Oh Anne Anne Anne….

While studying abroad last semester, my group of friends and I headed into one of the better bar districts in the city. After about an hour of drinking, we see another group of Americans at a bar. I struck up a conversation with a solid 8, we’ll call her Anne. Within 30 seconds she was giving me the “I’m drunk and want to fuck you already” eyes. It was about 10:00pm at that point, so a little early to call it a night. I’ll save you the pleasantries, but throughout the next four hours there were several bar changes, bottles and bottles of foreign beer, and a few too many tequila shots. By 2 in the morning we were at a club, and I was teetering just a few sips of precious alcohol away from total blackout. Anne had been on my d#ck the entire night. It was time to close the deal. I not-so-smoothly ask her if she wants to go back to my dorm for the night, and she responds with “yes, but let’s talk first.” Now at this point I can’t string together a coherent sentence, but I agree. We go to a quieter area and she says, “I want to go back with you, but we aren’t going to sleep together.” At this point I’m starting to feel a little sick, and it’s not from getting turned down before I’m even given a chance. I legitimately want to go back whether I’m getting it in or not, so I agree and we walk back. I let Anne in my room, and I can’t even close the door before she attacks me like a wild animal. She has her clothes off within 60 seconds, no exaggeration. She then proceeds to give me a monstrous hickey on my chest (sounds weird, but not going to lie, I didn’t hate it), and move farther south to perform some respectable dome work for a while. Pretty strange for a girl who doesn’t want to bone, huh? Anyway, I’m in a drunken coma by this point, barely conscious, and letting her do every ounce of work. Just before her knob job was going to bring me to finish, she stops and proudly declares she’s changed her mind and wants to have s*x. She then drops a doozy: she’s a virgin. I’ve had a few experiences with virgins before this, and they all turned out terribly messed up.

However, I was in peak s*xual arousal and very, very drunk, so I proceeded to reach into my nightstand for a condom. Girls svck, don’t they? I get the condom on and take my position. But there’s a problem: it won’t go in. I’m not talking about the normal tightness you’d expect from a virgin (also note that my d#ck is averagely mediocre in both length and girth), I’m talking physically impossible to get inside this girl. We try for no less than half an hour, several positions, but to no avail. At this point I’m going soft, so I suggest calling it quits and going to sleep. Anne, noticeably embarr@ssed by the situation, asks “would lube help?” To my exhausted, frustrated self, this is a stupid question. I say “of course it would, but I don’t have any,” to which she replies “I keep a bottle in my purse – let me get it.” Now, let me ask you, have you ever seen a sane virgin who carries lube in her purse? No. This should have been a red flag, and I should have cut my losses and called it quits. But alas, the chokehold that my balls have on my life prevailed again, and I agreed to give it a try. With the lube and some more effort, we eventually accomplish what we set out to do, but it was still uncomfortable for her, not good for me, and all around terrible s*x. I pretend to finish, rip the condom off, and p@ss out. I wake up at 7:30 with a pounding headache and Anne beside me. The light is pouring in my window. I open my eyes and look around. What I saw next can never be unseen. Blood. Everywhere. I MEAN, EVERYWHERE. I was most focused on the blood that as on me. THERE WAS SEMI-DRY VAGINA BLOOD COVERING MY STOMACH, d#ck, AND THIGHS. My midsection was literally painted a shade of disgusting red. The white wall adjacent to my bed had several nausea-inducing streaks on it. And the smell. EVERYTHING smelled like bloody vagina. Never smelled bloody vagina? You don’t want to. I got out of bed, vomited, and immediately went in the shower.

I scrubbed for thirty minutes, but my poor penis never would forgive me. While in the shower I am praying to every deity I can think of to please make sure Anne wakes up and surveys the scene. Surely she’ll be mortified and immediately leave, right? Wrong. I cautiously open the door to the bathroom, hoping she isn’t still asleep. She isn’t. In fact she is very much awake. Smiling. Looking straight at me. While rubbing the pints of blood that are on her skin up and down, as if it’s some sort of m@ssage oil and she’s trying to be s*xy. She grabs a semi-dry CLUMP OF BLOOD from my sheets and rubs it on her t!ts. I vomit on my floor while staring straight at her. SHE KEEPS ON SMILING and says “I woke up horny… want to go round 2?” This is simply too much for me. I knew if I opened my mouth to speak, I would vomit again. I grabbed my clothes and walked out the door without saying a word. When I returned an hour later, she was gone, but the mess was not. Despite throwing my sheets in a dumpster and using an entire bottle of Clorox, I never slept soundly in that room again.