When I was 23, I moved to Seattle from New York City, for no particular reason except that I felt compelled to. When I got there, I was coming down from a pretty irreverent sex life in the Big Apple. I’d just had my first foursome and I was at what you could call a sexual peak. So basically, I was horny all the time.
I moved into a condominium which was like living on Pluto or some planet where I was the only inhabitant. My new condo had an elevator, a gym downstairs, two bathrooms, and a dishwasher. I’d never lived in a nice place before – especially one with a dishwasher — and I truly didn’t know what to do with myself.
The dishwasher fascinated and terrified me at the same time. Growing up, my family didn’t own one. As a kid, I had sleepovers at friend’s house with a dishwasher. Sometimes her nightly chore would be to load that dishwasher. It gave me anxiety to watch her and I was always afraid she would ask me to help and I’d have to reveal my terrible secret. In my 20s, living in NYC, it was easy to avoid ever having to interface with a dishwasher. Honestly? The fact that I now lived with one in my kitchen scared the crap out of me.
How did they work? Were there little scrubbers or mechanical arms in there? What were those weird noises it made? If I didn’t load it right, would I open the door to shattered dishes? I ignored my dishwasher but it was always there in the back of my mind. I kept doing my dishes by hand.
By the time December rolled around, I was feeling lonely, isolated, and very horny. I began perusing the Craigslist “Casual Encounters” section, something I’d done before with a friend, but never alone. I answered the ad of a conservative businessman in his late 20′s. I’d been having fantasies of having sex with someone like him in my condo—someone who sort of bored me, worked in a cubicle, and was very comfortable with a dishwasher.
Matthew and I texted, GChatted, talked on the phone, and met up for barhopping and sex for a few weeks. Then, one night when I was feeling ballsy after a few drinks, I Gchatted Matthew with the question I’d been working up the nerve to ask him:
Me: What do you think would happen if you were to jizz in a dishwasher slot where the detergent goes and then hit start?
Matthew: It would wash dishes with jizz water.
Me: Right, but would they be sticky?
Matthew: I assume it would depend on the amount of jizz.
Me: And would it leak out of the bottom? Because you know how it screws up dishwashers when you put normal detergent in them?
Matthew: Hahaha, but how would you be alone long enough to masturbate into someone’s dishwasher?
Me: No, not me. A guy, duh.
Matthew: That’s what I mean. How is a girl gonna jizz in a dishwasher? Naturally a guy.
Me: The guy jizzes into it, they wash the dishes, then eat off of them. Or the girl has a guy jizz into it, washes the dishes and then has her ex over and feeds him a romantic meal on the dishes. I would like to see it done in a movie.
Matthew: That would be hilarious.
Me: I have been thinking about it for a while. Do you think anyone has ever come in a dishwasher before?
Matthew: I am sure someone must have, right? But I have never heard of it before.
Matthew: Do you want me to come in your dishwasher?
Matthew: I can do that.
Me: So how would we do it?
Matthew: You blow me in your kitchen and I bust in your dishwasher.
Me: Yeah but it would be funnier to watch you jerk off into it.
Matthew: Well, if you want me to jerk off into your dishwasher, just tell me when.
Me: I’ll wait till I’m out of detergent. So, let’s just do it and then see how the dishwasher reacts.
So, did we go through with it? We did. Matthew came over that night and we executed my plan. When I woke up the next morning, I felt something unexpected — motivation to learn how to use my dishwasher. I had to get Matthew’s cum off of the dishes, after all.