I lay there….unspent and sad.

Does masturbation count? Im going to tell it anyways.

I was having a dry period of about a month. I woke up after a really vivid wet dream and tried to rub it out.

I proceeded to slip in and out of consciousness for a good ten minutes, rubbing it until it is hard, falling half asleep for a minute, waking up again, rubbing it again. After those ten minutes, I just gave up. I lay there….unspent and sad.

5. I was gagging the entire time.

Was quite drunk and in a miserable period in my life where I’d fuck just about anything. Hooked up with a neighbor’s friend. She had dreads. I was gagging the entire time. Barely managed to finish. Showered for what felt like an eternity after.

6. She shit right in my hand.

I pulled out to give myself a break, we were in the doggy position. I started fingering her and she started to orgasm. She shit right in my hand.

7. I threw up on her snatch.

I went down on a girl and it smelled exactly like an Arby’s cheddar melt. I threw up on her snatch, and that wasn’t a deal breaker for her. It just made her want it more. She knew I liked it a little rough, from previous conversations, and so she straight up launched herself, puke beef cootchie and all, right onto my face and starts grinding. I was so caught off be-fucking-wildered that I froze, internally screaming this is a bad dream. This has got to be a bad fucking dream. Meanwhile in grind town, the aroma of Arby’s and half-digested oatmeal smeared my face as I finally screamed in horror and ran out.

You try getting that out of your beard.

8. She insisted on watching while blowing me.

Ended up losing my virginity to my first girlfriend while watching I asked her if we could maybe turn it off, at which point she removed my penis from her mouth and said, But it’s my favorite movie?

9. It was like my penis rolled a sticky tear.

I had a pretty sad jerk off the other night.

I guess my heart wasn’t into it or something but the run up to the orgasm started fine but then it just became a chore. I kept thinking about other stuff. My arm was getting tired. I farted mid-way through and the smell was a distraction.

I start to cum and it immediately got soft and just like seeped out. No energy behind it at all. No happiness or excitement. It was like my penis rolled a sticky tear.

Then my dick was like a sad old drunk slumping into a puddle of his own sick. I just sat there all heavy with shame for a few seconds as this gif looping on my monitor that, with the haze of arousal fizzled, was just awkward and weird. All titties being mashed and slapped around like they owed someone money.

Then I got a sandwich and played Minecraft.

10. I found out in the most painful way that I was in fact too big for her once her teeth shredded my dick and filled her mouth with blood.

Was dating a girl a few years back and after a month of intense make out sessions and heavy petting we decided it was time to take things to the next level. It started off well enough when she pulled out my junk and exclaimed I was the biggest she’d seen, and she was proud of her ability to deep throat and was insistent she could take me on. So without any warm up at all she tries to shove my entire dry dick down her throat and I found out in the most painful way that I was in fact too big for her once her teeth shredded my dick and filled her mouth with blood. We didn’t get to the sex part due to my crying

11. I accidentally told a girl I loved her and proceeded to have awkward coitus.

I was once having sex with a girl I’d been dating for a few weeks. I thought she said I love you so I was like Oh I love you too but she actually just said something completely different. She stopped dead and questioned what I’d said, but I just said never mind and carried on. TL;DR I accidentally told a girl I loved her and proceeded to have awkward coitus.

12. She kindly informs me I wasn’t in and was rubbing between her ass cheeks and sheets the whole time.

First time I ever did it. I was thrusting hard and doing well, so I thought. Then she kindly informs me I wasn’t in and was rubbing between her ass cheeks and sheets the whole time. I almost came from that.

13. I banged a hoarder in the closet of her smelly apartment. Afterwards she fished an old condom out of her pussy.

So, Im at a bar and I start working on a girl. Shes pretty hot. We dance, we drink, we talk. She makes it pretty clear she wants to go back to my place. At one point, she was even joking how its been forever since she’s been laid.

Im only in town visiting a friend and crashing on his couch so I insist on going to her place. Initially she resists the idea but I elaborate on the couch thing, plus he lives super far away, he doesnt have a car so I dont know how she would get home, etc., etc. Eventually she caves.

She lives walking distance away in a pretty nice apartment building. We go up the elevator and when we get to her front door she warns me that she shares a 1 bedroom apartment with a roommate and that, Its a little bit messy.

She opens the door; we go in and Im slapped across the face with the stench of weeks-old garbage and a pile of dishes festering in the sink. I have no idea how someone could live with that smell emanating from their kitchen but perhaps even worse is the whole place looks like an episode of hoarders. Junk is everywhere. It covers every conceivable surface, and is several feet thick in some places with piles of laundry and random items littered across the floor.

At this point, a better man would have called it. Thanked her for the lovely evening and taken a very lonely but far more sanitary cab ride back home. But its been a while for me and shes probably the hottest chick Ive ever landed. So instead her and I waded through the piles of garbage to make our way to her bedroom.

She leads me to a windowless room that I can only describe as a closet. Its barely large enough for a single mattress, which is placed directly on the floor. We are surrounded on all sides by piles of junk and clothes but Im relieved to be away from the chaos and stink that is her kitchen.

We go in and I close the door behind us and we are plunged into blackness. There are no lights in the room. She fumbles around and says Just a second! while she rummages through her purse, takes out her cellphone, activates the flashlight app, and MacGyver’s the worlds saddest desk lamp by propping it up on a pile of dirty clothes.

We get down to business. At this point Im so thoroughly disgusted with myself that Im having trouble getting ready for action. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), she sucks dick like a champ and we get things underway. I put on a condom and were off to the races. At this point all I want to do is blow my load and make my escape from this smelly dungeon.

