Morality is a social mechanism developed by evolution for the survival of the species. We don't need the threat of hell to empathize with others and not steal. Therefore, morality based on empathy and cooperation works without a divine overseer — simply because altruism and honesty increase the viability of the group in natural selection.

In China, a family created a digital copy of a man killed in a car accident so they wouldn't have to tell his 80-year-old mother.

The AI ​​clone was created using photos, videos, and voice recordings. Now he communicates with his mother via video call and says he simply left for work in another city.

His mother still doesn't know about his death. 

A friend of mine lost her husband; he fell ill and passed away before they had a chance to have children. Two years later, she got pregnant—but the baby's father vanished. He simply disappeared; to this day, no one knows where he is or what became of him. She gave birth to a boy, and he turned out to be a carbon copy of her late husband—an exact duplicate. The boy is growing up, and with every passing year, he looks more and more like the deceased man—even when compared to old photographs, they are absolutely identical. Her mother-in-law—the late husband's mother—absolutely dotes on the little one, even though he isn't her biological grandchild at all. She brings over baby photos of her late son, and it’s uncanny—they look like twins. It feels like some kind of miracle; it’s fascinating, yet at the same time, a little frightening… It’s almost supernatural.

Nobody can top the reason my last relationship ended: I hit a woman with my car. I called my boyfriend and asked him «Come! I just ran over an old lady—the stupid bitch was trying to cross the street on a red light.» He showed up. The «stupid old bitch» turned out to be his mother.

A female friend suggested a threesome (FMF), and—fool that I am—I agreed. I’m certainly no sex god; sometimes I struggle even with just one woman, because no matter how tired you are, you feel like you have to prove yourself every time and ensure she gets off. But with two women? That’s double the pressure. I was incredibly nervous—I even popped a pill just to make sure I wouldn't flop. It actually went well; they seemed to enjoy it (or at least, that’s what they said), and now they’re dropping hints about doing it again. No thanks. Afterward, my whole body ached from exhaustion for two straight days.

Spring fever—it’s a real thing. Yesterday, a neighbor lady cornered me in the stairwell and started screaming at me because I cook meals at home, and the smell wafts through the entire building. I’m not talking about a *stench*, mind you—I mean a *smell*. A delicious one. The funny thing is, that very same woman’s husband keeps asking me to cook him some of whatever I’m making.

I hopped into a minibus taxi, spotted the last remaining seat—and sat down. At a bus stop, an elderly woman boards; the doors close, and the bus pulls away. Suddenly, the driver slams on the brakes. The old woman begins to fall, and in that instant, every instinct and bit of training I possess kicked in: I managed to grab her by the elbow, pull her toward me, and—in the process—guide her down onto my seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a little girl toppling into the aisle; already in the midst of falling onto some guy myself, I instinctively tossed my tactical backpack into the aisle—it held my work sweater and trousers—and the child landed safely right on top of it. I, meanwhile, landed on the guy. There was a second of stunned silence inside the bus, followed by a simple question from the conductor: «Are you a ninja?»

I have a fantastic athletic figure: firm, size-3 breasts, a trim waist, a nice butt, and great legs. I’m pretty good-looking, too. While I was pregnant, my husband nearly cheated on me (I’m practically a female Sherlock Holmes). I get it, though—a wife with a big baby bump isn't exactly as attractive anymore… After giving birth, I actually became even slimmer, and I retained about 90% of my breast size. Now, he’s just as obsessed with me as he was before the pregnancy. But I still can’t bring myself to forgive him. And so, I’m going to cheat on him. After that stunt he pulled, I have no desire to be faithful anymore.

The most vivid memory from my childhood is a New Year's Eve when I was staying overnight with my aunt, and her drunk friends came over. One of them threw up all over the bathroom—but not before sweeping all the cosmetics off the shelf and into the tub first. The other one face-planted onto the sofa—exclaiming, «Oh, this feels so good!»—right into the spot where a tomcat had peed just a couple of minutes earlier.

