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five (not so) glorious moments in the otherwise extremely glamorous sex life of a cyber vixen by Michele Christopher
it hasn't always been wine and song in my bedroom. sometimes it's been in bunk beds and garages… and sometimes it was mad dog 20/20. *one* -- i'll spare this website the hits of disgusting letches looking for the "v" word by saying that the moment i'm talking about here was when i first started *swimming*, so to speak. i was in a classmate's "pool house" during a party with a guy who i just *knew* was in love with me. and when i say pool house, you should remember that this was before i got kicked out of public school. so what i really mean is a shed with a concrete floor. (hey don't be sad, he really liked me, i'm sure he put his towel down for us to lay on.) quote of the evening? "baby can you drive this train?" said while putting his, uh, *two* --when i was about 21 i was bartending at the local bar on the corner of my college campus. we had a regular crowd, nothing spectacular as this was a state school and most students lived off campus. but across the street was a house in which a bunch of guys that belonged to the same fraternity lived. ("frat houses" had been outlawed due to hazing practices.) the boys used to come over and i'd get them wasted on keg beer for pennies as long as they tipped well. one night they invited me over to the house after closing. (to be honest, a lot of nights they asked – i HATEd frat boys, but this night i caved – i'm sure drugs were promised.) so needless to say i get shitfaced drunk and end up fucking with the president in the top bunk of a bunk bed and then passing out. i woke up in the middle of the night feeling something wet. it didn't take me long to realize that it was me pissing the bed. so what'd i do? i did what any good alcoholic would do… i finished!! and then hightailed it out of there and never went back to that job again. heh. *three* - once when i was in seventh grade i was huffing gas in my friend stephanie's garage. her little brother was out there watching us for some reason. she went to go get something and i finished huffing and just turned around and started making out with him. she was not happy when she walked back in and caught us. he was in 5th grade. i was the talk of the middle school let me tell you…
a. crazy b. a drunk cheating slut and so no popular boys really wanted anything to do with me. so before any of the other boys had a chance to warn him about me, this guy asked me out. one night we're fooling around on the couch while my parents were downstairs sleeping/watching tv and it gets pretty heavy and he's fingering me and i'm moaning and it's hot. then he pulls his hand out of my pants and it's covered in blood. oops sorry mr popular football guy looks like i got my period. horror shame embarrassment i'm not going to school on monday. but turns out he was cool about it and didn't tell anyone and we went to homecoming together. then at homecoming i got drunk and left with someone else and THEN on monday everyone was calling me BLOODY MARY. ha! high school what fun. years later i run into the guy in annapolis and he's going to the naval academy and i'm wasted and he comes up to apologize for being such a dick in high school and of course i accept and sneak back to the naval academy and have sex on his roommate's bed with him and when i get up to leave at 4 in the morning while he's still sleeping (pro move) i realize that i got my period during the night and the whole bed is covered in blood. bloody mary strikes again. *five* - wow. hard to follow that last one there. lessee… oh, here's one. one time i go home with a guy from a bar. (this one i happened to know.) we do the whole falling in the bedroom door ripping each other's clothes off thing. screw each other's brains out then pass out in his bed. in the morning i'm doing the follow the clothing trail to get dressed thing while he rubs his eyes trying to figure out who i am. i hear rustling from the other corner of the room. i hug the clothes to my chest and crane my neck over the bed to see a playpen. with a toddler in it. "what the fuck is that?" i ask. "that's my daughter."
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*four* - when i was in my senior year of high school this new boy transferred in and he was kinda cute and he played football and lacrosse and he had a crush on me. this was news because everyone knew by my senior year that i was 
Stumble It!
Comments
Bloody Mary hates us all. She struck me on prom night, white dress. Bitch.
Posted by: Melodi | September 21, 2006 7:43 AM
Ah, Bloody Mary. Freshman year. Didn't know anyone in school but was invited to a party.
You know, I'm not even going to tell this story.
Kali, you have lived quite a life.
Posted by: michele | September 21, 2006 7:50 AM
I am, like, very disturbed by the dude with his daughter in a playpen in his room.
You didn't tell me enough of the story to put my mind at ease. If you came from a bar, was the girl left there while he went out? Did he pick her up from somewhere? Was she dropped off?
It's really bugging me.
Posted by: Cullen | September 21, 2006 8:11 AM
aw cullen, you are cute. sorry to leave you hanging like that, but that's EXACTLY what i was feeling when i saw her.
her mom had come over earlier in the morning and dropped her off. at the front door. while i was sleeping, (passed out, whatever you'd like to call it.)
still not the model father behavior, but better than me putting on a show for a toddler...
