Why is There a Turtleneck on My Di*k?

I have this friend named Patricia who used to live in New York. We would see each other out and about because we traveled in similar circles, but we were never introduced until much later. By a month or two after we finally did officially meet, though, she moved to Atlanta. Despite being out of state, Patricia would call to check in on me every now and again. There was never a blatant sexual energy between us, but our phone conversations were always free flowing with a slight undercurrent of flirting. Being that she lived hundreds of miles away, though, I never gave much thought to the idea of something ever happening.

Well, several months later, Patricia called me and said she was coming back to New York to visit for a few days and needed a place to stay. I had plenty of space at my crib, and nonchalantly suggested she crash with me if she wanted. There was plenty of room on my futon or on the cold side of my bed. Thanking me for the offer, Patricia said she'd keep that in mind but still check on other options. A week later she flew in from Atlanta and wound up crashing with me on the cold side of the bed.

As I've mentioned previously, I used to have a problem sharing a bed with an attractive woman without at least trying to see what's up. Needless to say, on one of the nights I made a move and got shut down. No sweat off my back, because not to sound piggish (oink, oink) but sometimes you just have to give it the old college try—after all I was only year or two out of college at the time.

Despite my late night friskiness, which was never brought up or discussed, Patricia enjoyed her trip and was back in the A before we knew it. Although my wandering hands were swatted away with much vigor, future phone conversations between Patricia and I continued to have a slightly flirtatious undertone. Perplexing, but that still didn't change the fact that she lived almost eight states away.

Another three or four months later Patricia announced that she'd be coming back to New York again. Regardless of our undefined relationship (well, on the phone at least) Patricia and I were becoming good friends and she was more than welcome to the cold side of my bed. So once again Patricia found herself up crashing at my casa, but the outcome of this visit took a completely different spin this time.

I think it was night two or three of her stay; but after endless tossing and turning because my little soldier was at full attention, I just couldn't take it anymore and made a move. My hand just happened to graze against Patricia's hip, but unlike the last time, this didn't result in a swift slap across my knuckles. Pressing my luck further, I worked my hand further up her torso with even more success. Next thing you know Patricia and I were in the midst of a major grope fest.

I'm not sure what changed since her last visit that made Patricia more open for a friendly game of hide and go seek, but at that exact moment, I didn't even care. It was about to go down, down, baby, and that’s all my hyperactive 23-year-old hormones needed to know.

So after some heavy foreplay, we get down to the bumpin’ and the grindin’. A little kiss-kiss here, yada, yada, yada. A little slurp-slurp there, yada, yada, yada. Toss in a couple oh-baby-ohs, and a few take-that, take thats and you get an idea of how it was going down before I got to the grand finale that is doggie style. Everything was going fine until I started to feel a something slightly different down below. Whatever it was it felt pretty darn good and I could feel my nut coming, so I paid it no mind and just kept going to town on that booty. Just to keep it all the way real, Patricia later told me my town visit was just “aiight.” Go figure.

Anyway, I'm doing what I do back there and finally get my release. Ahhh. Euphoria. I slowly ease back from Patricia sweaty backside and look down. WTF?!? Why is there a turtleneck on my dick? Those were my exact thoughts when I saw the remnants of my broken Trojan all rolled down to the base of my dick, which was protruding through the busted condom. Yup, that oh-so good feeling was the damn condom breaking and my little soldier going flesh-to-flesh with Patricia's walls. Fuck! We had been going at it for a while and apparently the condom had dried out but I didn't bother to switch to a new one. The increased friction led to my glad bag burstin’ and me bustin' inside of a woman for the very the first time. I always wore a condom and only saw going raw as something me and my wife would one day share. This definitely wasn't what I had in mind when I let my fingers do the walking earlier.

"Oh, shit," I blurt.

"What happened?"

"Uhm, the condom broke... I, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about, I know what to do."

"Huh? Are you on the pill or something?"

"Nah, I'll just go to my doctor when I get back home Friday and get some pills. That'll take care of everything."

"Really? You sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it, just come back to bed."

I couldn't believe how calm Patricia was about the whole thing. Something like this had never happened to me before (and never again thank, God) and I was shitting bricks. I mean, it's not like I was in love with her or anything and this was our first freakin' time together. What if she was....? Aww, man.

I finally managed to calm down enough to fall asleep, but my prophylactic failure rattled around my brain for the next few days until Patricia called and said she had a clean bill of health and all tests were negative. Thankfully I was able to relay the same good news to her. Yes, there were no little Naked With Diapers On to be expected or any STDs to concern ourselves with.

Despite what went down that night, Patricia and I quickly fell back into our cross-state friendship roles. Maybe because the condom breaking scared the living crap out of me, but we never went down that road again and managed to build a stronger plutonic relationship. In fact, we’re still good friends to this day. Whatever the case, that night of curiosity is something that we never really discuss and marks one sure time that I never want to get “poppin’” again.

Lessons learned: 1) Always change the condom at the first sign of it feeling dry. 2) Make sure the person your boning is someone you'd actually consider procreating with just in case any of your hockey pucks makes it past the goalie.

We all need to work on that last one because how many people actually lay down with someone they can see themselves seriously being with forever rather than just a person with a nice body they wanna tap? Real talk.

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