Then she stops me: Wait a second I think the condom broke. My heart immediately seizes up and sinks to the pit of my stomach as I consider the possibility of being connected to this hot mess and her garbage dungeon for 18 years.

I withdraw and she sticks her finger into her pussy, fishes out a broken condom, and flings it at the wall. As shes rummaging through her trash heap looking for another condom I look down and I notice something. Im still wearing a condom And its totally intact.

tl;dr I banged a hoarder in the closet of her smelly apartment. Afterwards she fished an old condom out of her pussy.

14. I projectile-vomited from the realization I had been banging a 15-year-old for a month.

This one is sad and I’m disgusted with myself for a reason that will become clear. I was 21 and had been dating this girl who was 18. I met her mother and they were even talking about how they were planning her 19th birthday party and how she couldn’t believe how fast her little girl was growing up and her mom even said her daughter scored big time landing a handsome 21-year-old man yadda yadda. It was weird and felt like I was missing an inside joke. Fast forward a month and lots of pretty good sex.

We had left party at a beach house to fuck in my car. She gets sick and vomits at one point, super drunk, but thankfully she managed to vomit outside the car. We keep going at it, or trying to; I was drunk myself and drunk me and erections dont work so well, windows had fogged up and the car was rocking.

There’s a sharp knock at the window that I ignored, kept fucking. Then there’s another knock and its insistent. I get angry at this point and yell leave me alone, we are fucking! I thought it was a friend looking for us. Nope. I was met by a blinding light being shown and an obvious cop tone telling us to exit the vehicle.

Two cops were outside and asked if we were at the party because they had a noise complaint. Yup. I’m freaking out because she’s clearly wasted and she was only 18. I was 21 so I just knew I would be hit with a charge for supplying alcohol to an underage person. The dreaded question comes up. How old are you? I responded with Im 21 sir, but I haven’t supplied any alcohol to anyone but myself. Cop smirks but looks at my GF and asks her her age.

She looks around shyly, albeit drunkenly, and says Fifteen. It took me a moment to clock it but the cops looking at me wide-eyed confirmed what I thought must have been a misheard statement. The moment the statement was confirmed was met by a What the fucking fuck!?! scream of disbelief and projectile vomit from the realization I had been banging a 15-year-old for a month. She did not look like she was that young.

I immediately went on a rant about how I met her mom and how the fuck that was even possible. Apparently my reaction was so genuine that the cops believed it. They even had the girl call her mom and her mother confirmed that they had lied to me. All I received that night was being pulled aside by cops and a lecture about checking girls IDs.

15. The smelllike wet garbage in the hot sunhit me.

Back when I was in law school, there was a girl, M. M was a wholesome gal from Wisconsin: blonde hair, blue eyes, a slight gap in her front teeth. A real girl-next-door type (in the traditional, non-porno sense). She grew up on a dairy farm.

M was what we called law school hotlate 20s (and just starting to show it), slightly pudgy, finally trying harder to dress professionally than to dress sexy, generally attractive, but didn’t really stand out in a crowd. Her biggest assetliterallywas her awesome rack. To quote , they hung enormous, the way you’d think of God’s as big. Her daddy would have been lucky to have a milk cow endowed like her.

It was the end of our first semester, which for new 1Ls is a huge deal. (The stress during the initial year in law school is tremendous; if you’ve ever seen the movie Paper Chase, it’s 100% accurate.) The tradition at my law school was for everyone to saunter over to the bar a block away after their last exam and hang out. M and I had a friendly relationship up until that point, so when I saw her walk through the door, I waved her over and she joined our group of about ten or so.

At some pointprompted in part, I’m sure, by large quantities of boozewe of course started talking about sex, and because one of the guys with us was gay, the topic of anal sex came up. After a bit, M admitted that she had never tried anal. I was drunk and feeling saucy, so I said, ‘We should rectify that. Rectum-ify, she giggled back, and at that moment, I decided to put all of my drunken intellect towards coming in her back door before the night was out.

After a few hours our group was dwindling, but some of us were determined to continue celebrating for a while longer and M was looking like she was ready to head out. She needed to eat, she said, and was running out of cash, too. We still had about 3/4 of a pizza left, and I was trying to convince her to stay, so I offered to buy her next drink if she’d stick around.

When I came back with her drinksomething with tequila, I believeshe turned to me and said, I shouldn’t be eating this, I’m lactose-intolerant. I hope you’re happy, because I’m doing this for you.

After that round, more people headed out, and M couldn’t be persuaded to stay. But I wasn’t ready to give up, so I offered to walk her home, since our apartments were next to each other, and only a few blocks away. When we got to her place, she invited me in. We went through the standard fooling around routine, ending up naked and horizontal in her bed.

Emboldened by earlier conversation, M’s apparent enthusiasm, and a large dose of alcohol, I eventually suggested that we try anal, and M agreed. After some shuffling, we ended up with her on top so that she could control the depth and speed, and for a few minutes, I was happily watching M’s magnificent mammaries jiggle around while she gingerly bounced on my rod.

After a few minutes, her expression switched from drunken sex stupor to pain and fear. Assuming I had hurt her somehow, I began to push her off of me, but she told me to wait. Sudden pressure and heat on my tool tipped me off to her digestive distress, and I could feel something trickling down my balls. I started to get up again, but she said, No, please. Stay inside. Just for a minute. I protested, but she was panicked, and begged me to help her to the bathroom before I pulled out.

We flailed around for a moment, and awkwardly switched to doggy style. We tried to shuffle to the bathroom, but drunkenness, the physical difficulty of the act, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all meant we didn’t make much progress. In a moment of inebriated genius, I hoisted her up by the hips and suggested she walk on her hands.

