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I'm embarrassed to say, but I've had one STD in my entire life, but I'm tankful that it was the curable kind.

Picture it: Fort Hood, Texas, 2001. Before 9/11 happened.

I was into the club scene and hooked up with a lot of chicks back when I was in shape like a motherf*cker and could run six miles a day and ask for seconds. My player game was razor sharp and I scored my fair share of snizz from Army women and civilians alike. I remember going to OZ one night, a club/concert venue in Killeen, and meeting a pretty and laid back girl who was willing to let me get up in them guts as long as I bought her drinks and a bag of cheap cocaine from one of the few dealers inside the club.

Cut to a few hours later, we're in her barracks room of the FSB or MSB (I can't remember which) and we're all alone since her roommate was gone for the night. As we're making out and groping and sucking and fingering and fondling, we both realize, much to our dismay, that we have no condom. The gears are greased, the engines are running, and my dick was as hard as f*cking marble and we're both very much wanting to continue with our little game of "Hide the salami".

"Just f*ck me, but don't shoot in me", she brilliantly suggests.

Me: "Okay. Sounds good"

Bippety Boppety Boo, we both f*ck like horny retards and get to the finish line. I get up and go home with a smile on my face and a sense of accomplishment.

Eight days later............

My balls are swollen and tender, it burns like magma when I piss, and my dick is leaking like a busted pipe. Something is definitely wrong. I go to sick call the next morning.

There I am in the Monroe Health Clinic at 0800 hours, sitting in a waiting room with Kleenex stuffed into the front of my underwear to absorb the milky shame and regret that is oozing from my ding-a-ling, and I'm overwhelmed with fear and mortification. I'm on the verge of tears from how I'd explain this to the doctor, but also what if I'd get even sicker and have to have intense treatment. I mean, I didn't know what the f*ck I had or what would happen next; I was in full panic mode.

As I'm called into the examination room, the wave of anxiety washes over me like a f*cking tsunami and I literally start shaking like a car filled with bad gasoline. The medical aide was an E-4/SPC who clearly noticed my obvious state of being and inquired "Dude! Are you alright?" I answered that I was sick and scared and I needed help. He replied that I was in the right place and help will be administered. Vitals check, height, weight, and paperwork are done and he asks me the dreaded question:

"Okay, so, why are you here today?"

My heart stops beating for a few seconds, my pulse races higher than Snoop Dogg after smoking an ounce, and I begin sweating like R. Kelly at the Kids Choice Awards. I tell the guy that it's personal and I'd rather speak to the doctor about it. "Cool", he says and tells me to wait.

Every minute is an eternity. Waiting to have your diseased cock examined by a stranger and with no idea of what the f*ck is happening next. Well, this happens next: The doctor walks in. A woman. A beautiful woman. A smoking hot, drop dead, athletic, toned, tanned, bespectacled, blonde haired, green eyed woman with extremely short hair like Angelina Jolie from the movie "Hackers". She also introduces herself as the rank of major.

All hope is lost. I'm a dead duck. They're gonna have to wheel me out of here on a gurney because I'm about to have a f*cking aneurysm from shock and awkwardness.

She is absolutely beaming with positivity and smiles. "Good morning, private Oliver. What seems to be the problem?" As I try to find the words to explain my dilemma, I begin to have a borderline panic attack and start slightly hyperventilating. "Oh, my god! Are you okay?!" She grabs my hand and my body temperature rises by several degrees. She smells like vanilla oil and peppermint chewing gum. She's absolutely perfect in every way.

"I think I have an STD, ma'am. I'm really f*cking scared. Please help me." She gives me a reassuring grin that's almost angelic with an almost motherly tone. "We'll get you looked at, Matt. I promise." She knew my first name. My heart was melting like Parkay butter on a hot biscuit. Then she told me to take off my pants. Trepidation and terror fill my entire body as I begin to comply with her instructions, all the while she is writing on her note pad and staring at paperwork.

The thing I remember most about this doctor/major is that she walked in wearing her BDUs, but without her BDU top. All she had was her Army brown shirt that was conveniently two sizes too small that perfectly accentuated her hourglass figure, her rock hard abs, and her voluptuous and fairy tale breasts that were the epitome of every Penthouse forum letter ever written. I wanted to ask her "Why are you in the Army?! Why aren't you on magazine covers or in movies?! You're so much more capable than being a f*cking Army doctor!" The thing is, I'm positive that she KNEW what she was doing. She knew she had a body that could melt a cheese sandwich from across the room and she was working that motherf*cker.

My pants are down, my body is ready to keel over and die, and I'm absolutely speechless. Without saying anything, she puts on latex gloves and wheels herself over in the rolling doctor stool and grabs my junk. I completely freeze and look straight ahead at nothing. My eyes are locked on nothing like from "The Dead Zone". So, after a few seconds of handling my dirty and filthy specimen of a phallus, she confidently says "Yep. You have chlamydia. Let me guess......You didn't use a condom?" I sheepishly smile and lower my head and reply "No, ma'am. I sure didn't" Her reply was a parental "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Oliver. You need to be more careful." She then began to do more paperwork for the process of specimen analysis. She took a cotton swab and rubbed the tip of my dick to collect a sample of the Ghostbusters slime that was emanating from my dick to put into a bag. I was beginning to calm down, somewhat, and then this happens: She swivels around on her stool and grabs something out of my sight and then back around again.

