“Shit!” I mumbled as I stared at the huge wet spot on my sofa. I bent down and placed my hand on the spot. It was still pretty wet. “Shit, shit, shit!” I said out loud. I grabbed a towel, laid it on the wet spot and pressed all the weight I could into the towel. I removed the towel and checked the spot again. It was still wet but not as bad as it had been. It was still going to be noticeably damp for quite a while.
The wet spot roughly the ten inches in circumference wasn’t going to dry anytime soon and I had invited my niece to spend a few nights and have Thanksgiving dinner with me. She usually slept on the sofa. We also spent a great deal of time just sitting around chatting. There was no way anyone would be sitting or sleeping on my sofa that night. I wasn’t worried about explaining what had happened. I would simply ay I had spilt something on the couch. That was lie but I couldn’t and wouldn’t explain what really happened to a sixteen year old.
A little while before I had to set out to pick my niece up it had occurred to me that I wouldn’t be having any orgasms for the week she would be here. I decided I better get one in before she got there. I needed to make it quick so I grabbed a toy, went to a porn site and got comfortable on the couch. About three minutes later my legs were shaking as I started to climax. As I finished and began to pull the toy out of my still contracting pussy. As I did so it tightened, practically pushing the toy out. “Oh no!” I half groaned as I started to squirt. I put my hand between my legs trying to stop the flow of liquid shooting out from between my legs. This redirected the flow of the liquid quickly spraying the couch rather than spraying the wall in front of me. I could feel the puddle of fluid collecting under my ass.
I laid on the couch for a few moments still trembling and enjoying the after effects of my huge orgasm. I then sat up and realized the fairly moderate pool of ejaculant was now soaking into me couch. I tossed the toy aside and grabbed a towel, soaking up as much of it as I could. I stood for a moment staring at the spot and checked again to see how wet the couch still was. My squirting had become an almost every time occurrence during masturbation but I could usually limit or stop it by keeping whatever I was using (toy, fingers…) inside me while I was contracting. I didn’t do that this time.
I hadn’t been thinking clearly and now my couch looked like Lake Michigan. If I want to watch porn I have to do it in the living room because my laptop doesn’t get a very good wi-fi signal otherwise. I tried until it was time to leave, to occasionally blot the spot in the hopes that it would dry more quickly. It was still visibly damp when we went to get my niece. Lovely, just lovely.
When I picked her up I warned her that I had spilled a bottle of water on the couch and that we would have to think of alternate sleeping arrangements. Thankfully female ejaculant is clear and odorless. I decided in needed to stop masturbating in community areas, at least when I am expecting guests.
Squirting feels amazing and I love that I can do it but it is kind of a pain in the ass. The more frequently you squirt, the more you actually squirt. It is messy and leaves a giant wet spot wherever you orgasm. That part is horrible. I need to invest in more towels or start put plastic on my furniture. I will simply have to explain to my friends that I am not one of those crazy women trying to keep her ugly 1970s furniture looking brand new.
Posted by trjensen on December 14, 2012
A few weeks back I went and saw a friend I haven’t seen in a while. We spent the entire night bullshitting and drinking. It was just me, her and her live-in boyfriend. We have had some issues due in large part to the fact that she thinks her boyfriend is attracted to me. I just stopped going to visit because she always said something about it and it was incredibly uncomfortable for me.
I don’t know if she has gotten over insecurity but last time I was there, she and her boyfriend seemed to have come up with a solution to the problem. It wouldn’t solve a damn thing for me but it seemed to be something they felt would remedy the situation. Why they thought it was a good idea was beyond me but if I had known what they were up to I probably wouldn’t have gone over.
About five beers into the evening, my friend and her boyfriend were by their back door being uncomfortably affectionate in front of me. I was on the couch trying to watch television while she tried to persuade him to go upstairs for some fun. He told her that she had company and I said “I don’t give a shit. Do what you want.” “Would you come up and watch us?” her boyfriend asked. I looked at him for any indication that he was joking. He turned to his girlfriend to confirm that this was a scenario she would be okay with. “Do you want to?” she asked with a shrug. “I can’t think of anything I would like less,” I answered and returned my attention to the television. They never did go have “fun.”
I am not opposed to the idea of watching two people fuck. I like porn and live action porn would be an interesting experience. It would also give me another story. I love having stories. My particular issues with this proposed scenario are numerous. Firstly, this woman is like my sister. I am friends with her entire family and I don’t think I could look her any of her relatives in the eyes if I had agreed to watch them fuck. Secondly, she doesn’t trust me because she keeps telling me that she suspects her man wants me. Thirdly, I too suspect that he is attracted to me and in no way want to encourage him.
Lastly and most importantly, I in no way, shape or form find either of them attractive. I would go as far as saying they are both pretty unattractive. Why would I want to watch ugly people fuck? I wouldn’t watch them fuck unless I was forced to. Rick James wasn’t there so that didn’t happen thankfully. It would be like bad fetish porn that involved one of my family members. Thanks but no thanks.
Posted by trjensen on May 9, 2012
I have definitely found myself in plenty of awkward situations during my adventures with opposite sex. And I really pride myself on my truly warped sense of humor and irony. I thought I’d share some funny tidbits from my adventures, ones that don’t involve me having sex with a psychopath.
The first three times PB and I went out our clothes kinda ’matched. It was amusing to both of us that each time we were wearing almost exactly the same color shirt. We both just determined we look good in the same colors; it was funny and cute. But the fourth time we went out I realized that it could be a problem. We had just finished sexy time, he was sweating and I had stuff on my chest and abdomen that I wanted to wipe off. He scanned his room for something we could both use. We had both worn light blue that night so when he picked up a light blue shirt off the floor, wiped his brow and handed it to me adding, “Use this. It is fine,” I took the shirt and wiped myself off, handed it back to him and he tossed it the corner of his room..
He went to use the bathroom and I decided it would be a good time for me to pop outside for a smoke. I stood up, pulled on my jeans but didn’t see my blouse. I stood up and scanned the room. I looked at the foot of the bed and found PB’s discarded clothes in a pile, light blue shirt included. “No” I mumbled. I turned to where he had tossed the other shirt. “No, no, no,” I whined. I cautiously pick up the shirt and held it out in front of me. “Fuck!” I said as I stared at my blouse which now had a nice big smear of PB on it. As I stood there staring at my blouse, mumbling to myself, PB came back into the room. “Oh no!” he exclaimed. He tried to fight his urge to laugh as he apologized profusely.
“I need a shirt.” He went to his closet and got me a t-shirt. He informed me that the shirt I was now putting on was the shirt he thought he had handed me only moments before. I just started laughing. I kept thinking about my blouse and the whole situation and it was funny. I was now wearing hooker boots and a t-shirt. If that doesn’t scream “Walk of Shame” then I don’t know what does. I wondered if my blouse was ruined but I really didn’t care. I had a great story and I love great stories.
Posted by trjensen on January 31, 2012