It turns out that wheelbarrowing a crying drunk girl across her apartment with your dick stuck in her ass isn’t particularly sexy, and a combination of internal pressure and my rapidly deflating member caused what is probably best referred to as an uncorking.

I watched in slow-mo horror as a fountain of diarrhea blasted out of her butthole, point-blank into my crotch. Spattering my torso. And my arms. And my face. And I dropped her. She hit the ground, hard, sobbing. The smelllike wet garbage in the hot sunhit me. I was painted from waist down with her special brand of brownie batter.

I was in shock. I just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at this poor girl, suffering the world’s worst case of mudbutt, crying on the floor of her shitty apartment, shit oozing out of her ass, shit dripping off of me.

But as horrible as the sight and the smell were, the worst was the sound. That sound will haunt me for the rest of my life. No language on Earth can approximate the cacophony of her crapping everywhere. It was a combination of the most over-the-top whoopee cushion, someone snapping gum through their teeth, and the glug of a water cooler. That sound blared above all, the way classical music plays during the hero’s against-all-odds rush into death in war movies. The sobbing was a distant drone, almost outside my notice, but the burbling of her bowels was deafening, in perfect sonorous clarity.

I must have stood there for maybe 10 seconds, but it felt like an hour. In a daze I pulled my pants on, then ran out the door. I mean ran. I sprinted. I left my shirt, my shoes, my socks, my boxers. All of it was abandoned in my mad dash to get home. People on the street saw me, but I didn’t care. I ran the 100 yards to my apartment door, past everyone, and I threw myself in the shower, and I cried.

16. She yelps like a pup and I spent the next 15 minutes cradling her as she whimpers, calling me an idiot.

Was having sex with my girlfriend at the time shes this cute little thing but really strong (she actually joined the Army later) anyway shes on top, I grab her and pull her to me and flip her onto her back and now I’m on top. She fucking loves it. She decides she wants to put her hands in my hair, small problem her one arm is in between my hand holding me up (This was spontaneous hiking in the woods and on top of a picnic blanket sex and not soft bed sex) and her body. She decides to quickly pull her hand out just as I was thrusting. She knocks out my support and I start to fall so I lift my other hand and throw it to center the balance. Her seeing my fall turns to her side so we dont whack skulls. Now this girl weighs 110 soaking wet, I’m 250lbs. My center balancing position threw my hand down at Mach 1 with 250lbs behind it directly onto her breast. She yelps like a pup and I spent the next 15 minutes cradling her as she whimpers, calling me an idiot.

17. I lasted like 4 pumps max.

tl;dr Couldn’t get it up and repeatedly embarrassed myself night after night for two weeks.

So I met this girl overseas. She was also American and was working in the same area I was. Short, great curves, cute face, overall way hot. Started talking to her on Facebook, and found out she was an awesome conversationalist and that we had a lot of personality traits in common. Unfortunately, things didn’t escalate quickly enough before I ended up going home for a few months.

While I was home, we kept talking of Facebook and really hit it off. Flirting became sex references became overt I want to have sex with you. This went on for like two months. We were Skyping and messaging all day long. We even discussed that we would be making out and banging as soon as I got back.

Finally got back and saw her again, and we immediately went back to my room and got down to it. 0-100mph in the space of about 10 mins, and we hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol.

I really liked this girl. A lot. Too much. So much that my nerves overruled my basic biological functions and I went soft as a bar rag as soon as she was above me about to put it in. Try as we might, there was no getting me stiff again. I’d never had trouble keeping it up (while sober) before and was highly surprised and disappointed with myself. I’d also never had this strong of an affection for someone before ever having sex with them.

Freshly inspired by some illuminating time with a therapist back home, I decided that honesty with her and with myself was the best policy here and just explained that I was nervous as shit and didn’t think I could be performing tonight. She hid her disappointment very well. We cuddled up and went to bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night, hard as a diamond, and decided to try again. Minimum amount of foreplay and I lasted like 4 pumps max. She actually thanked me for waking her up to try again!

I could get plenty hard enough when we tried from there on out, but as soon as the shuttle approached for reentry, all the heat shielding melted away, the structure collapsed, and the crew went down in burning flames. My nerves persisted with no sign of relenting with her over the next few days.

This saint blew me every day and I disappointed this woman who wanted my cock so bad every day for like two weeks. She stuck around enthusiastic and persistent (which blows my mind because she could have left and pulled any slab of hot meat she wanted) for two weeks. Expecting her to give up and leave made me even more nervous, but she never did.

Finally, in a night of just the right amount of tipsy, I pulled it off! Had drunk, short, sloppy sex, but I was mildly reassured that I at least was capable. Over the next few days, I gradually got over my nerves enough to at least keep hard enough to penetrate. When I was finally batting 100 instead of zero, we basically opened the floodgates and fucked at least daily for months. Sex got better and better and she stuck around.

She moved in with me last summer and I can’t imagine a cooler girlfriend.

18. We get 4, maybe 5 thrusts in before the girl’s friend barges into the room and starts screaming bloody murder.

Coincidentally my first go at sex…. Party at a good friends’ house, talk to a girl all night and end up in one of my friend’s bedroom, my friends were siblings, this is important because my friend had gotten in trouble earlier in the week with her mother resulting in her door knob being removed so she couldn’t lock the door. Things are getting hot and heavy, clothes are off, dick is slid in, and we get 4, maybe 5 thrusts in before the girl’s friend barges into the room and starts screaming bloody murder, for no reason beyond being a drunk high school girl encountering an awkward interaction, whole room rushes in as the girl sits, petrified, on top of my softening dick.

19. Girl blew me. Somehow she made it boring.

Girl blew me.