It was just like that scene from Dexter. "SURPRISE, MOTHERF*CKER!!!"

She was holding a nine inch long cotton swab. My mouth goes dry and I gawk in dismay because I knew exactly what the f*ck was about to happen; she was going to rod me off range. She was going to stick this f*cking thing into the tip of my cock and down my urethra. She then explains to me that she's going to swab the inside of my penis for examination. She asks me a very stupid question: "Are you ready?"

AM I READY?!?! f*cking seriously?! I wanted to tell her "F*ck, no! Are you f*cking insane?! I don't care how hot you are! I'll never be ready!" Buuuuuuuuut, one can't say such things to a major. That would be counterproductive.

So I lie my ass off and say yes and she wheels over and grabs my dick, but with a firm and professional grip. I begin chanting a mantra in my head: "Don't pop a boner, Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner." and the moment of truth comes. She violates me and rods me.

It didn't hurt, per se, but it was one of the oddest and weirdest sensations I've ever felt in my life. Of course, I have no desire to ever have said procedure happen to me ever again. So, after she sends said specimens to the lab for analysis, she prepares a needle to give me a shot in the ass. I get the shot, she tells me to get dressed and wait. She leaves the room and I wait for about ten minutes. She eventually returns with papers, pills, and, to my sheer humiliation, a roll of Trojan condoms. She tells me with a beaming smile and genuine concern that my specimens were analyzed and that the sickness should go away within one week to ten days with pills taken regularly. She then tells me in a blunt manner: "Use these condoms and wrap it up next time! I don't want to see you in here again with something that could have been prevented. Understood, mister?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. Thank you for helping me", I reply. She tells me I'm welcome and to be safe.and then releases me as she walks out of the room.

You're probably wondering whatever happened to the c*nt who gave me the Clap. Well, I immediately left the clinic and drove to her barracks to confront her. I knock on her barracks door and her roommate answers. FYI, she was damn pretty. I asked where her wanton trollop of a roommate was and she informed me that she is out with friends. I asked her to deliver a message for me: "Thanks for giving me the Clap."

The roommate gasps and covers her mouth. "You f*cked her without protection?! Dude! She's a f*cking incubator for disease! She f*cks anything that'll move! You're lucky that's all you got from her!" Well, you can imagine my chagrin having another woman tell me such things. I pathetically left and went back to my barracks room and began some much needed contemplation and self deprecation of my life choices so that a fiasco like this would NEVER happen again.

The moral of the story: Safe sex works, Safe sex matters. Use a condom. Wrap your rascal and don't EVER think that it can't happen to you.

I'm thankful every day that I only got a minor and curable STD and not herpes or HIV.

I also wish I could remember that doctor's name so I could look her up on Facebook and she how she's aged and put her in my Spank Bank. I bet she's aged like wine. Ha ha.

Four things:

1) I read that in Tom Hank's voice

2) I've never contracted an STD

4) BF is literally HIV and AIDS

Generally speaking, you need to have sex first to contract an STD. Generally, that is.

Originally posted by Impediment
I'm embarrassed to say, but I've had one STD in my entire life, but I'm tankful that it was the curable kind.

Picture it: Fort Hood, Texas, 2001. Before 9/11 happened.

I was into the club scene and hooked up with a lot of chicks back when I was in shape like a motherf*cker and could run six miles a day and ask for seconds. My player game was razor sharp and I scored my fair share of snizz from Army women and civilians alike. I remember going to OZ one night, a club/concert venue in Killeen, and meeting a pretty and laid back girl who was willing to let me get up in them guts as long as I bought her drinks and a bag of cheap cocaine from one of the few dealers inside the club.

Cut to a few hours later, we're in her barracks room of the FSB or MSB (I can't remember which) and we're all alone since her roommate was gone for the night. As we're making out and groping and sucking and fingering and fondling, we both realize, much to our dismay, that we have no condom. The gears are greased, the engines are running, and my dick was as hard as f*cking marble and we're both very much wanting to continue with our little game of "Hide the salami".

"Just f*ck me, but don't shoot in me", she brilliantly suggests.

Me: "Okay. Sounds good"

Bippety Boppety Boo, we both f*ck like horny retards and get to the finish line. I get up and go home with a smile on my face and a sense of accomplishment.

Eight days later............

My balls are swollen and tender, it burns like magma when I piss, and my dick is leaking like a busted pipe. Something is definitely wrong. I go to sick call the next morning.

There I am in the Monroe Health Clinic at 0800 hours, sitting in a waiting room with Kleenex stuffed into the front of my underwear to absorb the milky shame and regret that is oozing from my ding-a-ling, and I'm overwhelmed with fear and mortification. I'm on the verge of tears from how I'd explain this to the doctor, but also what if I'd get even sicker and have to have intense treatment. I mean, I didn't know what the f*ck I had or what would happen next; I was in full panic mode.

As I'm called into the examination room, the wave of anxiety washes over me like a f*cking tsunami and I literally start shaking like a car filled with bad gasoline. The medical aide was an E-4/SPC who clearly noticed my obvious state of being and inquired "Dude! Are you alright?" I answered that I was sick and scared and I needed help. He replied that I was in the right place and help will be administered. Vitals check, height, weight, and paperwork are done and he asks me the dreaded question:

"Okay, so, why are you here today?"

