This was the best blowjob he’d ever received. Honestly, second place—which probably went to Lisa from camp—wasn’t even close. To call this blowjob “good” would have been an insult. Even using “great” would have been wrong. The most accurate adjective to describe the oral sex he was currently receiving was something like “life-affirming.”

The pinnacle of satisfaction he felt certain he was about to reach had to do with the girl’s unique combination of technique and vibes. She did all the things with her mouth and throat that any fillatress could reasonably (or unreasonably) be expected to do. What’s more, the things she said during the brief moments in which she paused to let her hand do the work were the exact things she would have said if this whole affair were a fantasy taking place inside the young man’s mind. Either he just so happened to be the perfect guy to receive the type of dirty talk she liked delivering, or she’d somehow sized up his kinks during the nine minutes they’d talked to each other by the refrigerator. Either way, it was amazing.

And then he came. He came fully and completely, and in a way that proved him correct for every time he had decided to not take his own life. He came so hard he was tempted to doubt if he’d ever before actually orgasmed correctly. He came, and she spit his load onto the hardwood floor of the bedroom, and then she started screaming.

“What the fuck?” the orally-talented girl asked.

The young man looked down and saw on the floor a mixture of his semen, her saliva, and a fair bit of blood.

“Oh, that’s normal,” he said.

And it was, or at least, that’s what his doctor had assured him three years ago when he’d asked about it. “The male reproductive system is very vascular,” the doctor had said. “Plus, no two human bodies are the same. You’re young; if it only happens on rare occasions, it’s nothing to worry about.”

And so he stopped worrying about it. Every once in a while, if he vomited from a hangover or did some particularly vigorous weightlifting, he’d find some blood in his semen the next time he jerked off, but it was only on these rare occasions that he even remembered that this sort of thing ever actually happened.

“I don’t think it’s normal,” said the girl, still on her knees in front of him.

“No, it is,” he said. “My doctor told me…wait, why are you touching it?”

The girl had plunged her left hand down into the mixture on the floor. There was a moment of pause as she held the concoction to her face and glared at it like a prospector checking to see if he’d just struck oil. And then she rose to her feet and stormed out of the room, shrieking, “Oh my God, oh my God!”

The young man searched around the room for his pants, and finding them, awkwardly stumbled into the legs as he rushed to pursue the girl.

From the top of the stairs, he peered down into the living room, which was filled with the other attendees of the party. The girl was surrounded by a group of her sorority sisters. Their eyes were wide with shock as they stared at the blood and cum soaked hand she held in the air.

By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, the girl was pointing at him.

“He fucking bled on you?” asked the mother hen-type bitch, giving the young man a look of pure rage that only true opponents of the patriarchy are able to generate.

“No, in me,” said the girl. “He finished in my mouth, and it was full of blood.” By this point, the girl was sobbing; she spoke in stop-starts between violent inhalations. Someone entering the party at that moment would have assumed she’d just seen a puppy get killed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” scolded the mother hen, striding over to confront the young man.

“Nothing,” he said. “My doctor says…”

“Your doctor?” interrupted the mother hen. “You can’t hook up with someone if you have an STI.”

“I don’t have an STI!” he shouted. “It’s just a little blood. Not infected blood. I’m not sick. It just happens sometimes.”

The young man then realized that everyone in the room was staring at him.

“Why the fuck would you do this?” he shouted at the girl.

“I didn’t do ANYTHING!” she bansheed back.

His friend, a waspy stoner who was hosting the party, returned from the garage. “Dude, what is going on?” the wasp asked.

“She went nuts,” the young man said, gesturing to the crying girl.

The mother hen grabbed the young man by the collar and began awkwardly punching him in the neck and chest. A few people cheered at the sight of this.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” the waspy stoner said, forcing himself into the path of the punches. “Hey”—the wasp was face to face with the mother hen now—“go to your friend. I’m gonna take him outside.”

“You’re a rapist,” said the mother hen as she let go of the young man’s shirt.


The two young men leaned against the hood of a Kia Sorento. “Okay, go,” said the wasp.

“So, she was blowing me in one of the bedrooms…”

“I told you not to have sex in the bedrooms,” the wasp interrupted.

“I know,” the young man said. “Anyway, she was blowing me in one of the bedrooms, and when I came, there was blood in it.”

“Is that what was on her hand?” the waspy stoner asked.

“Yes,” the young man said. “She spazzed out and then, like, scooped it up and went to show everybody. It’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing that happens sometimes.”

“It happened to me before,” said the wasp.

“It did?” the young man asked.

“Yeah, for about two weeks after I crashed my dirt bike,” the wasp replied.

Outside, the air was cool. There were crickets in the trees and a repetitive sound of a rowboat bumping up against a dock. The waspy stoner removed a one-hitter from his pocket and took a hit from a metal tube that was painted vaguely like a cigarette. “So that’s what she was freaking out about, eh?” The wasp chuckled to himself as he said this. “Crazy. Anyway, hop in; I’ll give you a lift home.”

“What?” the young man said. “No. I need to go back in there and explain the situation to everyone who just saw her and that other bitch freak out at me.”

“Aww, man,” said the wasp, unlocking his passenger side door and gesturing for the young man to climb inside. “Until just now, that girl seemed like the one who didn’t understand what was going on.”