Somehow she made it boring.

Also dry like desert.

Painful, could not convince her to do something else.

Her begging me to cum had opposite effect it should have. Normally wind blows I cum, but not this day.

Finally take matters into my own hands (A, normally wouldn’t want to, B, she stopped me every time before she developed lockjaw an hour in) finish myself in her mouth.

Collapse from exhaustion and sadness.

She tells me she loves me.

This was our first sexual encounter of any kind.

Bizzaro world of future with her as my wife getting blow jobs I somehow don’t want every night flashes before my eyes.

I bolt.

She proclaims as I fade out of sight, that was the best I’ve ever given.

Her roommates were in living room, though I didn’t see them, I’m sure they shook their heads.

Sad.

20. The whole time I was thinking, Im gonna fucking die.

She was drunk, I was drunker, it was like trying to stab someone with a piece of soft rope, so I had some…enhancement pills, not a great combo being drunk, horny and all worked up so I basically ended up at near heart attack levels of strain on my heart, I mean I did it and she seemed happy enough, but the whole time I was thinking Im gonna fucking die, I’m gonna die fucking someone in doggy and pin her down with my body when I do.

Ironically I bet that made me last longer. Also when I woke up I was still erect.

21. And that, ladies and gents, is how I began the year of 2016 by contracting syphilis.

She was 5 foot nothing, perky breasts, and a shapely backside. Cute as a button.

She laid next to me on her single mattress in the dingy apartment room she was forced to rent in order to dance in the local strip joint of my home town. Both of us fairly hung over, though no less frisky for it.

As we lay there dozing in and out of sleep, and mumbling conversation her intentions for my company became clearer the more often her ass made its way to grinding against my groin.

Bedraggled state of affairs I was in, I tried to ignore her silent request for attention. Whether a result of anxiety at being in bed with a real live exotic dancer, the effects of my diet consisting solely of beer and cigarettes for 3 days solid, or a combination of both, junior was not up to the task.

However my companion was determined. Given her increased advances I refused to allow myself to miss the opportunity of bedding a stripper. Reaching a free hand into my boxers, I began to tug one out.

After a brief minute of awakening my member, I felt sufficiently hard enough to see through the task at hand. Rolling over into a spooning position I guided my cock to her awaiting opening, and did my damndest to enter her.

Unfortunately it became obvious that my wedding tackle wasn’t sufficiently warmed up, as I began pushing rope after acquainting myself with the first couple inches of her vulva.

Propping my would-be lover onto her knees, I assumed my position behind her and tried to go to work once more. I attended her vagina with one free hand while stimulating my rod with the other.

It only occurred to me after the first few strokes how long my willy had gone without attention. Before I could rethink my strategy-or convince junior to take any other form besides that of an over cooked pasta noodle-I felt an all too familiar sensation rushing through my vas.

I tried to clamp my trouser snake in a death grip as a last-ditch effort to stop the inevitable, but to no avail. Bat and balls pulsed in unison, erupting a fountain of jism far more enthusiastic than I would have expected given the setting. It was all over.

Kneeling there, unbelieving, I looked brokenly to the web of cum enveloping my hand and the considerable dollop on the sheets. My attempted consort still positioned patiently, eyes closed, anticipating more than the idle digit I had planted in her baby chute.

I did the best to compose myself, wiped the spunk off on a nearby scrap of fabric, and managed to splutter the words I need a cigarette.

And that, ladies and gents, is how I began the year of 2016 by contracting syphilis.

22. I found a long yellow dead piece of grass up my dickhole.

Was young and was having sex in the grass in the backyard, I felt a giant spider skittle across my chest and bucked the bitch off of me. Turned over and got up, later in the house I felt a weird pressure on my dick, went to the bathroom and found a long yellow dead piece of grass up my dickhole. Hurt the whole way out.

If youre going to have sex outside kids, put down a blanket.

23. The story of Vampire Girl.

Oh boy. Let me tell you the story of Vampire Girl.

Many years ago, I had just gotten out of my first relationship. That first relationship included all the other firsts – kiss, grope, sex, etc. Upon its ending, I was a total wreck. A pitiful mass of ridiculously maudlin sentiments. My friends kept telling me I needed to rebound. Get under someone to get over someone. You know the drill.

So a perfectly lovely girl invites me out, then we head to her place. I was not into it. I was and remain pretty much unable to differentiate the act of sex from romantic feelings, and I was still in love with my ex. So things weren’t really working down there.

This lovely girl takes it in stride, and decides that some kink will help turn the cooked noodle back into hard, raw spaghetti. Cue something that I, the veteran of one fairly vanilla sexual partner, was not prepared to hear.

Her: Do you want me to get out my whip?

Me: Uh

Her: We can taste each other’s blood.

Me: can we just go to sleep, please?

She kept stroking my face all night.

Listen, S, I don’t know if you’re reading this, but current me would have been willing to work a bit with the whip. Still no blood play. Sorry for being awkward as all hell about it back then.

Read this: 23 Women Reveal The Absolute WORST Sexual Experience Of Their Lives

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/23-men-reveal-the-absolute-worst-sexual-experience-of-their-lives/

[samanthasroberts]

23 Men Reveal The Absolute WORST Sexual Experience Of Their Lives

Found on AskReddit.

1. Her false eye popped out and I felt it on my balls.

Met girl at rave. Went to cemetery. Getting beej, she deep throated, her false eye I was unaware of came out.

Felt it on my balls.

Yes.

2. There was a swamp-green streak in her panties that smelled like a fish’s asshole.

Was back in high school. Things were getting hot and heavy until I tried taking her pants off. There was a swamp-green streak in her panties that smelled like a fish’s asshole. We didn’t even get to the sex part and I still consider it the worst sex I’ve ever had. It still haunts me to this day.

