Congratulations on Remembering Your Special Condoms!

Most of the time you’re lucky if you even recall to bag it. That’s why you’re riddled with herpes. All kinds, even the Complex kind. Normally people in your position would take heed of their crisis and slow down or, at the very least, invest in a combination of treatment and preventative measures. But not you. You just keep getting fucked up on Wild Turkey and sticking it in crazy bitches, mostly because TV tells you to.

But you still care about “her comfort,” whatever the shit that means, so every once in a while you buy some really classy condoms. Condoms that cost a little bit extra.

Aww yeah. Now we’ve got your attention.

So tonight you’re going to meet this chick at a bar who has a ponytail or whatever. We’re not entirely sure what’s up, because you’re going to be blackout drunk and Steve, the predictor who pulled the short straw and ended up watching your life of all god forsaken shitshows, is only able to see things through the eyes of the person he’s channeling. So he’s only going to remember what you remember.

He’s going to remember the splinter you get from the girl’s doorway, which will catch in your hand and bury itself in your finger too deep to get out. It’ll be a short shock of pain, one you’ll forget until the next day. He’ll remember the way you taste, like Old Crow and breath mints. From your mouth he’ll realize your desire for this young woman, blowing gales against your subconscious.

He’ll remember you finally convincing her to come to bed, her insistence that you wear a condom. You’ll act surprised about it, like you look like someone people fuck more than once, but after she insists you’ll remember your fire and ice shit, those condoms that make your dick hot and/or cold and ostensibly do something to the genitals of the women you’re fucking which, you understand, are supposed to be capable of feeling things as well. And once the condom is out of your wallet and swabbed around your dick she’ll cautiously lower herself on to you and have cautious, tenuous sex with you.

The whole time it’ll feel like she might break away. She’ll muffle her shrieks occasionally, mumbling into her own arm as she rides you. Occasionally you’ll reach up to touch her body, but she’ll bat your arms away. As she works herself on you you’ll slowly come to realize how insignificant you are in the world. Under her tender ministrations you’ll approach orgasm and, for the first time, avoid it. You won’t want to shame yourself in front of her.

But she’ll outlast you, despite the numbing powder the condom you’re using is filled with. You’ll twitch as you finally come, writhing underneath her, and she’ll smile for the first time since she started fucking you.

She’ll withdraw from you after that, standing at the side of the bed until you awkwardly stand and then pointing for you to leave her bedroom. She’ll give you some sheets and a throw pillow the pullout couch that you’ll find yourself on, staring up at the ceiling. As sleep beckons you’ll wonder what she’s thinking right now. You’ll wonder if she’s masturbating herself to fulfillment or sleeping contently. You won’t really have any context, since you’ll usually be insensate before this part of the night. It’ll be strange for you, laying there alone, wondering what just happened. It’ll feel a little bad.

Congratulations on Remembering Your Special Condoms!