Jorge was my first serious boyfriend and since his name reminded me of a migrant field worker, I called him George instead. Ironically, I later found out George is the English pronunciation of Jorge. The second I saw Jorge (Pronounced as George) I knew I wanted to get to know him and the second I found out he had a flap, I knew I wanted to see his penis.
Jorge wasn’t tall, but he had the most beautiful face. He looked like a combination of Enrique Iglesias and Kelly Ripa’s husband. Jorge was the quintessential “punk kid.” He had spiky heavily gelled hair, wore leather bound bracelets, and always had on a t-shirt with some kind of ironic, anti-conformist saying.
Jorge was 4 years older than me, unemployed, and lived alone in a townhouse his parents owned. He was every 17 year old girl’s dream.
My best friend Carrie was kind of seeing Jorge’s friend Ian at the time. I say “kind of” because she would have never dated him had I not been dating Jorge. Ian was cute and had an amazing body, but he was a bit of a loose cannon. I had seen him cry on several occasions and had only been dating Jorge for a few weeks. Jorge eventually had to Baker Act Ian after he made some suicidal threats. Needless to say that’s where Carrie and Ian parted ways.
One evening, the four of us were hanging out at Jorge’s place. Jorge was a major pothead, so if we were at his place we were most likely getting stoned out of our minds.
It had only been a few months since I started smoking pot and I didn’t exactly handle my high very well. That night I got higher than I had ever been. I could hardly keep my eyes open let alone to anything else. I sort of had to pee, but going to the bathroom seemed like way more movement than I was capable of.
After we hung out on the couch for a couple hours, Jorge helped me up and guided me into his bedroom. If it was any other guy, I would have been sure I was going to get raped, but Jorge was different. He was one of the few, maybe only, guys that respected my body and never pressured me to have sex. I was still a virgin, but Jorge and I had pretty much done everything else at that point.
While Jorge and I made our way into his bedroom I realized I didn’t just sort of have to pee anymore. I really needed to pee, but the second my head hit the pillow I was far too comfortable to move.
Jorge and I began our regular routine of making out and dry humping the night away. This did not help my bladder situation. I thought long and hard about what I should do. I felt uncomfortable telling him I had to pee and I was worried that since the bathroom was so close he might hear me. Why I was comfortable putting his dick in my mouth, but not about him hearing me pee, I’ll never know. It was 10’oclock and I had to be home by 11, so I decided I could just wait it out.
As Jorge began to finger bang me, like someone playing a scratch and win lottery game, it became apparent my bladder was the least of my problems. It suddenly felt like I was in bed with Freddy Kruger. I didn’t have the heart to ask him to be a little gentler and possibly trim his nails, even though I feared he was scraping me barren.
I decided the best thing to do was to try to relax and enjoy my high. As much as I tried to relax, while squirming away from his torturous fingers of death, I couldn’t seem to enjoy my high. I needed to be unconscious to get any peace at this point. On the up side, I gradually didn’t have to pee anymore. I guess having your vagina poked and prodded like a lab rat can relieve the mind of the most pressing issues.
Out of the blue, Jorge released me from his death hold. I thought God had finally had some mercy on my soul, but quickly remembered God had given up on me years ago. Jorge sat up, with a look of accomplishment, and said, “God, you’re so wet! I must have really hit the right spot tonight. You look so happy.” I didn’t want to ruin it by telling him I was just happy my vagina was still intact.
I was really confused how I could possibly be so wet. I sat up next to him and noticed there was a large wet spot where I had been laying. I immediately rubbed my hand over the spot. The sheet was saturated. “Great,” I thought, “Edward Scissorhands had my poor, mangled vagina bleeding buckets!”
Jorge got up and turned on the light. It definitely wasn’t blood. I was no sex doctor, but I knew no one could be that wet. Something wasn’t right. Jorge then also noticed the large, pizza size spot on his sheet.
“Holy shit! I’ve never made a girl that wet!”
It was at this point I realized Jorge knew about as much about the female body as a sea otter. As he put his clothes back on, I quickly smelt my hand. I couldn’t believe it! It was definitely urine. I had somehow managed to pee all over Jorge and his bed without even knowing it! I started to panic. I just needed to play it cool for 15 more minutes and then I was home free. If he wanted to believe I was wet, then that’s what I was going to let him believe.