3. My balls got tickled by her fart.

With my now ex-wife. Standard sexy-time up to a point (kissing, boob play, a little oral), then I go to put it in. She farts. I felt it tickle my balls.

It tickled my balls, man. You can’t keep going after that. I’m a nurse and not much grosses me out but…My balls got tickled by her fart.

4. I lay there….unspent and sad.

Does masturbation count? Im going to tell it anyways.

I was having a dry period of about a month. I woke up after a really vivid wet dream and tried to rub it out.

I proceeded to slip in and out of consciousness for a good ten minutes, rubbing it until it is hard, falling half asleep for a minute, waking up again, rubbing it again. After those ten minutes, I just gave up. I lay there….unspent and sad.

5. I was gagging the entire time.

Was quite drunk and in a miserable period in my life where I’d fuck just about anything. Hooked up with a neighbor’s friend. She had dreads. I was gagging the entire time. Barely managed to finish. Showered for what felt like an eternity after.

6. She shit right in my hand.

I pulled out to give myself a break, we were in the doggy position. I started fingering her and she started to orgasm. She shit right in my hand.

7. I threw up on her snatch.

I went down on a girl and it smelled exactly like an Arby’s cheddar melt. I threw up on her snatch, and that wasn’t a deal breaker for her. It just made her want it more. She knew I liked it a little rough, from previous conversations, and so she straight up launched herself, puke beef cootchie and all, right onto my face and starts grinding. I was so caught off be-fucking-wildered that I froze, internally screaming this is a bad dream. This has got to be a bad fucking dream. Meanwhile in grind town, the aroma of Arby’s and half-digested oatmeal smeared my face as I finally screamed in horror and ran out.

You try getting that out of your beard.

8. She insisted on watching while blowing me.

Ended up losing my virginity to my first girlfriend while watching I asked her if we could maybe turn it off, at which point she removed my penis from her mouth and said, But it’s my favorite movie?

9. It was like my penis rolled a sticky tear.

I had a pretty sad jerk off the other night.

I guess my heart wasn’t into it or something but the run up to the orgasm started fine but then it just became a chore. I kept thinking about other stuff. My arm was getting tired. I farted mid-way through and the smell was a distraction.

I start to cum and it immediately got soft and just like seeped out. No energy behind it at all. No happiness or excitement. It was like my penis rolled a sticky tear.

Then my dick was like a sad old drunk slumping into a puddle of his own sick. I just sat there all heavy with shame for a few seconds as this gif looping on my monitor that, with the haze of arousal fizzled, was just awkward and weird. All titties being mashed and slapped around like they owed someone money.

Then I got a sandwich and played Minecraft.

10. I found out in the most painful way that I was in fact too big for her once her teeth shredded my dick and filled her mouth with blood.

Was dating a girl a few years back and after a month of intense make out sessions and heavy petting we decided it was time to take things to the next level. It started off well enough when she pulled out my junk and exclaimed I was the biggest she’d seen, and she was proud of her ability to deep throat and was insistent she could take me on. So without any warm up at all she tries to shove my entire dry dick down her throat and I found out in the most painful way that I was in fact too big for her once her teeth shredded my dick and filled her mouth with blood. We didn’t get to the sex part due to my crying

11. I accidentally told a girl I loved her and proceeded to have awkward coitus.

I was once having sex with a girl I’d been dating for a few weeks. I thought she said I love you so I was like Oh I love you too but she actually just said something completely different. She stopped dead and questioned what I’d said, but I just said never mind and carried on. TL;DR I accidentally told a girl I loved her and proceeded to have awkward coitus.

12. She kindly informs me I wasn’t in and was rubbing between her ass cheeks and sheets the whole time.

First time I ever did it. I was thrusting hard and doing well, so I thought. Then she kindly informs me I wasn’t in and was rubbing between her ass cheeks and sheets the whole time. I almost came from that.

13. I banged a hoarder in the closet of her smelly apartment. Afterwards she fished an old condom out of her pussy.

So, Im at a bar and I start working on a girl. Shes pretty hot. We dance, we drink, we talk. She makes it pretty clear she wants to go back to my place. At one point, she was even joking how its been forever since she’s been laid.

Im only in town visiting a friend and crashing on his couch so I insist on going to her place. Initially she resists the idea but I elaborate on the couch thing, plus he lives super far away, he doesnt have a car so I dont know how she would get home, etc., etc. Eventually she caves.

She lives walking distance away in a pretty nice apartment building. We go up the elevator and when we get to her front door she warns me that she shares a 1 bedroom apartment with a roommate and that, Its a little bit messy.

She opens the door; we go in and Im slapped across the face with the stench of weeks-old garbage and a pile of dishes festering in the sink. I have no idea how someone could live with that smell emanating from their kitchen but perhaps even worse is the whole place looks like an episode of hoarders. Junk is everywhere. It covers every conceivable surface, and is several feet thick in some places with piles of laundry and random items littered across the floor.

At this point, a better man would have called it. Thanked her for the lovely evening and taken a very lonely but far more sanitary cab ride back home. But its been a while for me and shes probably the hottest chick Ive ever landed. So instead her and I waded through the piles of garbage to make our way to her bedroom.

She leads me to a windowless room that I can only describe as a closet. Its barely large enough for a single mattress, which is placed directly on the floor. We are surrounded on all sides by piles of junk and clothes but Im relieved to be away from the chaos and stink that is her kitchen.

We go in and I close the door behind us and we are plunged into blackness. There are no lights in the room. She fumbles around and says Just a second! while she rummages through her purse, takes out her cellphone, activates the flashlight app, and MacGyver’s the worlds saddest desk lamp by propping it up on a pile of dirty clothes.

