All Awkward Sex Stories contributors and subjects will remain anonymous to protect from future booty call or violent boob-swinging.

Our story begins, like many do, at the club. I’d been abroad for approximately three days and was out with new friends. We were reveling in the cheap drinks and 90s throwback music this club plays every Friday and Saturday night when I felt a tap on the shoulder.

I’d met Simon literally once. We were not “tap on shoulder and give a big hug” friends. I didn’t even remember his name. The only thing we had in common was that we both wanted to find weed.

Well, he succeeded. And offered to smoke me up. So naturally I ditched my friends, went outside and smoked his spliff.

Without warning, he leaned in for a kiss, the smell of dank European kush still lingering around us. He was kinda cute, and had given me free weed. I’d never claimed to have high standards, so I was in.

He called an Uber and we made out in the back. We got back to his apartment around 3 a.m. We climbed the stairs to the fourth floor in awkward silence. Once in his apartment, we went straight to his bed. Next thing I knew, we were having sex. A little sudden, I thought, but I could work with it.

I quickly learned that I could not work with it. I am about as vanilla as they come. My kinks are gentleness and compliments. So imagine my surprise when minutes into our shindig, I felt hands wrap around my throat. If he had asked first I would have told him that nothing about simulating murder turns me on, but instead, I ended up giggling uncomfortably and shaking my head at him until it got awkward enough that he stopped. I claimed victory and hoped that everything would be fine from then on.

It was not. I learned early in my boob-having life that most guys who come into contact with big boobs can’t get enough of them. Therefore, I am accustomed to your run-of-the-mill handsy guy. Simon, however, decided to get creative. He went with aggressively swinging my tits around like a baseball bat. I understand liking boobs, but I don’t see a world in which that was attractive.

As the night went on, we continued to go back and forth with him trying to be kinky and me doing my best to shut him down. In the end, I fell asleep with light bruising forming on my tits and soreness on my neck, among other parts, with one of Simon’s untrustworthy hands cradled around my waist.

At least I learned some lessons. First: waking up in a stranger’s bed is even more disorienting if you have only lived in that city for three days and don’t have cell phone service yet. Second: I probably need to reevaluate my standards. Most people deserve better than “kinda cute and gives you free weed.” Finally, don’t joke “what them hands do” because sometimes you really don’t want to know the answer.

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