Disgusting People I Have Made Out With

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Thursday nite we’ll be playing the bongos at the IN THE FLESH EROTIC READING SERIES @ Happy Endings

Tomorrow nite one of us will be sitting in on the bongos with our dear friend and colleague Mike Edison as he reads selections from his lurid memoir I Have Fun Everywhere I Go: Savage Tales of Pot, Porn, Punk Rock, Pro Wrestling, Talking Apes, Evil Bosses, Dirty Blues, American Heroes, and the Most Notorious Magazines in the World as part of the In The Flesh Erotic Reading Series at Happy Endings so if you have ever wondered who we are or if you were a member of a certain 90’s Bay Area power trio that we might have outted as a collector of Third Reich memorobilia or you are just interetsed in buying us a stiff drink then come check it out. Full details below.


Thurs, July 16th at 8 PM (doors at 7; we recommend arriving by 7:30 for a seat)


Admission: Free

Happy Ending Lounge: 212-334-9676


In The Flesh is bringing back our most popular segment, True Sex Confessions Night! Featuring memoirist Mike Edison (I Have Fun Everywhere I Go), Melissa Gira Grant (Sexerati.com), Megan Carpentier (Jezebel.com), Blaise K (How I Learned Reading Series), and Maria Diaz.

Hosted and curated by Rachel Kramer Bussel (Best Sex Writing 2009, The Mile High Club, Spanked). Free candy, cookies, chips and 100 mini cupcakes by Baked by Melissa will be served. Authors’ book swill be available for sale by Mobile Libris. Audience members will have the opportunity to anonymously share their true sex confessions throughout the night (via index cards that will be read aloud between readers). Free copies of the word game SexySlang will be given away.

(via carlovely)
Anyone have any stories they’d like to share?

(via carlovely)

Anyone have any stories they’d like to share?

Good job you guys!
Keep the submissions cumming!!!

Good job you guys!

Keep the submissions cumming!!!


"However what made matters worse, was that he kept, (this sounds childish so sorry) farting. I mean like the odd trump is ok, but this was none stop, and they stank disgusting."

An international contribution from the country of France:

I was on holiday with my family and friends to France. I was 14, which coincidently meant I was naive and violently suffering from the underage horn (despite my inexperience).  Also, I was completely brainwashed by the concept of a “Holiday Romance” urghh..

Anyway, the story begins at the campsite’s weekly shitty disco for teenagers, (which surprisingly turned out to be the whole town’s weekly shitty disco for teenagers…  zzzzz).
Well,  as I am being completely honest, I have to admit I was on a pulling rampage, desperately trying to impress the locals with my supposed sexed up dancing routine (oh god :/) Let’s just say there was definite body popping going on, like wtf D:

Nevertheless, it did seem to attract the locals; which does worry me slightly; and I was joined by 3 other underage horn sufferers. But as I was still very young, their air grinding did scare me, and I ended up just swaying to the music, being careful to avoid each of their energetic thrusts. D: I eventually gave up on the dancing, and slid to the seating area of the club.

In a probable attempt to practice my eye flirting technique, I actually pulled!! HARAAH yey for me!!  :/ . The guy was quite tall, dark haired and naturally tanned skin, his face wasn’t too repulsive, though I should have steered clear when noticing his attire, a matching white tracksuit, with chains L I know! It kills me to reminisce.

Anyway, I guess the whole concept of the “first pull” excited me and I was more than willing to play along.  At first it was ok, well the conversation consisted of me being ignorant of the language barrier, while he struggled to keep up.  Therefore, I was basically able to conclude that French boy’s name was Pierre.

Unfortunately, the supposed “DJ” thought he could bring intimacy to the scene, and decided to play some soppy French love song, which was unbearably slow.  However, at least one of us was thrilled, as Pierre seemed almost keen to slow waltz me around floor. Yet as this was my first ever slow dance, I wasn’t really sure what to do, and I sort of stuck my bum out, manipulating my body into the shape of a duck. It was rather pathetic.

Afterwards Pierre led me outside to say goodbye ( now thinking back, he probably just wanted to show off his  motorbike) However I played the part well, and did my fair share of ‘ooh-ing’  and ‘aah-ing’ over his petrol powered bicycle.  When it came to actually saying good bye, it got all awkward, he shuffled around expectantly, and I just stared at him bewildered, wondering what on earth to do next.