We get down to business. At this point Im so thoroughly disgusted with myself that Im having trouble getting ready for action. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), she sucks dick like a champ and we get things underway. I put on a condom and were off to the races. At this point all I want to do is blow my load and make my escape from this smelly dungeon.

Then she stops me: Wait a second I think the condom broke. My heart immediately seizes up and sinks to the pit of my stomach as I consider the possibility of being connected to this hot mess and her garbage dungeon for 18 years.

I withdraw and she sticks her finger into her pussy, fishes out a broken condom, and flings it at the wall. As shes rummaging through her trash heap looking for another condom I look down and I notice something. Im still wearing a condom And its totally intact.

tl;dr I banged a hoarder in the closet of her smelly apartment. Afterwards she fished an old condom out of her pussy.

14. I projectile-vomited from the realization I had been banging a 15-year-old for a month.

This one is sad and I’m disgusted with myself for a reason that will become clear. I was 21 and had been dating this girl who was 18. I met her mother and they were even talking about how they were planning her 19th birthday party and how she couldn’t believe how fast her little girl was growing up and her mom even said her daughter scored big time landing a handsome 21-year-old man yadda yadda. It was weird and felt like I was missing an inside joke. Fast forward a month and lots of pretty good sex.

We had left party at a beach house to fuck in my car. She gets sick and vomits at one point, super drunk, but thankfully she managed to vomit outside the car. We keep going at it, or trying to; I was drunk myself and drunk me and erections dont work so well, windows had fogged up and the car was rocking.

There’s a sharp knock at the window that I ignored, kept fucking. Then there’s another knock and its insistent. I get angry at this point and yell leave me alone, we are fucking! I thought it was a friend looking for us. Nope. I was met by a blinding light being shown and an obvious cop tone telling us to exit the vehicle.

Two cops were outside and asked if we were at the party because they had a noise complaint. Yup. I’m freaking out because she’s clearly wasted and she was only 18. I was 21 so I just knew I would be hit with a charge for supplying alcohol to an underage person. The dreaded question comes up. How old are you? I responded with Im 21 sir, but I haven’t supplied any alcohol to anyone but myself. Cop smirks but looks at my GF and asks her her age.

She looks around shyly, albeit drunkenly, and says Fifteen. It took me a moment to clock it but the cops looking at me wide-eyed confirmed what I thought must have been a misheard statement. The moment the statement was confirmed was met by a What the fucking fuck!?! scream of disbelief and projectile vomit from the realization I had been banging a 15-year-old for a month. She did not look like she was that young.

I immediately went on a rant about how I met her mom and how the fuck that was even possible. Apparently my reaction was so genuine that the cops believed it. They even had the girl call her mom and her mother confirmed that they had lied to me. All I received that night was being pulled aside by cops and a lecture about checking girls IDs.

15. The smelllike wet garbage in the hot sunhit me.

Back when I was in law school, there was a girl, M. M was a wholesome gal from Wisconsin: blonde hair, blue eyes, a slight gap in her front teeth. A real girl-next-door type (in the traditional, non-porno sense). She grew up on a dairy farm.

M was what we called law school hotlate 20s (and just starting to show it), slightly pudgy, finally trying harder to dress professionally than to dress sexy, generally attractive, but didn’t really stand out in a crowd. Her biggest assetliterallywas her awesome rack. To quote , they hung enormous, the way you’d think of God’s as big. Her daddy would have been lucky to have a milk cow endowed like her.

It was the end of our first semester, which for new 1Ls is a huge deal. (The stress during the initial year in law school is tremendous; if you’ve ever seen the movie Paper Chase, it’s 100% accurate.) The tradition at my law school was for everyone to saunter over to the bar a block away after their last exam and hang out. M and I had a friendly relationship up until that point, so when I saw her walk through the door, I waved her over and she joined our group of about ten or so.

At some pointprompted in part, I’m sure, by large quantities of boozewe of course started talking about sex, and because one of the guys with us was gay, the topic of anal sex came up. After a bit, M admitted that she had never tried anal. I was drunk and feeling saucy, so I said, ‘We should rectify that. Rectum-ify, she giggled back, and at that moment, I decided to put all of my drunken intellect towards coming in her back door before the night was out.

After a few hours our group was dwindling, but some of us were determined to continue celebrating for a while longer and M was looking like she was ready to head out. She needed to eat, she said, and was running out of cash, too. We still had about 3/4 of a pizza left, and I was trying to convince her to stay, so I offered to buy her next drink if she’d stick around.

When I came back with her drinksomething with tequila, I believeshe turned to me and said, I shouldn’t be eating this, I’m lactose-intolerant. I hope you’re happy, because I’m doing this for you.

After that round, more people headed out, and M couldn’t be persuaded to stay. But I wasn’t ready to give up, so I offered to walk her home, since our apartments were next to each other, and only a few blocks away. When we got to her place, she invited me in. We went through the standard fooling around routine, ending up naked and horizontal in her bed.

Emboldened by earlier conversation, M’s apparent enthusiasm, and a large dose of alcohol, I eventually suggested that we try anal, and M agreed. After some shuffling, we ended up with her on top so that she could control the depth and speed, and for a few minutes, I was happily watching M’s magnificent mammaries jiggle around while she gingerly bounced on my rod.

After a few minutes, her expression switched from drunken sex stupor to pain and fear. Assuming I had hurt her somehow, I began to push her off of me, but she told me to wait. Sudden pressure and heat on my tool tipped me off to her digestive distress, and I could feel something trickling down my balls. I started to get up again, but she said, No, please. Stay inside. Just for a minute. I protested, but she was panicked, and begged me to help her to the bathroom before I pulled out.