The night before my thesis defense—despite the fact that I already had a boyfriend—I somehow ended up on Chatroulette. Naked. It was actually pretty fun showing myself off; it really turned me on. I ended up running into a guy there. Long story short, we spent three hours together—doing exactly what you’d expect. Some kind of crazy chemistry kicked in; I hadn't felt such intense desire in ages—I was practically trembling. To this day, I still remember his dazzling smile… and his cock. I haven't gone back on there since. He gave me his contact info, but I don't think I could bring myself to reach out—my conscience is eating at me, even though the experience itself was awesome.

One time, I sat down next to a girl on a bus. We hit it off, started talking, went on dates, fell in love… and then she cheated on me and left. Now, whenever there’s an empty seat on public transport, I think a thousand times before sitting down next to a cute girl. Just in case she ends up ruining my life all over again...

A girl recently added me on social media. She kept messaging me saying she wanted to get to know me—even after I’d turned her down several times. Eventually, I told her to get lost in pretty harsh terms. And I did it all because I already have a girlfriend I love. As it turned out later, *she* was the girlfriend I loved. She had been testing me using a fake profile. Now she’s furious with me for talking to her so rudely while she was messaging me from that fake account.

My brother’s ex-wife—after watching way too many online «life coaches»—filed for divorce. She decided she was a «goddess» who «deserved better.» She took out a bunch of loans because she wanted to open a beauty studio and go into business for herself. But then everything went completely to hell: she blew through all her money and had no way to pay off her loans. She tried to move back in with my brother, but he told her to get lost—and he was absolutely right to do so. He actually had a new girlfriend by then—a good woman: calm and much more down-to-earth. He proposed to her, but his ex just wouldn't let it go. She tried to sabotage things and cooked up all sorts of schemes, but it was all completely pointless. My brother’s wedding day arrived, and we had a fantastic celebration. We spent the second day celebrating outdoors. Then her mother—my brother’s ex-mother-in-law—showed up and caused a huge scene. She demanded to know what right we had to be celebrating a wedding when her daughter had hanged herself on that very day! What a family! Instead of burying her own daughter, she rushed over just to ruin our wedding—though, truth be told, we quickly kicked her out. Burying one’s child is a terrible tragedy, but that was *her* tragedy, not ours. Our family certainly didn't push her into the rope. And while you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, she really was a completely useless human being.

Other Trash Stories

It happened back during my student days.

I was working as an assistant, accompanying a lawyer to court hearings.

The case involved a married couple going through a divorce.

The husband had built a major business and was very well-off.

He was a calm man—clearly a caring one, too. The couple had three children, aged 12, 7, and 3. The husband had read his wife’s correspondence with her lover; he realized he had been cheated on and that the youngest child was not his. A divorce petition followed shortly thereafter.

The husband was willing to pay child support for two of the children, and he pleaded with his wife—doing everything in his power—to keep the proceedings free of scandal.

The wife, however, couldn't help herself. Declaring, «Since you have the audacity to doubt me, we’ll have DNA tests done on *all* the children—just so you can be shamed,» she filed a formal motion for forensic testing.

At the final hearing, the judge stared wide-eyed at the DNA test results, while the now-somewhat-crestfallen wife uttered a memorable line: «Well, I *assumed* the other two were definitely his… so where on earth am I supposed to find *their* fathers now?»

1. Peace of Mind. No one is trying to drive me crazy, and there’s no need to constantly «sort out our relationship.» I don't have to wonder if my partner is still faithful to me—or where she actually went when she said she was just visiting a girlfriend.

2. No Compromises. I live how I want, where I want, and do what I want. I don't have to constantly adjust to another person or try to find a middle ground between «I want to sleep in» and «go dig up the mother-in-law's garden.»

