Mortification

I wouldn't say embarrassing things happen to me on a regular basis but when they do, they're often curl up in a ball and die kind of embarrassing. A close friend of mine made me a bet that I couldn't be celibate for a month. Out of sheer stubbornness I assured him that I could manage it with ease. All I win, however, is a measly pint of £2 lager; which, after two weeks of torment, seems like a paltry prize. I do think that it may be good for my mental health in the long run. Clear my head a bit from hospital drama and penis related drama. 

As I said, it's been around 2 weeks so far and I feel like I may crumble. Pathetic, I know but I love a bit of penis drama!

Anyway, remember massive blonde hunk who booty-called me a month or two ago? He pops up on my Facebook this evening asking if he can come round. I explain my predicament and tell him that as much as I would love to utilise his services I am, in fact, determined to win this bet. Eventually he ceases, after much sexual blackmail involving 'bending me over'' and the like. I precede to text my friend, with whom I have said bet, and I quote "I just turned down a booty call from an incredible hot guy. I'm turning a corner. You'll owe me a pint very soon.' SEND. Slowly it dawns on my that my text has turned blue, as it does with iPhone messaging. My friend does not have an iPhone. Indeed I had not text my friend. I had text a lovely bloke, of the same name, who I met a few weeks ago. Cue absolute mortification. This lovely bloke, for some unknown reason, seemed to actually think I was nice and 'SWEET' which was a refreshing change. Some one please kill me now. Needless to say I don't think he thinks of me so highly any more. 

I'm still in the running for a pint though!

It was going to happen eventually

About three weeks ago, after an average night out I ended up in McDonald's in the early hours of the morning. We ran into a group of guys which my friend knew vaguely from home. One of them ended up coming back to our house under the guise of a bacon sandwich. In my inebriated state I really did believe he just wanted a bacon sandwich. At some point during the sandwich making process he disappeared and never came back. Eventually I found him... in my bed in his boxer shorts. Again I believed his claims, that we were just going to watch Police Academy with our bacon sarnies. One thing led to another and after about an hour of refusing to sleep with him; I ended up doing the deed. I am quite ashamed of this because, honestly, I didn't even really fancy the guy and it was pretty bloody terrible. Kissed like a fish and was not very keen on returning the favour. Next morning comes, I send his whine-y arse packing hoping never to see him again.
Last Friday night I pull a guy in a night club who I really did fancy. We ended up back at his where, much to my horror, he could not achieve an erection. Despite feeling like throwing a massive tantrum, I let the guy off the hook only after he'd floated my boat a few times. We ended up staying up all night talking and discovered we had loads in common. Morning came and so did he (praise the lord), then along pop his house mates, barging into the room to chat about what went down the night before. So there I am lying butt naked, barely hiding my modestly, and guess what? One of the room mates happens to be Mr Bacon Sarnie Police Academy. He gives me a fleeting glance and continues his conversation with the hunk lying next to me. I lie there shrinking into a pit of mortification when he finally leaves the room. I pluck up the courage to explain why I have turned the colour of haematuria and Mr King of Orgasms collapses in hysterics and runs out the room starkers to remind the guy who I was. I don't know if I was more embarrassed that I slept my way through a quarter of their house or that the guy didn't even fucking remember when I didn't want to bang him in the first place! I think it's safe to assume that he's not going to take me for dinner any time soon. 
You win some you lose some.

Justification

DISCLAIMER

You could say that since the split from my long term boyfriend I have become, perhaps, sexually promiscuous.. My rationale for this is that I spent four years having the most lack lustre sex, pretending to enjoy it. I deserve at least a year of serious ragging to make up for it. I'm at university for christs sake; it's what I'm supposed to do! To top it all off I'm a student nurse, I don't get paid and if I'm not cleaning up bodily excretions then I'm holding someone's hand whilst they die. I need to revel in my own existence, for my own sanity and what better way to do that than multiple orgasms with multiples guys? Not multiple guys at once might I add. Well... not yet anyway!

My first rectal

Today, during what I can only describe as the most manic shift of my life, I had the absolute pleasure of administering aspirin to a patient rectally. Said patient had suffered a massive heart attack and needed to take aspirin as result; her dementia, however, was very far progressed and she refused to take any tablets orally. This is the part when my fingers come in. The nurse informed me I would first need to 'lube up' my finger, then the patient's anus and up into her back passage. After this then I would need to dip the aspirin suppositories into a lovely little pool of 'lube'. I can assure you that all escapades involving lube that I have partaken in have never involved shit ending up all over my hands. After greasing up the tablet, I then inserted it into her rectum as far as my finger would reach. I repeated this process with the second aspirin. Needless to say the feeling of foreign faeces squelching around my index finger stayed with me throughout my lunch break. Let it be known to the next man who tries to put his finger up MY back passage, under the guise of pleasure or not, will receive a swift kick to the testicles.

A slave to wanton desires

So, last night I experienced the classic conundrum that is to booty call or to not booty call. For a regular 9-5 job, I presume, this would be a no brainer; considering this particular booty call was 6 ft 5 inches of gorgeous, blonde, RIPPED hunk. However, being a slave for the NHS, aka a student nurse, I had to be up at 5:30 the next morning for a 12 and a half hour day. However, being a 20 year old student with the sex drive of a 17 year old boy I found it very difficult to turn the proposition of mouthwatering rugby sex god down. You can see my predicament? I eventually (and predictably) caved to my hormones and accepted his offer, he turned up at me door 45 minutes later looking ever so delectable. Needless to say I had my way with him quite a few times in a very short space of time. GOD, that boy knows how to use his tongue. He even breathes in the right places. Nevertheless I sent him packing after a solid ninety minutes of debauchery, leaving me with an acceptable 5 hours of shut eye. The next shift, with a fistful of orgasms under my belt, I felt like I could conquer the world; I was super (student) nurse... until about 20 minutes in when I ended up with excrement splattered all down my lovely white tunic. If you ever need a post-coital bubble bursting, that's the way to do it!