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The following story is loosely based on a submission from one of our insane readers.
I met Sarah in 11th grade. She was the sophomore everybody with a dick wanted to break open, but, unlike the others, I was willing to put in the work. Several dates, family get-togethers, half handies and unending late-night frustration jerks later, I was finally allowed in her untouched (fingers don’t count) promised land.
And we had been together ever since. NF, I know. She followed me to college, where, despite my tier one status and the fact that a cock in a relationship attracts more women than a shoe sale, I’d stayed faithful… for the most part.
Anyway, it was the end of my junior year and we were approaching our 5th anniversary when, out of the blue, my “look in my eyes”- while-we-fuck girlfriend broached the idea: “Let’s have a three way.”
Obviously, I assumed this was a diabolical trick; a test meant to prove wrong some sort of deep-ridden insecurity she harbored or prove right my own depravity. But after she continued pushing the issue, I, terrified of course, stepped off the high dive into a pool of imagined sexual fantasy. Here I was, on top of the world: the girl I loved actually wanted me to fuck another girl, AND she’d be in the midst of her first clam dive. Everybody wins.
We settled on Katie, a mutual friend of ours that regularly pulled her tits out at parties, was an obnoxious vegan, and listened to far too much indie rock. In other words, a whore. We knew the lax team had passed Katie around more than the actual fucking ball, but her slim body and the “comfort” factor satisfied Sarah; I was more into the tongue piercing and side tat.
We met up with her at the bar and went to work pounding shots. She had always expressed an interest in doing something with us both, so the courtship was actually about as difficult as Pornhub makes it look. Next thing I know I’ve got half my hand in Katie while she’s sucking Sarah’s neck. Our indecent exposure spills over into a cab home.
The girls are going at it like drunk monkeys while me and the Euro Uber driver are stunned like the Germany just left the EU or something. They’re panting like heat stroke-ridden dogs when mercifully, the cab stops and I labor my third leg and the new happy couple up the stairs to our apartment.
Once inside, we’ve gone full primal. Clothes thrown everywhere, Sarah going down on me like nothing I’d felt the last 5 years. Katie completes the real life human centipede, on her knees tongue-deep in my previously heterosexual girlfriend as her mouth gives my cock a shiatsu massage.
On the brink of explosion, I toss her off. Refusing to waste this once in a half decade threesome moment on a BJ from my girlfriend, I slide Sarah on the bed and motion for Katie to come over.
She promptly obliges and is on her knees, bobbing her head like she’s in a mosh pit while I couldn’t help but worry for the safety of her windpipe. Sarah is behind Katie fingering her when:
“WHAT THE FUCK!!”
I screamed this as Katie was mumbling incoherently, squealing something indecipherable.
“Baby, what happened? Katie? What???”
By this point, I was crying harder than Ayesha Curry after Game 7.
“Katie, get off of him!!”
Finally, her mumbles could be understood.
In that moment we realized what had happened: Katie’s head slamming aggressiveness had caught her “I hate my father” tongue ring on the underside of my foreskin. We were literally attached at the tip.
“Sarah, I need you to call 911.”
This is the true story of the night my girlfriend drove me to the hospital to get another girl’s tongue removed from my dick.
Needless to say, Sarah and I got married in April..
Image via Shutterstock