We flailed around for a moment, and awkwardly switched to doggy style. We tried to shuffle to the bathroom, but drunkenness, the physical difficulty of the act, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all meant we didn’t make much progress. In a moment of inebriated genius, I hoisted her up by the hips and suggested she walk on her hands.

It turns out that wheelbarrowing a crying drunk girl across her apartment with your dick stuck in her ass isn’t particularly sexy, and a combination of internal pressure and my rapidly deflating member caused what is probably best referred to as an uncorking.

I watched in slow-mo horror as a fountain of diarrhea blasted out of her butthole, point-blank into my crotch. Spattering my torso. And my arms. And my face. And I dropped her. She hit the ground, hard, sobbing. The smelllike wet garbage in the hot sunhit me. I was painted from waist down with her special brand of brownie batter.

I was in shock. I just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at this poor girl, suffering the world’s worst case of mudbutt, crying on the floor of her shitty apartment, shit oozing out of her ass, shit dripping off of me.

But as horrible as the sight and the smell were, the worst was the sound. That sound will haunt me for the rest of my life. No language on Earth can approximate the cacophony of her crapping everywhere. It was a combination of the most over-the-top whoopee cushion, someone snapping gum through their teeth, and the glug of a water cooler. That sound blared above all, the way classical music plays during the hero’s against-all-odds rush into death in war movies. The sobbing was a distant drone, almost outside my notice, but the burbling of her bowels was deafening, in perfect sonorous clarity.

I must have stood there for maybe 10 seconds, but it felt like an hour. In a daze I pulled my pants on, then ran out the door. I mean ran. I sprinted. I left my shirt, my shoes, my socks, my boxers. All of it was abandoned in my mad dash to get home. People on the street saw me, but I didn’t care. I ran the 100 yards to my apartment door, past everyone, and I threw myself in the shower, and I cried.

16. She yelps like a pup and I spent the next 15 minutes cradling her as she whimpers, calling me an idiot.

Was having sex with my girlfriend at the time shes this cute little thing but really strong (she actually joined the Army later) anyway shes on top, I grab her and pull her to me and flip her onto her back and now I’m on top. She fucking loves it. She decides she wants to put her hands in my hair, small problem her one arm is in between my hand holding me up (This was spontaneous hiking in the woods and on top of a picnic blanket sex and not soft bed sex) and her body. She decides to quickly pull her hand out just as I was thrusting. She knocks out my support and I start to fall so I lift my other hand and throw it to center the balance. Her seeing my fall turns to her side so we dont whack skulls. Now this girl weighs 110 soaking wet, I’m 250lbs. My center balancing position threw my hand down at Mach 1 with 250lbs behind it directly onto her breast. She yelps like a pup and I spent the next 15 minutes cradling her as she whimpers, calling me an idiot.

17. I lasted like 4 pumps max.

tl;dr Couldn’t get it up and repeatedly embarrassed myself night after night for two weeks.

So I met this girl overseas. She was also American and was working in the same area I was. Short, great curves, cute face, overall way hot. Started talking to her on Facebook, and found out she was an awesome conversationalist and that we had a lot of personality traits in common. Unfortunately, things didn’t escalate quickly enough before I ended up going home for a few months.

While I was home, we kept talking of Facebook and really hit it off. Flirting became sex references became overt I want to have sex with you. This went on for like two months. We were Skyping and messaging all day long. We even discussed that we would be making out and banging as soon as I got back.

Finally got back and saw her again, and we immediately went back to my room and got down to it. 0-100mph in the space of about 10 mins, and we hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol.

I really liked this girl. A lot. Too much. So much that my nerves overruled my basic biological functions and I went soft as a bar rag as soon as she was above me about to put it in. Try as we might, there was no getting me stiff again. I’d never had trouble keeping it up (while sober) before and was highly surprised and disappointed with myself. I’d also never had this strong of an affection for someone before ever having sex with them.

Freshly inspired by some illuminating time with a therapist back home, I decided that honesty with her and with myself was the best policy here and just explained that I was nervous as shit and didn’t think I could be performing tonight. She hid her disappointment very well. We cuddled up and went to bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night, hard as a diamond, and decided to try again. Minimum amount of foreplay and I lasted like 4 pumps max. She actually thanked me for waking her up to try again!

I could get plenty hard enough when we tried from there on out, but as soon as the shuttle approached for reentry, all the heat shielding melted away, the structure collapsed, and the crew went down in burning flames. My nerves persisted with no sign of relenting with her over the next few days.

This saint blew me every day and I disappointed this woman who wanted my cock so bad every day for like two weeks. She stuck around enthusiastic and persistent (which blows my mind because she could have left and pulled any slab of hot meat she wanted) for two weeks. Expecting her to give up and leave made me even more nervous, but she never did.

Finally, in a night of just the right amount of tipsy, I pulled it off! Had drunk, short, sloppy sex, but I was mildly reassured that I at least was capable. Over the next few days, I gradually got over my nerves enough to at least keep hard enough to penetrate. When I was finally batting 100 instead of zero, we basically opened the floodgates and fucked at least daily for months. Sex got better and better and she stuck around.

She moved in with me last summer and I can’t imagine a cooler girlfriend.

