How I found the one and shat all over it

All my life, I dreamt of how I’d meet prince charming. I’d drop some books on the street and he’d help me pick them up. I’d be on the bus and he’d take a seat next to me.

But screw those cliches.

I met my prince charming at an orgy.

Didn’t know what to expect when I walked into that room. It was my first time at an orgy so I was nervous as hell. Told the guy who invited me I wouldn’t participate; would just watch and satisfy the voyeur in me.

Saw the people. No one was my type. No one. Except this guy. While people were getting freaky inside, there was one guy who sat on the sofa watching TV in his undies. He looked cute. But I didn’t know how cute he was until later on. I was too intimidated to make a move and went inside to see all the action.

15 minutes later, I started getting in the mood. I took my shirt off and got a hard on at all the sights I was seeing. Took a break and got out of the room. Oh shit! I see Mister Right wearing his clothes and getting ready to leave.

Ummm… no. This hot guy won’t slip away from my fingers. You know how hard it is to find The One at an orgy? Very. I decided: “There’s no way in hell he’s leaving”.

So I head over to him. He was talking to the orgy organizer who was convincing him to stay. “Yeah, man. Don’t leave”, I say, and introduce myself. I put my hands on him and unbutton his shirt. He smiles.

Fuck, this guy’s not cute. He’s hot. He’s the perfect hot boy next door. The epitome of my type. With the perfect smile. And it seemed that he liked me as well… because he didn’t leave. He took his shirt off and stripped back to his underwear.

I grab his hand and usher him to the bathroom. Yes, the bathroom. I’m not gonna fuck prince charming in front of everyone on the bed. This is personal. This is romance. This is our first time.

Now we’re in the bathroom. Both in our underwear. Kissing passionately. Sparks are flying. I couldn’t believe I got that lucky at an orgy. I might just end up with true love Instead of ending up with an STD. I remove his underwear and put his cock in my mouth. Suck on it like you would your lover. His moans… oh, his manly moans. Was like sucking off a straight guy. Total turn on.

My ass was ready. I grab a condom and put it on him. Some lube, and he was inside me.

“Ahhh… fuck”, we both screamed.

We were one. United. He could feel my insides beating and I could sense him throbbing inside me. What better feeling?

As he’s fucking me hard, I smell something fishy. Could it be? No, it can’t be.

I look at him and he has the most horrified look on his face.

“What’s wrong?”, I ask.

“Ummm…”, he mumbled.

I don’t think he had the heart to say it. Or the stomach.

I take his cock out of my ass and look at it.

Shit! (Not the expression. But the actual feces.)

“Oh my God”, I screamed out loud. There was actual shit on his dick.

I came to the orgy unprepared and didn’t clean my ass. What was I thinking? How could I let someone fuck me without emptying my fucking bowels?

Do you know the meaning of the word “mortified”? I was mortified. Ever since that night, I use that word wisely. Because nothing… and I mean nothing… is more mortifying that taking a dump on a beautiful guy (unless he asks for it which is a totally different scenario).

“Sorry, man. I didn’t clean. I’m so sorry”, I was embarrassed.

“It’s okay, it happens”. Sweet words, but the boy was traumatized.

I stand up and touch my ass. It wasn’t just the hole. There was shit on my fucking cheeks. Like, really? Is this really happening? By now, the whole room smelled like a sewer. I take a tissue, clean up a bit, try to salvage the situation.

Now he’s getting ready to leave because his boner’s dead.

He reassures me: “It’s okay”. He cleans himself up.

But I didn’t want him to leave. I was adamant on making this work. This shit won’t slow me down.

I make him sit down, remove the now chocolate-colored condom, and play with his dick. I suck that mother off like there’s no tomorrow, all while trying to act like I don’t smell the shit. He’s trying to focus as well. I mean, there’s shit all over the place. Even a bit on my hands.

The guy’s a trooper. He cums. He actually enjoyed it. I could tell. Either that or he was so in a hurry to get the fuck out that he forcibly released that shit.

He came and he was out of there faster than you can say
“heydon’tleaveyou’retheonesorryIshatalloveryoucanIpleasegetyournumber”.

And he was out of there. And I was left all alone in that bathroom to pick up the pieces. And clean the shit.

I told the orgy organizer what happened and told him to contact him on Whatsapp and give him my number. He never contacted me. A part of me was offended. Another part of me was like “duhh you idiot”.

That night, I learned two things.

– Never have sex without cleaning up

– Love conquers all. But not shit.

Kareem (part 8 of 10)

Continued from Part 7

kareem 8

“What?”, Joe is in disbelief.

“He… He paid me for sex”, I repeat. And I start crying.

“I don’t understand… When did that happen?”.

“I don’t remember. Maybe two or three years ago”.

“Well, is he the only one you’ve fucked for money?”, he asks.

