Confessions: Our most awkward sexual encounters in Hull

Vee

I broke up with my long-term boyfriend a week into freshers. I was pretty upset and was in the mood to make bad decisions. So I joined a popular dating app (you know the one). After a few days of swiping left and right, I found a really cute, funny guy.

So I was talking to this guy for a few weeks, he was very funny and seemed to be super-into me. We’d flirt every time we bumped into each other in Asylum and Welly and we were texting practically every day. The only way to leave this quasi-relationship limbo was to have sexy time. So after a night out, we went back to mine and gave into our carnal desires. I was so excited, and like The Pointer Sisters, I just couldn’t hide it. But his love-wand was so so so so so small. Like ridiculous. And the sex was not good. So after months and months of build-up, I was left disappointed and alone. It was a bad time. He still texts me from time to time. But he has no gear and no idea.

Dan

So last year at The Lawns there was this girl I’d been on a couple cute evening walks with, but I’d decided for one reason or another that I wasn’t interested in taking things any further. Fast forward about a month, I’ve had a couple beers, and my sexual urges are overcoming my better judgment. I text the aforementioned young lady, and ask her to come round to watch a movie, she says yes, and one thing leads to another… So we’re doing it for around 20 minutes, it’s not really going great, but I’m nothing if not persistent, so we keep at it. All of a sudden, she gets up and runs to my ensuite. At this point I can literally hear her pissing through the thin wall that separates my bed from my bathroom. I’ve never been less aroused in my life.

When my clearly troubled lady companion leaves my bathroom, she, without a hint of shame or embarrassment, exclaims “Sorry, I have a urinary tract infection”. SHE THEN TRIED TO GET BACK ON ME. Now before I get called out on this, I am aware that UTIs can’t be transmitted, but that’s not the point. When you step onto a plane, it’s just assumed that you can’t say the word “Bomb”. By the same token, I feel when you’re having sex with someone for the first time, even saying the word “infection” should be enough cause for me to put a stop to this whole sorry affair.

It was, and I did. UTI girl, if you’re reading this, I hope you’re better now.

Tina

This is the story of when being a third wheel goes horribly, horribly wrong. I’ve been in a three year relationship so if you’re looking for tales of a sordid adventure with a one-night stand, I’m not your girl. My friend had pulled in Asylum, and wanted to go back with this guy. I don’t know why, but I had a white knight moment and put it upon myself to go back with her and this guy.

We were all horrifically drunk. I had been on a social and the snakebite was running through my system. As a result I was swaying instead of walking, and was generally making a tit of myself. We get back to this guy’s house and I’m crashing into everything. My friend goes off with the guy and, somewhat unwisely, leaves me to my own devices.

I really, really, really needed to go  – so I very inelegantly managed to find the loo. I opened the door and sitting there flush, was one of the guy’s housemates. I had just walked in on him having a shit.

He is, understandably, not amused at my disturbing his very private moment. “Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?” he screamed. He then gets his friend and my friend down from their private moment and accuses him of having a house party. It was a bizarre scene.

I was so drunk that I decided to hide under the sofa. My friend and I were then chased out of this house by this angry guy who couldn’t have a shit in peace.

For anybody who wants to know, my friend and the guy are now a couple and are very much in love. So this story does have a happy ending.

Ciaran 

Last winter I went on a date with a girl I met on Tinder, it went pretty well, so well in fact that we arranged to have a film night at mine a week later. My hopes were high for the evening, I had my film picked (Cool Runnings) and I was ready to go.

Little did I know, throughout this week a magnificent bright red spot would appear on the shaft of my penis. I was devastated but I couldn’t cancel on my long anticipated Cool Runnings night. So we’re watching Cool Runnings , and having a grand time (Christ I love that film). Quickly my attention was pulled away from my favourite bobsled movie, and onto the suddenly half naked girl lying next to me. Things start to happen, and to my utter amazement, through the brief period of foreplay, my big red secret remained undiscovered.

I decided that the time was right to enter my companion, when suddenly I felt a small pop. Yep, my cock spot was no more. And it was the most painful experience of my life. I was close to tears. Enough was enough: I pretended to come, with a performance that would have brought a tear to the eye of my year nine drama teacher, and after what seemed like an eternity, pulled out. Now at this point my first priority was to tend to my now cratered penis.

The issue was the girl laying on my bed, politely acting as though she’d just had the best 30 seconds of her life. So I hatched a plan, I subtly sent my flatmate a text that simply read “Call me and pretend you need me”. I had to sit through maybe five minutes of pretty awkward small talk whilst I delicately put my pants on, before the call came. “I really need you to come to my room now, something really bad has happened… *Explosive laughter*”.

The girl heard it all. I was rumbled. She stormed out in a rage and we haven’t spoken since. So Tinder girl, if you’re reading this, it really wasn’t you, it was me.

