It was on a lazy afternoon, lost in easy conversation with a close and trusted friend, that I someone found myself divulging some rather embarrassing sexual details -- traumatic things I had never, ever, told anyone before! Greatly amused and inspired by my honestly, she in turn began confessing some of her own. It was there on my living room floor, with both of us consumed in hysterical laughter (and admitted relief) that he idea for collecting all these outrageously and intimately personal collection of Sexual Bloopers, was born. Read about five of the most outrageous stories of real people's most embarrassing X-rated fumbles.
Excerpted from Sexual Bloopers, compiled and illustrated by Michelle Horwitz
1. Paradise Lost
The summer between my junior and senior years of college I worked at a nursery-and-garden center and went gaga over the hunk they'd hired to do the heavy hauling. Keep reading ...
2. Class of '65 -- Ass of `95
I'd been divorced for a little over a year when I got something in the mail about my 30th high school reunion. Having just leased an expensive new sports car, shed 25 pounds, and a whole lot of baggage from a bad marriage, I was more than ready to see how I stacked up against all my high-school buddies. Keep reading ...
3. International Arrivals: United States of Erotica
I'm a call girl with wealthy gentlemen clients who often require me to travel to discreet locations of their choice. A few years back, I was invited to join a client on a weeklong business trip to the French Riviera, where I would spend my nights pleasing him and my days basking in the Mediterranean sun. Keep reading ...
4. That Sinking Feeling
One morning I woke from a dream feeling especially horny. Since I didn't have to be in the office until noon, I figured I would entertain myself with my nine-inch rubber dildo "Manny" and sure enough, I got off in no time. Keep reading ...
5. Hot Dog!
When I met Sandy, it was love at first sight! The only problem was her yapping Pomeranian. When it came to my girlfriend's affections, he and I were definitely rivals. Keep reading ...
The summer between my junior and senior years of college I worked at a nursery-and-garden center and went gaga over the hunk they'd hired to do the heavy hauling. He had the most amazing body I'd ever seen and often starred in my fantasies.
One afternoon the owner asked us to close up for her. We couldn't wait! At six o'clock we threw the rest of the employees out, locked the door, hung the huge CLOSED sign, and raced to the back of the shop behind a row of huge floor-to-ceiling metal shelving units. My fantasy was about to come true! I wriggled out of my shorts and panties while he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down around his incredibly muscular thighs. He wasn't wearing any underwear and his penis literally sprung up to meet me. I was soaked and panting with anticipation when he effortlessly lifted me up and set me down on one of the shelves--just the right height for penetration. He worked himself deep inside me and began pumping away, totally unaware of the danger looming overhead--the vibration of our slamming bodies shook the clay pots stored on the top shelf. Eventually one fell off the edge and came crashing down on the poor guy's head. Much to my horror (and disappointment), he slipped out of me and fell to the ground unconscious! I couldn?t tell if he was dead or alive. I tried to wake him and he didn?t move. I had to call for help. I quickly redressed and tried to pull his pants up --but it was hopeless. There was nothing left to do but call 911 and hope that I died before they arrived. In a lame attempt to preserve our dignity, I yanked a leaf off the nearest plant and covered his penis. Just as the ambulance and police arrived, he began to regain consciousness. Though dazed and sporting a huge lump on his head, it was quickly determined that his injuries weren't life threatening. With everyone relieved, attention shifted to the leaf covering his otherwise fully exposed groin. Unable to conceal their amusement, the paramedics burst out laughing while the grinning police officer turned toward me and said "Well now, Eve, it looks like you and Adam here had a little trouble in paradise."
I'd been divorced for a little over a year when I got something in the mail about my 30th high school reunion. Having just leased an expensive new sports car, shed 25 pounds, and a whole lot of baggage from a bad marriage, I was more than ready to see how I stacked up against all my high-school buddies. As soon as I walked through the door, I spotted the girl I'd taken to our prom. She looked as gorgeous as she did that night 30 years ago! From the moment our eyes met, the same old sparks started to fly. We caught up over a few glasses of champagne, and I was thrilled to learn that she was divorced and unattached as well. As we slow danced, she put her mouth to my ear and whispered, "How would you like to drive me home right now and relive prom night?" We raced like hell to get back to her house. I pulled into her drive way and we started making out like two teenagers in heat. The car windows fogged up as I lowered the leather seats and climbed onto her. I worked her dress up as eagerly as she worked my pants down. She really started to get going, so I picked up the pace and rode her even harder. That's when I felt something pop in my lower back. My entire body seized up in one excruciating spasm. I had just re-injured my newly healed slipped disc! There was no way I could move --let alone finish the job of satisfying this incredibly hot woman. It would be at least an hour before I could get her out from under me. I couldn't even raise my sorry, middle-aged ass up enough to get my now limp self out of her. With no hope of having an orgasm, she said, "What do we do now?" obviously unfamiliar with this type of injury. Feeling like the biggest loser in the world, I said, "We have to wait until the spasms subside enough for me to move. It could be a while." She just smiled and said, "Well I suppose that'll give us plenty of time to reminisce about what it was like when you were 18 and could do this without paralyzing yourself in the process."
