The Broken Condom Story

The Broken Condom Story The Broken Condom Story

Status: Finished

Genre: Humor

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Humor

Summary

This is a tale of a random night out I had in Glasgow where, unfortunately, I succumbed to one of human's greatest vices; alcohol. Some people call it a sin, I call it an opportunity. This is the broken condom story.

Summary

This is a tale of a random night out I had in Glasgow where, unfortunately, I succumbed to one of human's greatest vices; alcohol. Some people call it a sin, I call it an opportunity.

This is the broken condom story.

Content

Submitted: October 02, 2009

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: October 02, 2009

A A A

A A A


Sounds like somebody’s got a case of the Mondays. I heard this in the film Office Space and I never really appreciated its meaning until today.
 
Usually Monday’s are quite quiet for me. After a two or three day drinking session I usually try and take it easy for a few days. I like to re-charge the batteries and summarize the weekend, savor the good moments and laugh about the bad. Monday’s are a time for rest and contemplation. Today was to be slightly different.
 
I was excited for two reasons; I had arranged to meet my buddy Grant for drinks after work for some belated birthday celebrations, which was two weeks prior, and I had also recently acquired a new Hawaiian shirt, which I was going to field test for the first time tonight.
 
Now let me first tell you a bit about the shirt. This was no ordinary shirt. I had purchased this beauty from a website I had recently found out about.  A typical Hawaiian shirt will probably be decorated with flowers, dyed one of the primary colours and will be fairly simplistic in design. This is not a criticism by the way, as I own two like this that I hold them both in very high regard! But this baby is fusioned with a picturesque landscape, complete with palm trees, a clear sky, sunflowers and even some old 1970’s cars. Brad Pitt in Fight Club couldn’t even pull this off!
 
I had decided to take it into work in the morning, along with my brown leather jacket, so I didn’t have to bother going home to change before I went out. Grant had told me on Sunday of a couple of places in town that were doing drinks for two quid all night; namely Stavka and the Garage, and I didn’t want to waste invaluable drinking time changing clothes and whatnot. The knowledge of these offers were the basis for the night out, and as a result, I had to prepare myself as best I could for a long nights drinking; I went to bed early (11pm, which is early for me), got up late in the morning to maximize rest time, scooped some cans of red bulls in work… the whole nine yards.
 
I work in an IT department for Scotland’s sole prosecution authority so I’m constantly fixing computer problems left by staff working across the country. I usually enjoy my job, well, when people are civilized and the problems are easy to fix that is, but today was one of the days where only the assholes phoned in with ridiculous problems that even a retarded ape could fix.
 
I struggled to contain my anger so I tried to break up the day as best I could.  I made numerous cups of tea and coffee for everyone, which resulted in a number of trips to the toilet, and I also searched the office for biscuits and other snacks. People at work think I’m being nice when I offer to make them a drink, the truth is I’m just having a shitty day and need some time to myself.
 
Several piss breaks later lunch time arrived. I left the office around 1pm and went to the Subway on Glassford Street as I have a mate who works in there. I ordered the foot long Steak & Cheese, with salad and mayonnaise and a chilled beverage to wash it down. I managed to grab five minutes of my mate’s time to discuss upcoming gigs that we would be attending and then I wandered back to work.
 
I returned to the office and quickly devoured my sandwich and spent the next few hours fucking around the office until it was time to leave. I don’t remember exactly what I was doing in the afternoon, if it was anything exciting I would have probably remembered it, so I must have actually been doing work.
 
The big moment finally arrives. It was 4.45pm and time to get drunk. I phone Grant to see where he wants to meet while I take my shirt through to the bathroom to get changed. He suggests meeting him in the Bier Halle restaurant on Sauchiehall Street as it was close to the train station where he gets in Glasgow, and also it’s near a bus route for me. Sounds like a plan to me.
 
