My Poor Fucking Mattress: The Case of the Girl Who Shit My Bed

An old friend of mine from out of town came into visit me this weekend, named Eli D. Stevens. He’s a Freelance Photographer, who recently split up with his girlfriend. He came to Boston with his colleague, Jim. Saturday night the three of us and George went out. Eli has been taking the break up hard. At the party I threw the night before, Eli elbowed a hole into the drywall.
Saturday night we went to a party on Comm. Ave. Five minutes after we walked in I went outside for a smoke and found Eli chatting chatting on the outside porch with a girl.
“I was raised a Christian, but I really think Buddhism is in my heart. I think it’s a beautiful religion,” the girl said.
“I agree with you but I think Christianity is a beautiful thing as well.”
I chortled openly at Eli and after a few more minutes of Eli indulging the girl as she discussed reincarnation, her family, and her past life experiences, she left suddenly and without and explanation. The rest of the crowd on the porch followed suit as I began complaining how I thought I would have had more group sex in college.
“Masturbating in front of several mirrors just does not cut it, even when I’m wearing lipstick,” I may have said.
When we went inside and found the party-goers jumping up and down and singing in falsetto to a bizarre synth driven, hook heavy, and Eastern European club mega hit, I decided it was time for us to leave.
“We’ve stumbled about some strange ethnic-national gathering; it’s a little too culturally rich for me,” I said as I slammed the door.
The next party we went to across the river was more successful, filled with Emerson hipsters. Eli soon began chatting with a black girl who was several inches taller than he and seemed to me to have the face of a fish. A fat chick with red hair and a triangular shaped head stood next to them. Soon the black girl left and Eli stood alone with the homely redhead. Thirty minutes later the two were making out in the middle of the dance floor.
“You hardly ever see that anymore at a party,” a friend Alex Roesch commented.
We laughed at the two as they continued to make out. I watched as tongue slips landed on each other’s face. The girl opened her eyes at some point and was unable to focus them.
“She’s hammered,” George said.
“So is Eli.”
George and I continued to mingle until Eli broke away from the fat girl whom he had pinned up against a wall.
“We need to leave, now,” Eli said.
“OK, let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said.

I drove us back in Eli’s Honda Accord, sporting 197,000 miles, and littered with clothing and junk.
“There are a lot of cops out tonight,” I said.
“We can’t get pulled over,” the girl said.
“Yeah, because Eli probably has guns and knives inside the car,” I said.
“No, because I’m on probation,” the girl said.
“Why?” George asked.
“For being a drunk,” the girl said.
“Where are we going?”
“To her place,” Eli said.
“I live at Emerson,” she said.
“In the dorms, eh?” I said.
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s better that we don’t go there.”
“We can go back to my place,” I said.

We got out of the car. I walked closely to Eli and muttered.
“You can have my bed.”
“You’re a gentleman and a scholar.”
“It’s okay, Eli,” I said.
“You’re a good friend too. I need this,” he said.
George walked home and I brought the guests into my place. I pulled my comforter from my bed, grabbed my computer, the charger and brought them to the living room. I returned to the bedroom and looked around before I found the bottle of KY Jelly. I walked to the doorway with it. The girl was faced away from me and I hissed at Eli. He looked up.
I pantomimed to him and held the bottle in my hand. So she can fuck you in the ass. So she can fuck you in the ass. I motioned with my finger simulating some aggressive anal play. Eli grinned at me and I tossed him the bottle. I went to the living and sat down with Jim to watch some TV.

“So Eli is finally getting some ass with that fucking drunk chick,” I said.
“He sure is,” Jim said.
“She’s on probation, eh?”
“Yeah, she told us that she spent last night in the hospital for alcohol poisoning,” Jim said.
“What a fucking girl,” I said. She had been stumbling around the house before my bedroom door closed.

I heard the strike of Eli’s boots on the bedroom floor and the first sounds coming from my bedroom in more than an hour and a half.
“Oh, I guess they’re done. He has his shoes back on,” I said.
“I bet he didn’t even take them off,” Jim said.
The bedroom door opened and Eli led the girl down my hallway.
“Hello,” Eli said. “She is going to go home now.”
“Bye guys,” the girl said and smiled at us. She was no longer stumbling.
I laughed. “What a fucking guy,” I said.

Eli returned to the apartment a few minutes later.
“She got a cab quickly,” I said.
“Max,” he said.
“How’d it go?”
“She shit in your bed,” Eli said.
‘What?” I said. I half smiled at Eli not believing him.
“Yes, she fucking shit in your bed and I told her she had to go home.”
“Fuck you, Eli. You’re fucking me,” I said.
“No, man, I am telling you the fucking truth.”
“Bullshit, show me that shit then.”
I sat on my futon and lost another internet game of no cash Hold ‘Em.
Eli returned a moment later with his hand extended.
“Theyre just little girl turdies’ Eli said.
In his hands were two little pancakes of shit. They were the size and shape of two real little hotcakes.
“What the fuck,” I said.
“I was fucking her in the ass and she fucking shit them out.”
“What the fuck!” I yelled. “That fucking drunk shit on my bed! And you’re fucking hold the shit in your hands!”
“Yeah, she also came. She came about three times. She fucking female ejaculated on there. She nearly came at the party. I was fingering her on the dance floor, giving her the ol Captain hook.” He said with a growl.
“No! No! You’re full of shit. Fuck you Eli, you fucking bastard. She had better not have soiled my bed.”
“She was loving it,” Eli said.
“Until she crapped the bed!”
“She didn’t mind that too much either. I told her that she had shit and she said, ‘Oh that’s okay,’ and I said ‘No that’s not okay because this isn’t my bed. This is Max B.K.’s bed and you’re going to have to take a taxi cab home now.’”
I stared at Eli.
“I fucking gave her my business card. She had better not call saying she is pregnant. She’s 18 years old.”
“How old are you?’” Jim asked.
“Twenty-five.”
‘Who gives a fuck how old she is,” I said. “Eli, you fucked her in the ass without a condom didn’t you?”
“I sure did,” Eli grinned.
“I bet you didn’t even use the lube.”
“Nope.”
“Fucking rip those sheets off my bed before it soaks to the mattress!” I jumped up from the futon and went to my bed. I looked down on my dark blue fitted sheet and saw the splotch. The size of the wetness was as if he had spilled a can of beer on my sheets, but this was not beer it was she-jissom. Girl cum.
“Eli! Take those sheets off! You’re a bad boy Eli Stevens, a very bad boy! A naughty, reprehensible boy!”
“I wasn’t the one who did the shitting, man,” Eli said as he grabbed the sheets off my bed. He laughed.
“The pillow case too–– No, not the pillow case! You’ll sleep in the mess you made tonight, Eli.” I looked down at the mattress. A huge darkened wetness has impregnated my queen mattress. “I can’t fucking believe you, Eli. You ass fucked her and she fucking cum stained my mattress. I can’t believe you sodomized her on my bed, a friend’s bed. You don’t ass fuck someone on a friend’s bed, Eli! You’re a very bad boy!”
“Hey, Max, you told me I could ass fuck her. You were pointing at your ass, motioning, and you even gave me the KY.”
“What! I never said you could fuck her in the ass. I said she could fuck you in the ass. I know you’re into that. Bad boy!”
Eli had given me a butt plug with a perineum attachment the day before. The gift was second hand. I stood looking down at my fouled mattress.
“Clean that fucking mattress off with Tide stain remover, put my fucking sheets in the washing machine, and get the fucking camera out.”