Forums goon Indignation struck up another fantastic thread about said horrifying topic, with hundreds of replies from the goons. The names have been removed the stories to protect the embarressed.
Please enjoy this week's Comedy Goldmine, "Embarassing Sexual Moments".
I had a long-distance relationship with a guy who lived about a thousand miles away, so when we saw each other, we more than made up for lost time. One night we decided to experiment with a little light bondage, using a ribbon from a present I sent him to tie each other to the headboard of his bed.
About midway through one energetic session, he decides he needs to take a trip to the kitchen for some water and ice cubes, leaving me tied to the bed. Of course, he was considerate enough to throw a sheet over me, but that helped not at all when his flat mate arrived in the doorway to smirk at me and make fun of my bound condition. I was not happy. The arrival of the promised ice cubes was the only thing to allow the fun to continue. Of course, given that the same flat mate, who was engaged, later fucked a buttertroll my then-ex was seeing at the time, I should consider myself lucky that mocking me was all he decided to do.
The even more embarrassing epilogue to this story is that my boyfriend never untied the ribbon from the headboard. Two weeks later, his parents and sister came by while he was in class to replace the bed frame, without his knowledge. Between the ribbon and the fact that the headboard was broken, his parents figured out in a hurry just how much my evil self had corrupted their son. I made a point of avoiding them after that. The boyfriend still thinks it's hilarious and I'm still mortified, three years later.
It was 1992. I was sixteen, and having just gotten my first car (i.e., 1982 Volvo), it became the place of choice for my girlfriend and I to have sex. One late Sunday night in the back of the love-mobile, the condom broke. "No big deal," I thought. I replaced the condom with another, and the night ended happily.
The next time we got a chance to fool around was the following Friday night, after the football game. Parked in a church parking lot at about 11pm, we started screwing around. I was in the midst of giving her a decent finger-blasting (the preferred terminology over the more formal "finger-banging"), when I felt something that really shouldn't have been there... as whatever it was, it was stuck to my finger despite the fact that my finger was no longer inside her.
Not wanting to alarm her, I switched hands and very discreetly moved the mystery item into a small beam of moonlight so I could see what the hell it was... hopefully I had not just removed some vital part of her anatomy (to this day female genitalia is a mystery to me... but back then it was even more so). It took a while... but I eventually figured out that it was the top 25% of the broken condom from 5 days previous. I never mentioned it to her as I did not want to break the mood and ruin my chances of some excellent sex that night.
In retrospect -- that's kind of gross.
Prom Night, 1994. My girlfriend and I returned from the Prom around 1am and stealthily snuck though my house into my room without waking my grandparents (I lived with them at the time). After about two hours of removing all that formal-wear (in the dark, no less), some fairly decent sex happened... and we fell asleep in each other's arms.
Cut to about 5am. I needed to use the restroom. I crawled out of bed and clumsily pulled my shirt on (white NIN t-shirt) in the dark and made my way to the bathroom. I flicked on the light and closed my eyes instinctively... waiting for my pupils to adjust to the light.
As they did I looked into the mirror and promptly fainted dead on the floor.
I came to just moments later I imagined, as my leg hurt like hell. What had shocked me so? My entire shirt was covered in streaks of blood. Honestly, I thought I was dying. I had to be. I had to have some horrible gaping chest wound and was moments from bleeding out. There was no other possible explanation... I would be dead in seconds. It was that much blood. With my leg aching, and scrambled out of the shirt and searched for the source of the blood... but I was fine.
Limping back to the bedroom, turning on the lights revealed the story. Apparently the t-shirt had found its way underneath us during the prelude to sex... and apparently her period had started a little earlier than usual.
It cost a damn nice NIN t-shirt, a 200$ bed-spread, and her dignity for the next few days...
But the Prom was nice.
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
Can't tell a drinking fountain from a urinal? We've got you covered. Brush up on your drinking fountain enthusiast -- or sipper -- vocabulary and learn to talk and swap sips with the best of them.
The Comedy Goldmine examines the funniest and most creative threads from the Something Awful Forums. Although the Comedy Goldmine has changed authors many times over the years, its focus on the Something Awful Forums is still the same. Includes hilarious Photoshops, amusing work stories, parodies, and other types of oddball humor.