Zayn 

So I’m at my very good friends’ birthday party/pre-drinks, and there are a couple girls there I haven’t met before. I introduce myself, everyone seems lovely and all is well. As the party goes on, a couple of the new girls approach me to tell me that their friend (I’ll refer to as Janice through the rest of this story) thinks I’m cute. Obviously I’m extremely flattered but in the interests of maintaining my hard-to-get persona, I don’t take the remarks too seriously. So the pre-drinks end, we head out to asylum, at this point I’m pretty ragged (this is crucial to the development of this story). We arrive at asylum, I talk to Janice a bit more, she seems nice so I just shove my face onto hers and initiated one of the least coordinated kisses in the history of the world, it was messy. Fast forward maybe half an hour, I’m walking home with this girl, unaware of the mistake I had just made, we strolled blissfully into the night…

Around halfway into our walk, things start to get a bit weird. Janice asked me if I was nervous, and when I confirmed that I didn’t do this sort of thing a lot, she put me at ease by saying “Well you can go back if you don’t want to do this, I’m sure I can find another cock”. Now on hearing this, I assume my companion was having a joke at my expense, so I play along; “Oh, is that all I am then, a cock?” Her response was one of the greatest lines I’ve ever been hit with; “Well, it’s all you are to me.” Cold as ice. But the remainder of the walk, whilst awkward, was relatively fine.

So we get to hers, take our clothes off and do the deed, incident free. I mean, it wasn’t good sex, but it wasn’t awful. The real drama comes with what followed…

The awkward sex had concluded maybe 10 seconds prior, when I was politely asked to leave by Janice. I fumbled around for my clothes, and was asked repeatedly to “Get the fuck out of my house”. Now the issue here is that I was in fancy dress for the night, so it wasn’t just a case of rounding up my clothes, I then had to gather a full policeman outfit, complete with handcuffs, ball and chain, and hat, from around Janice’s extremely poorly kept bedroom. This took a little while but after around 10 minutes I had it all, apart from my socks… Now in an ideal world I could have taken an extra couple minutes, found my socks, and left happily ever after. The issue with this however, is the now screaming Janice seems awfully keen that I leave immediately. I walked home barefoot that night, and I haven’t seen my socks since, but I still think about them every day.

Nicki

This isn’t a uni story but I feel like my uni life influenced what happened. I’d just got home from uni. I was missing Chip Spice and getting up at 2pm. I was going on a night out with some friends from home. I was still in the uni frame of mind, thinking I could get whoever I wanted, when I wanted, and nobody would care. So I met this guy on a night out.

He was game. I was game. I bought him back. We got down to the dance with no pants, obviously making a bit of noise in the process – as you you.

Suddenly my bedroom light turned on. Standing there, faces like thunder, was my dear ma and pa, who were not impressed with my “lack of self-respect”. My pull – poor thing – fell out of my bed. He was completely starkers and my dad started shouting at him. Like a lot. They then made him sleep on the sofa. It was awful.

Next morning my poor dad told my poor pull “I think you’d better leave now, mate”.

Michael

Finishing exams is a great reason to go out and make some incredibly bad decisions, and this most recent exam season yielded one of my worst. It was a classic Saturday night at welly, with a can of red stripe in hand I made a move on my desired target and in what was a surprising turn of events only 30 minutes later she was on the way home with me. As we stumbled down the last meters to my house, the lovely lady stopped me in my tracks to tell me “I have a boyfriend, he’s in the RAF”. I felt betrayed, the girl who came home with me so early, had no intention of sleeping with me. She continued “Don’t worry though I’ve cheated on him nine times, he cheated on me first so it’s not bad”.

I was stuck in a moral dilemma, I was in something of a dry streak and the opportunity was there for the taking. On the other her boyfriend was away fighting for my freedom. From the name of the article it’s clear what happened next, deciding that a 10th time couldn’t hurt her boyfriend anymore than the previous nine, I committed the heinous act. The morning after, she leaves and all is well with the world.

Fast forward three days, I receive a text, “honesty is the best policy right?” this was the point I knew I was fucked.

She had chlamydia. I now eagerly await the result of my own test. I guess that’s karma for you.

Joe

For my final, and most horrific experience to date, let me take you back to a night that consisted of throwing up in Asylum and defecating on the floor of a Weatherspoon’s.

So I’m in asylum, pretty messed up and unable to find anyone I knew, I latched onto a friend of a friend, we hit it off well and her friends invited me back to their house.

There I was spooning three girls, imagining that the greatest story of my life was about to unfold, and in a way, it did. Things take a disgusting turn, I start getting off with one of the girls, the others take this as there cue to get off the bed, but for reasons known only to themselves, sit on the floor.

So one thing leads to another, and after roughly a minute, I’m knuckle deep in the fair lass. It takes a further 10 minutes before I realise I am not alone in the cave of wonders, the girl is on her period, and a tampon is sharing her vagina. Making the only reasonable decision I could, I removed her tampon. To say she wasn’t impressed is an understatement. I nervously apologise and to the girl’s credit, she forgives me extremely quickly, and allows me to move in for the kill. To reiterate my state that night, I had already shat on a Weatherspoon’s floor, there was no chance at all that I was ending this now. Her friends still on the floor, finally decide they’ve had enough and dramatically leave the room, I fall asleep quickly and in the morning make a hasty retreat. All I’m left with from that night is a wonderful story, a hole in my bank account and a splash of dried blood on my trousers.

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Some names have been changed