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The Time I Was Cock Blocked By The Pacific Ocean

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You and your new lady friend, who we’ll call Caroline, were about to go upstairs to check out your collection of vintage classic rock posters when her drunk sorority sister comes up to her crying and saying that she “can’t even,” and just like that, you’re left with a kiss on the cheek and your dick in your hand. While this may seem like a nightmare scenario, I assure you that this is small potatoes. The worst cock block I’ve ever experienced was not by a mere fraternity brother or sorority sister, but rather by Mother Nature herself.

One long weekend, a few of my buddies and I decided to go up to a nearby party school on the beach and visit a friend from high school. We arrived at his door, case and handle in hand, and immediately began to punish our insides. After an hour or so of drinking Aristocrat like middle-tier rappers drink lean, we stumbled out of his house and towards the first party of the night. We wandered through the party and upon realizing that the best part about it was the DJ, we made a beeline for the coolers and advanced our inebriation. This is when my buddy Alex checked out for the night, blacking out and becoming capable of little more than regurgitating Anchorman quotes.

Next came party number two, which had a white trash DJ and several moderately attractive women with low self-esteem and even lower standards. Seeing that this was a place where I could shine, I started talking to a cute Latina and, before long, we were leaving the party. Once we left, she realized that she didn’t have her key, and I had no idea how to get back to my buddy’s house. It was then that I noticed a staircase leading down to the beach. Realizing my opportunity, I grabbed the girl’s hand to lead her down to the sand, an idea she more than appreciated. Before long, we were both naked and I began positioning her for 90 seconds of frantic off-rhythm thrusting.

It was at that moment that Poseidon exacted his wrath. With only the crash of the waves as a warning that high tide broke rapidly, and before either of us knew it, we were soaked head to toe. As the waves crashed down on her, so too did her shame, and before I had the chance to gather up all of my clothes, she had run up the stairs and disappeared amidst a crowd of spectators that had gathered at the street, positioned in a prime location to view my pasty-white ass.

I gathered my things and walked back to the party only to find our resident Canadian, Graham, making polite Maple syrup-oriented conversation in order to distract them from the bush that Alex’s vomit was laying siege to. I quickly grabbed Alex by the arm and carried him away, and when Graham saw that signal he separated himself from the cops and directed us back to the house.

The next day, we were sitting in the local pizzeria, hoping that the greasiest item on the menu would be able to assuage our collective hangovers. After I explained what happened to me after I left the party, my friend Jon uttered a line that will haunt me as long as I live:

“Well at least you got your dick wet.”

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