My heart stops beating for a few seconds, my pulse races higher than Snoop Dogg after smoking an ounce, and I begin sweating like R. Kelly at the Kids Choice Awards. I tell the guy that it's personal and I'd rather speak to the doctor about it. "Cool", he says and tells me to wait.

Every minute is an eternity. Waiting to have your diseased cock examined by a stranger and with no idea of what the f*ck is happening next. Well, this happens next: The doctor walks in. A woman. A beautiful woman. A smoking hot, drop dead, athletic, toned, tanned, bespectacled, blonde haired, green eyed woman with extremely short hair like Angelina Jolie from the movie "Hackers". She also introduces herself as the rank of major.

All hope is lost. I'm a dead duck. They're gonna have to wheel me out of here on a gurney because I'm about to have a f*cking aneurysm from shock and awkwardness.

She is absolutely beaming with positivity and smiles. "Good morning, private Oliver. What seems to be the problem?" As I try to find the words to explain my dilemma, I begin to have a borderline panic attack and start slightly hyperventilating. "Oh, my god! Are you okay?!" She grabs my hand and my body temperature rises by several degrees. She smells like vanilla oil and peppermint chewing gum. She's absolutely perfect in every way.

"I think I have an STD, ma'am. I'm really f*cking scared. Please help me." She gives me a reassuring grin that's almost angelic with an almost motherly tone. "We'll get you looked at, Matt. I promise." She knew my first name. My heart was melting like Parkay butter on a hot biscuit. Then she told me to take off my pants. Trepidation and terror fill my entire body as I begin to comply with her instructions, all the while she is writing on her note pad and staring at paperwork.

The thing I remember most about this doctor/major is that she walked in wearing her BDUs, but without her BDU top. All she had was her Army brown shirt that was conveniently two sizes too small that perfectly accentuated her hourglass figure, her rock hard abs, and her voluptuous and fairy tale breasts that were the epitome of every Penthouse forum letter ever written. I wanted to ask her "Why are you in the Army?! Why aren't you on magazine covers or in movies?! You're so much more capable than being a f*cking Army doctor!" The thing is, I'm positive that she KNEW what she was doing. She knew she had a body that could melt a cheese sandwich from across the room and she was working that motherf*cker.

My pants are down, my body is ready to keel over and die, and I'm absolutely speechless. Without saying anything, she puts on latex gloves and wheels herself over in the rolling doctor stool and grabs my junk. I completely freeze and look straight ahead at nothing. My eyes are locked on nothing like from "The Dead Zone". So, after a few seconds of handling my dirty and filthy specimen of a phallus, she confidently says "Yep. You have chlamydia. Let me guess......You didn't use a condom?" I sheepishly smile and lower my head and reply "No, ma'am. I sure didn't" Her reply was a parental "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Oliver. You need to be more careful." She then began to do more paperwork for the process of specimen analysis. She took a cotton swab and rubbed the tip of my dick to collect a sample of the Ghostbusters slime that was emanating from my dick to put into a bag. I was beginning to calm down, somewhat, and then this happens: She swivels around on her stool and grabs something out of my sight and then back around again.

It was just like that scene from Dexter. "SURPRISE, MOTHERF*CKER!!!"

She was holding a nine inch long cotton swab. My mouth goes dry and I gawk in dismay because I knew exactly what the f*ck was about to happen; she was going to rod me off range. She was going to stick this f*cking thing into the tip of my cock and down my urethra. She then explains to me that she's going to swab the inside of my penis for examination. She asks me a very stupid question: "Are you ready?"

AM I READY?!?! f*cking seriously?! I wanted to tell her "F*ck, no! Are you f*cking insane?! I don't care how hot you are! I'll never be ready!" Buuuuuuuuut, one can't say such things to a major. That would be counterproductive.

So I lie my ass off and say yes and she wheels over and grabs my dick, but with a firm and professional grip. I begin chanting a mantra in my head: "Don't pop a boner, Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner." and the moment of truth comes. She violates me and rods me.

It didn't hurt, per se, but it was one of the oddest and weirdest sensations I've ever felt in my life. Of course, I have no desire to ever have said procedure happen to me ever again. So, after she sends said specimens to the lab for analysis, she prepares a needle to give me a shot in the ass. I get the shot, she tells me to get dressed and wait. She leaves the room and I wait for about ten minutes. She eventually returns with papers, pills, and, to my sheer humiliation, a roll of Trojan condoms. She tells me with a beaming smile and genuine concern that my specimens were analyzed and that the sickness should go away within one week to ten days with pills taken regularly. She then tells me in a blunt manner: "Use these condoms and wrap it up next time! I don't want to see you in here again with something that could have been prevented. Understood, mister?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. Thank you for helping me", I reply. She tells me I'm welcome and to be safe.and then releases me as she walks out of the room.

You're probably wondering whatever happened to the c*nt who gave me the Clap. Well, I immediately left the clinic and drove to her barracks to confront her. I knock on her barracks door and her roommate answers. FYI, she was damn pretty. I asked where her wanton trollop of a roommate was and she informed me that she is out with friends. I asked her to deliver a message for me: "Thanks for giving me the Clap."

The roommate gasps and covers her mouth. "You f*cked her without protection?! Dude! She's a f*cking incubator for disease! She f*cks anything that'll move! You're lucky that's all you got from her!" Well, you can imagine my chagrin having another woman tell me such things. I pathetically left and went back to my barracks room and began some much needed contemplation and self deprecation of my life choices so that a fiasco like this would NEVER happen again.

