Where the hell you been puttin' it?
Ok, ok. I had a pretty uneventful day at work with the exception of a couple of meetings, and that leaves me nothing to blog about. So, TA-DA... you get an AT story for your reading pleasure. Enjoy.
This tale is rooted in the blossoming sexuality of my youth. I was 17 years old, a junior in high school, and I had just recently lost my virginity to a girl (we will just call her S [short for Sandi] for anonymity) that I had been dating. So, S and I had been spending quite a bit of time doing the nasty as we were exploring our new found intimacy. As, I'm sure, most young and inexperienced teens, I had heard of all the horrible and incurable STD's. Herpes, syphilis, AIDS, the clap, crabs, etc. were all a very real threat in my mind. Anyway, approximately two weeks after I had lost my virginity, I woke-up one Saturday morning after an evening romping with S, and headed to the bathroom for my usual morning pee. Eyes half closed, I relieved myself and gave the ole guy a shake when I suddenly noticed a small scab on the helmet. Panic set in immediately. I just knew for sure that I had inadvertently picked up some wicked funk from S. I turned and sat on the toilet, wondering what to do. I had to get to the doctor. I had just started having sex, and I liked it. I couldn't retire already, no matter the cost. So, I marched into the kitchen where my mom was cooking breakfast and before she could even utter good morning, I said, "Hey Mom, look at this," as I tugged my boyhood out of my shorts. At the time, the embarrassment seemed a small price to pay for my future sexual encounters. After a stomach wrenching gasp, Mom said, "You better go show your father." Pops was out back mowing the grass, and I strolled out, Mom in tow, and coaxed him to pullover and shut the mower off. Again, I reached into my shorts and pulled out my goods and said, "Pop, look." He took a good, long look and then slowly raised his eyes up to meet mine. Calmly, he said in his classic Arkansas accent, "Well, where the hell you been puttin' it?" "Nowhere," I stuttered. "Boy, don't lie to me!" he said forcefully, while poking me in the chest with his broomstick diameter sized finger. "In Sandi," I shamefully answered. Now, as I sat wallowing in my own embarrassment, both of my parents were contemplating the ramifications of my sexual activities. After what seemed an eternity, my pop said, "Well, let's give it a week and if it's still there, we'll go and see the doctor." Yikes.
Now, the really funny part of this story is this. After leaving my folks in the backyard, I slipped into the house and called S. Believe it or not, between the two of us we figured out where that little scab came from. Turns out, we had not had sex the previous evening because Aunt Flo was in town. There was plenty of fooling around though, and that's where the answer lay. Thinking back, we realized that she had gotten a little rough and given me Indian rug burn on my willie. Hence the scab. Son-of-a....
Nothing like being 17, showing both your parents your genitals, and telling them that you have been poking your girlfriend, all in the span of 2 minutes on a Saturday morning, FOR NOTHING. Good way to ruin a perfectly good weekend, huh? But can you imagine how S felt the next time she came over to house? Heh, heh. I learned my lesson. Moral of the story: Don't show anyone your genitals unless you are absolutely certain that you have an STD. =o)_)
More of AT's life to follow.
Peace.
This tale is rooted in the blossoming sexuality of my youth. I was 17 years old, a junior in high school, and I had just recently lost my virginity to a girl (we will just call her S [short for Sandi] for anonymity) that I had been dating. So, S and I had been spending quite a bit of time doing the nasty as we were exploring our new found intimacy. As, I'm sure, most young and inexperienced teens, I had heard of all the horrible and incurable STD's. Herpes, syphilis, AIDS, the clap, crabs, etc. were all a very real threat in my mind. Anyway, approximately two weeks after I had lost my virginity, I woke-up one Saturday morning after an evening romping with S, and headed to the bathroom for my usual morning pee. Eyes half closed, I relieved myself and gave the ole guy a shake when I suddenly noticed a small scab on the helmet. Panic set in immediately. I just knew for sure that I had inadvertently picked up some wicked funk from S. I turned and sat on the toilet, wondering what to do. I had to get to the doctor. I had just started having sex, and I liked it. I couldn't retire already, no matter the cost. So, I marched into the kitchen where my mom was cooking breakfast and before she could even utter good morning, I said, "Hey Mom, look at this," as I tugged my boyhood out of my shorts. At the time, the embarrassment seemed a small price to pay for my future sexual encounters. After a stomach wrenching gasp, Mom said, "You better go show your father." Pops was out back mowing the grass, and I strolled out, Mom in tow, and coaxed him to pullover and shut the mower off. Again, I reached into my shorts and pulled out my goods and said, "Pop, look." He took a good, long look and then slowly raised his eyes up to meet mine. Calmly, he said in his classic Arkansas accent, "Well, where the hell you been puttin' it?" "Nowhere," I stuttered. "Boy, don't lie to me!" he said forcefully, while poking me in the chest with his broomstick diameter sized finger. "In Sandi," I shamefully answered. Now, as I sat wallowing in my own embarrassment, both of my parents were contemplating the ramifications of my sexual activities. After what seemed an eternity, my pop said, "Well, let's give it a week and if it's still there, we'll go and see the doctor." Yikes.
Now, the really funny part of this story is this. After leaving my folks in the backyard, I slipped into the house and called S. Believe it or not, between the two of us we figured out where that little scab came from. Turns out, we had not had sex the previous evening because Aunt Flo was in town. There was plenty of fooling around though, and that's where the answer lay. Thinking back, we realized that she had gotten a little rough and given me Indian rug burn on my willie. Hence the scab. Son-of-a....
Nothing like being 17, showing both your parents your genitals, and telling them that you have been poking your girlfriend, all in the span of 2 minutes on a Saturday morning, FOR NOTHING. Good way to ruin a perfectly good weekend, huh? But can you imagine how S felt the next time she came over to house? Heh, heh. I learned my lesson. Moral of the story: Don't show anyone your genitals unless you are absolutely certain that you have an STD. =o)_)
More of AT's life to follow.
Peace.
Laid down by AT - 8:06 PM
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