I’ve had my share of bad sex. People love to pretend that sex is always amazing, that you always cum six times from the dude’s seventeen-inch cock, and then you can’t walk after because it was just that good. I’ve had that kind of sex, don’t get me wrong, but nothing stands out in my memory more than the bad times.
Like right now, for instance, as Joey Jacobowitz jackhammers into me, all I can think about is how I am going to remember this piss-poor sex for the rest of my fucking life. It’s not that this is horrible, it’s that there is nothing going on other than the jackhammering. My clit hasn’t been touched once the entire time I have been naked, and that’s a big fucking red flag for me.
“Holy shit, baby,” Joey whispers in my ear, spitting just a little bit. His lack of control over his saliva grosses me out, on top of the ick from being called baby by someone I barely know. I am not his baby. I just need a good lay, and honestly, he is not delivering. His cock continues thrusting into me, leaving small sensations of pleasure in its path. It’s not horrible, and it still feels okay, but I have ten miles to go until I’m going to orgasm, and he is only moving an inch a minute at this rate.
If I were less seasoned, less mature, I might let him finish. I used to believe that if I am already here, I might as well finish what I started. I might as well let them have a good time, even if they won’t do the same for me. But, at the ripe age of twenty-four, I am finally realizing that men deserve no such thing, and I decide I’m done with this shitty experience. I don’t need to be a sex doll for this man any longer than I already have been.
“Okay, dude, I’m done,” I mutter, pushing his chest until he is in an upright position. Joey sends me a shocked look before removing his cock from me.
“What?” he asks, still confused.
I lift my body from the bed, looking around for the clothes we threw on the ground when we were in a rush to get naked. I miss who I was twelve minutes ago, she was so full of hope.
“I’m done,” I say again, finally finding my bra. I quickly clasp it behind me, taking away the view of my tits from Joey. He honestly doesn’t deserve it.
Joey’s bedroom should have been my first indication that this wasn’t a love connection. The mattress sitting on the floor is adequate enough to be called a bed for him, the white sheets haven’t been white in years if you ask me, and the posters, held up with push-pins, of Sports Illustrated models hanging on his wall, prove that he regularly stares at women as if they are objects for him to consume. Yet, I still held out hope that he could at least fuck me the way I need to be fucked, but I was let down once again.
“We just started,” he says with a smirk on his face. If he thinks he can weasel his way back into my pants, he is dead wrong. I know what sex with him is like now, and I am not making that mistake twice.
“Well, I’m still done,” I say for the third time, this time with more force. I don’t know what it is with men who suck at fucking, never being able to take no for an answer. Either get good or get out, buddy.
“Are you fucking serious?” he says, starting to get mad. I shrug my shoulders, avoiding eye contact completely, and gasp as I finally find my shirt. I yank it on, knowing this situation is only going to escalate and I don’t want to be here when it does.
I don’t reply to his comment, the answer clearly obvious to me, but when I glance up at him, in the middle of trying to find my pants, his eyebrows are raised as if he is expecting an answer from me. I huff out a sigh, searching on the other side of the bed for the leggings I had on before this disaster.
“I’m not going to cum, Joey. It doesn’t really seem worth it to me,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. I hold eye contact with him so he knows I’m serious. Someone needs to tell him that he isn’t very giving in bed, and that someone can be me. I don’t really care.
I know there is value to sex besides just orgasming. I have had amazing sex where I didn’t orgasm at all, but those times were different. Those times were amazing because of the connection between us, and I have no connection with Joey. I have known him for a little while. He snagged my number at the restaurant where I waitress. I thought he would be a good lay. He’s quite a charmer when he has his clothes on, so I thought he could impress me with his clothes off too.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he says, his anger dissipating as disappointment takes over. Maybe he realized it this is more his fault than mine. Maybe he realized he should have at least attempted to locate my clit. Maybe he realized it really doesn’t fucking matter what went wrong. I’m already half-dressed, and I am not going to get undressed again.
I finally locate my pants, which are under his own on his side of the bed. I have yet to find my underwear, but at this point, I would like to get the fuck out of here before he questions me again. I hike my pants up my legs with little regard to Joey glancing at me with shock still on his face.
“Just a little pro tip, find the clit next time,” I say, before finally turning around and heading through his bedroom door. I make a beeline for his front door before I can hear his reply to my comment.
Finally outside, I start walking in the direction of Hank’s Diner, hoping to be able to sit for a drink before I need to catch a ride home. Thankfully, Joey only lives about fifteen minutes away from my work. I think that was the only perk of this disappointment of a hook-up.
