Welcome back to our Friday feature on BCP, “The Best Sex I Never Had: Sad Tales of Tail,” 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.

Today’s story is submitted by our girl Champy. Champy was a hot girl in a big city, fresh to the dating scene, and ready to explore. She was looking for fun, but what she found instead was an awkward encounter with guy named Peter with some outdated moves and possible Daddy issues…

Champy writes:

Let me set the scene: I had just gotten out of a four-year relationship that had started THREE DAYS after the break-up of a different four-year relationship. I was 27. This means: I had never dated in the traditional sense and had no idea what the expectations or rules were regarding sex with someone I wasn’t in love with, etc.

So… I’m a good looking, confident chick and was living in Manhattan at the time. I joined Nerve and found a dude, Peter, online that seemed like a good catch. He was cute, tall, an investment banker, etc. We went out a few times and had some decent banter, fooled around once at his apartment (to the backdrop of X-Men on DVD) and so on, and ended up one night back at my apartment. Keep in mind, I was so nervous at the thought of hooking up with anyone – and on some crazy emotional rollercoaster at the time – that I had to get PLOWED drunk in order to even consider second base.

There I am, wasted as all get out, with Journey on the hi-fi (yes, this was 2003 – what of it?), and we start to make out in my living room. He decides to go down on me on the floor and is there for, oh, about ten minutes – doing a COMPLETELY inadequate job of it – when he comes up and starts to finger-bang me in the CRAZIEST, most unpleasant way that one could possibly be finger-banged. Basically, I was having intercourse with his hand. It was DREADFUL. No clitoral stimulation, just BANGING AWAY.

Because I was somewhat inexperienced with casual hook-up etiquette, I just let him keep going to town on my aching hole until finally he stopped and said, “Can you EVEN come?” I just said, “Not like that. And don’t EVER say that to me – or any other woman – EVER again” in a “Get the fuck away from me and my battered lady parts, you psychotic douchebag” tone. It was an acidic exchange.

Suffice to say, the sexual part of the night ended right away. He decided to sleep over and when I teased him (because he wanted to go to bed at 11 p.m. on a Friday night) by calling him, “Grandpa” he responded, “If I wanted to feel bad, I’d call my dad.”

ZOMG.

So, the end to this tale of woe: The next night, I saw him at a party (random coincidence) and, in the awkwardness of group introductions, pretended I didn’t know him. I was then hit on the entire night by a hot B-list celebrity and talked to this Peter character for ohhhhh, about 3 minutes total. He sent me an email later that week saying, “So I guess we’re not picking out china patterns together any time soon?” and then kept me on his email list for a social organization’s get-togethers for YEARS. Brutal.

The only worthwhile part of the whole thing was my best friend’s coining of his nickname: “Fingers McGee.” Oh, and the fact I decided to be way more assertive in bed. Oh, and the knowledge that Peter has left his lucrative banking job to become, guess what? – A MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER. So, good things come to those who BRUISE!

Can you top Champy’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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