At work, busy morning, no time for fun, so instead I have a story / confession.

This is one of the more embarrassing things that’s ever happened to me.  It wasn’t funny at the time but it is now.  It’s also a lesson in what’s really important in a relationship.

I was in high school at the time and had been dating my boyfriend for about a year.  I’ll call him Zac (not his real name, and no one but him and me will ever get the joke anyway).  He was a year ahead of me and a really great guy, and not just because he chose to date (geeky, shy, nerdy) me.  He was also good in a pinch.

We went out to eat together.  It was an all-you-can-eat buffet and we took as much advantage as we could, which meant I was so full I thought I’d pop.  My folks and his folks were home, and we didn’t want to drive all the way out to the usual make-out spot, so we pulled in behind an abandoned store along the highway for some “dessert”. 

He got his first.  I gave him a blowjob, him sitting in the driver’s seat, me leaning over.  It was tough- I felt like I was nine months pregnant with my full belly, but I did the job okay, because petty soon he was cumming buckets.  I took it all in my mouth, and then I had a problem.  I’d swallowed Zac’s cum before but today, I was so full that I felt my gag reflex starting.  I couldn’t swallow anything else.  I sat up, trying not to hurl.

That’s when the cop car pulled in behind us. 

Zac got his pants up and zipped, and I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t want to throw up, and I had nowhere to spit.  So I sat there like a moron with my mouth full as the cop came over and asked to see Zac’s license. 

I knew the cop.  Everyone did, because I lived in a small town.  The cop, therefore, knew us.  He was friendly enough but pretty soon he started asking about whether we’d been drinking.  He shined his flashlight in on me.  There I sat with my cheeks bulging and probably looking a little green.  He asked me if I was all right.  I couldn’t answer, so I tried a nod.  He didn’t take that for an answer.  At this point, all I could think of was him calling my parents or taking me home and telling them what we’d been up to.  Nerves weren’t helping my stomach.  I figured what I’d do was open the car door enough to spit on the ground.  But then would he see what I spat out?  I had to do something, so I opened the door. But I hiccupped.  It hit the back of my throat. 

I gagged.  I puked.  All over the inside of the door, the edge of the seat, my arm, my leg.  This was sufficient for the cop to know we’d been drinking, because I was obviously sick from that, right?  Zac got out of the car as requested and started arguing with the cop.  No, I hadn’t been feeling well, that was why we pulled over in the first place. 

Long story short, Zac blew a breathalyzer and got a zero, because we really hadn’t been drinking.  And it was obvious that I was just carsick and not drunk.  At this point, the cop changed his tune from stern to sorry.  We both thanked him and he let us go. 

Zac, sweetie that he is, made sure I was really okay, then just laughed about it.  I was completely embarrassed, but I had to start laughing, too.  When I broke up with Zac it wasn’t out of lack of love- he was just going to college on the west coast.  We still keep in touch, even though he’s moved on and has had more girlfriends, but he still teases me about it.