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The Stories...
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Love Stinks. Sometimes we get dumped.
: submit your own
Love me back.
by heailng slowly
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We had been flirting off and on with each other for several years. That’s right. Together we had experienced several years of flirtatious behavior without acting on it. Both of us were athletes at a Division I university, both were on scholarships, both were very horny, flirtatious dogs and proud of it. Both of us were also involved in monogamous relationships with others who were members of our close circle of mutual friends. I was two years ahead of her in school.
One night after graduating I was working late and decided to make my way up to the campus for some debauchery after closing up our shop. I went to fraternity court where there were thousands of revelers drinking mightily. I snagged a few freebie beers, chugged ‘em and started scoping out the scene.
Drunks stumbled all around, as drunks are wont to do. Amid the drunks was my flirtatious friend, let’s call her Tara. Tara sidled up to me and picked up the heavy duty flirting immediately, right where we had last left off. The difference between that night’s flirting and flirtings past was that suddenly neither of us was attached with boyfriend or girlfriend.
A few more beers, a few more dances, and a whole lot more sexy talk later found the two of us toe to toe; lips to lips. For a period of no less than 10 minutes we groped and grabbed each other swapping spit and wrestling tongues in front of hundreds of people. My hand was up her skirt; her hands were down my pants. We were biting each other’s necks and lips, sucking each other’s tongues and snorting like fucking bulls in heat as we leaned up against an oak tree in front of the Sigma Chi house.
When we pulled away long enough to become self-conscious about our very public display of heat, we decided to make the short walk down onto campus and to her dorm room. Along the way our embraces became even more emboldened to the point of reciprocal oral sex leaning against a tree, behind a bush and even right out on the open cobblestone path. The heat radiating from us was volcanic.
Arriving at her dorm room, she talked her roommate into leaving for the night. Inside her dorm room we picked up where we left off, much to the demise of our skin. I left in the morning without benefit of sleep and without approximately 5% of my skin. I had weeping, oozing rug burns on my knees, butt, elbows, on the back of my neck and even on my chin. My nipples were raw and reddened, about to form scabs.
Before leaving I noticed that she was actually bleeding from a raw patch on her back and another on her shoulder. This had been extreme sex. Sex like this required a permit in most parts of Amsterdam. Porn stars rarely experience this brand of tantric sexual play-- rough power fucking for well over 6 hours straight left us both on a new sexual plateau.
“I’ll call you.” I whispered as I slinked my way out of the dorm at 8:00 a.m.
Sore, oozing pus, and late for work, I trudged back up town to my bike. My knees wept through my jeans and then hardened in place as I rode my motorcycle back to work. Standing up broke the denim scab, causing me to cry out to my co-workers. I worked that day, again until well past midnight--sore, tired and weeping fluids from several places on my body. It was a rough day and night.
Needless to say, I didn’t call Tara that day. The next day we received a rush order on top of our already ridiculous workload and I wound up working yet again until midnight. The next day was Saturday and I opted to work another double shift to get caught up on our backlog of projects, fully intending to take Sunday completely off. Saturday came and went without even thinking to call her, despite the scabby reminders all over my body. I was just too damn tired to care, that, and I was a real self-centered asshole.
Saturday night around 11:30 I decided to quit. I shut down our production equipment and filled the water bowl of the shop dog, a mutt who was adopted by our company. While trying to close the door and keep the dog in, my leg brushed up against a piece of decorative glass that was against the exterior of our building. The glass broke and scalloped a quarter-sized chunk of flesh from my knee. FUCK!
The dog saw the flesh fall to the ground and quickly ate it along with a large shard of glass. It then proceeded to lick the gushing blood from my reddening calf and shin! I stepped back into the shop and wrapped my leg in gauze from the first aid kit, taped it down and headed home, cursing the mutt all the way.
Once back at our rental house, my one roommate helped me clean my wound and put a quick butterfly bandage on it. The bleeding stopped and I fell asleep. Finally a day of rest was on my calendar. Sadly, I had no intention of calling Tara.
I woke up at noon and began drinking with my housemates. We watched football, ordered pizzas, and drank lots of beer. I stayed immobilized in complete denial about the state of my leg, and drank nearly a case of beer, dozing off and on.
Pounding and yelling at the back door awakened me from a drunken nap. It was dark again and I had spent the day in a recliner drinking and snoozing. Everyone else was gone, so I hobbled my way to the door and panicked when I saw it was Tara. She was fuming mad, but I had to let her in.
I sat down immediately in a chair in the kitchen. My wound throbbed as I sat motionless with my hand firmly clasped to my knee. The rug burns hadn’t really started to heal yet and were oozing as my throbbing knee was bleeding slightly through my hand. I was a captive audience.
Tara proceeded to rip me a new one. She went up one side of me and down the other with how I was such a supreme shit. I was dirt. I was a slug. I was a wart on a slug’s ass. You name it, she dished it out. I realized I was busted and sat there trying to take my medicine and at least grant her the courtesy of full eye contact.
As her tirade heated up I felt myself growing cold. I knew I had to sit and take my medicine, but couldn’t understand why I was having such a powerful physical reaction. I couldn’t understand it until I looked down at the floor that is.
In an ever-widening radius, there was a huge pool of blood around my feet and even around Tara’s one foot. I had been bleeding out of my re-opened wound for the duration of Tara’s rant against my asshole ways. She looked down and laughed at me, turned and ran out the front door tracking blood across our beer-stained carpet and muttering something about me dying. Most likely something about that being ok with her, I’m sure.
I made my way to the hospital after bandaging the wound again. The doctor on call had to cut away the necrotized flesh in order to have any hope of my newly stitched together flesh healing. He explained that I was lucky to be alive considering how much blood I'd lost and that was due to how drunk I was and how thin my blood had become. Drunk still, I drove home a quart or more low on blood, stitched together at the knee, and ashamed of being such an asshole. Kharmic justice gave me six stitches and half a dozen slow healing carpet burns to remind me to be more careful with my affections.
Six months later I threw a large birthday party for myself. I had just dropped a handful of magic mushrooms when Tara walks up to me. She says that she’s there with her boyfriend who is determined to beat me up.
“Moi” I say to her, already buzzing from my psychedelic intake. I blow her off and go about the business of being super stoned. When I finally do make it out to the front of the building she screams at me.
“SEE, I FINALLY FOUND SOMEONE TO LOVE ME BACK!!!” She says this while pawing her latest beau.
My roommate yells back, almost instantly, “Oh, he loved you back alright. He loved a hole right in your back.”
Mr. Boyfriend tried in vane to get at me, but was discouraged by the improbable odds of him ever walking again, given that rule number one in crashing birthday parties is: Never try to fight the birthday boy. That and my friends were huge and drunk and eager to kill anyone who might piss me off.
So, my friends, eighteen years pass by and I find myself in my local tax office staring face to face with Tara! She married Mr. Angrywanttokillbirthdayboy, had three beautiful children together, and they live in the town in which I have worked the last 3 years. We were cordial. She was gracious. I may still be an asshole.
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