Today’s contributor is going to hell for this confession

    A few years ago, my cousin set me up on a blind date with the deacon at his church. He seemed like a nice guy—moderately good-looking. And since Jesus was his homeboy, there weren’t many ways it could go wrong.

    On our third date, we stayed out late and he slept over. I didn’t mind because deacons are supposed to be celibate and waiting for marriage, right? Wrong. Before I knew it, the deacon was fondling my breasts! Then all of a sudden, church boy whipped out a condom.

    Why was he prepared? Deacon?!

    I was so confused, but who am I to question a sign from the Lord? I hadn’t been laid in only God knows how long, so this was obviously a divine intervention.

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    One person’s misplaced birth control is another’s trendy fashion accessory

    When I was looking for a birth control method, I covered all my bases — I did online research, read any pamphlet I could get my hands on and had numerous Q&A conversations with my gynecologist. Though I had been sexually active for quite some time and would always use condoms with my partner, I felt it was time to definitely be a little more proactive in preventing an unwanted pregnancy. 

    Pills, patches and shots oh my! I was super confused and didn’t know what route to go. After a few weeks of reading and questioning the hell out of my doctor, I decided the best and most convenient choice for me would be NuvaRing, a plastic vaginal ring.

    It had been approximately a month since I had gotten on my birth control. I had gotten use to the placement of the NuvaRing and was ready to get it on with my partner! We hadn’t had sex in a month and I was beyond ready. The sex was amazing as usual — The foreplay was seductive and fun — he gave me the best head ever — and once we hit our groove, the positions were straight out the Kama Sutra. Did I mention that one side effect to my new method of contraception was that it won’t fall out during sex?

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    A new relationship is almost ruined by a disturbing discovery

    Josh and I got off to a bit of a rocky start. I had liked him for a while, but we had only recently started hooking up regularly. On one particular morning after, he lent me his sweatshirt to wear home. As I admired how cute I looked in it, I reached my hand into the pocket. That’s when I made the most disturbing discovery of my life.

    Inside his pocket was a pair of women’s underwear. No, they weren’t mine. I know what you’re picturing—some lacy little number that conjured up images of porn stars and supermodels. Not exactly. These were freaking huge granny panties—with period stains on them. Yes, I found a pair of period panties in my new potential boyfriend’s pocket.

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    A sexually frustrated woman teaches her man the meaning of ladies first

    Throughout my sex life, I have been continually subjected to dreaded premature ejaculations, which always leave me restless and horny. I don’t understand why men don’t realize (or just choose to ignore) the fact that women are happier when we come first — in both the literal and sexual sense of the word.

    I was faced with this dilemma recently, but this time I was fed up. I had been with my boyfriend for a couple of years, and the sex just wasn’t up to par. After many failed attempts to improve his performance, I tried a different approach. I got myself to the point of almost climax before we started having sex, which ultimately led to me getting off quickly. His initial reaction was of joy and pride, as if he were responsible for my early release. But he was in for a surprise.

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    A newly-deflowered virgin gets caught with her pants (and everything else) down

    I was going into my sophomore year of college and had recently lost my virginity to my considerably more experienced boyfriend. One summer night, we made plans to continue, er, getting to know each other. He asked me to wear a thong and I obliged, describing it to him in vivid detail as he drove me back to his parent’s house. They’d already gone to bed — he told them we’d be watching a movie. 

    When we got to his house, he stepped out onto his parents deck to smoke. I playfully grabbed the cigarette out of his mouth and he pulled me into a kiss. Before I knew it, he was ripping my aforementioned thong past my knees and kissing me everywhere the cool summer air was blowing.

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    A self-sabotaging single sends her dignity (and her dinner) down the drain

    I have a history of destroying any possibility for a relationship with a guy, so when Sonny asked me to come over, I thought this could be a turning point for me. I left the bar and headed to his place, where the night was going perfectly.

    As he started to put on the moves, I was suddenly hit with the urge to vomit. Quickly, I fled to the bathroom where, for some unexplained reason, I decided to throw up in Sonny’s sink.  I then turned on the faucet, assuming that everything would flow smoothly down the drain.  Instead, the mess rose slowly in the sink.  As I began to panic, Sonny’s roommate walked in, witnessing my shameful act.

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    A small-town girl receives candid advice on how to make it in the big city

    Upon graduating, I didn’t want to reek of that fresh-out-of-college-and-unemployed smell, so I actively pursued jobs in public relations, a field opposing my self-righteous journalism degree.

    I interviewed at a public relations firm on New York’s Upper West Side. Jenna, a maternal young woman impressed with my carefully crafted resume and impossibly high-heeled pumps, interviewed me. She praised my resume and gushed about my connections, but the deal wasn’t sealed yet.

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    A new guy is shocked by the bold request of today’s contributor

    I dated my boyfriend for two years before we broke up in my last semester of college. I wasn’t getting much out of our relationship anymore, and wanted to experience new guys before my college tenure ended. 

    I quickly rebounded with a guy from one of my classes. I had never dated a white guy before, so I considered him a novelty of sorts. I wasn’t expecting much from our first sexual encounter, but I was pleasantly surprised. Sex with him was great—especially in the oral department. I was really starting to like this whole “dating new guys” thing.

    One night he picked me up and we went for a drive. We were parked in his car, making out, when I had an urge for his fantastic oral skills. I was over playing by the “dating” rules, so I simply looked him in the face and said two words: “eat it.”

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    A sex-deprived job hunter learns the hard way that revenge is a two-way street

    It was an Internet nightmare. I wanted to kick myself for stooping to his level.

    After three months of sporadic (and less-than-stellar) sex to ease a dry spell, a winter fling ended up costing me hundreds of dollars in medical bills — essentially to reconstruct my twat. Not only had I contracted some sort of rare vaginal disease, but I discovered the guy I slept with was engaged. 

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    A new relationship is tested by the dreaded ‘no. 2’

    There are certain milestones in a relationship that take some time to reach — like feeling comfortable enough to take a dump in your boyfriend’s bathroom. This monumental occasion arrived (or so I thought) when I was at my boyfriend’s house and had to go to the bathroom … bad. But I chickened out, and decided I wasn’t at the point where I could handle doing that at his house. So, I made up an excuse to leave with the intent to rush home.

    Unfortunately, as I pulled away in my car, I realized I wasn’t going to make it. Desperate, I called a friend who lived in the neighborhood and asked if I could stop by her house to use her bathroom. She said I could, but her family was out so she gave me the code to her garage. By that point, using the bathroom in peace trumped all guilt in sneaking into her family’s empty house — so I went for it. 

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