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REDDITORS REVEAL – Their Best One Night Stand Stories And That Dude’s Stalker Dildo Story Is Next Level
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Tinder has led to an astronomical rise in the number of one-night stands. Below a bunch of people shared their best hilarious and/or awkward one night stand story, and the reason I called out Tinder in the first sentence is because the first story of the group involves this dude meeting a chick on Tinder and things going South very, very quickly. It involves parent’s sex toys, a co-worker’s sister, and a threatening stalker message. It’s really got it all. Make sure to keep scrolling after that story though because there’s a shit ton of these and they’re all equally amazing (the last story about the pitfalls of butt stuff is actually my favorite).


zaneage:
Went on a date, had a fun time, had sex in a public park in the city, went back to her’s, had sex again, asked where the bathroom was, went to the bathroom, accidentally went into the wrong room, found her parents sex toy stash in the corner of the room, went home, got up in the morning, told a mate at work what happened, he told another guy at work, turns out it was his sister I had sex with and his parents stuff I had caught, he wasn’t happy, he approached me and threatened me, I told my boss what he did, he got fired, went home from work, found a box at my doorstep, took it inside and opened it, there’s a letter (cool), open the letter, it says “we’re watching you” in capital letters, looked inside the box, found Gwyneth Paltrow’s head a pink dildo with my name carved into the side, won’t be dating on Tinder for a bit.


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gentleman_bronco:
This was about a decade ago and I was in my mid-twenties. I think her name was Amanda but I could be totally wrong on that. I can’t remember where we met or how we started making out but like magic, we were. She was thin and had nice curly dark hair and she was unapologeticaly wearing a fur coat. We made it back to my apartment and we proceeded to do all the filthy things that you would want to live out in a one night stand. Oh, the majesty of the chance encounter where you can embody a porn star, go by a different name, work in a field different than your own, lie about every aspect of your life and feel damn good about yourself. You are willing to go beyond your typical repertoire because there is simply no judgment. I tossed her around into all the different positions that I could imagine and we just genuinely enjoyed our awesome fuck session. When it was over, I made the mistake of trying to go again but a lot of whisky had been drank that night and I was writing checks that my body couldn’t cash. Needless to say, the spark was gone. About halfway through my attempt at a round two, she suggested that we take a break and go outside and have a cigarette. My god I was thankful. I quickly threw on a pair of pants and a jacket and by the time I got to the door, she was just wearing her fur coat (no pun intended) she didn’t have her skirt or underwear, just her fur coat and everything else was naked, it was kind of sexy. Anyway, we get out to my balcony and she starts telling me that she forgot her cigarettes. I offer her one of mine and she was like “no way, those are menthols” and I was like “cool, I’ll go find yours”. I go back into the house for a few minutes looking for her pack but can’t find them or her purse. I then go back out to ask her where she could have left them when I see it. She climbed down my fire escape to the ground level and was running across the street completely naked (except for her coat), without shoes or anything in the middle of winter. She hails a taxi and gets the fuck out of there. I never saw her again after that. She left her clothes and shoes in my apartment. She had her purse the whole time. As I was watching her naked ass run down the sidewalk I remember wondering if it was because I was that bad of a lay. But then it dawned on me….I don’t give a shit.

Don’t get me wrong, these stories are good, but the last one (down below) is my favorite.


ThatGuyFromOhio
I was in a bar, having a beer and this girl starts talking to me. She seems OK, but the bar is dark. Hard to tell. She asks me if I want to go out to her truck and smoke a joint. I say “yes.”
When we wander out of the bar, the bright lights outside illuminate her face in a disturbing way. I ignore what I am seeing. She says, “so where is your car?”
I say, “I thought we were going to your truck?” She says, “No, we are going to your car.”
OK. I can deal with this.
We get to my car, and she says “Where is the joint?” I say, “I thought you had a joint.” She says, “No. Take me home.”
OK. I can deal with this.
So, I start driving her home. As I am driving, she starts rambling, “you can fuck me. you can screw me. you can do anything you want to me.”
OK. Maybe I can deal with this.
As we approach her apartment she says “I sure hope my boyfriend isn’t home.”
Oh, fuck. Can I deal with this?
She points to a convenience store and says “Pull in there. And go buy me a 12 pack of beer.” I say, “I’m not buying you a 12 pack.” So, she gets out of the car to buy beer.
I definitely cannot deal with this, slam the car into reverse, and race off into the night.
I didn’t go back to that bar for a year.
Creepy girl.


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z932074:
I was out at the bar and I was on my period. So, I had no intentions of hooking up with anyone. But, I met a cute guy, who wouldn’t take no for an answer, even though I told him straight up that he didn’t want to do this, that I was bleeding. But, he insisted, so we went back to his house. We had sex, then he gets up and goes to the bathroom, and when he comes back he’s angry because of the blood on him. So, he starts yelling at me because he thought that I was only using my period as an excuse. So, he kicks me out of his place, cursing me out the entire way out. So then, I’m sitting in my car, and of course I left my $50 bra in his bedroom. Fuck that, that’s $50! I knock on his door, he doesn’t answer, and I leave. Over the next 2 months everytime I see this guy at the bar I’m like hey, I want my bra back. I even resorted to sending my friends over to tell him that I wanted my bra back.
Finally, one night I walk into the bar and the bartender says “I’ve got something for you” and hands me my nice $50 bra.


PM_YOUR_LADY_HUMPS:
I once was with a girl that wanted me to piss inside her butt.
I noped the fuck out of that.


