I attended a friend’s birthday party at a sports bar near the University. He rented out the entire top floor so that we all could watch the Kentucky v Wake Forest game minus the obnoxious screaming of the local student body. It was a fucking blast – 30 or so people drunk, but in good spirits, watching an awesome game and celebrating our buddies birthday. About half way through the game the birthday boy introduces me to his fiancés best friend – she was pretty…but not quite my type. It was the hair – short hair is a huge turn-off for me. I’m not talking about hanging below the ears short. I mean it was REALLY short. But, she held good conversation so we spent the rest of the game together bullshiting about this and that at first and then escalating quickly into flirtatious dialogue. When the game ended, every one began to cheer like crazy. In the midst of the celebratory roar of our group, Kimberly – I’ll call her – grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me to the bathroom. It was one of those bathrooms that only allow one person at a time. She locked the door behind us and began searching in the cabinet under the sink for something. “This is weird” I thought to myself. “Yes!” she yelled. She pulled from behind the toilet paper stock a sandwich sized Ziploc bag half-filled with coke. Apparently it was the communal cocaine baggy that everyone had been sharing over the course of the evening. Not only was that the first time I had seen more than just a line of coke, but I also never tried it before – something about its reputation was just very off-putting, but at the same time, alluring. I guess my apprehension with its use is due to the way it is portrayed in the media. It’s always accompanied by the visual of some strung out, manic person that can’t fight the compulsion to clean their entire apartment at 3 o’clock in the morning. But witnessing its casual use by people I know dulled that apprehension over time and I became less afraid of it. Kimberly shoveled some out of the bag with her debit card and began crushing it and forming lines on the counter. “Four lines – two for you and two for me” she said. I rarely freeze, but did. I regained control over my brain and explained that I never did it before and not quite sure if I wanted to try it. She smirked, turned around and killed every line. She pinched the top of her nose and closed her eyes – “Fuck!” she yelled. She asked again if I wanted to try it and I politely refused. “Come on, everybody’s doing it” she said sarcastically with a comical head bobble. She grabbed her car keys, dipped them into the bag and pulled out a bump of coke. She tilted her head to the side and put it on her neck – “how about now?” she asked. (Fuck how did she know I was a neck guy…well, choking them, but still a neck guy). I thought to myself “Fuck it.” I leaned in and did the bump. I felt her hand caress the back of my head – oh shit, it was on. *BOOM BOOM BOOM*; someone was knocking on the door. Panic set in, not a result of the coke, but the psychological effect it has in instituting every drugs most annoying side effect – Paranoia. This was it; an entire lifetime spent avoiding drugs and the one time I try it the cops are going to barge in and arrest me. Kimberly told the encroacher to hold on. “It’s me” we heard from the other side. She opened the door and let in my friends’ fiancé – her best friend. Kimberly locked the door, grabbed another bump with her keys and laid it on the top of one of her tits. Fuck it. I did it again. She bent down as I was coming back up and caught my lip with her teeth. We began to kiss. Meanwhile, her friend is sat on the toilet peeing and organizing a few lines of her own atop a planner she pulled out of her purse. There was something so sleezily beautiful about the sound of a woman with her pants down snorting coke while you are making out with another chick. It was definitely one of those moments you realize in retrospect that you only ever seen in movies or tv. I thought to myself, all in all, this is a good night. But, it wasn’t over. Kimberly began rubbing my dick through my jeans. She unzipped me and pulled my dick out and started giving me an ole-fashioned. Now, this was cool, but I’m not a big fan of the handy unless accompanied by the mouth – they are a lovely double act. Handy’s are just too dry to enjoy and turn painfully annoying very quickly. I waited and waited and waited for her to start sucking my dick, but nothing. “Suck my cock” I asserted. “No” she replied. (Sigh) I looked back at her friend and she is just staring at us. Not staring like biting the bottom lip and playing with herself kind of stare. It was more like a depressed what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-with-my-life kind of gaze. I skillfully refocused my attention to Kimberly. “I want you to suck my cock” I said. “I know” she replied. UGH! What the fuck, man? I was ready to just politely put a button on the situation and exit the bathroom when her friend got a hold of my pocket and pulled me toward her. Without hesitation and with ease she began blowing me. “No, no. Stop this, stop this right now” I thought to myself. Still making out with one and getting my dick sucked by the other, my body and mind waged war against one another in an epic battle of morals. But, I didn’t stop. The head was astonishing. Not because of the two-woman thing – my girlfriend, at the time, and I were swingers and that kind of event was as regular as one could expect from that lifestyle. No, it was because she was and still is one of only two women to ever make me cum from head alone (a feat worthy of praise). She finished me off, we all did a couple more lines and exited the bathroom discreetly like nothing ever happened.
It was an awesome though regretful experience. Awesome in that I experienced a few firsts that night – first time (surprisingly) kissing and participating in a sex act with a non-hispanic woman and the first night I did coke. And, regretful for obvious reasons. I haven’t spoken to my friend in years – I moved out of the area and just lost touch. I assume he doesn’t know anything as I frequently stopped in on his facebook page and usually saw pictures of them still together. Everyone that is in a relationship suffers from desire to be with another person when they are lent the opportunity. Though, it takes a special kind of asshole to act on it – (sigh) my poor friend. Though, ignorance is bliss. If I were in his situation I don’t think I would want to know if I was cheated on. I especially don’t think I would want to know if I was gifted a small amount of my friends semen deposited by a kiss from my fiancé – just saying.