The next few minutes I spent making myself look beautiful in front of the mirror. Gelled up the hair, sprayed myself with some fancy cologne shit and buttoned up the shirt. Pretty fucking sexy. I was easily the best dressed person at work that day. Or in any work for that matter. Except for the guys who model Hawaiian shirts in magazines. Not that I’m gay or anything, but they get paid to wear great shirts, all day long! Lucky bastards.
 
I finish up in the bathroom and head over to the Bier Halle, arriving about half five. Grant was already there with a beer so I join him at the table. We order a pizza each and another round of beers. I had the chorizo, which happens to be the greatest fucking pizza in the world! It is a ten-inch stone baked pizza topped with the finest ingredients known to man. Grated cheese, fresh tomato, sliced onions and red peppers compliment the chopped chorizo sausages perfectly. Every bite leaves your mouth watering and, if accompanied by a bottle of Desperados, is the perfect way to start any night out. We demolish our pizzas in about ten minutes leaving shards of pizza crust all over the table and sauce all over our faces. We looked utterly ridiculous but fuck it, they were amazing.
 
After our feast we head straight along to Stavka, or at least to where we thought it was. Little did we know that the place had recently been taken over and renovated so we, completely oblivious to our surroundings, walk straight past it and up the street.  After a minute of aimlessly wandering we stop on the street and turn around. Where the fuck is this place!? We walk back down the street and notice a bar that resembled the old Stavka with a sign outside saying ‘Launch Night Friday 24th October’. Aha this looks like the place. The bouncer informs us that Stavka has recently been taken over. It is now known as ‘O’Couture’.
 
Me:“O’Couture? That’s a stupid name. When did it change?”
Bouncer:“About three weeks ago”
Me:[Becoming worried] “That’s bullshit!! Are the drinks still cheap?”
Bouncer:[Chuckling] “Yeah there’s promotions on all this week”
Me:“Great! I’m sold!”
 
We wander in and look about. The place is dead. There are only about six people in the entire pub so we stand right next to the bar and immediately order drinks. Fortunately the bouncer was right and the drinks are still cheap so we begin ordering vodka & lemonade’s.
 
We spend the next couple of hours aggressively knocking back vodka’s and random shots. I think there were Apple Sourz and aftershocks involved too. My basic senses rapidly deteriorate. During one of Grant’s rounds, he orders a martini and lemonade, which I usually hate. I don’t even notice the difference.
 
After a while we get bored of this place, mainly because of the lack of women so we venture on in search of another place. As soon as I step outside my vodka-hazed vision overwhelms me. We stumble upon a bar called ‘The Hall’ so we go in. There are a few more women in this place and I notice the barmaid is gorgeous so we sit at a table.
 
My round. I stagger over to the bar and order a pitcher of vodka and red bull with two glasses. I’m getting drunk tonight, and no one can stop me.
 
Ten minutes later we’ve finished our first pitcher. I instruct Grant to order another pitcher of v/red bull. He obliges and quickly returns with another jug. I fill up my glass and decide it’s a good idea to gulp half of it down in one go. Unfortunately my stomach doesn’t agree with this notion. I decide my stomach is wrong, so I attempt to correct it by finishing the rest of my drink. This doesn’t help and I begin to feel queasy.
 
Grant and I start talking about relationships and various other women related topics. He thinks having a girlfriend is a good idea so I quickly correct him. I explain the benefits of having the freedom to do anything you want, and whoever you want, without being judged by someone less important than you. He agrees with the concept but admits he likes being in a relationship. I inform him he’s a braver man than I am.
 
A few minutes later we finish off our second pitcher. That one didn’t go down well and I feel an urgent trip to the bathroom is imminent. I try and hold myself together but it’s no use. I believe a careful and cautious approach to the bathroom is order, as I don’t want to attract attention. My body has other ideas, however. I jump over the table, knocking the jug and ice all over Grant and send a chair flying across the floor as I sprint towards the bathroom.
 
