Here’s a question; do people actually fuck their friends? Or is this simply a myth perpetuated by lovesick American film directors that were the victims of unrequited love through high school?
Obviously, I don’t literally mean, do people fuck their friends, because I know it happens. With one of my friends in particular. Literally, if you have a heart beat and a ball sack, he will fuck you. It don’t matter if you’re white, black, green or a goat – if he has a shot of G – he gon’ fuck you.
But what I mean is, does the concept that someone can make you comfty in the day, while making you come at night, actually exist? Can you really be friends that have sex without someone getting hurt?
I’d never known anybody to keep things casually friendly with someone they were sleeping with on a regular basis, without getting too involved or losing interest. Or worse, losing a friend.
We were discussing the topic recently, and exchanging stories of times when we’d had a little too much to drink and ended up in bed with one of our friends. Mine happened a few months ago.
 I’ve only ever slept with a friend once. And let me tell you, there weren’t no “benefits” about it. Least of all an orgasm.
It was a guy I’d fancied when I first met him, despite the fact that he wore a rucksack to Fire. Like, literally on the dance floor. But, then again, I was wearing leopard print underwear and knee-high socks, and you know what they say; people in Rylan’s wardrobe shouldn’t throw stones. So there we were, Camp and Camping; and I’d largely misconstrued that he was into me too.
Sorry, but why else do you talk to strangers in clubs? Exactly, to get laid. No?
So, this first time we met – we were mad out of it (that’s Irish slang for “worse for wear”) and ended up dry groping. Needless to say, it subsided to friendship for a while. Ages in fact. Years.
Then on a night out drinking after the deveatating break up with his boyfriend, we finally met up for a drunken catch up. Getting  majorly drunk turned into getting majorly high and back at his. Here’s little old me, believing that all is totally innocent, dozing off like I’d popped 30mg of Valium. Although truth be told, I could fall asleep on a washing line. In the midst of an earthquake.
To then be woken up with my friend straddling me and waving his cock in my face. BIBLE. At first I thought I was having a dream that I was in a fencing competition, alas no.
I’d sniffed so much plant food I had conifers growing out of my ears and probably would’ve fucked Ricky Gervais if he’d of been him on top of me.
But even so, a part of me wanted to satisfy the curiosity of what it would’ve actually been like had we hooked up in the first place. Things were OK at first, until some delusion made him think that unprotected sex was acceptable;
I mean is this how friends treat each other – by throwing around STIs? Hunty, no.
What followed was what I can only describe as the ordeal of a blow up sex doll. By which, he wocked out my mouth, came on my face and then jumped in the shower without so much as handing me a towel to wipe down with – God forbid, making someone else come.
Quite literally, how you would rag out an inflatable doll. Or a flesh lamp. Or a scatty prostitute you had no respect for.
“What are you thinking?” He asked me after we’d crossed the boundaries of friendship and moved into something now completely grey.
“That I wanna come.”
Make NO mistake, if you’re a lazy lover – you’re gonna get told. Cause if you (us) don’t come, not only does it not count, but it’s not really worth it – ladies am I right?

You LAZEH LAZEH MUN!  The only excuse for being selfish in bed is if you literally have no regard for the person you’re sharing it with. Which, was obviously the case. Something that was proved with the copious amounts of Grindr messages that popped up on his phone that morning. So there you go, no emotion, no mercy, and blatantly no shame. That, or you’re physically that horny that as long as you come, you don’t care. Either way, if that’s how you roll – you won’t be rolling in bed with me again.
*Hails taxi.

Naturally, I tried to finish myself off in the shower (someone had to), it was just a little awkward with the door still open. I should’ve wiped my ass on his towels. I didn’t. *shakes fist at sky*
But really, what ever happened to commeradery? To solidarity? That means, if you come – I come! Not if you come, I’m left to wipe your bodily fluids off my chin with your pillow case.

If these are the benefits sex with a friend has to offer, maybe we should just stick to going cinema on Orange Wednesdays.