Let’s just act like that night never happened…

We have all had them. We have all tried to avoid remembering them. We have all had friends remind us years later just what drunken dumb ass sluts we can be. In a recent blog conversation it came up how one of the other bloggers and I are best friends in the real world. When you have been very close to someone for ten or more years you find out that those things you usually never think about and wish you and everyone else could forget completely is one of their funniest stories about you. Eyes roll and cheeks flush a pale shade of red. The last time I was in "the big city" and was able to visit S&S we went out to eat with Ms. Friendly. I had conversed with her viva our social online community. She is one of S&S’s good friends too. It was only natural that we should meet and bond over our mutual love of S&S. S&S and Ms. Friendly are single and spoke about their current dating woes and adventures. I laughed and thanked my lucky stars that I was no longer apart of that craziness. S&S brought up some of my past stories. She recounted one evening in particular that I generally file in the “oh, dear heaven that never really happened” file. She seems to think it is funny as to where I find it embarrassing. So what happened in this story that even embarrasses me? I don’t know everything and if we are lucky enough to have S&S grace these pages maybe she can fill in the missing spots. S&S and I were newly single after both of us being in year and a half relationships with best friends. S&S had met a charming man in the "big city" area. I had already made one trip to this new man’s home with her for a nice weekend in the city. A few weeks later I was invited back this time the new man was to have a friend for me to meet. I had just gotten my CRX out of the shop for the hundredth time. The car was never worth the money I put into it but I loved it for a whole other reason and did everything to keep it alive. (My MPPM was involved again and would never believe the real reason behind my love for that car.) I was excited to have the car back and she was freshly painted and detailed. We were driving down the highway when suddenly the windshield wipers both flipped out. Not just up in the wiping motion. Out, like you would put them if you needed to change the blades. We pulled over on the side of a busy interstate and worked on getting the damn things to lay flat. We got back on the road and prayed that it didn’t rain this weekend. That should have given me the insight as to how odd the weekend would turn out. We met the men at Dave & Busters. If you haven’t ever been to one you should. It’s a great date venue. My first impression of my date was that he was too short and too masculine for me. I like men with sweet baby faces (all the better to hide the naughty boy interior). I love a man who I have to lean my head back to look at that baby face. This man had neither of those qualities. That was okay with me. I wasn’t looking for another long-term relationship just then anyway. I was hoping that my date would at least be good company for the night. It didn’t take much time talking to find out we had neither the mental or physical chemistry. Oh, well that’s how it goes sometimes. I went on about my way playing games and having a drink here and there and remaining friendly just not sexually friendly. When we left Dave & Busters we went to an Irish Pub near the friend’s apartment. I can remember going to the girls’ room and telling S&S that I didn’t really like this guy but for her sake I’d be polite. I guess after that I decided the hell with making a good impression because I knew I’d never see this guy again. I started drinking. I’m not sure what happened within the next few hours. That’s where S&S’s help is needed, I only remember us all going to the friend’s apartment. Somehow I ended up doing some heavy flirting that lead to the two of us taking a shower together. Things heated up and became very aggressive. I was holding onto the shower rod that hung on the back wall of the shower as I was being penetrated from behind. Amidst the roughness I broke the towel holder (a ceramic one that was firmly mortared to the wall). I can then remember us making our way to his bedroom. I didn’t want to have normal face-to-face sex. I wanted it rough and tough. I didn’t want to see his face; I didn’t want to know who it was violating me. I just wanted the sex, anal sex to be exact. It was one of those nights the naught devil in me wanted complete control and wanted to be punished in every sexual way possible. I guess I had made up my mind that I would never see this man again and that I was horny enough to do him anyway I pleased. S&S and her new man spent the night on the friend’s floor unable to sleep due to my screams. The next morning she was as embarrassed as I was. I couldn’t leave that apartment fast enough although it seems like we lingered there for hours. S&S I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that night. I know that my inner slut took over and decide that if he wasn’t good as a date then we might as well use him for a great fuck. Unfortunately he wasn’t a great fuck. The only thing that makes it linger in the back corners of my mind is the broken towel bar, sore anus, and total embarrassment. I don't even remember his name only that he was a P.E. teacher. S&S, I'm glad that you are able to at least find humor in it, you bitch! (wink)