I bang into the bathroom door and land in one of the cubicles. I can feel the first wave coming. My head shoots back as lumps of half digested pizza crust and bits of chorizo sausage mixed with vodka propels itself onto the toilet seat and all over the basin.
 
Upon looking at the mess, and then catching a whiff of the vile smell, the second wave arrives. I hold on to the edge of the toilet so I don’t fall over as I vomit the rest of my stomach contents in and around the basin. I am convulsing so violently that lumps of sick and bile even seep through my nose.
 
By the time I’m finished, most of the toilet is covered in a brown sticky substance and my hands and face are covered in slime; although my shirt has remained clean which pleases me. I clean myself up, leave the mess in the toilet for someone else to deal with and return to the bar. I decide that something sweet is in order to take the taste of shit away, so I order a pitcher of blue lagoon.
 
I get talking to the barmaid; did I mention before that she was stunning? She is about 5’8, brown hair, piercing blue eyes and gorgeous lips that I just wanted to suck right off her face. She had a slim figure with medium sized breasts, not too small or big, a decent hand full I imagined.
 
As she’s talking I discover that she’s Irish, Northern Irish to be exact. This excites me as I love the Northern Irish accent on women. I pour myself a glass of blue lagoon and start drinking it at the bar while Grant was sitting at the table by himself.
 
We chat for about ten minutes as I finish off my glass and then decide to return to the table to see how Grant is getting on. I say my goodbyes to the barmaid and wander back over. Unfortunately this would be the last time I speak to her.
 
Grant:“Where the hell have you been!?”
Me:“Getting a drink man!”
Grant:“You’ve been gone like twenty minutes! I thought you’d died in there!”
Me:“Nah it’s all good, fancy a game of pool?”
Grant:“Sure, why not.”
 
After a few games of pool we finish off the pitcher and decide to go to the Garage, which is a club just across the road filled with slutty students and cheap drinks. As we are leaving some guy sitting at a table slag’s off my shirt and makes some feeble comment that we are no longer in the ‘60’s. This enrages me:
 
Me:“What the fuck did you just say about my shirt!?”
Guy:“Look at you, no one wears those anymore! You look ridiculous”
Me:“Fuck you, this is worth more than your entire wardrobe!! You probably couldn’t even fit into one of these if you tried. I don’t think they make them five times extra large! Amateur!”
 
The guy stands up and starts shouting as Grant pulls me away and out of the bar. What an arsehole abusing my shirt! We bitch some more about the guy, whilst trying to cross the road without falling over. My vision has deteriorated further and inanimate objects such as cars and people no longer concern me. We barge past some party-goers and march to the end of the queue for the Garage, arriving around 11pm.
 
After much persuasion and a concentrated effort from us the bouncer lets us in. I figured this was going to be the beginning of the end of my night. I was shitfaced and could hardly walk up the stairs. I have no other recollections of being in the Garage that night; however I did manage to take some very questionable photos of me and Grant on the dance floor.
 
My next memory is about 3am and I’m wandering down Bridge Street past the River Clyde, presumably to get a bus, although I cannot remember my exact reasons for being here. I check my phone and notice a text message from Grant:
 
‘I'm Goin home I'm fuvked man.’ This was received at 2.11am. What the fuck had I been doing the last hour!?
 
By this point my walking skills had improved considerably and I was no longer staggering around in the middle of the road. I made it to the bus stop on Gorbals Street, right outside the door of my work.
 
I checked the electronic notice board for the next bus but it is a good forty five minutes away, fuck that if I’m waiting that long. In my drunken stupor, instead of going home, I decide I’m going to go into work and lie down in my office to sleep. The thought of lying down greatly pleases me. Not only will I get to sleep quickly, but I don’t even have to worry about sleeping in or travelling anywhere in the morning as someone will just wake me in the morning. Perfect.
 
