I Wrote a Whole Novel’s Worth of Sex Stories

***Put your condoms on. The Following is an excerpt from my sexy novel/memoir A Thousand Tiny Failures.*** 

Chapter 14

Montana (Role playing)

I heard about a house party in the Mile End, and made my way. It was fairly packed with the usual crowd of cool kids. Montreal seemed like a city of eighteen to twenty-one year olds (or maybe those were the places I was seeking out). Once inside, I wasted no time making my first approach of the night. I needed to get warmed up. She was a tallish thing, brunette, like a sexy elk. “What do they feed you?” I asked her.

“Excuse me?”

“To get that tall.”

“Oh!” She laughed. “Broccoli.”

I held out my hands, palm up, trying to not project how bad I wanted this to work—but it did anyway—she placed hers there. She didn’t question it, or give me a weird look; she just dropped them there. We were holding hands! I lifted them up to my face with fingers locked together and felt a surge of confidence. Then, for no apparent reason, my nerves got the better of me… bloody nerves. When will I conquer this annoying social programming?

I started sweating and mumbling, I couldn’t hold eye contact, I tried to say something witty but it came out all garbled. She dropped my hands with an excuse about the bathroom. “Wait—what’s your number?” I asked. But she just smiled and nodded, “No,” and walked off. By this point I was so used to rejection that it was like taking a shit: It just happens. Expect it.

I pulled out my notepad and wrote about it, then I looked for the next girl. I found her. She stood in the living room talking to some guy. He looked like a softie; and she was quite pretty with big, green, anime girl eyes, long, wavy auburn hair and a button nose. She reminded me of a kitten so I walked up to her ignoring the guy and said, “You remind me of a kitten.”

“Oh my god… my spirit animal is actually a cat!” She said. (Yes, she actually said this).

I held out my hand palm up the way I did before and got the same result. We were holding hands. I love that move. Learning to be immediately physical was one of the greatest steps in my game. You don’t need to worry so much about what to say if you just grab them.

“Let me see your best kitten claw attack,” I said—so she clawed at me, with a pouty face and all. My member swelled with anticipation of conquest. We had a winner!

The nice boy she was with retreated, deflated. He’s not a breeder, apparently. Most of these hipster kids aren’t up for a fight. They run from the first guy who pretends to be an alpha male. I kept holding her hands and told her my spirit animal was a hawk, and I’m a kitten hunter. Her eyes expanded as I weaved the tale and she prodded me on, encouraging me. She’s a fantasy addict. Maybe a little nuts I figured. That’s ok, as long as she likes me.

“I would catch you in my claws and carry you to my nest,” I continued. “But I wouldn’t eat you; I would keep you as a member of my tribe and you would raise our chicks to hunt with your feline prowess.”

She kissed me on the cheek and said, “I would raise them as my own, and you could teach me the ways of birds.”

What a woman! What imagination! We hugged and stayed there, hip to hip, so she could feel my unit inflate against her belly.

“You wouldn’t be afraid I’d eat you?” She asked.

I scratched my chin. “No. I don’t think you would.”

Outside of the party, police sirens wailed and there was a flash of red and blue. Hipsters fell out of windows like mice in a flood, flushing their pills and snapping pictures on their IPhones.

“They’ve found us,” I told her.

“Let’s escape!”

I grabbed her hand and pulled her out the back door, into the alley, and pushed her against a wall. We kissed and our tongues danced as chaos erupted all around us. Life is good and full of adventure. I’m a young man in a strange and beautiful city. I dragged her, and we ran through the alley laughing, past kids throwing up, arguing, kissing.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“On an adventure to my castle.”

“I love castles!”

She loves castles. You’re in dude.

“I know, because you’re a princess.”

“I am.”

We jogged for about a block. She asked me what I was doing in Montreal. I told her I was a writer, seeking adventure.

“How old are you?” she asked

“Older than you.”

“How much.”

“Does it matter?”

“Well…no. I’m just curious.”

“I’m twenty-nine.”

“Oh,” she said. “You look so young. I thought you were twenty. Are you lying?”

“No. Why would I lie about that? How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen. Wait…oh, you totally use that to your advantage!”

The sirens were growing distant and we slowed to a walk.

“My advantage?” I said, pretending to be shocked. “What does that mean?”

“It’s ok. I still like you just fine. Keep telling me stories Mr. Writer. I’m a cat princess and you’re a hawk.”

I got her to my apartment and we tip-toed up past Mark’s room, through the kitchen into my room. I fell onto my bed and she pulled off her shirt, and then her bra, without me asking. Thank you Internet, thank you, thank you for helping me find the truth.

“We can’t fuck,” she said, “I’m on my period.”

“Ohhhhh, bummer.”

“It’s ok. Come here. Keep telling me the story.”

She pulled down my shorts, removed my cock and swallowed it as deeply as she could. My eyes rolled back into my head. It was amazing. I’m winning. As she bobbed back and forth on my unit I looked down at those big anime eyes and continued my story.

“I’m your dark knight and you are my captive princess. You want to escape but I hold your pretty head down as I have my way with you under the waterfall…”

She moaned loudly, encouraging me.

“In the distance, I, I, oh my god…you can hear the neighing of the, the Unicorns! The horns of champions blowing, holy shit, off the mystic mountains and you realize, I am not a villain, but your champion! Jesus, oh man, oh man, oh man.”

And then I let it go. I could have taken her head off. She didn’t even blink. She just looked up at me, wiped her mouth and smiled innocently. Afterwards we spooned, and I lay quietly listening to the outside noise of the city. It was easy and natural. I’m Winston Churchill, I’m Marlon Brando before he got fat.

I turned off the light and we fell asleep.

I heard her wake up in the morning, and glanced at her petite body as she gathered her things, silhouetted by the sunlight shining through my bedroom window. She was very sexy and youthful. I love the way women look in the morning, before they put on their makeup, straighten their hair, and cover their parts.

“Hey,” I said. “Make sure you leave your number. I want to see you again. There’s a pen on the dresser.”

She wrote it down. I walked her to the door and kissed her goodbye with a pat on the bum. I looked at the paper with her phone number. “Montana,” I said out loud.

***If you want to read more from my novel, pick it up on Amazon. Not in the us, just search via your own country’s Amazon. Don’t have a Kindle? There’s an app for phone, Ipad, desktop, etc. Be a man and figure it out.***

***If you read the book and enjoyed it, let me know in the comments. I’m trying to write a new novel and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Encourage me to work harder.***