There are plenty of good, normal, sane reasons to have sex with someone you barely know. Perhaps he's unbelievably cute, but has a terminal disease or is leaving town tomorrow.
Could be you're drunk. And really horny.
All good reasons, all perfectly valid.
However, there are just as many— if not more—reasons not to have sex with someone. As someone who's exhibited very poor judgment on more than 1,000 occasions, I thought I'd lay them all out together so you can clip and save and learn from my mistakes.
The Pity Fuck, also known in some circles as the Mercy Lay, is never a good idea. For one thing, it's not at all satisfying to have sex with someone you're not attracted to. It's a short walk from pitiful to repulsive, and that line can easily get crossed once you see someone's "O" face. Then you're stuck with a grateful guy in your bed, and believe me, that's not an easy guy to get rid of the next morning.
The Revenge Fuck, done purely out of spite to hurt a third party who isn't even in the room, is pretty much guaranteed to leave you feeling like crap. The one (and only) time I did it was to get back at the Lithuanian who broke my heart. I took his roommate home only to find out that he had a coffee-can-size dick (no joke) and wore support hose because of his varicose veins. Oh, and the condom broke. Good times.
Then there are those guys (and ladies, too) who just nag and whine and bitch and moan until you put out just to make them stop talking—the Shut-up Fuck. Again, please don't. The time I did this, SUF insisted on playing a tape of his own band during the act. This way, when his mouth was busy, ineptly fiddling with my lady bits, I could still bear witness to his caterwaul. Because, again, not many women were willing to put up with him, he was nearly impossible to lose. He proceeded to call me at least five times a day for three weeks, despite the fact that I never once picked up or returned any of his calls.
The most common of all these is Ex Sex. It's pretty much inevitable that upon breaking up with someone, you will go back and sleep with them at least once more. This is the one time when bad sex is actually a good thing. This was definitely the case with an ex I'll call Martin.
Even when I thought I liked him, Martin was a terrible lay.
The first time we did it, I remember enthusiastically rolling around in bed (picture me, rolling around enthusiastically, while this big lug lies like a stone next to me). After much cajoling, it looked like we were gonna do it. Martin even got a little gumption and rolled on top of me.
OK, so, well, he plopped himself on top, and there he lay. And he was a big guy. His shoulders squished my face into the pillow as his chest compressed my lungs in a most uncomfortable fashion. His legs were flush on top of mine, so I couldn't move, but worst of all, his condom-clad dick flopped uselessly between my thighs. Every now and again, Martin would let loose with a full-body shudder—it was like being trapped underneath a gigantic dying tuna!
The sex eventually got better (meaning he did actually manage to penetrate occasionally), but not by much. We broke up, and then, a few months later, I foolishly fucked him again. Months of deprivation had made him more enthusiastic, but as he grunted away, I started to feel a little ill. By the time he was done— 1.3 minutes later—I was ready to hurl.
We're going to close with the Karmic Kickback Fuck. This is a cautionary tale about what happens when you fuck someone who's married or otherwise attached. I've relayed this story several times, so I'll just cut to the end. I slept with someone who lived with his girlfriend, and he accidentally shat himself in my bed. If a pile of poop smeared all over your pristine white sheets doesn't put you off married guys, you're more of an incorrigible slut than I.
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