I have an implanted cardiac defibrillator, due to a congenital heart problem. It's supposed to go off if it detects an arrhythmia (if my heartbeat goes all dubstep), sending a nice powerful shock to the heart to get it back on track. I've had it for about six months, and it had never fired.
Until this weekend. While having sex. Just as my gf is moaning, "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna COME--"
It made a sound like BAMF! I didn't know it did that. I saw lightning --literally, saw blue electric tracks across my eyes -- felt like I got punched in the chest, and I lost track of exactly who I was and where I was for about five or ten seconds. The best part is that human body is a *fine* conductor of electricity, and so, just as she was hitting orgasm, I shot her full of voltage, enough that she made a little fish flop motion and her eyes got wide.
Recovery is very quick, thankfully.
"Are you okay? Are you okay?"
"...yeah. I'm okay."
"Good ... can you make it do that again?"
One day I decide that I really want her to dress up as a French Maid and let me fuck her. Nothing will get this idea out of my head until I get what I want. She declines every approach so finally I decide to just go buy a damn maid outfit and have it there when she gets home, then she'll have to do it, right? Surprisingly this actually worked. Gentlemen let me give you some advice, most of you not being as retarded as myself probably knew this but whatever. If you're going to buy lingerie/outfits for your lady, spend the extra buck and get something quality. Not something hanging in a plastic bag on the wall of a head shop for $5.
I finally convince her to put the damn thing on and it looks absolutely fucking ridiculous. It was way too big for her, cheap material, and just all-around cheesy looking. I've spent this much time and effort getting her to wear this so I know if I say anything less than "baby you look so damn sexy right now" I'm in the doghouse. So I tell her how hot she looks and she actually seems to start being into it and gets a little kinky, which was cool. In short I spent about half an hour fucking my girlfriend trying not to burst into laughter at the ridiculous outfit she was wearing that I'd spent weeks convincing her to wear. I wish I could figure out what exactly in my brain seems to be constantly misfiring.
I really, really liked this dude and the first time I had sex with him, the condom broke. As soon as he noticed, he started freaking out and ran to the bathroom like a girl. He already has a broken-condom baby with an ex-fiance.
So I sat up in the bed to find my clothes and jizz just started pouring out onto his sheets. In my infinite wisdom I jumped out of bed. That's when blood just started dripping down my leg too. I had no idea where it was coming from, I didn't even know if it was his or mine. Nothing hurt at all.
Here I should mention that his work puts him into close proximity of other people's blood so I started freaking out about all the Hepatitis I probably contracted.
I started banging on the bathroom door and shouting at this guy to get out of his own bathroom.
He opened the door and saw me, naked, clutching my vagina, with blood and cum now pouring down my leg almost to the floor. It was ridiculous and definitely a low point of my life.
We then got to argue over whose blood it was (mine, my outer lip ripped) and have that fun conversation in which you want to shout ABORTION I WOULD GET AN ABORTION but you have to sort of be nice about it.
I pretty much ended up saying I was going to go eat some Plan B like candy and he was welcome to go with or stay home. On the way home from the Walgreen's pharmacy we stopped for ice cream. It was like, the saddest ice cream I've ever had.
She started crying while I was fingering her and told me she had a boyfriend and was lonely. She asked if I would cuddle with her for the night, I grumbled out an "OK". Exactly 90 seconds later when she passed out, I jumped out of her bunk bed (this was in the dorms), vomited all over her bathroom (that was an accident), and walked back to my dorm in my Batman costume.
As a college freshman just out of a horrible, lonely high school experience, I attended a party where I proceeded to dance with a number of women. At some point in the night I began dancing with a girl who was all about grinding on me and I found I liked the feeling. What I didn't realize was that this 'feeling' was a building orgasm and promptly came in my pants. Luckily, I had decided to wear some Under Armour boxers that kept the stain from migrating into my jeans. Also luckily, she seemed drunk enough to not notice. While I felt a little awkward, I felt I had dodged a bullet and continued my night as usual.
Then about thirty minutes later it happened again.
Anton Chekhov's famous gun rule is not being followed by some lazy screen writers for the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
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