[This is actually how drunk I was at the time. I really did think it was a good idea for me to break into a secure government building, with CCTV cameras and motion sensors everywhere, at three in the morning, just so I could go to sleep. How fucking stupid is that!? I should be used to this shit by now]
 
I proceed from the bus shelter to the entrance of the building and grab hold of the front door. I pull it so hard that I almost fall over backwards onto the pavement. This confuses me, why is it locked? I stand and look in the door and wonder why the lights are turned off. After a few minutes standing there I wander around the side of the building and across the car park to a spot behind a security hut. I figure this is as good a place as any to sit down and have a nap. I’ll just stay here for a few hours until it’s time for work, I remember thinking.
 
I sat here until about 3.30am listening to music when I decided to text one of my female friends ‘Jane’ to inform her of my situation. She lives in student accommodation near my work, which was convenient for a lot of things, mainly sex. The text message read as follows, copied straight from my phone:
 
‘Hey hows the studying goin? Almost getting through! I’m lying on a pavement outside my work x’
 
 I never really expected her to reply since it was so late, but I greatly underestimated her. Honest to God, she called me within twenty seconds and this was our conversation:
 
Me:“Heeeeello?”
Jane:“WHAT THE FUCK are you doing lying on the pavement???”
Me:“Nothing much, just felt like taking a nap while I wait for work”
Jane:“WHAT!? That’s stupid! It’s freezing out, you should come by mine”
Me:“Nah it’s okay, I’m just gonna wait here ‘til I can go to work”
Jane:“Ryan, don’t be stupid. I’m up now, just come past”
Me:“Well okay then”
 
I wander over to the flats and she is already standing there with the door open. I think somebody wants sex. To be honest, at that moment, all I wanted to do was go to sleep as work was only four hours away and I was fucked enough as it was.
 
I say hello and give her a hug and she greets me by sticking her tongue down my throat. God I love having slutty friends. I decide that I’m not in the mood for talking to her so we go straight to her bedroom. Her flat was on the first of three floors so noise was sometimes a problem, especially since the building was full of alcoholic shitbag students.
 
Jane is quite cute, about 5’7, slim build with dark red hair. She was wearing a dressing gown with black underwear and a t-shirt on underneath. This was a problem. Dressing gowns and t-shirts do not turn me on. I resolve this problem by throwing her on the bed and pulling her clothes off, rolling her over about two or three times as I struggled to get her arms released from the shirt. I eventually manage to strip her and then I set about taking my own clothes off. This proves to be much easier as I am standing up and happen to be in control of my own limbs. I heap all of my clothes on the floor and then jump on the bed, almost cracking my head against the concrete wall behind her.
 
We start having sex. I am still very drunk and my coordination is not particularly accurate. I struggle to concentrate and I’m unable to time my swings properly. I continue anyway.
 
A few minutes later I decide I am bored with missionary position as my thighs are getting sore so I prop her up on her hands and knees and I position her ass over the edge of the bed, with me standing up behind her. This is much more comfortable and allows me to occupy my mind with other activities while being more aggressive with her.
 
I start being more forceful with her while looking about her room. I notice she has some of her college notes on the wall; random numbers and equations about the buoyancy of ships and what not. I then remembered that I hate boats so I start looking at her DVD collection. Her taste in films upsets me. The only decent films I could find were Anchorman and Nightmare on Elm Street; the rest were a combination of chick-flicks and shitty kids’ films that I hated.
 
After several minutes I decide I want to change positions again so I pull out and push her over on the bed. I look down to check if everything is okay and working.
 
OH JESUS CHRIST!!!!
 
I remembered putting a condom on after I got undressed but it was no longer there. All I can see is the fucking rubber ring half way up my dick. I looked on the floor and checked to see if the rest of it was stuck on my leg or something but I couldn’t see anything. Perhaps I broke it while putting it on and didn’t even notice.
 
