Friday, April 1, 2011

Latex Allergy







When I first started getting laid, ignorance was bliss. I would spend a virgins-only amount of time getting to know a girl and when I could tell that she was either comfortable or emotionally unstable enough to want to sleep with me, I would say a quiet thank you to God before mounting her and handling her body with all the fluid grace of a seagull rummaging through a landfill.


It was typically a spastic and confused 45 seconds.

30 if you took away the foreplay.

15 if I forgot to think about baseball immediately after penetration.

And I ALWAYS wore a condom.

If I didn't have the numbness of sensation latex provided me back then I'm sure my stamina would've dipped by at least another 5 seconds, bringing the duration of my average freshman sexual experience down to about the same amount of time you'd spend at a McDonalds drive thru.

10 seconds or less to shoot. My dick game was like the Phoenix Suns offence.

As I grew older things changed. Eventually I settled down with a girlfriend, which proved to be a huge relief. Instead of haphazardly disappointing many different women, I could now focus all my inadequacy on disappointing one special girl on a regular basis. It was perfect. We were like every happy, oblivious couple normal people hate - we rented romantic comedies on a shared Blockbuster account and bought cleaning products together.

A lot of things about my life changed forever because of that relationship but no one moment was more significant than the night we were back at her place, about to fuck, and I realized I had forgotten to bring a condom.

“Don't worry. I trust you.”

Her words sounded so reassuring.

I ignored the years of social conditioning that led me to believe having unprotected sex would instantly cause me to die of AIDS like Tom Hanks in Philadelphia and for the first time I allowed myself to really feel what it was like to be inside of a woman. Right away I knew that I would never need to spike a vein or chase any other kind of high ever again. I had found my drug.

Over the next few years I literally fucked thousands of times and I NEVER used a condom. It was the ultimate fringe benefit of being in a steady relationship – lots and lots of unprotected sex.

Well it was great while it lasted. I'm single again now and as I've come to learn, I have a VERY serious problem. Can you guess what it is? While you think it over let me amuse you with a tale of personal humiliation:

The first time I tried to have sex after breaking up with my last girlfriend I was at a college party and I somehow ended up in some girls dorm room. Typical small-walled claustrophobic student squat with a bong tucked away in the corner, pictures of other guys she'd fucked tacked up on a bulletin board and posters of boy bands all over the walls. I'm sure it was everything her parents had ever hoped for at $10,000 a semester.

We had barely walked through the door when, without saying a word, she stripped naked and jumped onto her bed, waiting for me to follow suit. It was like every college TubePorn video I'd ever jerked off to come to life. I was so hard it was literally difficult for me to take my pants off around my boner.  I approached her mattress, climbed on top of her and started to think about Dave Winfield's career batting average.

“Wait you have to use a condom”

What? Condoms? But Jenny, that isn't part of God's design.

“Here put this on...”

In a move that would have instantly killed her father had he been there to see it, she leaned across her night table, opened up the drawer and inside were about 40 unopened condoms, maybe 20 or so discarded wrappers from condoms that I could only assume had been previously used, and – may God strike me dead if I'm lying about this – an assortment of Sex in the City DVD's. The econo-box of Trojans didn't faze me but the DVD's gave me pause to think.

After she threw the condom at me I turned away from her and fumbled with the package for a second before opening it, then I tried to roll it down the wrong way on my steadily weakening erection before finally getting it right. By this time I think she was filing her nails and chewing gum. Even though it took literally about 5 seconds the whole thing felt awkward and it killed the flow.

“Are you ready?”

I wasn't really sure anymore, but I said “Yes”

It was then, as I went to put myself into her promiscuous dorm pussy, that I realized my cock was as soft as Sade's singing voice. I had no idea what to do, so I opted for honesty:

“I'm having a problem”

Her repsonse? She let out a sigh and, without saying anything, killed the lights rolled over and passed out. What the fuck? I collected my clothes, ran out into the hall crying and never saw her again. What I've learned since that night, and what remains true up to today, is that I cannot have sex with condoms anymore. It's not my fault; I've just been so conditioned to respond to real pussy only that there's no turning back for me now. An irreversible neural pathway has been burned into the deepest regions of the reward centres in my brain and it now dictates that I must have unprotected sex to achieve orgasm.

Am I worried about AIDS? Not really. As a man much wiser than myself already told you, heterosexual AIDS is a myth. The following, however, are very real and scare the fuck out of me:

Chancroid, Chlamydia, Cytomegalovirus, Donovanosis, Hepatitis B, Gonorrhea, Crabs, Scabies, HPV/Genital Warts, Molluscum, SARS, Candidiasis, Lymphogranuloma Venereum, Non Gonococcal Urethritis, Genital Herpes...

So the moral of the story is: NEVER STOP USING CONDOMS DURING SEX. If she says she 'trusts you', then tell her to fuck off cause you don't trust her. Stay ignorant. Believe me. Sure, at the end of the day you're basically fucking a well lubed sandwich bag while I carelessly enjoy the real spoils, but remember: I'm a fucking idiot. I live knowing that I may one day be planning my romantic evenings and holidays around my next 'flare up'; meeting women on discussion forums for 'carriers' and writing the cost of Valtrex into my monthly budget.

It's too late for me. I'm a cautionary tale now. I'm a man whose life has become a question blowing in the wind ... a Gambler.

Take me home Kenny....

You gotta knooow when to hooold 'em
Know when to foooold 'em
Know when to waaaalk awaaaaay
Know when to run...

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

soooo howd u get over the 1 minute (or 30 seconds in ur case) nut syndrome??? did u just grow out of it?

The Fool said...

@ Anonymous

Who said I got over it.

KIDDING!!!

I got over it by fucking more. In truth I was never really a quick finisher, but when you're fucking on a regular basis you learn how to really regulate your shit. You wanna beat the syndrome get a girlfriend or fuckfriend and fuck her on a regular basis. When you're single it's hit or miss. Sometimes you fuck like a champ, sometimes you haven't jerked off in a week, you haven't fucked in a while, you get caught off guard and it's over before you wanted it to be. Consistency is key, I find.