(Please note: This blog has been slightly modified to protect the innocent [me] and to make sure that I don't get any more letters from lawyers about its veracity.)
When I was in high school, I had my first "serious" girlfriend...and I haven't spoken to her in about 15 years...But her existence has made a certain part of my life slightly...confusing.
In college, when topics turned to sex, and who had had sex and how many times this sex had been had...my response was always a little off. I was uncertain if I was still a virgin or not. This led to many conversations about what virginity meant...and how a man loses his virginity.
Does losing your virginity mean "oral" or "vaginal" sex?
Does losing your virginity mean "inserting" your phallus into another person?
Does losing your virginity mean you have to "finish," as it were, what you started?
Today, I fulfilled my end of a bargain. I agreed, as some of you well know, to accept a dare from the person (or people) who donated the most money to my LLS fund. The dare that I ended up having to fulfill was having a colonic.
I ended going to a place I would like to deem The House of the Devil.
And from the moment I entered the doors...something didn't smell right.
You have to finish!
No...you just have to insert.
Dude, don't be an idiot. It isn't sex if you don't cum.
I was greeted with a "Hey, Bob, how are you?" by the owner and/or manager of The House of the Devil.
"I'm Mark" I astutely retorted.
"No, you're Bob." the manager replies.
And wouldn't you know it...because of my nerves, I actually had to think about if maybe she was right. Am I Bob? I briefly think. Nope...
"Sorry...I'm Mark. I'm here for my 11 AM appointment."
"Have you been here before?"
"We haven't met?"
And again...this makes me think about things I know can't possibly be true. Was I living a Fight Club-esque alter ego? Did I go by the name Bob in a subconscious stupor and get weekly colonics without even knowing it??? "No. We have never met."
"I must be looking at the wrong day on my calendar." And she leaves to go check her appointment book. The second she leaves, the office doors open behind me, and a 6'5" BEHEMOTH enters the room.
This, I think, is Bob.
Bob sits down across the room...and he won't stop looking at me....and this is getting uncomfortable. I try to ignore him.
That's all he says. He says "Wow."
WTF is going on in here? I now acknowledge that he is looking at me.
"This is the first time I have ever seen another guy in here."
Bob is clearly in his mid to late 40s, weighs about 300 lbs, and is balding. I now hate the manager. "Really?"
As I say this, the manager enters the room. "Ohhhhhhhhh, Mark, here's Bob."
Yeah, lady, I know. I have already been introduced to Andre the Giant, fuck you very much.
"Mark, thanks for making me feel normal" states Bob as he walks off to go have poop flushed from his ass. I think about his statement as I stare at a questionnaire asking how many times a day I have a bowel movement.
"No problem, Bob."
A feeling of hate starts crawling into my mind for the people who donated the most to my cause. A feeling of hate and revenge.
Is a woman still a virgin if she doesn't cum?
So, it's different for a guy?
I didn't know much about colonics before I went into The House of the Devil. I figured it would be best if I didn't know...and I was right.
The only thing I did know I learned from the gf. She said it was all very private. There is a curtain between you and the "Poop Releaser Person" (not the official title). Also, you "insert" the "small" "device" "into" yourself.
Of all the things I learned today...one of the most important is that I discovered the gf is a sick and twisted liar.
So, he's still a virgin.
I am told to go into the bathroom, remove my clothes, and put on a green hospital-like gown. I don't know what to expect when I go into the "Poop Release Room" (again, not the official title)...but I assumed that the woman that would do the "procedure" would be old, fat, and have a strange affection for poo.
I was wrong.
I go into the "Poop Release Room" and I am greeted by a HOT and YOUNG model. This is the type of woman who, if you saw her on the street, would make you stop in your tracks. She is visually stunning. She is young, slender, and has a strange affection for poo. I really know how to call 'em!
She asks me to get up on to a table and turn to my side. She wants me to bend my legs into the fetal position so that she can insert the "device" into me.
I think back to what the gf said. "Don't I insert it myself?"
"Well, you can put your fingers on it...but I need to 'guide it in'"
"Some people find this part..." as she reaches for some KY "to be a little uncomfortable."
"You don't say."
"Once I insert it into your rectum...I need to get it past your sphincter muscle..."
Why am I having a conversation that involves the words "rectum" and "sphincter"
"...you really are going to have to just relax the best you can. Just breathe and relax."
"So go ahead and turn over on your side. Just breathe and relax."
And I do it. I don't know why I do it. But I did. I turned to my side. She takes her hands and separates my butt cheeks. Seriously...this drop-dead gorgeous woman is separating my butt cheeks...I should be stoked. This should be hot.
But the cold, cold KY Jelly that she fingers onto my butt hole somehow detracts from the moment for some reason.
"OK" (she sounds like she is gloating) "BREATHE"
And she put it in. It kept going and going. Luckily, already in the fetal position, my body had nowhere to go. I was helpless.
"You're a little tight. Try to relax."
Relax? Relax? It seemed like she was shoving "the device" into my butt for an hour. Did she not use enough KY? If I cough, will this thing come out of my mouth?
And just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, she says "OK...now, roll onto your back....SLOWLY."
I have been connected to "the machine."
She turns it on and it starts to drip water into my bowels. And it felt HORRIBLE. Like when you are in public, and you feel like you have to pass gas, but you train yourself to hold it in. Even worse, think about those times when it feels like you need a bathroom THAT SECOND...imagine feeling that way, constantly, for over half an hour...
"That feeling is just gas" she is beaming. "It's normal."
To make matters worse, this chick keeps rubbing my stomach to help move the water around. Constantly inches away from my penis....but...I don't find this sexual at all.
When the pressure gets too high, meaning that there is so much water inside my bowels that I feel like I am going to burst, I have her release the water through "the device" and into "the machine." At this point, you get to watch everything that is flushing out of you. The "Poop Girl" is mesmerized by "the machine." She keeps commenting on the color, density, and amount of "fecal matter" that is streaming by. Freaky. She is hot....but freaky.
She then, and I shit you not...this is true, she takes out a hand-held, vibrating massager and starts rubbing my stomach with that, too. She switches back and forth from massaging me with her hands and massaging me with this vibrator. To top this off, the vibrator does periodically keep hitting you know what.
So, let me recap: I am almost completely naked. This chick is amazingly gorgeous. She has put her hands all over my butt and stomach. And now, she is using a vibrator that is occasionally stimulating my privates.
And I was nowhere NEAR turned on. All I wanted to do was poop.
Guys...guys. Do you even know what sex is?
What was supposed to be an hour session, ended early. I couldn't take the ebb and flow of the water into and out of my colon any longer. I let her know that I wanted to finish a little early...and a glow came over her.
"OK...no problem. That is completely natural the first time. We just have to take 'the device' back out. Take a deep breath."
And my life flashed before my eyes. She kept pulling...and pulling...and I let out a YELP as "the device" finally left my body.
I went to the bathroom and "fully released" the rest of "the fluid" into a toilet, like a normal person. I got my clothes on, went back into the "Poop Release Room" and she was gone.
The woman who had taken my virginity had left. For lunch.
Nothing like a little fecal matter to really get that appetite going.
It may have taken me 32 years, but I now know for sure. It doesn't have to do with cumming. It doesn't have to do with "breaking a plane." It has to do with intent.
I lost my virginity in high school. I was simply raped today.