Since it’s Friday–and Friday is all about getting your groove on (or not)–please enjoy this story of hot lovin’ gone horribly wrong. It ran on another site last year, but I’ve gotten a couple requests to repost it because it was, in the words of a reader, “frickin’ hilarious.” I will pretend y’all are laughing with me, not at me.
Ari was a 22-year old scarily handsome Israeli. His uncle was a friend of mine and owned a club on the Lower East Side. I was keeping my seduction of his nephew on the downlow, since I didn’t figured the “relationship” would likely be short-lived and I didn’t want the aforementioned seduction to jeopardize all the free drinks I got at the aforementioned club. His apartment was on my way home from the office, so I dropped by for a booty call after work, having wriggled into my sexy panties in the office restroom.
We didn’t waste any time. In short order, Ari was sprawled on the leather sofa with me on top, dry humping away. But after a few minutes, I noticed that my ladyparts weren’t the only thing feeling swollen and tingly. I tried to ignore it, but my sinuses were itching like mad and my eyes were tearing up. I mumbled something about needing to blow my nose—which was an understatement, as the snot was practically exploding from my head at this point—and ran into the bathroom. I didn’t even turn the lights on, just dove for the roll of toilet paper. And then…a scratching sound and the faint glow of two green eyes from the depths of the litterbox next to the shower.
Well, that explained the snot rockets. TEH KITTEHS, DEY GIVZ ME DE ALLERGEEZ.
In retrospect, I probably should have given up, gone home, and gotten off on my own. But it had been a few months since I’d gotten any and the dry-humping had led me to believe Ari was packing something worthwhile in his CK boxer briefs. So I gave my nose a final blow, went back into the living room—ignoring his quizzical stare from the couch—and popped some Benadryl from my purse (yes, I always carry it, and you should too if you have any kind of allergies).
The dry-humping resumed, followed by the undressing and the rolling about. The Benadryl, thank God, was taking effect, and my sinuses dried up enough that I could breathe through my nose again and get to work.
What they don’t tell you on the package, ladies, is that Benadryl—and all antihistamines—gets rid of your runny nose by drying out your mucous membranes. And yes, your vagina is basically one big mucous membrane. While my nose wasn’t running anymore, neither was my vadge. So when Ari finally stuck it to me, I was so dry that his dick skidded to a halt about two inches in. The combination of condom and parched membranes was excruciating. I almost expected his cock to make the squeaky sound you get when you rub a balloon against your palm.
I thought wistfully about the bottle of lube in my nighttable. Not doing me much good sitting in my bedroom at home, was it? I hadn’t even considered that I would need it, given the extreme hotness of the dude and the extreme horniness of me. Ari didn’t have any lube handy, unfortunately, and further licking couldn’t rehydrate my now desert-like nether regions. After a few more minutes of trying, Ari’s boner was dead and he was getting testy, so we gave up and I left him and his blue balls on the living room sofa.
I refrained from kicking the cat on my way out the door.