Welcome to our 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.

 

Our guest today is Mintie, a sweetheart with a sweet tooth to match.  She’s got something to get off of her chest, something that’s been nagging at her for a while and frankly, made her feel a little bad about herself!  And it’s not right because Mintie hasn’t done anything wrong – she’s just another hapless victim of a sex crime, perpetrated by a fellow who must not have a sweet tooth of his own – because we think Mintie is made of sugar and spice and everything nice…

 

Mintie writes:

 

I dated this guy for a few weeks, then realised it wouldn’t really work – I guess I just wasn’t that interested in him as a person.  He is, however, magically pretty and really sweet, so I kept him as a fuckbuddy of some sort.  

 

Sex with him had always been kind of dull, but at the same time strangely adequate when faced with a dry spell.  He never did anything offensive or degrading to me in bed, by the way.  But he always stopped me a few minutes into a blowjob, and he would go down on me for a short while then move on to intercourse.  He always expressed his attraction to me, saying I had a great body and he loved my scent (even down there), and he’s generally harmless.  The last time I slept with him he actually said he thought it was degrading to come in a woman’s mouth (I told him it was if you didn’t ask beforehand).

 

Anyway, this last time (which will remain the last time I slept with him, trust me), I got so bored with our usual way of conducting stuff (some pretend-foreplay and then on to banging) that I gently insisted that he stay down there until he made me come, which he did. So far, so good.

 

Once he did make me come, though, he got up, went to the bathroom, and stayed locked in there for loooong minutes while I was lying on my bed, listening to him gagging.  That’s right – he was gagging, or dry heaving, whatever you call it, for what seemed like an eternity.  I hadn’t felt that humiliated for ages. When he came back, he said he had a cold and that he simply wasn’t feeling well.

 

And then we continued to have sex.

 

I tried to brush it aside and all, but it still feels really, really terrible.  I don’t have a yeast infection, or vaginosis, or any sort of infection that would make my vagina smell or look disgusting.  It’s just your average vagina, not the rosy porn star pussy, but nothing revolting either.  I know it’s not me, it’s him, and I also know he may just really dislike eating pussy, but still…. it made me feel like shit in ways I can’t even articulate.

 

You know, even if this never gets posted, I already feel much better having shared this with someone.

 

Can you top Mintie’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.  They’re posted in the order in which they’re received.

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