We were getting hot and heavy – then I saw the state of his boxers
We were getting hot and heavy – then I saw the state of his boxers
I found myself on the bed, locked in a passionate kiss with a handsome stranger, when I suddenly froze. My attention had been drawn to his underwear on the bedroom floor, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them.
The pair of grey boxers were nothing special, just standard issue. They hadn’t done anything suspicious on the floor, but I had tossed them there after removing them during our intimate encounter with Liam*.
Trying to suppress my reaction, I watched as Liam continued kissing my neck. Eventually, I shifted my focus from the boxers to his warm brown eyes and mischievous smile. I realized he had no idea about the situation—or that I had noticed.
‘I guess I’m doing this,’ I thought, as a people-pleaser who just wanted to get laid.
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Earlier that evening, I had been at a work networking event, attempting to connect with more clients. My appearance wasn’t a priority; I wasn’t aiming to take anyone home that night. I simply wanted to collect business cards and chat about the weather or stock market.
That’s when I spotted Liam across the room—a tall man in a sharp suit, smiling my way. I smiled back, despite the shoulder of a tedious bore recounting his business ventures.
Exchanging glances with Liam while nodding at the boring conversation made the event feel less soulless. I managed to escape the monotony and approach this appealing figure. He was engaged in a discussion, but ended it instantly upon seeing me.
We introduced ourselves, briefly discussing our professions. Holding glasses of prosecco, our conversation flowed effortlessly. I admitted I wasn’t at my best, and he joked that if I had looked better, my beauty would have blinded him.
We left the event with the plan to go back to my place, acknowledging we were headed for a sexual encounter but stopping for a drink first. Since I lived nearby, it wasn’t surprising to see familiar faces at the bar. They welcomed Liam warmly, and he was embraced by the group.
We joined them and continued to drink. By 8:00pm, we had left the work event; before we knew it, it was 11:00 and we were dancing on the bar’s floor.
When Liam disappeared for 10 minutes to the bathroom, I thought nothing of it. That is, until we were back at my apartment, undressing each other—and I noticed the skidmark on his boxers.
As I lay on the bed with him, I wondered if the bar had run out of toilet paper, or if he had only realized halfway through. Perhaps he was too drunk to clean himself properly.
Even then, I felt like I was making excuses for him. Looking back, I know I should have ended the sex. I couldn’t stop thinking about the stain.
My body was tense from the anxiety of being near to poo, and I faked my orgasm to make the ordeal end—though it didn’t finish as quickly as I’d hoped.
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He lay on the bed while I sat on top, and I imagined him smearing streaks of it all over my sheets. I faked another orgasm, hoping the effort would help distract me from the sight of his boxers.
He finally came, and delighted, I jumped off him and lay on the bed, hoping he would leave. I stared at his closing eyes—mine still wide with dread—as he settled in for the night.
I don’t know how long I managed to sleep that night, but part of me wondered if I should get up to inspect the boxers. Maybe there was nothing on them and I had imagined the whole thing. I wondered if he saw the mess in the morning light, or if he used my bathroom to clean himself.
I wondered a lot, but never got answers, as I hadn’t taken his number and never saw him again. But I did deep-clean myself and my sheets, in a panic.
