The Day I Went Soft
I’m already worried about going flaccid randomly during sex. But on this night, I knew not to make any attempts at maintaining hardness. I had a pretty busy week of masturbation before the Saturday night of which I write. My roomies and I were having a party in our apartment and I was ready to just get wasted, have some fun, talk to guests, and pass out. I had no plans to even try to meet or satisfy any girls. But by the time the party was winding down there were only a few random stragglers left in the apartment. I was lying out in the hallway in the lap of a girl who seemed to be into me: she was saying I was cute no matter what I was saying. OK, so this didn’t happen too often so I figured I should take advantage of this little connection. We ended up in my bed making out. I was totally content with just kissing and cuddling a little bit and then passing out—in fact I don’t think it was physically possible to do anything other than that. Things were moving along just fine, I was about to pass out when suddenly my night was turned upside down.
I'm already worried about
going flaccid randomly during sex. But on this night, I knew not to make any attempts at maintaining
hardness. I had a pretty busy week
of masturbation before the Saturday night of which I write.
My roomies and I were
having a party in our apartment and I was ready to just get wasted, have some
fun, talk to guests, and pass out. I had no plans to even try to meet or satisfy any girls.
But by the time the party
was winding down there were only a few random stragglers left in the
apartment. I was lying out in the
hallway in the lap of a girl who seemed to be into me: she was saying I was cute no matter
what I was saying. OK, so this
didn't happen too often so I figured I should take advantage of this little
connection.
We ended up in my bed
making out. I was totally content
with just kissing and cuddling a little bit and then passing out—in fact I don't
think it was physically possible to do anything other than that. Things were moving along just fine, I was
about to pass out when suddenly my night was turned upside down.
She was reaching for my
pants! I froze in fear—maybe if I
didn't move, she'd stop rifling around down there and be on her way—her hand
was like a carnivorous wild boar sniffing around, snorting and fumbling around in the
brambles for its frightened prey.
The boar tore into my
pants and grabbed my penis and pulled it out. Suddenly I felt that horrible feeling I used to feel in
drama class when I'd forget my lines. My penis simply wasn't getting hard, regardless of what her hand
did. Her hand made a stroke or
movement, waited for my penis to follow the cue card, but nothing. Awkward. I was so wasted, I don't think Dr. Ruth could have gotten me
hard that night. Then my mind
kicked in: I had hurtful visual
imagery—that Dali painting...The Persistence of Time...you know, the one with
flaccidity all over the place? Flaccid, flaccid, FLACCID!
Whiskey dick! Yes, when a guy is drunk, it's not as
easy to get hard.
I have, sadly, gotten
whiskey dick on my own—getting home late night and drunk, attempting to
masturbate, realizing I couldn't do it because I was too drunk , and then just
passing out. You know it's bad
when you are too drunk to get yourself off. But this was the first time it happened with a girl. First of all I didn't want her touching
me there. Secondly I was drunk.
Things got worse.
I prayed that she wouldn't
say anything to try to make things better but she did:
"Oh, don't worry. It's ok".
That is the WORST. This made it more awkward and made me
feel like such a loser. I really
didn't care, in the longrun, that it didn't get hard—but now I did. She condescendingly tried to say: get 'em
next time, tiger. It's just better
if the girl pretends she doesn't notice, no matter how obvious it is.
The next morning I tried
to be a gentleman and asked her if she needed help getting back to her
apartment. She chuckled: "are you
serious," she asked.
I said, "course I'm
serious. Why do you ask?"
She said: "well I live on the third floor."
OH MY GOD. I thought she looked familiar! There were three apartments in our
building. We were on the first
floor. She lived on the third
floor with FOUR other girls! My
god, I could only imagine what she was going to tell them about "the guy
downstairs who couldn't get it up". Furthermore, I'd be haunted by these girls every time I came into the
building. I'd see them downstairs
getting mail, passing one another in and out...
The worst part of it was
that they kept getting new roommates. I could only imagine how they sold the apartment: "Ok so this is the
bathroom, this is the bedroom, and oh yeah that half Asian looking guy
downstairs? He can't get hard. OK, so do you want to take the spare room then?"
So have you ever been with
a guy who doesn't get it up at some point? How do you handle it? How does he handle it? And...I have to ask—do you tell your
friends all about it? Do you find
it really awkward when a guy you're with doesn't get hard during an encounter—have
they ever been the victim of whiskey dick?
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