Submitted by Too much head, Age 24
This isn’t a story of how not to get laid, this is a story about how not to get laid a second time.
I had a crush on this guy, small one, but a crush. He made me laugh. And he was always talking about how long it’d been since he had sex. So I decided to sleep with him. I offered him a place to stay when he was in town, did a little flirting, and then he was off. He took my pants down, and proceeded to rub the top of his bald head against my vagina. I was not sure how to respond, so I just sort of laid there. Then he started having sex… I’d say with me, but he didn’t look at me, talk to me, pretty much ignored I was there. I started to have a panic attack, so I asked him to stop for a moment. He did. Then he started again. I asked again, for him to stop. He did, then immediately started again. I finally pushed him away, rather freaked out and feeling like a sex doll rather than a person, and told him I was done for the night. He shrugged, and started finishing himself off, on my breasts, while I was crying.
His advances the next morning were met with complete disapproval, and I finally had to be blunt. “I am never sleeping with you again.”
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Stewart Fox, Age 29, Los Angeles
After a wonderful April and a spectacular March, May has been strangely silent here at HNTGL. Just when I started to think that more and more people were visiting the site and submitting stories, the flow of new material suddenly and mysteriously stopped. Why? I’m not sure. I’ve long since given up trying to understand the logic behind when people submit stories and when they don’t.
But as I wait for my readers to once again share their tales of intrigue and humor, I thought I’d submit an entry myself. You see, my inbox hasn’t exactly been empty these past few weeks. I’ve had quite a lot of e-mail — only, of the spam variety. Spam irks me because I don’t understand it. Can spam actually be successful? Do spammers actually make money? How? Who, in this day and age, is foolish enough to actually give a spammer their money? The nonsensical spam irks me the most, the random letters and words that don’t even attempt to sell any bogus products, the meaningless sludge that pollutes without purpose.
But the most amusing spam is the penis spam. And that stuff seems very much in the spirit of this website. For anyone who actually responds to such spam is clearly barking up a tree that is planted in Notgettinglaidanytimethiscenturyville, USA. So, without further ado, some penis spam subject lines that I’ve received this year:
Read more »
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Mosa, Age 31, San Francisco, CA
I am an old married lady – almost five years, baby. I am always looking for interesting ways to spice things up (translation: get laid). A while ago, I decided it would be fun to do a strip tease for my husband. Being the nerd that I am, I got a “how to” strip tease book from the public library. I even read it. After a week or so of practice, I felt confident enough to try out my new moves on my man.
I chose a sexy song, established some mood lighting and sat my husband down. I wriggled and squirmed and danced about. I moved slowly and touched my body just like the book told me to. I opened my eyes a few times and was gratified to see my husband smiling and staring back at me. I slowly pulled my shirt over my head letting it get sloppily tangled in my hair. I writhed on the floor as I stretched and pulled at my bra. Damn! I was hot!
As I rose to my feet, I began to unbutton my jeans. I rocked my hips gently back and forth and side-to-side as I shimmied the jeans down over my ass. I let my husband get glimpse of my lacy g-string underneath. As my waistband reached my calves, I gave a dramatic kick and sent my jeans flying across the room in the direction of my husband. My husband, who had been silent up until this point, let out a sharp cry. Wow! I must really be turning him on; he’s not usually a screamer. I must be the sex goddess I always knew I was!
I opened my eyes to take a peak at my husband, expecting to see him ecstatic with lust. Instead he was doubled over clutching his shinbone. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. Some years earlier, my husband had purchased a pocketknife for me. I wore it religiously in the right hip pocket of my jeans. In all my prep prior to dancing, I hadn’t thought to remove the knife. When I sent my jeans flying across the room, my knife had become dislodged. It went hurdling through the air straight into my husband’s shinbone.
I tried to kiss away his pain and go on with my dance, but it was no good. The mood was lost. My husband, and his bruised shin did not appreciate my knife throwing skills. Ah well. It took me years of marriage, but I finally learned that my husband is not a masochist.
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Anon, Age 20, UK
I’ve always been a bit shite with girls. In my 20 years of life I’ve slept with only two girls, one of which was more of a “was mounted by a whale” than a proper lay.
I broke up with my ex about 15 months ago now. I haven’t had sex in the last 16 months or so.
So that’s the backstory over and done with. Now, I’m a beatboxer, which (for those who don’t know) means imitating sounds, mainly percussion instruments, with one’s mouth. This also gives me access to the single finest chat up line in existence.
