Chili Con Carne - Extended Play

You do realize, all I do is sit around all day writing my humiliating dating stories. Anyway, here's the extended play version of chili on me carne.

Chili Con Carne - EP

Fueled by a robust red, our date had been flying, the pizzas arrived virtually unnoticed, and we could barely take our eyes off each other to check out the food. This was totally unexpected, but what a result!

We both shook on some parmesan from the weird cheese dispenser on our table. I know this wasn’t the most authentic of Italians, it was serving pizza for a start, but what’s with the condiments? I could accept oil and vinegar, but dried Parmesan in a sugar shaker was a bit ropey, and what’s with the pot of dried chilies? since when have Italians added dried chilies to anything? Still, I did remember hearing something about chicks equating chili peppers to passion, maybe that’s why they were on every table. So, not being one to miss an opportunity to send a subtle subconscious sex message, I took a good sized pinch of the crushed dried chilies, crumbled them between my fingers and lavishly over my pizza.

Long before we’d got to the restaurant, I’d needed to take a piss, but hadn’t wanted to break up the flow of the night, so I’d held on. Now, it was becoming a distraction, and I knew if I didn’t take one soon it was going to start disrupting me. Also, we’d been tanking back that red, red wine, and I knew I’d have vampire lips to deal with. The arrival of food provided the perfect opening, and I grabbed it, gestured that I needed to wash my hands, and I was on my way. In a minute I‘d be totally focused, all hers. Smooth! Triffic!

It was the first time I’d been on a date in ages and I was actually enjoying it. This girl was fantastic! All this, getting to know each other before sex was new and refreshing to me, and I was loving it, who would’ve thought?

I didn’t hang around in the bog, a rapid lash, then a quick scrub of the vampire teeth and lips on the hand towel, and I was done. A tad unhygienic perhaps, wiping other men’s toilet deposits into my mouth, but I was leaving nothing to chance, gotta look my best.

I was back in a flash, and we picked up right where we’d left off. Neither of us were stopping, I’d even started to swing the conversation around to sex, and she’d willingly followed. This date was on the fast track to sexcess, all we had to do was finish up the food and get a cab! But, at that very moment, the instant I realized we were going to end up at my place, things began to unravel.

From this point on things become a bit of a blank. Like a bad dream, or a night on the piss with your mates, there are parts you forget, parts you’d like to forget, then other parts your mind forces you to forget.

Within a few minutes of getting back from the bog, something began stirring in my crotch, at first the signals were confusing. I mean, any sensation down there during a date with a hot bird is generally a good thing, quite natural, but somehow, this wasn’t. It was just unsettling, even a little disturbing.

Next I felt a tinge, then I thought I recognized a familiar burn, an unwelcome visitor. NO! not a fucking STD! it couldn‘t be, the timing was so incredibly bad, I refused to believe it, it wasn’t happening. I started pleading with God asking him to give me anything but a fucking STD, unfortunately he heard me.

BANG! A searing pain and all the unsettling feelings and ponderings about STDs, were gone. This was something way more significant, there was a very clear and present DANGER in my underpants. A darkness descended, everything had turned to outright horror and pain. Something was basting my manhood with battery acid, my one eyed bed snake had snaked itself onto a bed of nails. I began to sweat, and everything became muffled, and surreal, it was like I was having an out of body experience, except I’d brought the pain with me.

I was close to fainting, the pain was so intense, with no respite, no pulse, no breather between stabs. It was relentless, excruciating. Obviously, my date noticed something had changed in me, I was vacant, a body but the soul had skipped.

Like some beautiful actress from the silent age, I could see her mouth moving, but I heard nothing, I couldn’t register anything, my mind was blank, I was totally distracted. Every last neuron had been counted in and fired right out again in a desperate search for an answer. My very being was under threat, the fundamental point of my existence, my ability to procreate was in peril, I thought of nothing other than my flaming COCK!

After a time, the silent siren’s lips stopped moving, instead they became pursed in frustration. And who could blame her? I’d sat for the last three or four minutes, maybe longer (certainly seemed longer), just staring at her, watching without saying, and she‘d had enough. There we sat in silence, she looked beautiful, I didn’t. I was sweating so profusely, that it had begun to soak through my shirt. Palpably there was something wrong with me, but I wasn’t sharing it with her, and that had made her feel insecure enough to stop asking, or caring.

Sure, it was all my fault, but what could I do? Vesuvius had erupted in my nuts and hot lava was cascading down my cock. This wasn’t by choice, I was frozen in fear and pain, unable to speak, or act, I was helpless.

Then in all the darkness, pain and confusion, there was a hint of reason, a spark of light in the tunnel. But, with my body in survival mode, protecting only the essentials, all blood had been rushed to preserve the my primary organ, my cock. So, as the light of reason drew nearer and bigger, my brain starved of fuel and unable to dissimilate the information properly, broke with procedure and allowed the realization to burst free from my mouth…

‘CHILIES!’ I spluttered. Then tripping over my chair in the process, I raced for the bathroom …IDIOT! I thought.

I had pinched a peck of pickled pepper and passed it to my….dick, you fucking DICK! how totally fucking ridiculous! I’d been undone by a few flakes of dried chili gnawing at my manhood.

Helped by a flood of endorphins, the cool water worked, and slowly but surely washed away the pain. After a short time my manhood was restored, though my dignity would have to wait for a bit.

Any marginal relief I felt was short lived, the masochist in me reminded me that I was on a date. I’d been so caught up in chili relief that I’d forgotten all about the date, or rather the humiliation that accompanied it. I immediately felt pained again, though this time it was less direct, more insidious.

Fuck it! It wasn’t like I had a choice, I’d have to face her. I straightened up best I could, and was about to step back into the restaurant, when I paused for a second, I could tell her the truth, right?

We’d been getting on so well before, sure it seemed like a lifetime ago, but we’d been full of the joie de vie, Jesus! we were laughing when the pizzas arrived, and I hadn‘t finished mine yet. Yeah, she was the kind of girl who’d take things in her stride, she’d be fine. I’d convinced myself that I was going to walk straight out, tell her the idiotic truth, face off the humiliation, have a laugh about it and move on. It was just some silly little thing.

Then it hit me, that’s the whole fucking point! It was a silly little thing, in retrospect it sounded really silly and totally shallow. I’d been frozen in fear, unable to speak or hear, just because my cock hurt. Oh man! it sounded so weak, it just sounded stupid, she was going to think I was a complete asshole. I couldn’t possibly admit to the truth. I’d have to make up a story, maybe something to do with a heart problem, or sports injury, and try to generate some sympathy while I‘m at it. There was only one way to turn this around, I’d LIE!

Finally, I felt comfortable again, and with creative thoughts racing around my freshly fueled mind, I walked out of the bathroom. I was free from pain and feeling pretty confident about the way I was gonna play it, and…she’d left….she’d fucking gone. I couldn’t believe it! For the second time in three minutes I felt simultaneously relieved and pained.

Of course she’d assumed the worse, the truth. After all, the only word to pierce the last twelve minutes of sweaty silence had been ‘chilies‘. Sure, it would’ve been nice to cover my tracks, but I decided to cut my losses. I figured it was marginally less humiliating to let her go into the night believing I was a totally cock conscious paranoid weakling, than to have to face her again, and try to convince her that something entirely different had taken place. At least this way she could never be absolutely certain, and after what I’d been through, I chalked that up as a win.

Humiliated and feeling a little rejected, I paid off the smug looking waitress and left. I never went back, or saw the girl again. Just one of those silly little things!

Moral:- There isn't one.