The moral of the story: Safe sex works, Safe sex matters. Use a condom. Wrap your rascal and don't EVER think that it can't happen to you.

I'm thankful every day that I only got a minor and curable STD and not herpes or HIV.

I also wish I could remember that doctor's name so I could look her up on Facebook and she how she's aged and put her in my Spank Bank. I bet she's aged like wine. Ha ha.

maybe provide cliff notes version

Originally posted by Surtur
maybe provide cliff notes version

Whut-eva.

I do what I want.

Originally posted by Impediment
Whut-eva.

I do what I want.

Probably why u got an std

Originally posted by Surtur
Probably why u got an std



She had a killer body.

Originally posted by Impediment
I'm embarrassed to say, but I've had one STD in my entire life, but I'm tankful that it was the curable kind.

Picture it: Fort Hood, Texas, 2001. Before 9/11 happened.

I was into the club scene and hooked up with a lot of chicks back when I was in shape like a motherf*cker and could run six miles a day and ask for seconds. My player game was razor sharp and I scored my fair share of snizz from Army women and civilians alike. I remember going to OZ one night, a club/concert venue in Killeen, and meeting a pretty and laid back girl who was willing to let me get up in them guts as long as I bought her drinks and a bag of cheap cocaine from one of the few dealers inside the club.

Cut to a few hours later, we're in her barracks room of the FSB or MSB (I can't remember which) and we're all alone since her roommate was gone for the night. As we're making out and groping and sucking and fingering and fondling, we both realize, much to our dismay, that we have no condom. The gears are greased, the engines are running, and my dick was as hard as f*cking marble and we're both very much wanting to continue with our little game of "Hide the salami".

"Just f*ck me, but don't shoot in me", she brilliantly suggests.

Me: "Okay. Sounds good"

Bippety Boppety Boo, we both f*ck like horny retards and get to the finish line. I get up and go home with a smile on my face and a sense of accomplishment.

Eight days later............

My balls are swollen and tender, it burns like magma when I piss, and my dick is leaking like a busted pipe. Something is definitely wrong. I go to sick call the next morning.

There I am in the Monroe Health Clinic at 0800 hours, sitting in a waiting room with Kleenex stuffed into the front of my underwear to absorb the milky shame and regret that is oozing from my ding-a-ling, and I'm overwhelmed with fear and mortification. I'm on the verge of tears from how I'd explain this to the doctor, but also what if I'd get even sicker and have to have intense treatment. I mean, I didn't know what the f*ck I had or what would happen next; I was in full panic mode.

As I'm called into the examination room, the wave of anxiety washes over me like a f*cking tsunami and I literally start shaking like a car filled with bad gasoline. The medical aide was an E-4/SPC who clearly noticed my obvious state of being and inquired "Dude! Are you alright?" I answered that I was sick and scared and I needed help. He replied that I was in the right place and help will be administered. Vitals check, height, weight, and paperwork are done and he asks me the dreaded question:

"Okay, so, why are you here today?"

My heart stops beating for a few seconds, my pulse races higher than Snoop Dogg after smoking an ounce, and I begin sweating like R. Kelly at the Kids Choice Awards. I tell the guy that it's personal and I'd rather speak to the doctor about it. "Cool", he says and tells me to wait.

Every minute is an eternity. Waiting to have your diseased cock examined by a stranger and with no idea of what the f*ck is happening next. Well, this happens next: The doctor walks in. A woman. A beautiful woman. A smoking hot, drop dead, athletic, toned, tanned, bespectacled, blonde haired, green eyed woman with extremely short hair like Angelina Jolie from the movie "Hackers". She also introduces herself as the rank of major.

All hope is lost. I'm a dead duck. They're gonna have to wheel me out of here on a gurney because I'm about to have a f*cking aneurysm from shock and awkwardness.

She is absolutely beaming with positivity and smiles. "Good morning, private Oliver. What seems to be the problem?" As I try to find the words to explain my dilemma, I begin to have a borderline panic attack and start slightly hyperventilating. "Oh, my god! Are you okay?!" She grabs my hand and my body temperature rises by several degrees. She smells like vanilla oil and peppermint chewing gum. She's absolutely perfect in every way.

"I think I have an STD, ma'am. I'm really f*cking scared. Please help me." She gives me a reassuring grin that's almost angelic with an almost motherly tone. "We'll get you looked at, Matt. I promise." She knew my first name. My heart was melting like Parkay butter on a hot biscuit. Then she told me to take off my pants. Trepidation and terror fill my entire body as I begin to comply with her instructions, all the while she is writing on her note pad and staring at paperwork.

The thing I remember most about this doctor/major is that she walked in wearing her BDUs, but without her BDU top. All she had was her Army brown shirt that was conveniently two sizes too small that perfectly accentuated her hourglass figure, her rock hard abs, and her voluptuous and fairy tale breasts that were the epitome of every Penthouse forum letter ever written. I wanted to ask her "Why are you in the Army?! Why aren't you on magazine covers or in movies?! You're so much more capable than being a f*cking Army doctor!" The thing is, I'm positive that she KNEW what she was doing. She knew she had a body that could melt a cheese sandwich from across the room and she was working that motherf*cker.

