Spelunking

About two years ago I found myself freshly out of a long-term relationship. Although any breakup can be arduous, there are two words that every man in such situation looks forward to like nothing else. A light at the end of the tunnel so bright that it makes the Trinity explosion look like a Lite-Brite…

New. Vagina.

I shit you not when I say that new vagina after numerous years of the same ol’ vag is nothing short of Dorothy transitioning from the black and white of Kansas to Technicolor Oz – it’s eye opening and a little nerve wracking but before you know it you’re surrounded by dancing munchkins (read: exposed clitori).

We represent the Labia Guild

Now there are plenty of fantastic stories from the time period before I met Karen, but one sticks out more than the others…

Note that this is the only story I feel comfortable sharing from that time period, for two reasons. First, I haven’t talked to/seen the lady involved in over two years and I’m 99% certain she’s not one of the handful of miscreants that read this site. Second, what went down that evening was purely and unequivocally my fault. She was just a horribly innocent bystander.

-July 2009-

Platzie: (internally) Fuck’s sake man, dig deeper! It’s got to be in there somewhere!!”
Girl: Did you get it yet?!?!
Platzie: No not yet. Can you spread your legs a little further so I can reach in more?

Rewind a few days earlier. I had this met this girl at a bar, and like most relationships started at a bar it quickly devolved into an amalgamation of loose morals and dirty sex.

Now don’t get me wrong, she was a great girl. She had a fantastic job and owned her own house – you know, the kind of lady that was clearly lucky to be dating a guy such as myself who at the time didn’t have a job and was living with his parents.

She was also a bit on the zaftig side but I was totally cool with that as it meant she had a killer rack and during the sweaty throes of summer sex she exuded a slight bacon scent.

Well hello there woman of my dreams.

But there was one thing that drove me up the wall about her. She let her Golden Retriever, Baxter, stay in the bedroom while we were getting down. Needless to say it was a little bit of a distraction for me to be plugging away at this girl’s porkhole while Baxter was staring me down. But I didn’t say anything and for the first couple times I visited her place and engaged in some Baxter-observed coitus everything went off without a hitch. But the third time … dear god that third time …

The date started off normally enough. We went to a baseball game where she discussed her job and I sat there trying to look like I was paying attention while in reality I was wondering why Cracker Jack prizes sucked so hard lately. Then we went out for drinks and made small talk before returning back to her place so I could dock my dong-shuttle at her cockport.

Everything was going spectacularly. I had her in the Congress of the Cow position, she seemed to be enjoying herself, Baxter was sitting next to the bed looking happy, and not a fuck was being given by myself as to the merits of Cracker Jack prizes. But after switching positions (which included a few cursory tugs on lil’ Platzie mid-move to keep my mojo going –this will come into play later-) I noticed that something felt odd … and by odd I mean ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC.

Platzie: Woah woah woah … hold on a second.
Girl: What? Is everything ok?

<fwomp> This is the sound of a penis being removed from a vagina in case you were wondering

Platzie: Oh no.
Girl: What happened?
Platzie: The condom is gone!
Girl: What?! What are we going to do?
Platzie: Well, I can try and stick some fingers up there and dig it out if you’d like…

And so I found myself on a warm July evening knuckle-spelunking a girl’s cavernous she-box on our third date.

Platzie: (internally) Fuck’s sake man, dig deeper! It’s got to be in there somewhere!!”
Girl: Did you get it yet?!?!
Platzie: No not yet. Can you spread your legs a little further so I can reach in more?

After what seemed like an eternity I came out empty, yet gooey, handed.

That’s when I realized that while transferring positions and manually self-fluffing I must have knocked the condom off.

We looked all over the bed. Nothing
We looked on the floor. Nothing.
Then it hit us both like a ton of bricks…

Baxter.

Ruh Roh…

Girl: Do you think he could have eaten it?
Platzie: I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him. They do eat their own feces and all.
Girl: Oh my god.
Platzie: So… yeah…  I think it’s about time I hit the ol’ dusty trail…

I got dressed, hopped in my car, and drove away absolutely flummoxed as to what had just happened. A little while later she called me…

Girl: Hey, I found it.
Platzie: Oh thank god! Where was it?
Girl: It was inside me. I’ve been in the bathroom for the past half an hour trying to dig it out. I finally did.
Platzie: Huh, well how ‘bout that
Girl: Yup…
Platzie: So, drinks or something later on this week?
Girl: Sure, sounds good.

We never spoke again.