Go With The Flow

Posted on October 17, 2013

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Nothing says romance like a house in the middle of nowhere, right?

Nothing says romance like a house in the middle of nowhere, right?

This story is from Rebecca, a 26-year-old journalist in NYC, as told to Raz:

Jon and I had been dating for a few months, but waiting to have sex. Finally, we decided that a weekend getaway would be a fun way to commemorate our “doing it” for the first time. He invited me to his parents’ beach house, only a few hours’ drive from the city. We planned a time we knew his parents wouldn’t be there and took that Friday off work.

The morning of our adventure, as I was packing for our sex-cation, I got my period. I called Jon to tell him the news. He was sweet, saying it was up to me whether we went through with it or not, but I assured him that I did not want our first sexual experience to look like a murder scene. We eventually decided not to waste our plans, and made the trek out to the beach house anyway for a sex-free weekend.

Still, the sexual tension on the drive was unbearable, and as soon as we parked the car, we were all over each other. He carried me to the bedroom for an intense make out session that got us down to our underwear. As we bumped and grinded, I got more and more frustrated with my stupid body for not waiting just a couple more days to bleed.

Then, mid-grind, he got a weird look on his face. “Uh Rebecca,” he said, looking down. Turns out, I’d waited too long between tampon changes and bled through my underwear and onto his boxers. I was mortified, but he was still smiling. “I guess we’ve already made a mess, so we might as well do it anyway,” he said. I was so turned on at that point, that the thought of ruining his parents’ bed didn’t even cross my mind. I ran to the bathroom to freshen up and shouted at him to grab a condom. His response: “Oh shit.”

“What?”

“Well, I was gonna pick some up on the way, but then we agreed there’d be no sex, so I didn’t.”

“Oh shit.”

After a failed—and kind of disturbing—attempt at searching for his parents’ hidden condom stash, we decided to make a run to the closest gas station, which was about 20 minutes from the house. We threw on some clothes, kissing the whole time, so as not to kill the moment. But as soon as we stepped outside, our hearts sank: One of the tires on his car was completely flat.

The store was too far to walk, so we called AAA and waited…and waited…and waited. Almost three hours later, our saviors came up the country road. By the time they were done, it was super late. Still, we hopped in the car and bought those condoms.

By the time we got back, the idea of period sex didn’t seem so appealing. Still, we’d gone through all this already! So we got in bed, laid a towel beneath us and went for it. All the passion of our earlier escapades were gone—we were exhausted and there was blood everywhere. I think we both wanted it to stop as soon as it began. Needless to say, we didn’t have sex again for the rest of the weekend.

 

 

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