I was literally ticking things off the list

1.        Eye Flirting  :)  TICK

2.        Talking in flirtatious manner :) TICK

3.        Slow Danced :) TICK

4.        Kissed  :( !!!!!!!!!!!

ARGHH!!! I was literally shitting it, whether to do it or not, time was ticking,  it was either now or never.

God I wish I hadn’t.

I literally jumped on him, knocking him flying, clashing my teeth against him. I was the spitting image of a crocodile munching on a helpless antelope. Jesus Christ it must have been scary.

Nonetheless, crocodile munching antelope must have been his thing, as he began making some rather freakish groaning noises.

After that there was no getting rid of him, perhaps the fact he was 2 years older than me heightened his ranking from slimy to tolerable. I thought of him more as my holiday experiment, rather than my holiday romance. I knew that I wasn’t the best kisser; I was generally a hopeless case. However as he was obviously up for it, I guess I thought I could take the opportunity to perfect my technique.

The more we ‘practised’ the more he got sexually agitated always wanting more, though the whole idea of that made me feel nauseous. In fact kissing him was hardly a pleasurable experience, his tongue was always so rough, it often felt like a foot scrub was being lodged down my throat. Yet, perhaps the most repulsive aspect of Pierre was the little traces of toothpaste in the corners of his mouth. Ew

As the days rolled I was getting increasingly restless, wanting to go home, and away from creepy creepy Vincent. However he got freakishly more attached, and literally followed e everywhere.

For example:

The whole family had planned a golf activity together, yet Pierre felt it necessary to invite himself, which was irritating, as he was an embarrassment that didn’t need to associate with my parents. However what made matters worse, was that he kept, (this sounds childish so sorry) farting. I mean like the odd trump is ok, but this was none stop, and they stank disgusting. Bless my family, they were trying to be polite my discreetly gagging behind their hands. I honestly have never wanted to kill someone as much as I did then.

When it was finally the last night, he was the worse. He actually wouldn’t leave me alone, at 2 am when my family were trying to sleep; he was stood singing love songs outside. My dad nearly lost it. I actually had to escort him off the premises, urrghh

However, I made sure not to give him my home address of phone number, so I gave him my hotmail, as I could always block him, which was inevitable really.

However when I got home, that was when the stalking began

At first it was just the odd email, (as id blocked him on msn chat, he resulted with just emailing me)
normally they were the combination of sloppy English and French, but the general gist was  ‘ I love you sooo much blablblaaa’
I mean seriously, grow a back bone.

I did reply to the first few, but after a while I grew tired of him, and just ignored his emails, as they made me feel uncomfortable and sick. Each one was getting more serious and more serious.

Then I was getting about 3 emails every day, it was as if he was in denial over me not replying.

This went on for 4 months, and I just kept thinking he would go away, but he wouldn’t. I then began to have nightmares that he would come to England. I didn’t dare tell my mum or dad, because I’m not the sort of person who likes people worrying about them.

I then bucked up the courage to write him an email, telling him to leave me alone, and that he should move on etc. And then I deleted the account.

I thought I was all ok then, but it wasn’t

3 months after that I received a letter through my door.

I never told him where I lived.

The letter was extremely freakish and delusional, even obsessive. He wrote how he was in love with me, and what it felt like. Then he wrote about the future we would have, and that I should live with him. And that he needs to see me. And that he will come down to England, if I don’t go to France.

I was literally so scared, my hands were shaking so much when reading the letter.

I then went hysterical and began to cry, tore up the letter and just sat in my room unable to sleep.

I knew I had to tell someone, I couldn’t just leave it as he was not going away. So I told my friend who went on holiday with me when I met Vincent.  However, it turned out that Pierre had emailed her for 3 months after I had deleted my account. She did not tell me because she didn’t want to worry me. I read a few of the emails; some were frenzied and disturbing.  I couldn’t read the rest as I felt physically sick.

My friend then wrote an email telling Pierre that I was not in love with him, and how his letter had upset me etc.  Then she deleted her account, and we heard no more of him.

I know it all sounds immature and irresponsible, but I was only 14, and it seriously did freak me out.  The whole ordeal went on for almost a year, and it affected me for a long time afterwards. I’m sorry to bring a downer on your site, I was not intending to go into depth about the ending, but I felt that I should express myself. Thank you for listening

Me and my roommate got wasted at a wake and after 1,000 beers I started talking really loud to my ex-boyfriend’s best friend about how I drank my ex-boyfriend’s pee.  I had drunkenly confessed this before to him but he said he didn’t remember. Apparently it’s my favorite thing to brag about when wasted.  

