Welcome to a new Friday feature on BCP, “The Best Sex I Never Had,” in which we invite our readers to submit their most humiliating, pathetic, and just-plain-awful sexual experiences for public consumption.  Seriously, email us!  It’s like a group therapy session with 1,000 of your closest friends.  You’ll feel so much better after you share.  If you would like to contribute, see the rules for submission at the end of this post.


You may have noticed that it is not Friday.  I’m posting today because everybody was off holidaying last week (did I mention I was at work?  And am bitter?), and I thought reader DottyZ’s story deserved a proper airing.  You see, DottyZ was the victim of a senseless crime, a crime that’s left her reeling and nearly destroyed her faith in love.  The perpetrator?  A young man she had showered with affection, a man who had enjoyed the benefits of her myriad charms.  What follows is another sad tale of tail.


 DottyZ writes:


I dated this guy in my early twenties who had a bit of a drinking problem (but in your early twenties, who doesn’t?).  So I overlooked it and dated him anyway.  Well, one night he booty-called me and came over after he left the bar.  We had pretty unremarkable sex; it was what happened after that was bad.


I got up to pee and while I was sitting on the commode, he came barging into the bathroom, buck naked, apparently needing to pee too.  I just looked at him and he looked at me and then he rushed back out without a word.  Now, I lived by myself in a one bedroom apartment, so I only had one bathroom.  I finished up quickly and hustled back to the bedroom, where I found him in the bed.  I couldn’t figure out where he relieved himself, but decided not to worry about it and went to sleep.  


After he left in the morning, I went in the kitchen and found a Coke can sitting on the counter.  I picked it up to throw it away and it was almost completely full.  Full of pee.  This motherfucker pissed in a Coke can and then left it on my fucking kitchen counter – instead of waiting for me to finish, or peeing in the sink, or off the fucking porch, he pissed in a can and then left it on the counter for me to dispose of.


Gagging the whole way, I took it outside and threw it into the woods behind my apartment.  And I never let him come over again.


Can you top DottyZ’s story?  Is that good sex compared to what you’ve been through?  If you’d like to contribute a sad tale of tail, please email:  tarred.and.tailfeathered@gmail.com.  Keep it short, sweet, and as explicit as you like.  Include your preferred pseudonym.  Please also be factual — this is not “Penthouse Forum.” And that’s it!  We can’t wait to hear the gory details, so get to it.