Post Traumatic Sex

30 Mar
Shot of some shots

flickr image by Paul Ryan

Here is another tale from my ‘Stride of Pride’ series; proving that males have also undertaken the Walk of Shame. Although the following passage has been written in first person, I can assure you that I have not recently converted into a raging lesbian. I have penned this story from the point of view of one of my male friends, who will no doubt be appalled to see it printed here. But this one’s too good not to share…  

Post Traumatic Stress is a disorder that can develop after somebody has been exposed to an extremely traumatic event. Sufferers of this disorder may experience intense psychological distress when exposed to something that triggers memories of that particular harrowing event. This is often accompanied by intense sweating, muscle tension and increased heart rate. Victims are also likely to experience sleep disturbance and nightmares related to the event.

My own traumatic episode occurred after the consumption of one too many Long Island Iced Teas.

The night began with a bunch of mates at the local Mexican restaurant, gorging on tacos and sipping coronas. Pleasantly full and slightly tipsy, against our better judgement we indulged in a round of tequila shots. Another round followed, chased by yet another round, then another. A swift lick of the back of my hand had my tongue covered in brackish salt. A slight flick of the fingers and tilt of the head had liquid fire screaming down my throat. Then a swift squelch of pulpy citrus between my teeth gave birth to a tart trickle of lemon juice following closely behind.

By this point, my teeth had become numb, my vision double and my sensible decision making skills non-existent.

Hence my next brilliant move – consuming an undisclosed number of Long Island Iced Teas. Don’t be fooled, like I was, by the innocent sounding title given to this drink. Although the name may have you conjuring up an image of menopausal females in twin sets lounging around at a garden party demurely sipping from tall iced tumblers, this cocktail is lethal. The Long Island Iced Tea does contain harmless ingredients such as sugar, water, lemon juice and cola. However, this potent drink also boasts a cornucopia of hard liquor, including vodka, tequila, rum and gin.

By this stage of the evening, all parts of my body were finding coordination a monstrous challenge. I assume the bill was paid, as my next hazy memory saw me stumbling down the street; lights streaking lazily across my line of vision like open shutter photography.

My next point of call was the local Rugby League Club, where one of my mates required an urgent slap on the pokies. However, I never made it past the foyer; where I was instead seduced by the wily charms of the free breathalyser machine. As I inserted a little plastic straw and blew into the machine, I revelled in the impressive number displayed on the screen, and used this gem as a conversation starter with two girls standing nearby.

A short while later, we recommenced our trek onwards. My mates continued to walk a few metres ahead, while I trailed behind with a broad either side.

This is where events took a turn for the worst. Somehow in my drunken obnoxiousness I suggested it would be a fantastic idea for me and the girls to pop into the local carwash for a spot of fornication. Of course they declined my generous offer, being the classy ladies they were.

They instead insisted on a tryst in the local Bunnings (a large hardware store) car park. Before I knew what had happened they’d pulled me away from the group, planted me on the side of the curb in the deserted parking lot and had unzipped my fly.

Girl A proceeded to treat me to an energetic bout of fellatio, while Girl B supervised.

Lolling drunkenly on the curb, I yanked my phone from my pocket, deciding it would be the perfect time to call my mates, as it was obvious by now that I had lost my cab ride home with them.

As I scrolled through my phone, Girl B bent down towards my crotchal (yes, I invented this word) region and began mauling Girl A’s mouth with her own.

I have very little recollection of the phone call I made to my mate, but he has since delighted me with some nuggets of dialogue from the conversation. “Where’d you guys go all of a sudden?” I apparently questioned him. Followed closely by, “You left me with two fat chicks, now look what you’ve done… “

Apparently this is where the conversation ended. However, I was so inebriated, I failed to realise that as I went to pop my phone back into my pocket, I missed my goal and it instead landed on the ground.

By this point Girl B was attempting the slippery suckle. However, my level of intoxication was certainly not helping me to maintain much of an erection. As Girl A removed her underwear, I tried to man up for a good forty seconds of magic, with sadly nothing more than something resembling a shallow fried seafood extender.

After attempting to squish my pathetically drunken wang inside her, I gave up, making the executive decision that slurpees from the nearby 7-Eleven would undoubtedly serve better pleasure for all involved.

As we walked towards the 7-Eleven, I went to put my arm around Girl A. This must have been about the time I began to sober up, as I realised that my hand was stretching rather far away from me just to get inside her back pocket. I quickly appraised Girl B and realised that she too was a little larger than I had initially realised.

When we reached our destination, the girls determinedly made their way to the slurpee machine, while I reached inside my pocket to call the lads. However, to my dismay, I quickly realised that my phone was missing.

While the girls were distracted by the pouring of their frozen soft drinks, I did the Houdini – hastily vanishing back into the night on a quest to find my missing phone.

It traumatises me to think back on the events of that harrowing night. It could have been such an awesome story if:

a) Those hideous girls had instead been hot Swedish sisters;

And b) I had actually been able to sustain an erection.

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2 Responses to “Post Traumatic Sex”

  1. newyorkcliche April 2, 2011 at 2:48 am #

    “a cornucopia of hard liquor” and “nothing more than something resembling a shallow fried seafood extender” 😀 Brill.

    This is a sad, sad, hilarious story!

    • Dawn Dash April 2, 2011 at 1:02 pm #

      I love the word ‘cornucopia’. I have to set limits for myself though. Like only using it in every fifth post.

      Ah, yes, the shallow fried seafood extender. Sadly, I’ve encountered a few of those in my time!

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