azurelunatic | Sex, love: Me vs. Fuzzymodem @ http://kier.3dfrontier.com/forums/showthread.php?threadid=48032

The text of my post that caused good ol' Fuzzy to flip...

So, my worst sex story? Hm. That's a tough one. But I think I have one that fits.

(cue Star Wars type intro music) Once upon a time, when I was still young, and in love with entirely the wrong person...

So, I was totally head-over-heels in love with Ben, and friends with this chick Sandy. Ben didn't think of me as much more than a friend, and maybe, if he was really desperate, a fuckbuddy. And he was complaining how he never got any. He was a bit of a commitment-phobe, which is normal for guys that age...

Now, Sandy was a sweet girl, if a bit of a slut, and I figured, he wants some, she wants some... Excellent. So I introduced them. And we
three went out and hung out for a while, and ended up back at her place. It was a tiny little apartment in the wrong side of town, one room, in one of those places that my dad had pointed out to me when I was little and told me to never, ever, ever go in one of those places. So I'm exhausted and fall over on the bed, half-asleep.

But only half. Ben and Sandy start screwing, on the bed, next to me, noisily. Very noisily. Did I mention that the bed was on the small side?

I ball up my jacket and use it as a pillow, trying very hard to not hear them, and not be jealous as all get-out. I fail, miserably.

Morning comes. I am sleep-deprived, shaking, furious, crushed, and to add insult to injury, the chocolate-covered cherry that had been in my pocket had utterly crushed, getting goo all over the coat.

Ben and I had, up until this point, spent a lot of time together just hanging out. At this point, he decided that 72 hours with Sandy and 2 hours with me was splitting his time equally between us. Other things occured as well.

He and I did not remain friends much longer, much less Sandy and I. I attended their wedding, though, and flipped her off as she walked down the aisle.

Of course, "Ben" is Fuzzy, and "Sandy" is his wife.

Next, I tell the tale of the Bachelor Party from Hell...

So my high school best friend FuzzyModem's getting married, and someone needs to throw a bachelor party for him. This is traditionally the job of the groom's best man, but ... good gods. HIM, throw a bachelor party for Fuzzy? Uh-uh. Someone would wind up getting arrested, and as the wedding was the next afternoon, this would be a Bad Thing.

So I find the best man where he's sleeping in his car (he was living out of his car at this point) and wake him up with my best chickfriend DC (who used to date Fuzzy back in high school) and we grill the best man about the bachelor party, and wind up taking over. The best man is this totally laid-back dude, permafried, and he has no objections.

We wind up borrowing my mom's car, and piling everybody (me driving, Fuzzy riding shotgun, Steve-lives-five-houses-down and his girlfriend, the best man and DC (who are dating), and our old friend BJ in the backseat) in and heading up to Evil Steve's place, which is the party house. We are armed with candy, soda, fireworks, and a tray of freshly made lemon-poppyseed muffins (Fuzzy's favorite). Fuzzy leaves his little car, R2-D2, parked outside the McDonald's in town where we all met up, as his license isn't exactly in the best of shape, and neither is the car.

Evil Steve isn't there. Undaunted, we commence the partying. Someone starts a campfire outside, and fun is generally had by all. We let off some smoke bombs, and everyone is having fun.

DC, who dances professionally, has volunteered to be tonight's stripper, as a favor to me, and to make Fuzzy's last night of freedom a memorable one.

Now Fuzzy is a wonderful guy, an excellent one, but at times, he can be a bit of a dumbass. I have brought, in my box of fireworks, a string of firecrackers, the little ones, about 400 of them. Fuzzy decides, with impeccable logic, that the right thing to do is toss them in the fire.

DC takes one look, and lights out running. I follow. We all scatter. Fuzzy takes a look at all of us booking out of there, and comes to the realization that perhaps this was not such a wise move. He passes me as we're all heading out of possible blast range.

The firecrackers go off, and no one gets hit by any flying debris. I count us lucky. We gather again, and are about to start taunting Fuzzy when we realize that DC is still lying down, and she is not looking good. It is her ankle, which she twisted when she tripped on a rut in her impractical stripper shoes. She is mad.

We settle her down and continue the party, making sure she's OK. There will be no stripping tonight, but that's just as well, as Fuzzy's fiancee would have killed him or something.

At about this point, some cow-orkers of Fuzzy's show up. One of them is an outright jackass, and his friend isn't much better. They are friends with Evil Steve, and they hang out for a while. One of them asks if he can have the muffins. We say no. One of them goes out to start his truck, and the other one zooms back in Evil Steve's room, grabs the muffins, runs out, hops in the truck, and they start to drive off.

I get mad. You don't want to mess with me when I'm mad, m'kay? I vault into the bed of the pickup, open the back window, lean in, and retrieve the muffins, cussing the guys out in the process. I hop out of the truck as it drives off, clutching the muffins.

Fuzzy pours Mountain Dew on his shirt. A lot of it. It is then wet, cold, and sticky. He takes it off. He is cold. He borrows my shirt. (I am wearing two layers.) He then attempts to microwave his shirt to dry it out. This does not work well.

The rest of the night was fairly uneventful. except for almost getting my mom's car stuck off the road, and coming back to Fuzzy's car to discover that someone had broken in through the already busted rear window. Nothing seemed to be missing, and we went our separate ways. Steve-lives-five-houses-down and his girlfriend got dropped off somewhere, we dropped the best man back at his (now dead, and parked behind a bank) car, BJ got taken home, and I took DC home.

There had been a last-minute change of cast for the wedding, and Fuzzy's ex-stepdad got to be best man instead of Fuzzy's best guy-friend. This was just as well, because Fuzzy's best guy-friend missed the wedding.

Since his car was dead, he decided to hitchhike. He thumbed a ride, and unfortunately, forgot to get out at the right point, and wound up twenty miles away... Ooops.