One of the things that I like to do as a writer is challenge myself to take on different genres. A cursory glance through my catalog of stories would show that I've tried my hand at writing science fiction, romance, incest, Twilight-Zone-like twists, anal, reluctance and non-consensual, and the like.
Most of the stories I've published here are complete fiction. However, a couple of the stories have been completely, 100% true (which ones are an exercise up to the reader), some have been about 50% true, and some have been
based
in truth but deviated quite quickly.
I started to think that perhaps some of the actual true stories that I've experienced might lend themselves to publishing, but they aren't really
stories
per se. They don't have a plot, don't have much character development, they're just snapshots of events in my life that are kind of cool or interesting.
Some of them are incredibly short, some are quite involved. Some stretch credulity, and some are so complex that you need a cheat sheet just to understand how all the players connected.
One thing that
all
of them have in common, though, is that they are 100% true and real. If you don't believe that they really happen, well, that is of course your prerogative. All I can tell you is that unlike fiction, real life often strains believability.
I'll also provide you this caveat: Not everything I have done in my life is something I'm proud of. Some of the vignettes will probably make me look like a hero, some will probably make me look like a schmuck, and some will probably make me look like an asshole.
I'm human. So sue me. Hopefully they'll be entertaining, at least.
Take this first vignette, for example. Completely true, and really hot. It really doesn't put me in the best light, to be sure.
I was about 20 years old and probably not the most ethical person when it came to sex. Well, I know that
now
. Back then, I thought I was a fine, upstanding young man who just found himself in situations beyond his impulse control.
See, when I was growing up I was "the fat kid," and couldn't get anyone to look at me sideways, if at all. Completely ignored and I had no chance in hell of being one of those guys that girls drooled after.
It was so bad that when puberty started righting the wrongs of my earlier misfortune, I was incapable of understanding why I was getting a lot of attention from the fairer sex. At 19 and in college, I had started rowing crew and my body changed from slightly pudgy to trim, with broad shoulders and a confident stance and posture. I never quite got to the 6-pack abs that some on my rowing team had, but I was in the best physical shape of my life.
Mentally and emotionally, though, I was totally unprepared for how girls looked at me. I had been friend-zoned for so long, I had
zero
game. My default attitude was that I was
still
not on someone's radar even when I was directly in their crosshairs.
Let's put it this way - I could have a girl naked in my bed, my cock in her
mouth
, and I would convince myself that she was just going to tease me and keep me in blue-balls hell.
All of this was to simply say that I was
terrible
at picking up hints - as if being hit upside the head with a metaphorical cast iron skillet were a 'hint.'
Before I turned 20, a large group of my friends decided to drive to another state several hundred miles away to do some roller-coaster riding as a celebration for completing our final exams. After all was said and done, there were about ten of us caravanning for the drive.
The plan was to camp in one of the campgrounds that were situated close to the parks, go ride roller coasters, and then do some campfire activities at night.
Well, as is often the case when you get large groups of people together, not everything goes according to plan. In particular, not everyone gets along with everyone else, and personalities really clash when you get into 'roughing it' situations.
Most of the people were coupled off, and there were only two people - myself and another guy named Mark - who weren't with any kind of significant other. Me, because the girl I had just started to date seriously couldn't get away from her job, and Mark, because no girl would really go near him. He was just a whiny, weasel-y wuss of a boy who complained about everything.
In fact, it was Mark's fault that many of the people in the group weren't getting along. He had insisted on having his way on everything, from having the spot to pitch his new ultra-expensive single-person tent to having the exact way to build a fire, to a particularly nasty episode where his ultra-expensive hair gel spilled in his ultra-expensive single-person tent and smelled so bad he couldn't stand to be in it any longer. He whined and moaned and complained, but no one would take mercy on him and allow him to crash in their tent.
(Honestly, Mark was an annoying shit the entire time. That particular part about the hair gel was a constant recurring theme during the trip. When he poured it all over himself and his tent, the rest of us took it as a matter of comeuppance to force him to stay in his own damn tent and suffer through the god-awful stench. Trust me, he deserved the cold shoulder when he spilled it all over.)
We were supposed to be there for a week, but we only made it through two nights.
On the third night, the weather took a turn for the Old Testament. Severe winds ripped through the campground, sending everything flying (including Mark's ultra-expensive single-person hair gel-drenched tent) and we decided we had had enough of the roughneck life and broke down to go find a motel.
Being poor college students, though, and with ten people, getting multiple rooms simply wasn't an option. So, my friend Tom and I split the cost of a single room and snuck all ten of us into that single room with the sleeping bags. The room had two double beds, which meant that Tom (being one of the benefactors) could get a bed for himself and his girlfriend, and I could get a bed (as one of the benefactors) and share it with someone else.
This is where things got really interesting. Like,
really
interesting.
I decided that I would much rather share the bed with my friend Keith and his girlfriend, Melissa, than share it with the only other single in the party - Mark. Quite frankly, by this point in time, I was at my wits end with Mark and could barely stand the sight of him, much less consider sharing a bed with him.
I would have one side of the bed, Keith would have the other, and Melissa would be right in the middle.
Now, I know what you're thinking, and I'm gonna stop you right here. Remember, I said this is a
true
story, not an erotic one. Well, I mean it's erotic too, but keep in mind that there is rarely a
boom-chikka-bow-wow
in real life. There ain't gonna be no orgy in this story.
The reality of the situation couldn't have been
less
sexier. I refused to have Mark sleep in the same bed with me, so Melissa had volunteered for the bed, complaining that the floor was too hard and she was tired of the sleeping bag.
Keith, however, wasn't too happy about Melissa taking the spot. If anyone was going to be sleeping next to his girlfriend, it would be
him
.They argued back and forth, and Keith tried to persuade me to give up the bed so that he could sleep in there with Melissa.
Nope. Nuh-uh. Not giving up the bed. I paid for it, I'm sleeping in it.
So, the cramped configuration was the compromise. It was going to be either both of them, or Mark (because as it turns out, there wasn't even enough room on the floor for everyone if I had the bed all to myself anyway).
Tensions ran high. People grumbled and complained for a long time. Mark wouldn't shut up about how unfair it all was. Even after settling under the covers, Keith kept trying to plead with me to let him have the bed for just the two of them.
Melissa finally
