I’m a girl, FTR, but I’ve got an embarrasing erection story to retell on behalf of my first boyfriend. Before we get any further, I should probably point out that he was neither an intelligent or diplomatic young man.
On the night in question, he’d come over to watch television at my house. This was maybe the second time he’d been over. The television was in the basement, and very private, and of course we eventually wound up making out.
When it came time for him to leave, he had one horrific boner prodding at the fly of his jeans. Rather than adjust it, adjust his clothing, or simply wait for it to go away, he decides he’s just going to bolt for the door. I was to new to the situation to request he do otherwise, and we head upstairs, fully unprotected. The basement was soundproof, so we had no way of knowing if my parents were still upstairs or not. They were. Both of them. My father was cooking.
And into the kitchen bursts my ex, his goofy erection impossible to miss; he walks smack into my father, who, IIRC, was holding a spatula or a pot or something.
There are a few moments of dead silence, while my unintelligent, undiplomatic, and unarticulate ex plops down on in a chair and begins putting his shoes on.
My father eventually breaks the silence with: “Would you, uh, like some macaroni and cheese, before you go, JR?”
The ex mumbled a no thanks and all but hit the door running. My father never mentioned the incident again.
