I don't like one night stands, they leave a funny taste in my mouth.
She was a colleague. We were drunk, we were fumbling around, the condom went on, the sex was perfunctionary, but it did the trick for me. The old chap pulled out. The condom came off and was discarded. We slept fitfully, we woke up. She seemed panicked.

'My boyfriend is coming round later, we need to get this place sorted. Where's the condom from last night?'

So, I looked around the bed, I looked down her side of the bed, I looked down my side of the bed, I moved my clothes to one side, picked up the pint of water, moved my keys, moved her underwear, but i couldn't see it anywhere. It wasn't in the bin, in the bed, on the floor, on the bedside table.

'I really have no idea', I said, 'I looked everywhere'. I took a swig of the water

*cough*

'Found it'.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 11:58, 2 replies)

I was really hoping
It was going to end up with the boyfriend finding the condom
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 12:07, closed)

In fairness,
that would have a) made a much better story and b) actually something that could possibly be considered a disaster.

But I'm struggling this week, not so much through lack of stories per se, more through the fact that I have told all the bedroom related stories I can remember already and I'm trying not to pearoast.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 12:10, closed)