My crying intensifies.

“Kareem, are you still fucking guys for money?”, he screams.

I don’t reply.

“Oh my God…”, he says. “Oh my God… Kareem, you’re a fucking whore?”.

“I didn’t want you to know… I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long”, I tell him.

I come closer to him and try to touch him but he walks away.

“Please don’t go. Please. Lemme explain”, I beg him.

“You’ve been cheating on me this whole time. Fucking guys and getting paid for it. How can you explain yourself? You heartless son of a fucking bitch. Leave me alone”.

He whistles to a taxi and it pulls over. He grabs his wallet, takes out a $20 bill, and throws it in my face. “Here’s for tonight”, he says with tears in his eyes.

There it was. The truth was out there. The truth I’ve been trying for four years to hide. And this is why I’ve been hiding it for so long. I know people won’t understand. They don’t get that you have to do what you have to do. That it’s just sex. That it’s a means for survival.

I walk home and as soon as I open the door, Bisi runs into my lap. I cry all over that furry little thing.

“I still have you, don’t I?”.

I grab Bisi and lay on the bed with her.

He definitely won’t be calling me ever. The only guy I’ve ever loved. I fucked it up.

He’s right. Why would he want to be with someone who allows other men to fuck him for cash. It’s my prerogative to do what I have to do, but it’s also his not to want anything to do with me. I just feel bad I dragged him into this mess to begin with.

I look at the pic he held in his hand yesterday. That day on the snow. I wish we can have that back.

Right next to the pic is a calendar. Yep, March 2013. Officially one of the worst months of my life.

Then it hits me.

“Wait… March 16? Bisi…It’s her birthday tomorrow”.

I totally forgot!

“I have to see her”.

It’s always a hassle to do so. I have to wake up really early if I wanna make it on time with all the traffic. But it’s worth it. I feel better when I see her. And the nurses always tell me she lights up for at least a week after I’m gone.

I arrive there and the people who work there recognize me.

“I’m here to see Youmna”.

“Come with me”.

“Is it okay if I bring those with me? It’s her birthday.”

The nurse at the psychiatric facility looks at the cake and the balloon and smiles.

“Akid, no problem”.

I enter the room and she’s looking out the window.

“Mama… habibte”.

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Read Part 9 here.

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Minus One (part 1 of 7)

No one knew the answer.

I’m looking around left and right, and no one knew the answer.

Bunch of useless idiots.

“Ovulation”, I say, softly. I didn’t want the whole class to hear.

But of course, Miss Sara had to say her favorite line in the whole world. “Sit up straight, and raise your voice”.

“Ovulation”, I say loudly and reluctantly.

“Correct. Bravo Jad”. She smiles at me then starts explaining to the rest of the idiots. “Ovulation is the process that occurs in the middle of the menstrual cycle”. She’s explaining something we already learned about 3 years ago, in the 7th grade.

Joseph leans towards me and whispers: “I always knew you had a pussy”.

“Yeah. A big p-p-p-ussy”, I snap back at him. The boy’s a stutterer. No wonder he doesn’t get any p-p-p-pussy. He takes that smirk out of his face, looks at me like I ran over his dog, and leans away.

Then Miss Sara announces: “Alright, class. It’s time for the monthly group project”.

I can’t believe she’s doing this in the last 5 minutes of the last class of the day. It’s 2:40 pm and I wanna go home!

“I want each group to be a pair: one boy and one girl. You have 5 minutes to choose a partner and you can head home!”.

One of the boys, Nadim, raises his hand. “I know which girl I want to team up with! I choose Fadi.”.

The whole class bursts out laughing, except me. I turn my head to see Fadi’s reaction. He gets picked on everyday. His face is down and he’s looking at his desk. He’s not sad. He’s not pissed. He’s used to it.

Miss Sara , along with the other teachers in this school, is used to the gay insults Fadi gets. She doesn’t scold Nadim. She just pretends no one heard it.

Fadi gets out of his seat, takes his backpack and heads to the door.

“La7za Fadi, you still didn’t pick anyone”, says Miss Sara.

“Can I please do it like last time? I’ll work alone”, answers Fadi.

She has this sorry look on her face. “Okay, you may be excused”.

“Thank you”. He opens the door and leaves.

I pack up my stuff and walk over to Miss Sara’s desk. “Miss, can I go now?”

“Do you have a group team mate?”.

“Uhhh, yes. I’ve teamed up with Joseph”. Right…

“You may be excused”.

I get out of class and notice that Fadi’s going to the bathroom. I wait like a minute then I follow him there.

I enter the bathroom and I see him just standing there looking at the mirror.

“What are you doing here?”, he asks me.

“Just checking up on my favorite foufou in the whole school”, I say.

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READ PART 2 HERE

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Image by Deviant Artist: memori3s