My pants are down, my body is ready to keel over and die, and I'm absolutely speechless. Without saying anything, she puts on latex gloves and wheels herself over in the rolling doctor stool and grabs my junk. I completely freeze and look straight ahead at nothing. My eyes are locked on nothing like from "The Dead Zone". So, after a few seconds of handling my dirty and filthy specimen of a phallus, she confidently says "Yep. You have chlamydia. Let me guess......You didn't use a condom?" I sheepishly smile and lower my head and reply "No, ma'am. I sure didn't" Her reply was a parental "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Oliver. You need to be more careful." She then began to do more paperwork for the process of specimen analysis. She took a cotton swab and rubbed the tip of my dick to collect a sample of the Ghostbusters slime that was emanating from my dick to put into a bag. I was beginning to calm down, somewhat, and then this happens: She swivels around on her stool and grabs something out of my sight and then back around again.

It was just like that scene from Dexter. "SURPRISE, MOTHERF*CKER!!!"

She was holding a nine inch long cotton swab. My mouth goes dry and I gawk in dismay because I knew exactly what the f*ck was about to happen; she was going to rod me off range. She was going to stick this f*cking thing into the tip of my cock and down my urethra. She then explains to me that she's going to swab the inside of my penis for examination. She asks me a very stupid question: "Are you ready?"

AM I READY?!?! f*cking seriously?! I wanted to tell her "F*ck, no! Are you f*cking insane?! I don't care how hot you are! I'll never be ready!" Buuuuuuuuut, one can't say such things to a major. That would be counterproductive.

So I lie my ass off and say yes and she wheels over and grabs my dick, but with a firm and professional grip. I begin chanting a mantra in my head: "Don't pop a boner, Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner." and the moment of truth comes. She violates me and rods me.

It didn't hurt, per se, but it was one of the oddest and weirdest sensations I've ever felt in my life. Of course, I have no desire to ever have said procedure happen to me ever again. So, after she sends said specimens to the lab for analysis, she prepares a needle to give me a shot in the ass. I get the shot, she tells me to get dressed and wait. She leaves the room and I wait for about ten minutes. She eventually returns with papers, pills, and, to my sheer humiliation, a roll of Trojan condoms. She tells me with a beaming smile and genuine concern that my specimens were analyzed and that the sickness should go away within one week to ten days with pills taken regularly. She then tells me in a blunt manner: "Use these condoms and wrap it up next time! I don't want to see you in here again with something that could have been prevented. Understood, mister?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. Thank you for helping me", I reply. She tells me I'm welcome and to be safe.and then releases me as she walks out of the room.

You're probably wondering whatever happened to the c*nt who gave me the Clap. Well, I immediately left the clinic and drove to her barracks to confront her. I knock on her barracks door and her roommate answers. FYI, she was damn pretty. I asked where her wanton trollop of a roommate was and she informed me that she is out with friends. I asked her to deliver a message for me: "Thanks for giving me the Clap."

The roommate gasps and covers her mouth. "You f*cked her without protection?! Dude! She's a f*cking incubator for disease! She f*cks anything that'll move! You're lucky that's all you got from her!" Well, you can imagine my chagrin having another woman tell me such things. I pathetically left and went back to my barracks room and began some much needed contemplation and self deprecation of my life choices so that a fiasco like this would NEVER happen again.

The moral of the story: Safe sex works, Safe sex matters. Use a condom. Wrap your rascal and don't EVER think that it can't happen to you.

I'm thankful every day that I only got a minor and curable STD and not herpes or HIV.

I also wish I could remember that doctor's name so I could look her up on Facebook and she how she's aged and put her in my Spank Bank. I bet she's aged like wine. Ha ha. I enjoyed that, you write really well Matt. On this subject btw... no comment!

That story made me laugh, for sure.

No STD's here, I'm a virgin for life it's anal or no go, so make that a technical virgin. I make sure I keep alot of pillows around though so the ladies have a soft place to sit afterwards with some frozen veggies on their bums

Wait can you get an STD from anal......lulz



HAHA a walking petri dish, have to make sure no shrooms popping on your wang before you go for a dip now huh:P

Originally posted by Impediment
I'm embarrassed to say, but I've had one STD in my entire life, but I'm tankful that it was the curable kind.

Picture it: Fort Hood, Texas, 2001. Before 9/11 happened.

I was into the club scene and hooked up with a lot of chicks back when I was in shape like a motherf*cker and could run six miles a day and ask for seconds. My player game was razor sharp and I scored my fair share of snizz from Army women and civilians alike. I remember going to OZ one night, a club/concert venue in Killeen, and meeting a pretty and laid back girl who was willing to let me get up in them guts as long as I bought her drinks and a bag of cheap cocaine from one of the few dealers inside the club.

Cut to a few hours later, we're in her barracks room of the FSB or MSB (I can't remember which) and we're all alone since her roommate was gone for the night. As we're making out and groping and sucking and fingering and fondling, we both realize, much to our dismay, that we have no condom. The gears are greased, the engines are running, and my dick was as hard as f*cking marble and we're both very much wanting to continue with our little game of "Hide the salami".

"Just f*ck me, but don't shoot in me", she brilliantly suggests.

Me: "Okay. Sounds good"

Bippety Boppety Boo, we both f*ck like horny retards and get to the finish line. I get up and go home with a smile on my face and a sense of accomplishment.

Eight days later............

My balls are swollen and tender, it burns like magma when I piss, and my dick is leaking like a busted pipe. Something is definitely wrong. I go to sick call the next morning.