18. We get 4, maybe 5 thrusts in before the girl’s friend barges into the room and starts screaming bloody murder.

Coincidentally my first go at sex…. Party at a good friends’ house, talk to a girl all night and end up in one of my friend’s bedroom, my friends were siblings, this is important because my friend had gotten in trouble earlier in the week with her mother resulting in her door knob being removed so she couldn’t lock the door. Things are getting hot and heavy, clothes are off, dick is slid in, and we get 4, maybe 5 thrusts in before the girl’s friend barges into the room and starts screaming bloody murder, for no reason beyond being a drunk high school girl encountering an awkward interaction, whole room rushes in as the girl sits, petrified, on top of my softening dick.

19. Girl blew me. Somehow she made it boring.

Girl blew me.

Somehow she made it boring.

Also dry like desert.

Painful, could not convince her to do something else.

Her begging me to cum had opposite effect it should have. Normally wind blows I cum, but not this day.

Finally take matters into my own hands (A, normally wouldn’t want to, B, she stopped me every time before she developed lockjaw an hour in) finish myself in her mouth.

Collapse from exhaustion and sadness.

She tells me she loves me.

This was our first sexual encounter of any kind.

Bizzaro world of future with her as my wife getting blow jobs I somehow don’t want every night flashes before my eyes.

I bolt.

She proclaims as I fade out of sight, that was the best I’ve ever given.

Her roommates were in living room, though I didn’t see them, I’m sure they shook their heads.

Sad.

20. The whole time I was thinking, Im gonna fucking die.

She was drunk, I was drunker, it was like trying to stab someone with a piece of soft rope, so I had some…enhancement pills, not a great combo being drunk, horny and all worked up so I basically ended up at near heart attack levels of strain on my heart, I mean I did it and she seemed happy enough, but the whole time I was thinking Im gonna fucking die, I’m gonna die fucking someone in doggy and pin her down with my body when I do.

Ironically I bet that made me last longer. Also when I woke up I was still erect.

21. And that, ladies and gents, is how I began the year of 2016 by contracting syphilis.

She was 5 foot nothing, perky breasts, and a shapely backside. Cute as a button.

She laid next to me on her single mattress in the dingy apartment room she was forced to rent in order to dance in the local strip joint of my home town. Both of us fairly hung over, though no less frisky for it.

As we lay there dozing in and out of sleep, and mumbling conversation her intentions for my company became clearer the more often her ass made its way to grinding against my groin.

Bedraggled state of affairs I was in, I tried to ignore her silent request for attention. Whether a result of anxiety at being in bed with a real live exotic dancer, the effects of my diet consisting solely of beer and cigarettes for 3 days solid, or a combination of both, junior was not up to the task.

However my companion was determined. Given her increased advances I refused to allow myself to miss the opportunity of bedding a stripper. Reaching a free hand into my boxers, I began to tug one out.

After a brief minute of awakening my member, I felt sufficiently hard enough to see through the task at hand. Rolling over into a spooning position I guided my cock to her awaiting opening, and did my damndest to enter her.

Unfortunately it became obvious that my wedding tackle wasn’t sufficiently warmed up, as I began pushing rope after acquainting myself with the first couple inches of her vulva.

Propping my would-be lover onto her knees, I assumed my position behind her and tried to go to work once more. I attended her vagina with one free hand while stimulating my rod with the other.

It only occurred to me after the first few strokes how long my willy had gone without attention. Before I could rethink my strategy-or convince junior to take any other form besides that of an over cooked pasta noodle-I felt an all too familiar sensation rushing through my vas.

I tried to clamp my trouser snake in a death grip as a last-ditch effort to stop the inevitable, but to no avail. Bat and balls pulsed in unison, erupting a fountain of jism far more enthusiastic than I would have expected given the setting. It was all over.

Kneeling there, unbelieving, I looked brokenly to the web of cum enveloping my hand and the considerable dollop on the sheets. My attempted consort still positioned patiently, eyes closed, anticipating more than the idle digit I had planted in her baby chute.

I did the best to compose myself, wiped the spunk off on a nearby scrap of fabric, and managed to splutter the words I need a cigarette.

And that, ladies and gents, is how I began the year of 2016 by contracting syphilis.

22. I found a long yellow dead piece of grass up my dickhole.

Was young and was having sex in the grass in the backyard, I felt a giant spider skittle across my chest and bucked the bitch off of me. Turned over and got up, later in the house I felt a weird pressure on my dick, went to the bathroom and found a long yellow dead piece of grass up my dickhole. Hurt the whole way out.

If youre going to have sex outside kids, put down a blanket.

23. The story of Vampire Girl.

Oh boy. Let me tell you the story of Vampire Girl.

Many years ago, I had just gotten out of my first relationship. That first relationship included all the other firsts – kiss, grope, sex, etc. Upon its ending, I was a total wreck. A pitiful mass of ridiculously maudlin sentiments. My friends kept telling me I needed to rebound. Get under someone to get over someone. You know the drill.

So a perfectly lovely girl invites me out, then we head to her place. I was not into it. I was and remain pretty much unable to differentiate the act of sex from romantic feelings, and I was still in love with my ex. So things weren’t really working down there.

This lovely girl takes it in stride, and decides that some kink will help turn the cooked noodle back into hard, raw spaghetti. Cue something that I, the veteran of one fairly vanilla sexual partner, was not prepared to hear.

Her: Do you want me to get out my whip?

Me: Uh

Her: We can taste each other’s blood.

Me: can we just go to sleep, please?

She kept stroking my face all night.

Listen, S, I don’t know if you’re reading this, but current me would have been willing to work a bit with the whip. Still no blood play. Sorry for being awkward as all hell about it back then.

Read this: 23 Women Reveal The Absolute WORST Sexual Experience Of Their Lives

Source: http://allofbeer.com/23-men-reveal-the-absolute-worst-sexual-experience-of-their-lives/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/25/23-men-reveal-the-absolute-worst-sexual-experience-of-their-lives/