Mike Dojc

RELATIONSHIPS

10/9/2006

“Who invented this thing?” I actually said that aloud. The rhetorical question came after poking my condom-sheathed penis in the vicinity of my girlfriend’s vagina in vain for what seemed like two minutes.

It was like I was trying to knock in a one-foot putt on a ghetto golf course where the hole was buried in rough—it didn’t matter what my lie was, I just couldn’t find the hole.

I was really bummed out. This was not supposed to be the way this went down. In my wet dreams, I was a sexual superhero with a cape and everything, capable of giving supermodels and Swedish beach volleyball teams orgasms with a come hither gaze and a couple of thrusts. Besides, I was an avid student of coitus queen Anka Radakovich, keenly studying her monthly sexplorations in Details magazine and regularly wowing my friends with the carnal knowledge I gleaned from her saucy columns.

The excruciation of being so close to achieving a major milestone and not being able to seal the deal was agonizing, but I was steadfast and horny as hell. I sure as heck was not going to give up, even if it took all night long. I was on the doorstep of doing it. Just then, a guiding hand helped me in.

Touchdown!

The sheer pleasure was too much for me too bear, and two intensely gratifying milliseconds later it was all over.

This story originally ran in 2 Magazine’s Fall 2006 Issue

Copyright © Mike Dojc 2006