Later one of my friend’s—a really big dude, I mean, big, round—started giving me some really sensual hugs and I found myself licking and biting his earlobes. Then one of my friends made out with her ex-boyfriend in front of her new boyfriend and it was time to leave. 

I haven’t had sex in two months and would totally have gone below the earlobes on Big Dude.  Maybe next time.

This occured when I was with still my ex, an insecure, verbally and physically abusive man-child who I eventually and to intense relief escaped from when he randomly went to live in a far away Asian country after two years

From anonymous reader [redacted]:

I am __ years old and from ______, have been to two different universities, lived in many different backwater places already, and have had so many drunken, drugged up and otherwise regrettable and shambolic experiences that I had could write the encyclopaedia of disgusting makeouts. However here are just a few of my golden moments that I will treasure for a lifetime:

This occured when I was with still my ex, an insecure, verbally and physically abusive man-child who I eventually and to intense relief escaped from when he randomly went to live in a far away Asian country after two years. We went out clubbing all the time in a city I won’t name, to pretty much the same drug dens popping pills an hanging out with shady characters. It was a complete blast I must admit, although it was an utterly insane two years and I was off my face 99% of my waking life, I don’t regret it after all you only young once? Anyway this one time we were hanging out in a club and I met this black lesbian, skinny and obviously also wrecked on drugs, and kind of androgynous in a way that I find vaguely appealing as a straight girl, with short hair and wearing a tracksuit or something to that effect. Before I knew it we were in the toilets making out and fingering each other, I was way too fucked and she was using way too much tongue but I was extremely turned on by her and thought well, if this is the way it’s going I might as well give her the best ride I can. So then before I knew it I was on my knees in the toilet with my face in her crotch. Her hair was all wirey and thick and I felt unsure I could breathe as she was also pressing my face into her extremely moist regions with her hand. Anyway it took her all of two minutes to cum grinding me around, thrusting in my face, and when she was done I stood up. Expecting her to return the favour and waiting for my skirt to be taken off, she simply opened the toilet door and left. I actually stood there for at least thirty seconds wondering what just happened. Afterwards, back up in the club, I told my boyfriend and he nonchalantly said he didn’t care (he was an arsehole) but ten minutes later I realise the lesbian has sat down next to me. She is staring at me with huge eyes like a lost puppydog. She puts her arms around me as if that one orgasm has made her indebted to me for life and she won’t stop trying to tell me to ditch my boyfriend. This goes on all night, when I do my best to shake her in a firm but polite way by saying ‘I’m sorry it was just a bit of fun ok?’ she starts crying. The slightly butch exterior of earlier on has peeled away to reveal clingy, weepy, annoying, depressing us to the point that we left the club and went home, the party had officially been killed. It was daylight outside. The girl stalked us the entire way through the streets always staying about ten feet behind us until my boyfriend starts yelling at me that I’m an idiot and he’s never taking me anywhere etc. We eventually found a taxi, thank god, all I wanted was sleep and for my boyfriend to stfu and to forget the events of the night. The girl appeared, out of nowhere, and CLIMBED IN THE TAXI WITH US, crying and trying to kiss me. In the cold light of day she looked seriously creepy and unattractive, like some kind of crack child, way too skinny, and really hairy, I realised she wasn’t black but some kind of cross-breed that had all the worst traits from either hideous parent, and I actually screamed. It took us almost an hour to be rid of this girl and I felt so fucking guilty and still do to this day that I always wonder if she was actually a really nice person and I traumatised her for life. Remember kids, drugs are bad.

My first kiss was in the back of a cinema with a really nerdy guy who was into dungeons and dragons and cradle of filth. We went for burgers first and when we in the cinema he decided to start kissing me very awkwardly,and burped. Inside my mouth. It tasted like cheese.

I was once selling drugs in a pub and met three guys who wanted to buy coke off me. I went to their house and we did so much drugs I couldn’t feel the lower half of my body, we all lay around on a sofa together and mutually masturbated. It was in their garden. A massive spider crawled on me at one point and it stayed crawling on me as I continued the orgy.