There I am in the Monroe Health Clinic at 0800 hours, sitting in a waiting room with Kleenex stuffed into the front of my underwear to absorb the milky shame and regret that is oozing from my ding-a-ling, and I'm overwhelmed with fear and mortification. I'm on the verge of tears from how I'd explain this to the doctor, but also what if I'd get even sicker and have to have intense treatment. I mean, I didn't know what the f*ck I had or what would happen next; I was in full panic mode.

As I'm called into the examination room, the wave of anxiety washes over me like a f*cking tsunami and I literally start shaking like a car filled with bad gasoline. The medical aide was an E-4/SPC who clearly noticed my obvious state of being and inquired "Dude! Are you alright?" I answered that I was sick and scared and I needed help. He replied that I was in the right place and help will be administered. Vitals check, height, weight, and paperwork are done and he asks me the dreaded question:

"Okay, so, why are you here today?"

My heart stops beating for a few seconds, my pulse races higher than Snoop Dogg after smoking an ounce, and I begin sweating like R. Kelly at the Kids Choice Awards. I tell the guy that it's personal and I'd rather speak to the doctor about it. "Cool", he says and tells me to wait.

Every minute is an eternity. Waiting to have your diseased cock examined by a stranger and with no idea of what the f*ck is happening next. Well, this happens next: The doctor walks in. A woman. A beautiful woman. A smoking hot, drop dead, athletic, toned, tanned, bespectacled, blonde haired, green eyed woman with extremely short hair like Angelina Jolie from the movie "Hackers". She also introduces herself as the rank of major.

All hope is lost. I'm a dead duck. They're gonna have to wheel me out of here on a gurney because I'm about to have a f*cking aneurysm from shock and awkwardness.

She is absolutely beaming with positivity and smiles. "Good morning, private Oliver. What seems to be the problem?" As I try to find the words to explain my dilemma, I begin to have a borderline panic attack and start slightly hyperventilating. "Oh, my god! Are you okay?!" She grabs my hand and my body temperature rises by several degrees. She smells like vanilla oil and peppermint chewing gum. She's absolutely perfect in every way.

"I think I have an STD, ma'am. I'm really f*cking scared. Please help me." She gives me a reassuring grin that's almost angelic with an almost motherly tone. "We'll get you looked at, Matt. I promise." She knew my first name. My heart was melting like Parkay butter on a hot biscuit. Then she told me to take off my pants. Trepidation and terror fill my entire body as I begin to comply with her instructions, all the while she is writing on her note pad and staring at paperwork.

The thing I remember most about this doctor/major is that she walked in wearing her BDUs, but without her BDU top. All she had was her Army brown shirt that was conveniently two sizes too small that perfectly accentuated her hourglass figure, her rock hard abs, and her voluptuous and fairy tale breasts that were the epitome of every Penthouse forum letter ever written. I wanted to ask her "Why are you in the Army?! Why aren't you on magazine covers or in movies?! You're so much more capable than being a f*cking Army doctor!" The thing is, I'm positive that she KNEW what she was doing. She knew she had a body that could melt a cheese sandwich from across the room and she was working that motherf*cker.

My pants are down, my body is ready to keel over and die, and I'm absolutely speechless. Without saying anything, she puts on latex gloves and wheels herself over in the rolling doctor stool and grabs my junk. I completely freeze and look straight ahead at nothing. My eyes are locked on nothing like from "The Dead Zone". So, after a few seconds of handling my dirty and filthy specimen of a phallus, she confidently says "Yep. You have chlamydia. Let me guess......You didn't use a condom?" I sheepishly smile and lower my head and reply "No, ma'am. I sure didn't" Her reply was a parental "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Oliver. You need to be more careful." She then began to do more paperwork for the process of specimen analysis. She took a cotton swab and rubbed the tip of my dick to collect a sample of the Ghostbusters slime that was emanating from my dick to put into a bag. I was beginning to calm down, somewhat, and then this happens: She swivels around on her stool and grabs something out of my sight and then back around again.

It was just like that scene from Dexter. "SURPRISE, MOTHERF*CKER!!!"

She was holding a nine inch long cotton swab. My mouth goes dry and I gawk in dismay because I knew exactly what the f*ck was about to happen; she was going to rod me off range. She was going to stick this f*cking thing into the tip of my cock and down my urethra. She then explains to me that she's going to swab the inside of my penis for examination. She asks me a very stupid question: "Are you ready?"

AM I READY?!?! f*cking seriously?! I wanted to tell her "F*ck, no! Are you f*cking insane?! I don't care how hot you are! I'll never be ready!" Buuuuuuuuut, one can't say such things to a major. That would be counterproductive.

So I lie my ass off and say yes and she wheels over and grabs my dick, but with a firm and professional grip. I begin chanting a mantra in my head: "Don't pop a boner, Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner. Don't pop a boner." and the moment of truth comes. She violates me and rods me.

It didn't hurt, per se, but it was one of the oddest and weirdest sensations I've ever felt in my life. Of course, I have no desire to ever have said procedure happen to me ever again. So, after she sends said specimens to the lab for analysis, she prepares a needle to give me a shot in the ass. I get the shot, she tells me to get dressed and wait. She leaves the room and I wait for about ten minutes. She eventually returns with papers, pills, and, to my sheer humiliation, a roll of Trojan condoms. She tells me with a beaming smile and genuine concern that my specimens were analyzed and that the sickness should go away within one week to ten days with pills taken regularly. She then tells me in a blunt manner: "Use these condoms and wrap it up next time! I don't want to see you in here again with something that could have been prevented. Understood, mister?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. Thank you for helping me", I reply. She tells me I'm welcome and to be safe.and then releases me as she walks out of the room.

