Living & Loving in NYC, Dry Humping Style

I’ve promised some NYC Living & Loving stories on this blog and realize there is a severe lack of them. I’ll be rectifying that situation in the coming weeks. Until then, here’s a little tale on the dangers of dry humping.

My freshman year of college I had this huge crush on this junior who was in one of the plays I worked on. We’ll call him JTR. I spent a good month of my life obsessing over this boy so imagine my glee when he invites me back to his dorm room after a night of underage drinking at a karaoke bar. There we are in his room making out and having fun. We weren’t doing anything too risky because I was still a virgin at this time. We were just lying on his bed, fully clothed, kissing and heavy petting and I’m thinking to myself how awesome it was that I scored the hot guy in the play (something I would be able to do quite often in the future) when BAM! All of a sudden my head smashes into the headboard. Stunned, I defensively throw my arms against the wall to try to prevent a concussion. All I know is something is repeatedly knocking my head back. After a couple of seconds that felt like an eternity, I get my senses back and am able to maneuver my head to see what was causing this. It was JTR and he was, wait, what is he doing? Is he? Really? He is! He’s dry humping my stomach like my aunt’s pekingese dry humps my cousins Spongebob Square Pants plushy. Half too naïve to stand up for myself and half so shocked that I don’t know what to say, I just sort of watch it like a car wreck until he finishes. And, OH, what a finish. At some point, unbeknownst to me, he had pulled out his c*ck and decided to cum all over my stomach. Then, he stands up, hands me a paper towel and acts like he didn’t just dry hump me guerilla-style for a minute.

You would think I would so be done here. Nope. If you’re hot enough (or, frankly, even if you aren’t) I’m willing to overlook anything short of a Cleveland Steamer. But, I did casually mention that it wasn’t cool and if he needs to do it for some reason to at least not cum on my stomach or give me a concussion. It fell on deaf ears because the next time we hooked up, BAM! He goes at it again with just as much ferocity, banging my head against the wall and spilling his seed all over me. It was pretty much over after that. Seriously, who dry humps? I hadn’t done that since like 9th grade and my boyfriend didn’t even like it cause it chafed his junk (he later turned out to be gay so that might have had something to do with it too).

The story does end positively. A couple years later, I was at a bar looking super duper hot and he came up to me and tried to chat me up but I didn’t remember who he was. LOVE when that happens.

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3 Responses to “Living & Loving in NYC, Dry Humping Style”

  1. Here I Am Says:

    not remember or PRETEND not to remember? both work.

  2. katiemadonna Says:

    Were you wearing a bare midriff?

    Hearing this again is like hearing the words out of your mouth when it actually happened.

  3. notsoglamorous Says:

    It was 1999 so I was probably wearing a bare midriff. If you recall that was my style back in the day.


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