The Sexual Monologues: 3.iii – Kelly

Kelly is one of the quieter members of our group. That being said, it’s not difficult to be deemed as a ‘quiet one’ when you’re battling with some of the biggest personalities in Berkshire. She’s utterly lovely, totally rational and – most importantly for this story – seriously hot.

I’m not just saying that because she’s my friend; it’s actually true. She’s tops the heady heights of almost 6ft (well, she’s 5’8 but when you’re a miniscule 5ft on the nose anything higher than a head above you is basically a supermodel) and she’s all bronzed and athletic. She looks like something that would rollerblade in teeny-tiny denim hotpants down Sunset Boulevard, blondish hair billowing in the breeze behind her. But I think as a direct result of her quiet nature it always seems like she doesn’t realise just how hot she is. And for the purposes of the tale I’m about to weave for you on Kelly’s behalf, it’s important you know that.

Years-maybe even a decade or so-ago, Kelly was at a house party. It was the done thing then, unless you were a fucking loser like me who nobody knew so you didn’t get invited. Statuesque and resplendent in her downplayed beauty, Kelly arrived at the party in her bootcut lightwash denim jeans and some kind of pastel coloured boob-tube (I’m being creative here; I have no idea what she would have been wearing but suffice it to say she almost definitely had the look bang on what was ‘trendy’ at the time. Kelly is the type of person that suffers for her fashion; in the depths of winter she will totally wear ankle skimming skinny jeans with no socks because it just looks so damn good. I, for the record, will be in fluffy Primark socks, joggers/leggings and 15 layers on top).

Across the room, watching on like a little troll who crawled out from under the bridge to capture this particular sexy, tall billy-goat-gruff, was Daniel. Don’t get me wrong, Daniel was a really nice guy and, actually, super funny. But in the looks department he was less ‘Dapper Dan’ and more ‘Danny De-Vito.’ He’s the guy that would have laughed you into bed on a night out and when you turned over to look at him in the morning, biscuit brown mop of curls curtaining a pale face with ruddy cheeks and teeth that definitely would have benefited from braces protruding from little, thin lips you would be mortified at what you saw nestled into the pillow beside you. There can be no doubt in anyone’s mind – Kelly was way, way waaaaaaay out of poor Daniel’s league.

But as the night wore on and the Archers and Lemonade was consumed, the stench of Lambrini and Koppaberg scenting the air, Daniel made his inebriated move on Kelly. Perhaps she was feeling charitable…perhaps she could not see what was so inexplicably obvious to all that stood by to witness that he was absolutely punching…maybe she was just shitfaced. Whatever the reason, Kelly and Daniel ended up in a situation where sex was definitely on the cards.

I suppose it is an acceptable and much relied upon truth that in these kinds of situations the girl need to do very little. She simply needs to be a willing receptacle for what’s about to penetrate her. Credit where it’s due, Daniel may very well have been a diligent and selfless lover in a situation where he had not sunk asunder upward of ten Desperados in an attempt to forget the fact that Kelly was way taller then he, way hotter than he and way too far outside of the realms of attractiveness to have considered him as someone worthy of her vagina. Sadly for Daniel, not only because of his woeful performance but also because he has been a topic of much laughter in the years that have since passed, he did not ‘rise’ to this particular challenge…in more ways than one.

One thing led to another. Kelly found herself waiting in the throes of passion for Daniel to consummate the energies of the evening. As he climbed atop her and rolled down what I can only imagine were Kappa tracksuit bottoms, poppers metalically clanging as he climbed onto his knees, a small and inexplicably flaccid walnut whip flopped out.

Was he too drunk to get it up? Stage fright? Overwhelmed by the expectations of the beautiful companion he was now going to try to pleasure? We can’t be certain. Whatever the reason though, Daniel’s lank willy hang there totally nonplussed.

Kelly wasn’t sure what to make of this. Crippled by the shame of the unexpected floppiness of the key weapon in this attack, she felt it best to pretend she hadn’t really noticed and carry on until he realised exactly what was beneath him and stiffened up.

Unfortunately, it became increasingly more obvious as the seconds bled into minutes that Daniel was in fact not going to be able to harden his little performer. The awkwardness, the unspoken humiliation between the two was palpable as, try as he might, Daniel couldn’t get his dick in order. Not to be defeated though, a sudden plan plopped like a penny into the puddle of his limp mind. He reached down, feeling his way to the point of Kelly’s awaiting anatomy, and pressed his wilted penis against her. She lay there wondering what was going on as he worked away at the droop.

It felt an odd sensation…whatever he was attempting to do down there. Coming to her senses, the fog of cringiness and embarrassment momentarily leaving her, Kelly realised he was endeavouring to utilise his thumbs to try to squidge his flaccid member into her. In her words, the thumbing in of his willy was like folding up a cheap napkin ontop of itself; I imagine it looked remarkably like a bendy, fleshy totem pole as it wormed it’s way into the cradle of Kelly’s vagina. He used the pad of his straightened thumb to try to poke it, folded, into her in a rubbing, energetic motion.

It’s uncertain which one called the doomed proceedings to an end, but this utter shit-show of a sex session that never was will go down in history as the single most awkward moment spent between two people in the drunken glow of someone’s bedroom.

So the moral of the story is this: It is all well and good saying a man can laugh you into bed. But when he gets there, he has to perform like a sailor on leave. So don’t just think that because a guy is nice and funny and deserves a chance to pleasure you that he will prove himself between the sheets. As Daniel so adeptly proved, nice guys really do finish last!

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