You're probably wondering whatever happened to the c*nt who gave me the Clap. Well, I immediately left the clinic and drove to her barracks to confront her. I knock on her barracks door and her roommate answers. FYI, she was damn pretty. I asked where her wanton trollop of a roommate was and she informed me that she is out with friends. I asked her to deliver a message for me: "Thanks for giving me the Clap."

The roommate gasps and covers her mouth. "You f*cked her without protection?! Dude! She's a f*cking incubator for disease! She f*cks anything that'll move! You're lucky that's all you got from her!" Well, you can imagine my chagrin having another woman tell me such things. I pathetically left and went back to my barracks room and began some much needed contemplation and self deprecation of my life choices so that a fiasco like this would NEVER happen again.

The moral of the story: Safe sex works, Safe sex matters. Use a condom. Wrap your rascal and don't EVER think that it can't happen to you.

I'm thankful every day that I only got a minor and curable STD and not herpes or HIV.

I also wish I could remember that doctor's name so I could look her up on Facebook and she how she's aged and put her in my Spank Bank. I bet she's aged like wine. Ha ha. Great story Matt. I laughed, squirmed and instinctively covered my junk in horror at the swab part.

I played my own soundtrack while reading. The first song was Meatloaf's Paradise by the Dasboard Lights. The second song was Nazareth's Love Hurts. The final song was the ominous Darth Vader music from Star Wars.

What the f*ck.

My cock and balls always get examined tortured by dudes, leaving me traumatized for weeks or months... and Imp gets this super hot chick.

Stuff like that happens only in America, I guess.

I haven't been a whore in a long time but today I went to get tested and im nervous.

Originally posted by Impediment
I'm embarrassed to say, but ...
...wine. Ha ha.

Read the whole thing. Enjoyed the read.


And, yes, you are very lucky. Chlamydia is the easiest one to cure. Just a course of antibiotics and you're good.



For you youngins, never raw dog unless you're in a committed relationship and have been that way for a while.

Never had the pleasure, no. I do wonder if you could have avoided all this unpleasantness had you just f**ked her in the ass.

^^

I see what you did there.

ohhh here she comes, watch out boy she'll give u aids

Nothing as of writing this, a couple of exes did get doses after we had broken up though. One was years after we had finished but the first one was right after we broke up, she went and got herself some rebound sausage and caught Chlamydia.

I don't know if I could live with the shame of genital herpes.

Originally posted by snowdragon
That story made me laugh, for sure.

No STD's here, I'm a virgin for life it's anal or no go, so make that a technical virgin. I make sure I keep alot of pillows around though so the ladies have a soft place to sit afterwards with some frozen veggies on their bums

Wait can you get an STD from anal......lulz



HAHA a walking petri dish, have to make sure no shrooms popping on your wang before you go for a dip now huh:P Only, Thrush on the dick and Chlamydia. Fortunately, I have Hep antibodies due to vaccinations fortunately... and a couple of aspirin solved my Aids, I don't get the big deal with that one!

No, but I can name a few posters who are an std.

I need to visit my urologist again.

Im not calling imp a liar. But i find it hard to believe that anyone who has used the phrase " I scored my fair share of snizz" has actually scored their fair share of snizz.

Originally posted by Raptor22
Im not calling imp a liar. But i find it hard to believe that anyone who has used the phrase " I scored my fair share of snizz" has actually scored their fair share of snizz.

Look, the whole story sounds like a sexual fantasy.

But Imp has spent 15 years on KMC, so you really can't tell what's real.

Had a scare about 10 years ago after receiving unprotected oral sex from a girl. About a week later had burning when peeing and what not. Went to the doctor and got tested for chlamydia and gonorrhea. Nothing as dramatic as Imp's test, just pee'd in a cup and was given some antibiotics just in case. Doctor said he'd call me back if the test was positive but never heard back and the symptoms went away about a week later. Went to another doctor a year later and asked him what it was if not an STD and he said most likely it was just an irritation from regular bacteria from the mouth entering my urethra that it wasn't used to.

Originally posted by BackFire
Had a scare about 10 years ago after receiving unprotected oral sex from a girl. About a week later had burning when peeing and what not. Went to the doctor and got tested for chlamydia and gonorrhea. Nothing as dramatic as Imp's test, just pee'd in a cup and was given some antibiotics just in case. Doctor said he'd call me back if the test was positive but never heard back and the symptoms went away about a week later. Went to another doctor a year later and asked him what it was if not an STD and he said most likely it was just an irritation from regular bacteria from the mouth entering my urethra that it wasn't used to.


Lol you are actually patient zero for a new std caused by gingivitis, you are the winner sir

Originally posted by BackFire
Had a scare about 10 years ago after receiving unprotected oral sex from a girl. About a week later had burning when peeing and what not. Went to the doctor and got tested for chlamydia and gonorrhea. Nothing as dramatic as Imp's test, just pee'd in a cup and was given some antibiotics just in case. Doctor said he'd call me back if the test was positive but never heard back and the symptoms went away about a week later. Went to another doctor a year later and asked him what it was if not an STD and he said most likely it was just an irritation from regular bacteria from the mouth entering my urethra that it wasn't used to.



