I was at a party chatting with the host when the host’s friend introduced himself to me.  Let’s call him Sheldon.  He was an attractive guy and very friendly.  The host told me that he and Sheldon were best friends and that Sheldon was a great guy.

It being a party, I was pretty much drunk, and had probably smoked some pot too, so it took a while for me to realize that I had met Sheldon before.  More than just met.  I had told the host the story of the night Sheldon and I became acquainted earlier that evening.  Only I hadn’t remembered Sheldon’s name (still don’t) so the host didn’t have a chance to waylay the awkwardness that inevitably ensued after the “introduction” at the party.

About a month before the party, I met Sheldon through Craig’s List.  After the email to-and-fro, Sheldon and I decided to meet at the Elbow Room on a Friday night.  I arrived first and amazingly was able to get seats at the bar.  Several men offered to buy me drinks (which is not usual so it still stands out for me).  I declined, thinking it would be rude to get a drink if I didn’t give conversation in return, and since my date was arriving any second, I wasn’t able to hold up my end of the bargain.

Sheldon showed up and we had a few drinks together.  He was cute and we had a good conversation.  Yay!  He went outside to smoke, and because it was a Friday night in a busy bar, the seat he left gave people opportunity to sidle up to the bar to order drinks.  A cute woman ordered for her group and while she was waiting for the drinks we chatted.  Sheldon came back to the bar and I introduced him to her and her friends.  She got her drinks and off they went.

Sheldon and I continued talking.  I told him I thought the woman was hot and gushed a bit.  That’s when things got weird.  He said something along the lines of me not being into him enough and got up and left.  Just left.  Abandoned me.  I was embarrassed, and confused.  We had just met, was I supposed to want to speak to only him for the rest of my life?  How into him did I need to be?  What could I have done to show my interest?

I finished my drink and walked toward my house.  I dipped into another bar for a drink.  The more I thought about the asshole the more pissed–the American and British versions–I became.  Who the fuck was he to make me feel like I had done something wrong?  And why hadn’t I gotten that hot chick’s number?

So, with more liquid courage in me, I marched right back to the Elbow Room.  I found the hot chick and got her number, dammit.  Just in time, too–the bar’s lights went up at last call.

I turned to leave and there was Sheldon.  Ug.  Maybe he felt bad for being such a dick, because he offered me a ride home.  By this time I was quite drunk and probably would not have made the walk home unscathed so I said yes.  On the way to his car we kissed.  I have no clue how that happened.  I would guess I told him he was an asshole for his behavior earlier in the night–so maybe kissing him was my way of saying he could make up for it by putting out.  Who the fuck knows how my mind works when I’m drunk?  Certainly not I.

As soon as we arrived at my place we took Isis out.  She is a very good girl and doesn’t need a leash so when she was doing her thing, I did mine.  My thing is NOT the same as Isis’s.  My thing that night was to get on my knees out on the corner after 2:00 am and suck Sheldon’s cock.

Apparently I wanted Sheldon to know that because he was an asshole to me he was missing out on great head.  And the only way to prove I suck cock very well was to, well, suck his cock very well.  Drunk girls really are stupid.

We went back to my apartment and went to the bedroom, where I continued to suck him off.  Then, without warning–in my drunk mind at least–he got up and ran out of my apartment.  No shit!  Twice in one night this guy takes off on me.  The latter time mid-blow job.  At least there was no one around the second time so I wasn’t embarrassed.

The party’s host laughed, at me, not with me.  Telling the story and seeing the guy had renewed my anger.  What a fucking asshole.  The party’s host wanted me to confirm that Sheldon had a big dick.  I did not recall it being anything all that special in size.  He was a big dick, but I didn’t notice that he had one.

Sheldon was at the party with a date.  I debated with the host whether I should confront Sheldon and out him as an asshole in front of his date and the rest of the folks who were unwittingly attending our reunion.  The host talked me down by making it clear that I would most definitely look like a twat and that Sheldon would look pretty smart for running away from a crazy bitch.  Excellent point.  I avoided Sheldon the rest of the night.

A few months later I saw Sheldon at another party with the same host.  I was no longer angry, and had no desire to make a scene, so I asked him why the fuck he ran out in the midst of getting sucked off.  Apparently, that night, because I was so drunk and so angry, I had retard strength.  I used said strength to squeeze Sheldon’s balls too hard.  He said he asked me repeatedly to ease up but I wasn’t listening, and his poor balls were being abused.  He also explained that the death grip I had on his balls must have been the reason the size of his dick didn’t stand out in my mind–he wasn’t fully hard.  Yeah, ok, whatever, dude.  You’re still an asshole.

I still wanted to know one thing though:  Except for the unintentional CBT, did I give a good blow job?  He assured me that yes, absolutely, I suck cock VERY well.  Thank you.

I swear. True story.