Welcome to the Frisky “Sex Diary,” in which an anonymous person shares the details of her sex life over the course of a few days. Sometimes these entries are filled with revealing romps, while other times there is nary a naked moment in sight. Some of these diarists are frequent contributors. Want to share a page from your sex diary? Email firstname.lastname@example.org. All entries will be anonymous.Diarist: 20-something graduate student in a long-distance relationship.
4 pm: I get off the plane 2,000 miles from home and immediately start scanning the airport for someone I know. He’s standing by the baggage claim with an enormous and goofy grin. I make a beeline to him and we embrace, we kiss, we revel in the moment because we get so few like this. I am in a long-distance relationship.
My boyfriend helps me with my bag and drives me back to his place. I’m staring at him the entire car ride and he’s stealing glances at me at stoplights. There’s a tension between us you could cut with a knife. We chat about the plane ride and airport traffic; we chat about little meaningless things.
Thank God he lives so close to the airport! I think to myself as we park and hurry up the stairs. He’s got me by the hand and is hurrying me along. No stopping to marvel at the palm trees or the warm breeze of California. Hurry, hurry inside, close the door, don’t worry about your shoes, don’t worry about the lights, drop your bag in the entrance way, fumble down the hall past his roommate playing Xbox on the couch, hand in hand, giggling all the way. Slam the bedroom door behind you!
He closes the door to his bedroom… and throws me onto the bed. Yesss, I think. It’s time to relieve that tension. The tension of an unspeakable number of days apart dreaming of this exact moment we’re about to play out.
The sex wasn’t just good; it was mind-blowing. He seemed so huge, he seemed so strong changing positions and angles, he seemed to last forever. I’m screaming his name and gasping for breath and we’re finally both having enormous orgasms before collapsing in a sweaty and satisfied pile of limbs and blankets.
But that isn’t my story. That’s just the background.
10 am: S**t! F**k! Oh my God, ow! OW!
I’m peeing fire. It hurts so much it’s bringing tears to my eyes. As I sit in the bathroom waiting for the pain to subside, I contemplate my fate. I get a UTI on the very first day I’m out here?! I’ve only got one week to make up for all the sex we weren’t having for a month apart and for all the sex we won’t be having for the next month apart. Now I’m crying for a different reason.
After I pull myself together I snap into action. Shopping list: cranberry juice, vinegar, two different UTI medicines, one for killing the UTI and one for killing the pain in the meantime.
4 pm: “Sorry, I can’t have sex with you today.” My boyfriend is completely confused by this turn of events. He’s baffled, looking me with pleading puppy dog eyes. I have to explain my embarrassing and unfortunate situation.
8 pm: I’m feeling like I could get freaky again. I’ve taken enough pills to feel just fine unless I’m actually peeing, so I start turning up the heat. Of course he’s game. We get going. I’m on top. Man it feels good. I‘m so glad I decided to disobey doctor’s orders! Things are going well; everyone’s having a good time and I’m feeling good. I mean really good.
He stops for a second. “Um… why is your hand orange?” he asks.
I look at my hand and sure enough, it’s covered in orange. I am confused and appalled and embarrassed and momentarily stunned.
My man is underneath me, laughing. “Come on,” he says. “Whatever, keep going!” Clearly he’s been hard-up for sex.
Reluctantly, I get back into the swing of things, mumbling the entire time, “It’s the medicine, the doctor said it’d turn my pee colors. But I didn’t pee on you, I swear. I know I didn’t pee!” Things start to get really hot again and I realize it’s the angle we’re at and all the pressure it’s causing. I lean down onto him to relieve said pressure, afraid of what orange might come out of me. He’s just grinning and grinning, laughing at my mumbling, encouraging my pleasure. So I sit back up.
Oh man, oh my God, it’s so good, it’s too good, I feel like I’m going to explode………………!
And it turns out I do explode. A sea of orange gushes out of me. It turns out I’m a squirter. I just didn’t get to know that little fact about myself until all my fluids had turned some strange shade of fruit juice first. I’m mortified.
Until I notice him laughing, smiling, congratulating me on my new party trick.
Ahh, what a guy. This is why I’m with him.