When I was still with aforementioned horrible ex, I went out clubbing on my own with the sole intention of meeting and fucking a guy who wasn’t my bf, in the hope that I could get a decent lay. I swanned around having a good time and eventually caught the eye of an attractive, slightly older man who sat me down and preceeded to talk to me with such charm, intelligence and wit that I felt dull in comparison and simply sat and blushed and laughed delightedly at him. He wasn’t your average kind of bloke that pulls girls in a club, he wasn’t out for that reason, and I felt a little ashamed that I was. Anyway he was handsome with it. After a while he ditched his friends in the nicest way possible and we took leave of the club. He asked me back to his place, I said yes, pleased that he wasn’t gay or a unac, and we went in his car. He made out with me briefly but it was a horny enough makeout that I realised he was supressing his horny interior but that didn’t make him any less of a gentleman, I was thoroughly impressed with my catch. He wasn’t any less good looking once we got outside either. At his house we listened to obscure music and drank wine, he told me about his brother having gone to America, talked about his friends and family in a way that was so warm and interesting that it made me even more attracted to him, and it turned out he was ten years older than me but that was still pretty young. He was clearly way more sophisticated than me and he said I was adorable as I danced around in front of a giant mirror to his jazz music, not touching me and being a gentleman still. After a while we really got into the music, started drawing to the music in a big sketchbook after he showed me his art. I love that sort of thing and I got really into it. He had some bongo drums and I picked one up and started playing it to the rhythm of the music, getting very intensely into the rhythm, and almost not even remembering he was there, but simply loving the moment. It was amazing. Afer a few minutes I realised he had crawled over to me, I had opened my eyes and he was hitting the same drum, and started kissing me. I kept on drumming as he kissed me, until eventually it grew hotter and heavier and the drum was put down. On his sofa we got extremely horny and he went down on me, still with the music playing. I don’t know what it was but it was great music to have sexytime to. After a while he asked me to come to the bedroom and we kissed all the way there. It was at this point, when we were entirely naked (he had a NICE freakin body, very nice) and doing all kinds of things (his foreplay technique was flawless) that we finally got around to fucking. There was a technical failure on his part, due to the amount of drugs and alcohol we had both consumed. He was really apologetic and although I was frustrated and badly wanted to fuck him, I was nice about it and he got slightly morose at this point so I stroked his hair and comforted him about it (I KNOW it sounds weird but it was ok at the time) and we talked very intimately for hours instead. What a night. The next day we were too tired and hungover to fuck but we made out sleepily and masturbated each other, and I sucked him off and swallowed it. I saw, sober, that he was in fact very good looking still, with a slight beard, longish hair, quite bohemian looking, just my type. After I had told him about my arsehole boyfriend he told me, understandably, that he was probably too old for me, but in a sensitive way. He expressed the fact that he wanted to start settling down at his age and would rather wait for ‘miss right’ as he put it. I was not offended, just pleased my night turned out to be so enjoyable. We texted each other about a couple of times afterwards but nothing more than that, just a polite how’s things, not expecting anything more to come of it. Anyway it was about a month later and my on-off boyfriend who I still couldn’t shake, found out about my adventure. In my text messages on my phone. I was actually lying in bed with him when my phone rang one night. It was the guy. I saw the number come up on the phone, my boyfriend stared at me and in that moment I knew he had been looking through my texts and knew. I picked up the phone hoping this wasn’t going to be too awkward and weird. The guy (who’s name I don’t remember) sounded very distressed and somewhat apologetic and quite sweet, but what he was saying baffled me. ‘I got your text, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say I’m just really sorry. Are you absolutely sure it’s gonnorhea?’
WTF!! It turned out my boyfriend had texted the guy and informed him that I had gonnorhea, out of vengeance for my escapades. But the reason the guy was so apologetic, he confessed to me, was that HE ACTUALLY HAD HAD GONNORHEA. HE WAS APOLOGISING FOR GIVING IT TO ME. HE HAD FAILED TO TELL ME THIS FACT.
(I got tested and I am by some miracle, clean, but that was the end of my being a slut.)

GOD it felt good to confess that.
I now have a wonderful, loving boyfriend who I would never cheat on in my wildest dreams, and if he ever knew half of the crazy shit I have done.. well, he kinda does as I’m a very honest person and he’s still with me so that’s got to be a good sign.

malt liquor slicker

this one time i was at my friend’s party, malt liquor slicker. i danced with a lot of guys because i was trying to make someone jealous. one guy was an amzing dancer, he introduced himself as just Q. that should have been a warning sign, but according to my friends i made out with him, drink in hand, against a wall for a good twenty minutes. the next day photographic evidence didn’t shame me so much as confuse me. sure, he was pretty cute, and my dance moves were just sloppy drunk, not slobbering white girl, but i hadn’t actually realized that he was black and not tan until i had evidence. i wasn’t concerned, just confused. HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED THAT?

photos remain, to my shame, on facebook.