Fuck it, I only brought one condom with me that night and didn’t want to ask her for another, plus she was probably wondering why I was just standing there like a retard staring at my cock.  I quickly jump on the bed and lie down on my back. She tries to mount me like I am some kind of bucking bronco and I miss her entry point by stabbing her in the thigh. This annoys me so I tell her to turn around because, and I quote, “I don’t want to look at you right now”. I can’t believe she didn’t kick me out.
 
I insert and we continue once more. Since I was hammered and couldn’t really feel much, I grab her ass and start shaking it vigorously to bring some feeling back. She leans forward a bit so she’s kind of on her knees again and has some leverage with her hands. Much better, I like this position. I still have control but she is on top, and therefore I won’t get tired too quickly. And I can also do things to her without her seeing. I find the situation quite amusing and begin chuckling to myself.
 
After a while I’m shaking her body so hard I have to stop because I’m laughing so hard that I can’t concentrate. I give her a small slap on the ass to see if she responds. I don’t think she notices so I carry on. I’m having fun and that’s all that matters.
 
After several more minutes of this I am still no nearer to coming. I tell her to stop what she’s doing because I’m getting tired. She turns around and shuffles closer to me on her knees.
 
OH FUCK ME!!!!
 
The broken piece of rubber is hanging out of her vagina!!! The same piece of rubber that was ON MY DICK, crushed from almost every angle imaginable for about FIFTEEN MINUTES, completely minced up and soaking wet, is DANGLING OUT OF HER VAGINA!!! It’s just hanging there like a fucking pull string on a piñata.
 
I contemplate pulling it out of her but I am immediately put off this idea by the thought of the smell that would linger, and the mess it would leave on me. I’ll let her find it for herself in the morning.
 
I immediately lost my erection, and along with it any hope of finishing her off. I tell her that I am going to sleep. She moans a bit about not finishing but I’m having none of it. There’s no way I’m sticking my dick back in there again tonight. I ignore her for the next five minutes or so until I pass out.
 
I’m awoken at 7.15am by the sound of my phone alarm ringing. Thank fuck I remembered to set it. I shake Jane to wake her up because I want a cup of tea while I wash and get dressed. She is still not happy with me. I ask her what her problem is now and she tells me that as soon as I fell asleep I started snoring for the next hour and she couldn’t back to sleep. Not only that, but she was still horny so she just lay there awake next to me. I find this hilarious and start laughing but she doesn’t see the funny side. That’s what she gets for inviting a drunken man with no regard for anyone else into her bed. She should have sensed the imminent danger by the fact that I was LYING SEMI-CONSCIOUS ON A PAVEMENT AT THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING.
 
I go through to the bathroom to wash myself and put my clothes back on. A few minutes later I come out and she still hasn’t made my tea. This annoys me so I grab my jacket and leave.
 
I walk into my office about 7.30am and hurl my jacket on the coat stand.  I collapse on my chair in complete exhaustion. The room is still spinning around me as I stare at my computer screen.
 
Sounds like somebody’s got a case of the Tuesdays.
 
Epilogue
 
Later that morning I went to the toilet and discovered that the rubber ring was still wrapped around me. I had forgotten to remove it before going to sleep and didn’t even notice it when I went to the toilet at Jane’s when I woke up. It was quickly disposed of and never seen or heard of again. Well, not until the cleaning lady changes the bin liner of course.
 
I later found out that Grant had in fact been told to leave the Garage by one of the bouncers, with me following him, and we both tried to get in several other clubs and bars but were too drunk to get in. I have absolutely no recollection of this.
 
I received this text message from Jane that night which I found quite amusing:
 
‘How was ur day? My flat mate just asked me if i was having sex last night lol i was like Nah not me lol must of been upstairs squeeking lol xxx’
 
That had to be the greatest booty call ever. Hands up if you have ever been lying on a pavement in a car park, completely shit faced, can hardly see, can barely walk and then end up having sex a few minutes later!
 
Ladies and gentlemen, I am in that elite club.


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