“I noticed you were squirming a lot, but I didn’t think you had an orgasm.” If only he knew I was closer to death than an orgasm. Finally starting to realize something wasn’t right he continued, “I didn’t think women could get that wet unless they had an orgasm.”
Now, I could tell he was starting to catch on. I didn’t know what to say. “Maybe I had one.” I mumbled as I shrugged my shoulders and proceeded to put my clothes on. I couldn’t even look at him.
As I zipped up my jeans I came to a startling realization. If I let him think I had an orgasm, then he would continue to think I liked the freak show his fingers put on earlier. I knew that neither me nor my vagina could handle another round of that.
“Sarah, you would definitely know if you had an orgasm.” He said, just like a parent speaking to their child about the bag of pot that magically ended up in their room.
I was starting to think he knew the truth and was trying to get me to say it. I didn’t want to tell him the truth, but I didn’t want him to think I had an orgasm either.
“Yeah, I didn’t have an orgasm……It’s almost 11. I gotta go soon.” I hoped that would end the conversation. It didn’t. Without missing a beat Jorge asked, “Were you close?” I couldn’t tell if Jorge cared more about the wet spot or how aroused he had got me.
“Umm….. No. Not really.”
There was a moment of silence. We both stood there looking at each other, then the wet spot, and then back at each other. For a reason still unbeknown to me, I thought it would be better to just tell him the truth.
“I think I peed on you.” I said, like it was no big deal.
It may have been the first and only time in my life I actually chose to tell the truth over lying. The second the words came out of my mouth and I saw the severely disturbed look on his face, I wanted to take it back. Suddenly he began to smile and then laugh a little.
“You’re funny.” He said sarcastically. I’m guessing from the look on my face he knew I wasn’t trying to be funny. His smile quickly began to fade.
“Are you fucking serious?” He asked, trying to keep his composure.
I guess I was wrong about him catching onto me. Apparently he was as clueless as I originally thought.
“Yeah…. I was really high.” I explained, still trying to down play the horror of what had actually happened.
In just the nick of time God remembered me and threw me a life jacket. Carrie came barging threw the door. “We need to go, NOW!” She demanded. I looked past her and saw Ian sitting on the couch sobbing, holding a Kleenex in one hand and his cell phone in the other.
“I know you love me mom, but sometimes you make me feel like….like,” Ian then went from sobbing to whaling, “like I’m a disappointment!”
Obviously Ian’s mother didn’t respond the way he had hoped because he then abruptly stood up, threw his cell phone across the room, and collapsed to the floor sobbing with his head in his hands.
It didn’t look pleasant out there and based on the look on Carrie’s face it wasn’t. Carrie gave me a look as if to say; “you’re welcome. I hope you die” and then turned around and yelled “I’ll be in the car” as she stormed out the door.
Even Ian’s dramatic break down wasn’t enough to overshadow the urine stained bed. Jorge still looked like he had just seen a puppy run over by a semi-truck. It was 11:02 and my mom had already started calling my cell phone. I had to leave now. I didn’t need my mother frantically calling the police on top of everything else. I tried to do some quick damage control.
“I have to go. I’m really sorry Jorge. This has never happened before. I didn’t even know I was peeing on you. I’ve never been that high. I think I just didn’t realize how bad I had to pee…… Well, I guess I’ll just talk to you tomorrow.”
I kissed him on the cheek, because it was obviously not the time for a passionate good bye kiss, and walked out the door.
On our way home, Carrie’s mood did a total 180. After hearing about my night she completely forgot about Ian. She couldn’t stop laughing. She finally started to calm down and catch her breath, let out a long sigh and said, “Oh my God, I almost peed myself.” Carrie looked over at me realizing what she had just said and then burst into yet another bout of uncontrollable laugher.
I was sure Carrie marrying Ian was more likely than Jorge ever calling me again. To my surprise and to the surprise of anyone who heard the story, Jorge called me the very next day, asking if I wanted to hang out. I put him off until I finally got the courage to see him four days later.
From then on, I made Carrie make comments about the length of his finger nails every time we were together. He eventually got the hint. I lost my virginity to Jorge 3 months later, a few weeks shy of my 18th Birthday. Luckily his penis didn’t torture me the way his fingers had.
I like to focus on the fact, I haven’t accidentally peed on anyone since. I learned my lesson. Never let a guy finger you when you’re stoned and your bladder is full. It was my first experience with the golden shower. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be my last……