I'm a call girl with wealthy gentlemen clients who often require me to travel to discreet locations of their choice. A few years back, I was invited to join a client on a weeklong business trip to the French Riviera, where I would spend my nights pleasing him and my days basking in the Mediterranean sun. Because he'd been a regular of mine, I knew exactly what kind of sex he liked, and took extra care to fill one entire suitcase with a wide array of S&M paraphernalia. Since he also liked to watch me masturbate while I pretended to be a parochial school student, I packed my schoolgirl uniform and favorite vibrator.
A deliciously devilish week later, we ended our trip a friendly kiss and boarded our separate planes back to the states. The flight home was one of the smoothest I've ever had --it was only after we had landed that I hit turbulence of my own. The line through customs was moving at a snails pace so I start up a friendly conversation with the three nuns behind me. I smiled smugly as they told me they were returning home from a spiritual retreat and going back to their parochial-school classrooms. Suddenly, my vibrator went off inside my luggage (I'm sure it was God's way of getting back at me for playing with his three girls)! The buzzing raised suspicion and a large, no-nonsense female customs agent demanded that I place my suitcase on the counter for inspection. With the three nuns looking curiously on, I reluctantly opened my suitcase. There in the pocket of my neatly folded parochial school blazer was my pulsating vibrator! The nuns recoiled in unison. The agent remained stone-faced as she removed the batteries and proceeded to go through the risque contents of my suitcase. With each item she pulled out, the nuns blessed themselves. Carefully comparing my face to my passport photo, the agent asked the nature of my travel. "You could call it a working vacation," I said. Disgusted but aware that I was within my rights, she told me to pack up and move along. Quickly I shoved my stuff back into my suitcase and before leaving, turned to the nuns (who were feverishly working their rosary beads), and said "What can I say girls: We each have our calling!"
One morning I woke from a dream feeling especially horny. Since I didn't have to be in the office until noon, I figured I would entertain myself with my nine-inch rubber dildo "Manny" and sure enough, I got off in no time. I brought the dildo into the bathroom to rinse off before safely tucking it away, but right as I was about to turn on the faucet, the phone rang. I left Manny in the sink and raced to answer the phone. A few minutes into the conversation, the doorbell rang. Phone in hand, I walked to the front door and, through the peephole, I recognized the cute exterminator here for routine maintenance spraying. I threw on some clothes and let him in, reminding him to pay particular attention to the areas behind the kitchen and bathroom sinks. Then, without another thought, I returned to my conversation, while the exterminator --already familiar with my apartment layout --went about his spraying. It wasn't until he was actually standing in the bathroom that I suddenly remembered the dildo in the sink! I became weak-kneed and abruptly ended the phone conversation. I was panic stricken and light-headed from anxiety. For a moment I thought I was going to faint! I racked my brain --what could I possibly do or say to explain myself? I listened for laughter, but heard nothing. After what felt like a lifetime of pacing up and down the hall with my head in my hands, he came out of the bathroom. My heart was pounding and my face was beet red. He, on the other hand, was amazingly nonchalant about the whole thing. His face was expressionless and without saying a word, he just walked past me with his can of pesticide. It wasn't until he was halfway out the front door that the turned and winked. "It's ok," he said, with the smuggest smile on this face, "my four-year-old daughter never puts her toys away after she plays with them either."
When I met Sandy, it was love at first sight! The only problem was her yapping Pomeranian. When it came to my girlfriend's affections, he and I were definitely rivals.
After three months of dating, I rented a cozy cabin for a romantic getaway. Eager to get dirty on the bearskin rug, I popped open some champagne got a roaring fire going. Just as I dreaded, the minute my girlfriend and I got down on the floor, her dog (who she had insisted come along) became a royal pain in the ass! Totally pissed off, I asked my girlfriend to lock him in the bedroom for the rest of the night. The next few hours, he yapped his head off and scratched at the base of the door while she and I got wild on the rug.
After a while, my girlfriend got up to use the bathroom (which was inside the bedroom) and I figured I?d rebuild the fire, which by now had died down to a few smoldering embers. I removed the screen and was bent over (still naked) stroking the remains of the log, when suddenly I sensed the dog charging at me! From the corner of my eye, I saw him take a flying leap at my jewels. All I could think, when I saw those exposed fangs, was to get out of his way and protect my guys. With precision timing, I jumped off to the side, and a split second later the dog landed in the fireplace. Hearing its cries, my girlfriend ran into the room just in time to see her weenie roasting! I reached into the fireplace, pulled the dog out, and rolled him in a blanket to smother his burning fur. We quickly took the dog to the vet, who assured my girlfriend that he would be fine. Nevertheless, that was the end of our romantic weekend! My girlfriend spent the rest of the time with the mutt in her arms while I ended up getting screwed -- doggie style!
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