It was a Friday night. My boyfriend and I had just finished a bottle of rosé and an especially stimulating episode of Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives, and were feeling snacky (the perfect mixture of hungry and horny). So, naturally, he suggested that he eat me out.
“One sec, I gotta pee first,” I said, as he began shimmying his way downstairs.
“Ew, I don’t wanna get my mouth near your vajay-jay right after you pee out of it,” he responded, completely unaware that he just possibly exposed himself (and his shit public sex education teacher) as the antichrist of female anatomy connoisseurs.
In this moment, I stopped, took a breath, and calmly asked: “Do you think I pee out of my vagina?”
As his response exited his lips (“Obviously, where else?”), I was aware that my life was about to change completely. An out-of-body experience isn’t the right classification, since I was inside my own body and, unlike him, very much aware of my two separate holes. Instead, what followed was a feeling of immense opportunity, one that can only be compared to Christopher Columbus’s feeling of euphoria upon arriving in the Americas and meeting a vast number of people he knew he would soon come to slaughter and infect with disease. A true moment of victory.
“Haha, you’re right, just messing,” I said, as I pulled off my undies and pulled his dick inside me.
Upon first feeling my warm urine trickle down his body and realizing the very real presence of my urethra, my boyfriend experienced all five stages of mourning at once: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Then, of course, he entered the sixth stage: premature ejaculation.
Who knew an educational experience could be so arousing. I guess that showering your boyfriend with knowledge is so valuable, it should be called a golden shower.