Cbuck24:
Slept with a girl from Russia in Orlando Florida that did not speak English that night after drinking the language barrier was erotic and somewhat understandable but that morning it was confusing and just awkward. (She slept in my bed until noon with no polite way of saying I have to go you need to leave)


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Fredthefro:
Went out boozing big style, my friends said I was barely standing by 11pm so they told me to get a taxi home (taxi rank was directly outside the club).
Woke up next morning in a strange bed with shitloads of dollies and stuffed animals on a shelf…uh….ok.
Managed to put my trousers and jumper back on when a woman around a decade older than me came into the room carrying a fried egg sandwich, she smiled at me and said “you need to eat this then leave. Quietly”, then about faced and left the room.
I quickly scoff the sarnie in a vague attempt the quieten the monstrous hangover that was starting to build as the last of the booze wore off, went into the hallway and she was standing at the front door holding my coat smiling slightly. I try to ask her what happened last night but she simply shock her head and motioned to the door.
As I get outside I realise this is a really really posh estate.
I’ve not got a damn clue what happened but it left me really weirded out for a long time….


This last one’s a real doozie…And it’s amazing:

Alrik:
I’ve posted this before, but people seem to like it.
Back when I was in law school, there was a girl, M. M was a wholesome gal from Wisconsin: blonde hair, blue eyes, a slight gap in her front teeth. A real girl-next-door type (in the traditional, non-porno sense). She grew up on a dairy farm.
M was what we called “law school hot” — late 20s (and just starting to show it), slightly pudgy, finally trying harder to dress professionally than to dress sexy, generally attractive, but didn’t really stand out in a crowd. Her biggest asset — literally — was her awesome rack. To quote Fight Club, they hung enormous, the way you’d think of God’s as big. Her daddy would have been lucky to have a milk cow endowed like her.
It was the end of our first semester, which for new 1Ls is a huge deal. (The stress during the initial year in law school is tremendous; if you’ve ever seen the movie Paper Chase, it’s 100% accurate.) The tradition at my law school was for everyone to saunter over to the bar a block away after their last exam and hang out. M and I had a friendly relationship up until that point, so when I saw her walk through the door, I waved her over and she joined our group of about ten or so.
At some point — prompted in part, I’m sure, by large quantities of booze — we of course started talking about sex, and because one of the guys with us was gay, the topic of anal sex came up. After a bit, M admitted that she had never tried anal. I was drunk and and feeling saucy, so I said, “We should rectify that.” “Rectum-ify,” she giggled back, and at that moment, I decided to put all of my drunken intellect towards coming in her back door before the night was out.
After a few hours our group was dwindling, but some of us were determined to continue celebrating for a while longer and M was looking like she was ready to head out. She needed to eat, she said, and was running out of cash, too. We still had about 3/4 of a pizza left, and I was trying to convince her to stay, so I offered to buy her next drink if she’d stick around.
When I came back with her drink — something with tequila, I believe — she turned to me and said, “I shouldn’t be eating this, I’m lactose-intolerant. I hope you’re happy, because I’m doing this for you.”
After that round, more people headed out, and M couldn’t be persuaded to stay. But I wasn’t ready to give up, so I offered to walk her home, since our apartments were next to each other, and only a few blocks away.” When we got to her place, she invited me in. We went through the standard fooling around routine, ending up naked and horizontal in her bed.
Emboldened by earlier conversation, M’s apparent enthusiasm, and a large dose of alcohol, I eventually suggested that we try anal, and M agreed. After some shuffling, we ended up with her on top so that she could control the depth and speed, and for a few minutes, I was happily watching M’s magnificent mammaries jiggle around while she gingerly bounced on my rod.
After a few minutes, her expression switched from drunken sex stupor to pain and fear. Assuming I had hurt her somehow, I began to push her off of me, but she told me to wait. Sudden pressure and heat on my tool tipped me off to her digestive distress, and I could feel something trickling down my balls. I started to get up again, but she said, “No, please. Stay inside. Just for a minute.” I protested, but she was panicked, and begged me to help her to the bathroom before I pulled out. We flailed around for a moment, and awkwardly switched to doggy style. We tried to shuffle to the bathroom, but drunkenness, the physical difficulty of the act, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all meant we didn’t make much progress. In a moment of inebriated genius, I hoisted her up by the hips and suggested she walk on her hands.
It turns out that wheelbarrowing a crying drunk girl across her apartment with your dick stuck in her ass isn’t particularly sexy, and a combination of internal pressure and my rapidly deflating member caused what is probably best referred to as an uncorking.
I watched in slow-mo horror as a fountain of diarrhea blasted out of her butthole, point-blank into my crotch. Spattering my torso. And my arms. And my face. And I dropped her. She hit the ground, hard, sobbing. The smell — like wet garbage in the hot sun — hit me. I was painted from waist down with her special brand of brownie batter. I was in shock. I just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at this poor girl, suffering the world’s worst case of mudbutt, crying on the floor of her shitty apartment, shit oozing out of her ass, shit dripping off of me.
But as horrible as the sight and the smell were, the worst was the sound. That sound will haunt me for the rest of my life. No language on Earth can approximate the cacophony of her crapping everywhere. It was a combination of the most over-the-top whoopee cushion, someone snapping gum through their teeth, and the glug of a water cooler. That sound blared above all, the way classical music plays during the hero’s against-all-odds rush into death in war movies. The sobbing was a distant drone, almost outside my notice, but the burbling of her bowels was deafening, in perfect sonorous clarity.
I must have stood there for maybe 10 seconds, but it felt like an hour. In a daze I pulled my pants on, then ran out the door. I mean ran. I sprinted. I left my shirt, my shoes, my socks, my boxers. All of it was abandoned in my mad dash to get home. People on the street saw me, but I didn’t care. I ran the 100 yards to my apartment door, past everyone, and I threw myself in the shower, and I cried.


Damn. No words. That dude, my god. How do you ever come back from seeing something like that?

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