Be Careful What You Wish For...

Years ago when I lived down in Orlando, I was with some navy buddies. I'm embarrassed to say we were kind of cruising around (as if you can call three linebackers packed into a Honda Civic hatchback cruising). We were looking for some fun, not yet old enough to drink. Strippers? Spring breakers? Biker chicks? You stumble across them all if you look long enough.

At some point, circling around some Family-Friendly Casino, we came across of couple of pretty young things. At least, I think they were pretty. Just because we weren't old enough to drink didn't mean we hadn't split a bottle of JB beforehand. Something about us caught these girls' attention and they came over.

"What are you guys up to?" tall drunk blonde asked. Instant change of plans.

"We're heading to the beach," I replied, on the off chance that the ladies might be interested in coming with us, having some drinks, stripping down, skinny-dipping and having a five-way under the stars.

"Oooo, sounds fun," TDB slurred.

"Maybe we should get back to our friends," sensible sober brunette counseled. "It's getting late." It was about 10:30.

"Nooooo, c'mon. Let's go to the beach." I loved the way TDB thought.

After some back and forth, we convinced the girls to pile into the car with us for the hour drive to the beach. Before SSB could object, TDB crammed into the back with me. SSB was left sitting on the lap of my ripped friend in the passenger seat. Being sensible and sober, she was none too happy about the whole thing, but I guess she figured she couldn't leave her defenseless friend in our evil clutches.

My other navy buddy was left to drive. This was probably the only time he regretted being the one with the car.

So there we are pulling out of the parking lot when TDB starts ticking her tongue in my ear. Now I don't know about you, but this is a huge turn-on for me. My pants were getting a might uncomfortable. I turn my head and lips lock, tongues flicker and before I know it SDB's got her hands down my tightening pants and — ZIP! — sweet relief.

I decide to return the favor, not paying any attention to what the car, my buddies or SSB are doing. My hand slowly slides down TDB's hair to her cheek. Then to her breasts. And finally, I navigate her body, under her skirt, down her stockings and into her panties. I certainly don't mean to sound like Penthouse Letters, but she was soaking wet.

"Do you guys have a room?" TDB moaned.

"No," I whispered back.

"Do you guys have a room?" TDB repeated again, a bit frantic. It was as if she wanted to get down to some serious business, but needed a little privacy. I thought this amusing seeing as the smell of our sweaty, aroused bodies permeated the air of the tiny Honda.

"Can we get a room?" She started to shriek. "Can someone get a room?"

"Heh. Get a room," I thought. That's probably what our audience is thinking just about now.

TDB continued to shriek about the room, like she was getting ready to climax but was suddenly shy doing it in a car with all these other people. It was at this time that I made a fatal mistake. I removed my mouth from TDB's tensing neck and looked up.

There was SSB with an appalled expression on her face, trying not to look back. My buddies were stifling giggles. And I started to think:

"What kind of woman meets random strangers in a parking lot, gets in their Honda Civic hatchback and initiates crazy foreplay with a guy who, while moderately good looking, is no George Clooney?"

I was reminded of Winston Churchill, who once refused to join a social club because he would never join a club that would have someone like him as a member. "What kind of girl would sleep with me after talking to me for literally one minute?" I worried.

Then I started to wonder about my hand. What was I touching — and who else had touched it within the last hour? In short, WHERE HAS THIS GIRL BEEN? I started to panic. My mouth was the first organ to wise up, as I quickly pulled away from her neck. I tried to pull my hand away, too, but her thighs had clamped onto it tightly. And the weaving I had done between skirt, stockings and panties was coming back to haunt me too. I was stuck.

TDB had no idea anything was wrong. Her hand was pumping up and down but my **** (traitor!) had not yet gotten the message that I was totally turned off now. And she was still shrieking.

"Does anyone have a room? Can we get a room? A rooooom! We neeeeeed a rooooooooom!"

I needed a drink.

Deciding to drop all pretense of subtlety, I pulled my hand away hard. Free! And yet, there I was with my offending fingers, unable to touch anything — the car, my clothes, even her — for fear of passing on some unseen contamination.

Somehow, through my drunken haze, I convinced my buddy to pull over so we could get out. I'm sure he had a smirk on his face, thinking we were going to spring for any one of the thousands of Orlando hotel rooms near us. but all I could think about was getting out of the car. Away from the smell of sex that, just a minute before, had smelled so good. Away from TDB.

SSB got out first. Or, should I say, leaped out, as if her pants were on fire. I don't think I've ever seen anyone get off of someone's lap and out of a Honda Civic hatchback so fast since. Reflecting on it now, it occurs to me that with all the moaning, shrieking and smells, my ripped friend might have been having a physical reaction that, while perfectly natural, would be alarming to someone sensible and sober sitting in his lap.

We were all out, my buddies wondering which one of them would be lucky enough to "get" SSB ... SSB looking like a cornered animal ready to claw her way to safety ... and TDB, a bit wobbly but still game, anticipating the hotel room that was sure to come.

I simply started to walk away.

I could feel everyone's eyes on my back, wondering what I was thinking, that yes! there is a god or that I had clearly forgotten something. I just wanted to wash my hands.

After what seemed like an hour but was surely no more than 10 seconds, my friends started to follow me. The ladies did not. "Where are you going?" TDB finally shouted, as SSB was pulling at her desperately to shut up and come on!

"Bye girls!" one of my buddies shouted back with unintentional irony.

Without even looking back, I made my way to Family-Friendly Casino, plunged through the doors and made a beeline for the bathroom. Surgeons don't scrub as well as I did that night. When I came out, I could finally breath again. Looking around, I saw countless fat tourist families, gambling with their worthless chips. My buddies were hitting on some beautiful croupier. There were women everywhere, serving drinks, dealing cards. Beautiful women. Desirable women. Women who wouldn't have sex with me in a hundred years.

Oh thank god.
hellosailor hellosailor
36-40, M
12 Responses Oct 6, 2006

The moral of this story is to always carry wet-wipes and hand sanitizer! LOL. ;) Seriously though... I found this so genuine and funny at the same time. I could imagine the whole thing as i was reading and you had me in hysterics! I hope you learned an important lesson that night... easy is often sleezy! xo

Love it. Best thing I have read this week

That was f ing funny as hell. Yeah I do wonder how these random strangers hook up ALL THE TIME. I am afraid of STDs too lol. Guess some are not.

wow you kept your HeAD on

very interesting story...........you would make a damn fine sailor i guess

That is a great story! Damn! A lot of self control for that one but in that position, I don't blame you for thinking twice. Haha!

lol XD interesting story :P

bless u;u got class..o one nt stand;th best story!

wow that is priceless! lol

fantastic!!!! would just like to point out tho that she too could of worried about where YOU had been! but i gotta admire you restraint!

I finally get the opposite sex... Thanks for the enlightenment sailor

wow! that was an amazing display of control! i like it!