I felt like I was missing out on something because no man was wearing a condom in the dirty movies I saw growing up, so I wanted that pure ‘flesh on flesh’ stimulation.
I was a victim of media propaganda.
Not wearing one didn’t help me last longer, in fact it made it dramatically worse. I was a teenage boy who was still in shock every time my penis entered her vagina.
If I lasted over five minutes, I thought I’d excelled myself.
It took me a while before I asked to cum on her face as in those days you had to build up to that. I thought if I could cream pie her for a few months first,
that I would at least be thrusting in the right direction.
In these days of Tinder, face cum almost takes the place of a kiss on the doorstep after a first date. Young children being raised on dirty movies,
thanks to mobile phone parenting is another reason.
I recently read a university study that claimed that if a woman takes a man’s sperm inside her, through any orifice, that it buries its way into her biological system and eventually some of it lodges in her brain.
Good to know that all these years later that I’m still inside my first girlfriend
one way or another.
For instance, one night after I’d been out drinking with my mates, I turned up at their house at three in the morning to try and get my leg over not with her father …. with my girlfriend, obviously.
After all, I’d just convinced her to go on the pill, so I had to make sure we tested its effectiveness as much as possible.
I hadn’t scored with any of the chicks in the nightclub I went to with my mates,
so my girlfriend was my back up plan.
When I turned up completely blitzed out of my brain her mother kindly let me in but I felt sick from all the cocktails I’d been drinking and had to lay down on the sofa, pronto tonto.
Then the room started to spin like I was on the Waltzers, getting spun by a gypsy on a mission to kill by centrifuge.
I managed to blurt out, “Help, I’m gonna be sick”, but before her mother could bring me a spew basin, I was sick all over the living room carpet.
She handed me a belated basin for the dregs coming out my nose and mouth before starting to clean up the devastation.
The family dog thought he’d give her a hand by eating some of it and that’s when her dad appeared to see what all the commotion was about, two hours before he started work.
I was kneeling on the floor, with my head deep in the basin, getting consoled by his daughter while his wife was scooping spew from the carpet and his precious wee Scottish Terrier was munching on semi-digested kebab.
I was like, “Oh don’t worry about me. I’m just the guy cumming in your sixteen-year-old daughter on a regular basis and spewing on your carpet at three in the morning.
I’ll be alright”. It’s a wonder he never beheaded me on the spot.
I think he showed amazing restraint, because if it was me, I’d have rubbed my face in the spew before ripping my testicles off and feeding them to little Charlie.
It would have also been a way to get his daughter off the pill if I couldn’t produce any sperm.
Her father and I did have one thing in common which was that we both worked in the same chemical factory.
So, over dinner we could kind of bond over that, while he tried to ignore the fact that his daughter had my cum dripping out of her pussy.
Looking back on it now, I am quite proud of myself for staying on his good side
just enough to avoid a hit man being hired to take me out.
I often wonder how the hell I get out of some of the situations I get myself into. It’s a mystery to me. I must have a team of guardian angels looking after me, all working overtime and asking what they’d done to get the job.
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