Alright guys and gals. You know what time it is. No, it’s not Hammer Time, and it’s not lunch time. Well, it may be lunch time, depending on when you are reading this. Either way, it’s TMI time. This is where I tell a particularly humiliating or embarrassing or just plain gross story about myself, thus alienating myself from close friends, relatives, and my followers. If you want more of this sort of stuff, click on that picture down there of those two old people gettin it on. That will take you to LiLu’s world of TMI, cause she is the originator of this shiz.
Disclaimer: Once again, I will ask that if you are a family member, or someone who doesn’t really care to know about my sex life, please go away. I asked nicely, and I even put a please in there. That’s all I can do. From here on out, you continuing to read is a direct admission of your own responsibility for what you may discover, and I will in no way be held liable. That’s real.
One last chance, you could even click right here, and this will all be over for you.
When The Missus and I realized that we were going to get married, we started participating in…ahem…fun activities with each other. You know the type. You take off most of your clothes, and you put things in places… That sort of fun. Sexy times, if you will.
One weekend, my family was going camping, and I was going to go with them. They were camping about 10 miles from where we lived at the time, so I had decided to go back to the house and get some stuff for the weekend. I had The Missus with me, and we got back to my moms house, and we were alone.
That sexy half bunk bed that I slept in was right there, and we were alone, so we started some sexy times. (I was around 19 or so, so sexy probably had nothing to do with it) Anyway, I put on a prophylactic, and things got going.
One thing we failed to notice was that on our way home from the camping site, a storm had started coming up. A bad storm. A storm that convinced my mother and brothers to not be in a tent. A storm that convinced them to just return home for a bit since they only lived 10 miles away. Where The Missus and I were. Where we were…ahem…doin tha bidness.
Now I had taken precautions. At the time, there were two locks on our front door. The top was a deadbolt, and everyone had a key to it. The bottom one was on the knob, and no one had a key. This meant that if you locked the bottom knob, no one could really get into the house. So of course, I had locked both locks, to keep people from coming in and disturbing us. This kind of worked.
When I say kind of, I mean that in the middle of the lovin, The Missus says, “Oh my gosh, did you just hear someone knock on the door?” Let me tell ya folks, I performed the quickest dismount in the history of all dismounts. Olympic style, bitches. I didn’t know what to do. I went running around pulling on my shorts, sans underwear, and told her to get dressed. At this point, the knocking on the door had turned into banging, and also banging on my window. I just want to take a moment to thank my little brothers for that.
I finally got dressed, got her dressed, and I went to unlock the door. I was greeted by 2 annoyed brothers and a very pissed off mother. She was so pissed that I thought I needed to talk to her a little bit about what was going on inside with the doors locked while no one was home. I was not truthful by any means. I told her that we were making out, and that we shouldn’t have been there alone, and that the door shouldn’t have been locked.
However, I forgotten one thing in my moment of hastily getting dressed.
I HAD NOT TAKEN THE PROPHYLACTIC OFF.
That’s right. In the middle of talking to my mother, my sweet, saint of a mother, I felt a slip on the ol cash and prizes. Then another. This was the jimmy hat, just working its way off in the natural course of blood flow rushing away from certain areas of the body. Yup. I had a condom coming off while I was trying to tell my mother that nothing had happened that would require the use of said condom.
I had to do some major position changing, that’s for sure, but somehow I kept it on. Then I did the awkwardest walk back to my house that I have ever done, and went into the bathroom to rid myself of the problem. To this day, I’m pretty sure my mother knows what was going on, but I just don’t think she wanted to admit it. I think it would have broken her poor saintly heart.
This, my friends, is my TMI Thursday.