Posted by: kali | September 21, 2006 8:36 AM
That's...um...
Wow, I don't really know what to say.
Posted by: Uberchief | September 21, 2006 8:45 AM
I mean, now I feel like I have the tamest sex-life ever, and I've been banned from the petting zoo. Twice.
Posted by: Uberchief | September 21, 2006 8:51 AM
Whew.
Thank you. I feel better now.
Now UC has to explain what he was doing with those bunny rabbits.
Posted by: Cullen | September 21, 2006 8:54 AM
ya. i'm pretty sure my mom would be proud -- if she were a madam at the best little whorehouse in texas and not a presbyterian minister's daughter.
(i think i can hear him rolling in his grave right now)
Posted by: kali | September 21, 2006 8:59 AM
k,
So this means you're the daughter of a preacher's daughter?
I know preacher's daughters have lots of pent-up, uhm, feelings, but how many generations does it take to wear off?
Is the preacher's daughter gene dominant or recessive? Or is it dominant or submissive?
So many questions and so few ways to ask without seeming like a disgusting perv.
Bob
Posted by: Bob | September 21, 2006 9:33 AM
That was a great story. I think you could write a book about all your, ahem, 'adventures'.
Posted by: Ernie | September 21, 2006 9:49 AM
i need to stop posting comments right when i wake up
Posted by: the turtle | September 21, 2006 10:32 AM
bob - we'll never find out how many gens it takes to wear off, cuz if i ever have a daughter, i'm shoving her back in. no fucking way, dude.
ernie - thanks, if i ever did write a book, some men would be horrified by their painfully short chapters. heh.
Posted by: kali | September 21, 2006 10:34 AM
Kali, you're a bad bad girl.
Posted by: shawna | September 21, 2006 10:36 AM
I have a daugher, kali, and she will live in the basement with a bunch of cats until she's about 30.
Posted by: Melodi | September 21, 2006 12:12 PM
Having a daughter is one of the most frightening things you can do in life.
Mine is going to become a nun.
(Right after I talk her out of going to California to become an actress)
Posted by: michele | September 21, 2006 12:27 PM
oh no michele, oh no...
listen to melodi, for the love of god...
Posted by: kali | September 21, 2006 1:32 PM
I have two daughters, less than two years age difference between them.
Damn you all.
///owns a shotgun
///will eventually have a porch and rocking chair
Posted by: Cullen | September 21, 2006 3:29 PM
Yeah, Cullen. First Finn scares those of us with boys with the whole blowing up of things. Well, I have a daughter, too, and I think Melodi's idea of keeping the girl in the basement until she's thirty is a FABULOUS idea.
Except I don't have a basement... Maybe the closet would work.
Posted by: shawna | September 21, 2006 3:50 PM
That's a fine idea Shawna. Until they come out of the closet.
:)
Posted by: Cullen | September 21, 2006 3:52 PM
you're not helping, Cullen.
Posted by: shawna | September 21, 2006 4:19 PM
Kali ROCKS!
I love these stories. And what makes them soooooo good is the honesty...I dunno if I could be that honest.
Posted by: binsk | September 21, 2006 6:33 PM
every time i go thinking i am some lone weird freak i get to read kali and bask in the warm glow of familiarity.
excellent.
Posted by: wilhelm | September 21, 2006 6:46 PM
See, I'd watch this show. Dark, yet comic and awkward, edgy, but human, and overall its anti-OC, and much more entertaining, and worth watching. She is her own TV series..and I'd watch it.
Posted by: producedby | September 21, 2006 6:46 PM
KALI!
Damn I wish I knew you "in person" so I could say "baby can you drive this train" to you on a fairly regular basis. Like while we were eating lunch at a diner, shopping for shoes, you know, whenever it is appropriate...which would be always.
Posted by: Marith | September 21, 2006 8:13 PM
binsk, marith -- hi ladies! welcome to faster than the world! (m* - i have a friend who likes to say that to me sometimes. it'd be better if it were you)
wilhelm is it okay to be scared by the fact that i make you feel normal?
producedby - *swoon* you sure know how to compliment a girl.
Posted by: kali | September 22, 2006 1:55 PM
Re *four* - you just KNOW that that guy assumed that you hit your own nose and bled on his bed for revenge :^)
Posted by: David Ross | October 27, 2006 8:46 PM