Well, there wasn't actual death. Would that murder was just a teensy bit more legal, there might have been.
What follows is an absolutely true story that's an important lesson on communication and consent in all aspects of sexy time. Oh, and prolific use of the words "cunt" and "fuck". They're two of my favorite words.
I'm an online dater, I guess you could say? Well, not currently as I've got no damned time but occasionally when I do find myself with free time I'll bring up the old OKCupid profile and see what's going on there. Sometimes, it's really great. Lots of interactions with thoughtful, entertaining people, lots of great sex. Sometimes it's a cesspool of "Sup. Wanna fuck?" from a bunch of mouthbreathers, they don't get sex. I met both my current boyfriends there, and they are wonderful people, so I put up with the cesspool to find the good ones.
A few years ago I was without boyfriend and had a plethora of time so I was on a dating frenzy. Met this guy, we'll call him Andrew. I'm relatively certain his name was Andrew. Maybe it wasn't. Whatever, now, he's Andrew.
We had a really great first meetup, good conversation, some flirting, he had really pretty eyes. I'm a sucker for pretty eyes. It was winter, we'd just had a heavy snow so roads weren't in great shape, and he texted to see if I'd gotten home safe. That was super sweet, and clearly none of that "I'mma wait 3 days to text her because I read that online" crap going on. I hate that crap.
Now, I'm a really rather forward person when it comes to sex. Sex positive and all that, I don't mind talking about it, and we definitely started talking about it. He was a pretty darned good flirt, so I'm looking forward to our next meetup, thinking "Oh yeah, we're gonna bang."
Next meetup was for drinks, maybe dinner. We planned it just like that. "Drinks, maybe some dinner..." with the unspoken but totally there "Drinks and then we're skipping dinner to go fuck."
Important note: we'd met for drinks at a place close to both our houses, then I rode with him to his place, a couple miles away.
The making out was good, I'll spare you the details. Except that he did this really strange staring thing. I think, at some point, someone had complimented Andrew on his eyes by using the word "intense". So I think, he was staring at me "intensely". He'd stop kissing, and look me right in the eyes. "Intensely." I had to just start kissing him or whatever to get him to stop, because it was about to make me laugh. The bad kind of laughing at him, rather than the good kind of laughing with him.
We'd already discussed, in texts, the fact there would be condoms. (Safety first, people!) And as things were heading that way, I asked if he wanted to use his or mine. He said his. I didn't pay a lot of attention at the grabbing of said condom from a box, though I did pay attention to application. (Safety first, for reals though!) I repressed my giggles at yet another "intense" stare, and we were into it.
Just a few minutes into enjoyable thrusting, I began to feel...tingling...in my lady bits. Well, that's weird.
This tingling quickly turned to a nearly painful burning. My cunt was on fucking fire, in a bad way, not a good way. My immediate thought was that I just somehow contracted the godfather of all STDs on contact and my entire reproductive system was about to melt right out of my body. I discounted that as probably not accurate as to what was really happening.
"Whoa, stop, wait." He slowed, but didn't stop. "STOP, GET OFF ME" and I shoved him off me. "Why the hell is my cunt on fire right now?!?"
"You like that? It's the condom."
"Do I sound like I like it? What condom?"
At this point, there was shrinkage, apparently that doesn't just happen in the cold, and no more of that intense stare crap, dude looked scared. He vaguely gestured towards the condom wrapper on the dresser, I picked it up. "Fire and Ice" condom. What the actual fuck. Who the hell thought it'd be a good idea to put Icyhot in a condom?
I got off the bed, and started gathering up my discarded clothing from about the bedroom, laying into Andrew the entire time.
"Why the HELL would you put CHEMICALS into MY CUNT without asking?" Ah, there's my pants. "What is your EVERLOVING problem, you fucking inconsiderate ASSHOLE?!?" That's not my bra, where's my damn bra. "I did not ask for some random ass CHEMICALS to be shoved into MY CUNT. HOW THE HELL AM I EVEN GOING TO GET THEM OUT?!?" Fuck the socks. I don't need socks. "WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF ASSHOLE DOES THAT?"
"I just...I mean...I.. just thought..." he started stuttering and stood up off the bed.
"YOU SIT BACK DOWN AND SHUT UP!" and I was jerking on clothes and shoes, and he sat back down and shut up. "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT SAYING A DAMN THING TO ME, NOT NOW, NOT EVER. MY CUNT IS ON FIRE RIGHT NOW, YOU STUPID ASS." I grabbed my purse. "AND YOUR STUPID STARING LOOKS FUCKING STUPID."
"What?" he asked, genuinely confused.
I stomped out.
Into the cold, and 8 inches of snow, no socks. I stomped and growled my way down the side of the road, the sidewalks were unwalkable, all the while my lady bits were still on actual fire. I honestly considered grabbing a handful of snow and stuffing it down my pants. Eventually someone drove by, slowed, started rolling down a window...I gave them a death glare and up the window went and they kept driving. If it had been him...
Two miles, back to my car, lady cave still on fire.
Drive back to my house, can't feel my toes, bajinga still on fire.
You don't even want to know the lengths I went to in an attempt to stop that infernal burning.
Andrew's OKCupid profile was deleted the next day.