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Someone asked: What is the most crazy, inappropriate, wild or even wrong sex you've ever had?
She replied:
We had this after-work crew that liked to hit the bar together one night we all planned to go, and one coworker asked me for a ride because he didn’t have a car. I said sure. That, right there, was mistake number one wearing a name tag.
I go home, change, get cute, meet everyone there. It’s karaoke night. We’re singing like we have record deals pending, eating bar food, drinking like hydration is a myth. The night is fun.
Near closing time, this coworker looks straight at me and goes, “Are we gonna fuck tonight?”
No build up. No charm. Just straight to the boardroom agenda.
I told him no. Because I was not attracted to this man. Not even a little. We were friendly coworkers, that’s it.
More drinks happen. Bad decisions start stretching before their shift.
He asks again later. And drunk me goes, you know what, fine but I laid out a full legal disclaimer. I told him straight up: this is not romantic, this is not emotional, I am not attracted to you, this is purely two drunk people making a convenience choice. Terms and conditions accepted?
He gets a hotel a block away. It’s like 2 AM. We get in the room, and while he’s in the bathroom, I get undressed and into bed because at this point we’re clearly not here to play Scrabble.
He comes out, it’s dark, climbs on top of me and immediately… nothing. Full system failure. The engine will not start.
And I swear to God, this grown man sits up still naked, still on top of me and starts yelling at his own dick like it forgot to submit a report.
He’s smacking it, going, “We talked about this! Don’t do this to me!”
I am laying there, spiritually levitating out of my body. I didn’t know whether to laugh, apologize, or call tech support.
Attempt one dies on the battlefield.
He says, “Let’s cuddle.” I agree because I would have agreed to anything that changed the channel.
We’re both naked under the blanket. He throws a leg over me, puts his arm across my chest, starts feeling my boob in the dark and goes, confused as hell, “What is this?”
I said, “That’s my boob.”
He goes, “Oh. Okay. Give me a second.” Like he’s buffering.
Then he sighs real deep and says, “I think I’m ready for round two.”
Sir. There was no round one. That was a trailer and a public apology.
He climbs back on top and tries again. Still zero launch. Zero entry. Nothing happening. And then instead this man starts aggressively humping my thigh. Like my leg personally offended him.
Five full minutes. The longest five minutes of my life. I had my face buried in a pillow trying not to laugh and not to scream. He’s making full performance noises like he’s starring in something way more successful than what is actually happening.
Then he suddenly goes still, rolls onto his back, takes a huge satisfied breath and says, “Oh yeah… that was much better.”
I’m laying there thinking better than WHAT?? The argument you had with your own equipment?
And there is zero evidence anything actually happened. No mess. No nothing. Just confidence and cardio.
The grand finale? I had to open the bar the next morning. With him. Behind the same counter. Making him drinks. Looking him in the eye. Like we didn’t just co-star in the weirdest low-budget adult film never released.
We’re still friendly. He’s still nice.
But I will never never forget the night a man gave his penis a motivational speech and then dry-humped my leg like it was a stress ball.
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