A UTI.

Burning and/or itchy urethra without discharge is almost UTI.


You dodged a bullet. Tell her to brush her damn teeth.

Originally posted by dadudemon
All of them. Especially butt AIDS.


Get out of DDM's butt, Broly!

Too bad he's on ignore, I can only imagine the wind up toy hilarity.

No.

I am not into promiscous life-style.

Originally posted by S_W_LeGenD
No.

I am not into promiscous life-style.


You know you can get STD's in other ways. *Open border people, here's one consequence of undocumented immigration with no medical checks..*


Layer those toilet seats.

Originally posted by cdtm
You know you can get STD's in other ways.


Oh man, you just reminded me of an awesome genital warts story:

So a guy I knew was sleeping with this girl he was living with, (sort of a student-y house share with 5 people living there) they were both relatively promiscuous and one day she accuses him of sleeping with someone else and giving her genital warts, he claimed his innocence and pointed to the fact that he didn't have genital warts as proof, so he then accused her of cheating, it was one of those months long things that everybody knew about because they always argued about it.

He also used to loan his car to another guy who lived there, which I feel like mentioning because this guy's hands were/are covered in warts. There was a party in this house share one night and a friend had too much to drink so he was carried off to sleep in Guy A's room, the next morning he told me he woke up and started looking through Guy A's phone and found a bunch of home made sex video's so he started watching them for a laugh, they all had titles like; Sarah - BJ and Sarah - Ass Fingering, things like that, but one was titled; Sarah - Gearstick, and you guessed it, it's her riding the gearstick in my friend's car.

To me it seems possible that she caught genital warts from riding the gearstick after Guy B (who I've already mentioned has warts on both hands) was driving it earlier. Now I don't know if this is even possible and I could ask nurse friends I have but I don't want to shatter the illusion that I've solved the mystery. So me and this guy who saw the video believe we have solved how she got genital warts but unfortunately we couldn't tell anyone about it as he would have to admit he was watching their sex vids. The couple broke up about a month later.

Originally posted by samhain
Oh man, you just reminded me of an awesome genital warts story:

So a guy I knew was sleeping with this girl he was living with, (sort of a student-y house share with 5 people living there) they were both relatively promiscuous and one day she accuses him of sleeping with someone else and giving her genital warts, he claimed his innocence and pointed to the fact that he didn't have genital warts as proof, so he then accused her of cheating, it was one of those months long things that everybody knew about because they always argued about it.

He also used to loan his car to another guy who lived there, which I feel like mentioning because this guy's hands were/are covered in warts. There was a party in this house share one night and a friend had too much to drink so he was carried off to sleep in Guy A's room, the next morning he told me he woke up and started looking through Guy A's phone and found a bunch of home made sex video's so he started watching them for a laugh, they all had titles like; Sarah - BJ and Sarah - Ass Fingering, things like that, but one was titled; Sarah - Gearstick, and you guessed it, it's her riding the gearstick in my friend's car.

To me it seems possible that she caught genital warts from riding the gearstick after Guy B (who I've already mentioned has warts on both hands) was driving it earlier. Now I don't know if this is even possible and I could ask nurse friends I have but I don't want to shatter the illusion that I've solved the mystery. So me and this guy who saw the video believe we have solved how she got genital warts but unfortunately we couldn't tell anyone about it as he would have to admit he was watching their sex vids. The couple broke up about a month later.

North to south migration of warts is not possible according to this Doctor:
https://u.osu.edu/buckmdblog/2013/03/17/can-a-wart-on-my-finger-spread-to-my-genitals/

And this healthline article confirms that:
https://www.healthline.com/health/are-warts-contagious

You didn't crack the case, dude. You just revealed that she's just a promiscuous sl*t. OR...he had the genital warts before the relationship but was asymptomatic.

I said I didn't want to shatter the illusion... jerk.

But yeah, I am aware that 'crossing the streams' doesn't really work with STD's. They were both pretty promiscuous as I've said, but I'd wager on him being asymptomatic as the more likely of the two, he'd have stuck it in a dead horse, he died a few years ago now so shouldn't really speak ill of him but it's the truth.

Originally posted by Raptor22
Im not calling imp a liar. But i find it hard to believe that anyone who has used the phrase " I scored my fair share of snizz" has actually scored their fair share of snizz.

I've gotten my fair share of beef curtains.

Originally posted by Impediment
I've gotten my fair share of beef curtains.

Originally posted by dadudemon
North to south migration of warts is not possible according to this Doctor:
https://u.osu.edu/buckmdblog/2013/03/17/can-a-wart-on-my-finger-spread-to-my-genitals/

And this healthline article confirms that:
https://www.healthline.com/health/are-warts-contagious

You didn't crack the case, dude. You just revealed that she's just a promiscuous sl*t. OR...he had the genital warts before the relationship but was asymptomatic.


Yeah, partner without symptoms, or the trusty public toilet seats all women are forced to use.


Thank God for being on team urinal.

Originally posted by dadudemon


A UTI.

Burning and/or itchy urethra without discharge is almost UTI.


You dodged a bullet. Tell her to brush her damn teeth.

Yeah, more or less. The doctor called it an "irritation" multiple times, so it probably wasn't even as severe as a UTI.