Columns

I Got Kicked Out Of A Restaurant For Giving A Blow Job

blow job

I was eye to eye with a beautiful, blue-eyed Greek God. The table between us was filled with half-empty beer cans and red solo cups and I was mesmerized by his pearly whites. He pulled his long brown hair into a bun and winked at me. I wasn’t one for a man bun, but on this guy? It’s just worked. My jaw dropped as I felt blood rush to my cheeks. Unfortunately, my whole team also appeared to be distracted by this disturbingly beautiful twenty-year-old and we lost yet another round of flip cup.

“Good try,” he smirked at me, as he high-fived his less hot teammates.

“Th-thanks,” I murmured, before stumbling away from the table.

How many rounds had I played? I was pretty drunk and it didn’t help that I had pregamed with a bottle of Burnett’s. I leaned against a bench and surveyed the party. We were in my friend’s backyard, celebrating our high school graduation. Everyone was pretty trashed, hugging each other and crying bittersweet tears because this chapter of our lives was over.

“Hey,” one of the Grecian God’s teammates uttered as he approached me.

He was two years older than me but I knew who he was. He and his friends had a reputation. They went to a local college and pretty much ran our town — attending and hosting parties, and leaving a trail of broken hearts everywhere they went. They were very hot, very good in bed, and very into playing the field.

“Hi,” I replied, surveying him over the Straw-Ber-Rita I had found on the table next to me.

He flirted with me for about five more minutes as I worked on my drink. We talked about what I was doing after graduation (going away to school), how my night was going (decent), and if I had a boyfriend (negative). Just as he was complimenting my wedgie jeans, I shook the empty can and put it back down on the table.

“Want to go somewhere to talk?” He murmured, leaning in close and tickling my neck with his hot breath.

I was pretty naive but I had a feeling that I knew what he meant.

“Why the hell not?” I purred, ready to take my first step into the post-high school world.

He grabbed my hand and we stumbled further into the dark, damp woods. After walking a few feet, we gravitated towards a large oak tree. I leaned against it and felt his warm mouth land on mine. Ouch. Shit. What’s with this stubble? Considering I had only hooked up with high school guys, I wasn’t used to men who could actually grow some facial hair. I grabbed the trunk of the tree for support and fell into his kiss, accepting that my face was going to have some serious brush burn. Just as I was getting into it, he pulled back and gazed into my eyes.

“I think this would be so much better if you gave me head.”

I stopped kissing him and made eye contact. Was he serious? That was how he was going to approach this? Who the fuck does that? I looked him up and down, taking in his sexy (yet painful) beard and his well-toned body. I considered walking away, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I wanted to hook up with this hot, random, quasi-stranger in the woods on the night of my high school graduation. It just seemed right.

I swallowed the gum that was stuck to the roof of my mouth, along with my pride, and knelt down. I unzipped his pants and pulled out the monster that was lurking inside. This was my first eye-to-penis encounter, and I realized upon closer inspection that dicks are not attractive at all. Whatever, I thought as I leaned forward and took the plunge. I began my “work” (because yes, this shit really is a job) and just as he started to curse in pleasure I heard him choke out yet another request.

“My balls too,” he gasped, grabbing my hair harder in his hand.

What? That was a thing? I’d definitely Googled kissing tips before, because who hasn’t? But never anything about giving head. Was this a normal thing to do? None of my friends had ever mentioned it. Maybe because it was weird.

“You okay?” He asked, sensing my hesitation.

I nodded to his dick and went in deep. Another few minutes and he let out the typical fuck, fuck, fuck that I’ve since learned to mean that this was the finale. Being the classy, inexperienced lady that I was, I swallowed for the first, and last time in my life. We finished hooking up and I searched the leaf-covered ground for my bra. Once I found it, I wandered back to the party to find my friends and wash out my mouth. We slept in the back of his best friend’s car that night. When I woke up in the morning I got out to go to my own vehicle, grabbing my friend on the way.

“Let’s go,” I murmured turning on the ignition before she was even in the passenger seat.

I raced to the nearest diner, feeling the hangover creep into my head as the night’s memories swirled around me.

I pulled into the parking lot and glanced at my phone. I already had a text from the guy I left behind, saying he had a good time last night. I chuckled to myself knowing that I’d never return that message. He was okay, but I knew that college guys had a lot more to offer, like reciprocated oral. I shut off the car and bounded into the restaurant, already thinking about the giant stack of pancakes I was going to go hard on. As the brightness of the breakfast joint hit me, my friend took her first real look at me and gasped in shock.

“Holy shit, your kneeeeeesssss,” she shrieked, causing tables of heads to turn. Her gaze then went up my body resting on my face. That’s when I felt how raw the skin was around my mouth.

“You’re a mess,” she cried, as tears of laughter filled her eyes.

Due to my sleazy acts of the night before, the knees of my favorite jeans were completely covered in dried mud and my face was rubbed raw from his sexy-yet-painful stubble. I felt myself go red as more people glanced my way. The hostess stepped up to seat us, and then she too looked down at my pants.

“Uh ma’am,” she started, looking almost as embarrassed as I felt. “I’m sorry, we can’t seat you,” she finished in a hushed voice.

What do you mean?” I uttered, feeling my head pound harder as the need for pancakes got more intense. “It’s just a little dirt!” I cried.

“No, it’s just, you’re only wearing one shoe,” she said, pointing at my foot.

It turns out that when I was getting busy with the random in the woods, I forgot to keep track of my flip flops as well as my dignity. I muttered a hasty apology and raced out of the diner, hearing my friend’s shrieking laughter following me out of the door. I learned a lot of things from my first beej. But most importantly, if you’re going to blow a stranger in the woods, make sure the ground is dry and your shoes are secure so you won’t face a life of embarrassment. Or a life without hangover pancakes.

Image via Shutterstock

Email this to a friend

4 Comments You must log in to comment, or create an account
Show Comments

For More Photos and Videos

Latest podcasts

Download Our App

Take TSM with you. Get

New Stories

Load More