At a house party there was a stunner showing a very real interest in me. I danced around with her (about as well as a lanky white boy can anyway) and did some beatboxing for her. Ten minutes of beatboxing later and she’s obviously impressed. “That’s amazing” she says, “how can you do all of that?”
“Well, you know what they say about us beatboxers”, I replied. “We’re good with out mouths”.
That should have been the end of it, but I was drunk.
“I bet you are”, she said with a wink. “You’ll have to show–”
But she was interrupted by me suddenly bursting out into loud laughter, incoherently babbling about us beatboxers also having big willies, before I walked off giggling to get another drink.
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by lola, age 35, mouseville, FL
I had been married for eight years when my husband up & left for… I dunno, greener pastures or something. I was a 32yo MILF who’d finished licking her wounds and crying like a whipped puppy, and had found a great 21yo guy online. Before you pass judgment and make all the “cougar” comments, we were together for a year before I reconciled with my husband. I was only hoping for something casual, too, and got a bit more.
We met on the world of internet dating, and he sent me pics of himself when he was in the Israeli army at the age of 18. I thought that the pics were no more than a year old as he’d just moved to the States. We decided on a chain restaurant known for its great drinks, and met. He was easily 45 pounds heavier than in the pics, but I was OK and decided not to bail on him.
I still wasn’t sold all the way through dinner, but then he flipped the Sex Switch and did the whole “Don Juan DeMarco Finger Trick” (just look for the “restaurant scene” and you’ll know what I’m talking about) and we were back off to his place as soon as I screamed, “CHECK, PLEASE!”
Read more »
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by Oblivious, Age 26, The Netherlands
I met this pretty young girl at sports, but didn’t really pay her much attention. We basically never said a word to each other for half a year, maybe a year or so. Then one evening, the group went out to a club, and all of the sudden, she came on to me quite aggressively. There was some close/erotic dancing, some kissing, but then she had to go, as she had to ride home with somebody.
Read more »
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by James, Age 29
This story is not nearly as funny as most on this site, but I think it’s got something important to say.
I was dating this girl, Tina. She was amazing. Big brown eyes, long blonde hair, hourglass figure. Not only was she beautiful, but she was well-spoken, sweet and intelligent. Even after a couple of dates, I was falling for her. Hard.
One thing bothered me though. At every meal, she would order a salad and water and bust out her diet book to write down absolutely everything she touched to her lips. She even wrote down the number of popcorn kernels she ate when we went to the movies! I asked her why she did this and she said that it was just to keep tabs on what she ate. I thought it was weird, as she was an athletic-looking trim girl, but I let it go.
About a month after I first saw her, I knew that it was going to be “THE NIGHT” when I picked her up. We had a sexually charged dinner and I was just aching to get the bill and get out of there to take this goddess home with me.
I brought her back to my apartment and started kissing her right away, moving straight to my bedroom. She undid my pants and pulled off my shirt. I started to unzip her dress, but then she jumped up to turn off the lights. She got back into bed, and I unzipped her dress. She squirmed out of it and dove under the covers.
I put my hand onto her belly. “Please don’t touch me there” she whispered. I slid my hands down her thigh. “Please, not there.” Her arms. Everywhere.
I got off her and asked her how I was supposed to make love to her if she didn’t let me touch her. She burst into tears about what a “fat cow” she was and how she didn’t want me to see her disgusting “rolls”. It made me so sad to see such a gorgeous wonderful girl so crippled by her low self-esteem.
I spent the rest of the night hugging her close and letting her cry. I’m still with her, and I’m really glad that we didn’t have sex that night because it was the most intimate thing either of us had ever done.
Trust me, ladies, you’re beautiful. There is nothing more beautiful than a naked woman, no matter what she weighs, no matter what her flaws are. From pin-thin to rubanesque, have confidence in yourself and your body and don’t let your weight control you.
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
Submitted by “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Age 24, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
I’m not sure how to describe the place. It was a typical street outside a bar that played loud heavy-metal music and was packed with depressed teenager in black, which I was at the time. I was there sharing beers with a friend. While I was still sober, a girl came to talk to me and said she thought I was cute.
I didn’t respond. Not that I was embarrassed or anything, but I didn’t find her very attractive.
In response to my silence she said, “You don’t liked me. Okay,” and left.
Many beers later (and I do mean MANY) I saw the same girl and told my friend “She’s ugly as hell, but I’ll take her.” I tapped my friend on the shoulder and went to talk to her. I don’t think she gave me time to finish a whole sentence before kissing me. After this kiss, she took me by the arm, heading to the corner.
Read more »
CLICK STARS TO RATE THIS STORY:
Loading ...
(12 votes, average: 3.83 out of 5)