A Sexual Encounter Gone Wrong

This is true. A tale that has stayed in the back of my mind since March of 1971.

I was living in Portland, Oregon at the time, working at a restaurant. Money was good, so were the hours. But the nightlife in one sense was even better.

And it was on one such night, Saturday, I ran into Lisse, from Alaska. Short, attractive, petite and she was up for fun. Truth be told, she took more of a lead to our sexual escapade than I did. Within an hour of meeting, I was not just in her apartment, but her bedroom.

We started as most couples would, heavy petting, touching, fondling, kissing, you get the idea. Within twenty minutes we were completely naked and I, first, explored her body in every way a man can with my hands and lips (trying to keep this as clean as I can).

She orgasmed several times before she said it was my turn. Who am I too argue. As I did with her, she started from my forehead to my ankles and came back but stopped just below my stomach and began to perform in an extrodinary way. She was raising my temperature to a limit I didn't think possible.

But then, the possible became impossible!

What was heaven and the universe suddenly became the dark side of hell's pain! While performing oral sex, she suddenly had a seizure!

To make this short, I was able to dislodge her from "parts not working" and found a phone in her place, dialed the operator, telling her what happened to her (not me), while the whole time I'm trying to make sure she didn't swallow her tongue. I even dumped her purse to see if she had any medication in there.

I guess it was ten minutes before paramedics showed up and did their thing. When she was being taken to the hospital, one of the paramedics said to me, "You seem to need assistance yourself." I must have had a confused look on my face but she pointed and I looked down. In the rush to help LIsse, I forgot I was naked. I even forgot about what she did to me, of which she had broken the skin, and blood covered part of my thighs.

Anyway, she asked me to sit down, she took some gauze and some type of ointment, cleaned me up, and then put a butterfly suture on it.

She stood up, smiled and then handed me a card. On the back was her phone number and the words; not bad. Call me sometime.

Truth be told ... I never did.