I met this gentleman in Savannah’s sister city, Charleston. I decided to drive up and spend the weekend with him. My arrival was late in the evening. He had just had back surgery. So, we actually just slept that night. Yes, we really snoozed. Insert sleeping emoji here.
Let me give you a brief description of my Charlestonian: 5’10, broad shoulders, teddy bear physique, rusty brown hair, dimples when he smiled, and blue grey eyes.
We woke up the next morning after a restful night. He wanted to take me to the beach while I was there. I told him I didn’t bring a suit. He said no problem, you can borrow a suit from one of my friends. So, about twelve of us caravan to Folly Beach. We are all drinking and having a good time.
He’s still wearing his shirt. We are at the beach during the summer in the South. It’s freaking hot! I asked him why he’s still wearing his shirt. His reply, is that he likes his shirt. I started to poke fun at him for keeping his shirt on. He isn’t the only one who can be funny. Eventually he takes off his favorite shirt…
He seemed a little hesitant. His back was to me, and he put his shirt on the chair. He turns around, and I see MAN BOOBS. They are triangle pointy, like a adolescent girl who needs a training bra. They were very prominent. I keep my thoughts to myself.
Later on we leave the beach, and go to a comedy show. Afterwards he tells me about a house party he wants to take me to. I say sure why not. He tells me that some of the people from the beach will be there and a few others.
We arrive at the house on James Island. I’m getting a bit of a hippie vibe when we enter the house. There’s a definite smell of incense and undertone of pot in the air. The hostess loved tie dye and dogs. She also brewed her own beer. He introduces me to everyone as his girlfriend. That was news to me. I look around to the people I already know. He is hovering/in my personal bubble space. It’s only women in the kitchen, there’s no need for hovering. I told him that I was good. He could go find the guys.
The hostess is introducing me to everyone and grabs me a drink. Suddenly there’s a commotion from another room a quiet has gone thru the house.
A couple walked into the kitchen, silence in the kitchen. I’m confused. I have no idea what is going on. Two of the girls step in front of me. One says maybe we should go outside. The woman looked at me point blank and asked who I was? I told her that I came with so and so.
The look on her face was pure jealousy, possession, mixed with a little rage. One of the other girls chimed in and said that I was his girlfriend. Little miss green eyes informed the room that he had NO GIRLS that were FRIENDS. This is when we made a swift exit out.
I see my guy on the beach. I go to him and inform him that his ex just showed up. He spits out his beer. He looks dumbfounded. He heads inside and chit chats with her. I stayed outside and talked with everyone. This is not the way I had imagined the party going. Never a dull moment I suppose.
We head back to his place. I take a shower and get comfortable for the night. I didn’t think he was going to try anything due to the back surgery recovery.
He gets into bed with me, and his hands start to wander. We kiss and are having PG rated fun. He asks me if I can get on top because of his back. I acquiesce, but my knees will only last for so long.
All of a sudden he stops the mojo that we have going. He says do you know what would make this even better? He became shy. I asked him what? He asked if I had ever used an butt plug before? I’m quiet, he probably thinks I’m freaking out. But I’m thinking well yes I have. He doesn’t know that side of me. I don’t know him well enough for me to tell him this information. He begins to try to convince me. I play along.
I ask him if he has any toys? He says no he doesn’t. But we can improvise. That was the first warning sign. WHAT THE FUCK?! How can you improvise for this? I decide to go with it, my curiosity is peaked. He is ecstatic. He jumps off the bed. Yes, that’s correct. He’s quite agile for someone who just had “back surgery”.
He’s in the bathroom. All I hear are drawers opening and closing. He comes back out. He shows me a large rectangular styling brush. I think to myself, do I have bed head? Is he’s trying to tell me without saying the words. Is he a metrosexual and needs to fix his own hair? These Charleston people might do things differently. Who I am to judge? Good hair does matter. I stare at him and shake my head.
He says “hold on, wait for it.”
He flips the brush upside down, and shows me the thick handle. And says, “TA DA!”
Inner monologue moment: This is not a magic show. Ta da? How about you take your ta da and shove it up your ass! What the fuck? I vote NO to improvising. Especially if it’s in the form of a thick hair brush handle that has ridges.
I shake my head. I tell him NO. He says hold on wait. I tell him there’s no way I’m letting him put that anywhere near me. He says oh no, I’m sorry. I want you to put the hairbrush in ME. OH MY FUCKING GOD. Where do I find these guys?
Finally I decide, I’ve done worse why not it’s not going in me after all. I tell him we are going to need lube. He says he doesn’t have any. But don’t worry he can improvise.
Oh goodness, the last improvision did not go too well. Who knows what he is going to pull out now. He goes into the kitchen. He walks back into the bedroom and says “ta da”again. The result of his ta da this time, is a canister of Crisco. Fried chicken and biscuits will never be the same again.
He says don’t worry it really works. I use it to masterbate all the time. I think to myself I’m not eating anything that comes out of his kitchen.
He’s as happy as can be. I’ve agreed to the Crisco-ed hairbrush handle. He prepares it for me. I don’t get it all the way in, it’s not even half way. He starts to make panting sounds. I think that I might be hurting him, but I’m not sure. He tells me that he’s good. So I push it in farther, he gets HARD. Then he ejaculates all over the bed.
He rolls over onto the bed, with brush still inserted. He then pats the bed next to him that is soaked with cum. WHAT THE FUCK? I’m NOT sitting there. He sees the expression on my face. So, he proceeds to slide back over to the cum side of the bed. He’s now sitting in the wet area. He looks at me and pats the dry spot next to him. Just what every girl dreams of a man who will sit in his own juices. He must have one hell of a great dry cleaner.
I go to the bathroom. I come out and he’s passed out with brush still inserted and snoring. I took all the pillows with me to the living room and slept on the sofa.
Next morning he greets me with breakfast. I decided the night before that I would be leaving earlier than I had anticipated. Because I was “on call“. He said let me at least take you to lunch before you go. A few of the gang are meeting. I thought sure I’ll eat anywhere that isn’t your kitchen.
He was extremely clingy at lunch. I guess inserting a hairbrush handle in his ass has brought us closer in his mind. There was no personal bubble space. He kept on begging me to stay in front of his friends. They even seemed to be uncomfortable.
I finally saw my break and said my goodbyes. He walked me to my car, still begging me to stay. I told him I had to go.
An hour into my drive he texted that he missed me. All I thought was that the feeling is so not mutual.
Moral: It’s a slippery slope, blame it on the Crisco not the alcohol.