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.

Our story today is a sad one indeed. London­_Calling is a charming girl with an intellect that has taken her far in life, but at one point she was a 19-year-old virgin with the determination to change her circumstance and a tragic dearth of resources. Her willfulness led her to Trotter, an ignorant fellow with no idea how to treat a lady of any caliber and the sorry belief that sex on a waterbed is in any way acceptable.

London_Calling writes:

It was the summer between freshman and sophomore years of college. I was 19, still awkward, and sick of being a virgin. Along came R.J., short for Ralph Junior, also known as Trotter. The assistant coach of my friend’s soccer team, he was shorter than I was, what could kindly be described as “barrel-chested,” and we had nothing in common. Except for the fact that I was sick of being a virgin, and he seemed to be willing to fix that for me.

We had hung out a few times when he suggested we go see a movie one night, the late show, and I knew this was my opening. In the summers, I lived on an island that could only be reached by ferry (a ferry that stopped running at 11:30 pm). Therefore, if we saw the late show, I would have to stay over. He had said he had soccer practice with another team and would pick me up from the dock at 6:30. At 7:15 he showed up – with his boss’ 13-year-old son in the back seat. Who we took to the movie with us. Who sat next to us at the movie.

Dinner after the movie? Subway. By this point, I was starting to steam a bit. While I had no illusions that this was going to be a romantic music/candles/flowers kind of deflowering, a girl still has to have standards. But I was stuck on the mainland, with no car and no place to go.

We finally dropped off the child and went back to his house. Where he promptly lay down on the couch, turned on a horror film, and fell asleep. I waited as long as I could, as this was damn well going to happen tonight, shook him awake, and dragged him down to his room. Where I stripped and told him he was going to have sex with me (I am nothing if not businesslike). He laid out towels on his waterbed (yes, apparently he still thought it was 1976), and we got down to the task at hand.

Obviously the sex was not good, not good at all. Afterwards, we fell asleep. Well, HE fell asleep and proceeded to roll back and forth OVER ME all night. In the waterbed.

The next morning, we tried again, and it was still bad. As he sat on the bed, watching me get dressed, he said “Well, I guess you’re still a virgin if you didn’t come.” Somehow, with every fiber of my being, I managed not to laugh in his face. He drove me to the ferry dock, and that was that.

We saw each other once more after that night, but didn’t try again. Three months later I was back at college when my friend emailed me. Apparently, he had gotten his ex-girlfriend pregnant, and they were getting married. I celebrated heartily that night because it wasn’t me, but I still wonder what ever became of the guy who knew nothing of women.

Can you top London_Calling’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.