3. My Own Living Space. I don't have to live in daily fear that if my woman suddenly decides to file for divorce tomorrow, I'll be left without a roof over my head—standing outside with nothing but a toothbrush.

4. Sexual Freedom. I’m not terrified of waking up one day next to a 40-year-old woman with cellulite, only to realize that I stopped wanting to perform my «marital duties» toward her ages ago. I don't have to force myself to fulfill those duties, nor do I have to restrict myself from being with other women. If I want to, I sleep with someone; if I want to, I abstain—especially when it comes to those who are «slightly over 30.»

5. No Crushing Mortgage Debt. Buying a studio apartment or a small country cottage for myself is much faster—and can often be done with cash—compared to taking out a mortgage on a three-room apartment for a whole family, or a massive country estate, and then slaving away at two jobs for 20 years just to pay for it.

6. Plenty of Money. After every paycheck, I still have a lot of surplus cash left over, simply because a single man doesn't actually need very much to get by. I can save it, invest it, or buy myself almost anything my heart desires. *For myself*, specifically—rather than wearing the same pair of pants for ten years while working two jobs, all for *her* sake.

7. Just One Job. Yes, yes—for a bachelor, one job is plenty; there’s no need to get by on four hours of sleep a night, only to drop dead at fifty after working two jobs simultaneously just to «feed the pig.» Or a family… which is the correct way to put it?

8. No children. No crying, no clutter, and no shit in the house. Or, alternatively, no child support payments—which effectively replace all that—draining your income for nearly two decades of your life. Though, in fairness, it’s worth noting that nowadays you don’t really get a choice: 80% of marriages end in divorce, and that automatically means child support.

9. Comfortable sleep. Sleeping alone is a hundred times more comfortable than sleeping with someone else. No one tosses and turns, gets in your way, snores, nudges you, or hogs the covers; nor does anyone wake you up with noise in the morning by getting up earlier than you do. As a result, you get a much better night's sleep.

10. Impossible to turn into a fat slob. You can buy just enough food for yourself to last until the next day—and generally keep yourself in shape. Women, on the other hand, have a habit of stuffing the fridge to the brim with all sorts of crap, getting fat themselves, and simultaneously fattening up their husbands so they won't run off with another woman or catch anyone else's eye.

11. Impeccable order. After all, it is the woman herself who creates the trash and the mess. Well, and the children, too. But if neither she nor they are around, there’s no one left to make a mess. And cleaning up the minor clutter you create yourself takes no more than 15 minutes.

12. Higher earnings. I can easily move around the country—or even the world—in search of better-paying work. I simply pack a suitcase and head off to a new location. With a family, this is impossible: she has her «mom» to consider, the child has a «preschool» they waited two years to get into, and so on. As life has repeatedly shown, a man who attempts to combine having a family with earning a high income through rotational or remote work arrangements ends up getting nothing but a pair of cuckold's horns.

13. Health. Peace of mind, sound sleep, no need to skimp on your own nutrition, no need to drink heavily to cope with stress in your personal life, and so on—all of these factors have an exclusively beneficial effect on your physical health, and, as a direct consequence, on your overall level of happiness in life. Married men, on the other hand, often don't even live long enough to reach retirement age, frequently suffering heart attacks as early as 45.

14. Hobbies. You have an abundance of time for hobbies and personal interests—time that, for married men, gets consumed by working two jobs, handling household chores, fulfilling obligations to their wives, and so on and so forth. In my view, life is truly measured by the opportunity to pursue what genuinely interests you, rather than merely doing what you «have to» do.

15. Financial Freedom. Over the long term, an unmarried man has the potential to achieve financial freedom—that is, to stop going to work entirely, long before reaching the official retirement age. First, because a single man simply doesn't need a vast amount of money; and second, because he can generate income from investments made during his youth—investments that, had he been married, might otherwise have been squandered on women—or by renting out an apartment that a wife could have potentially claimed in a divorce settlement.

In our village next door there is an empty house. Previously, a family lived there, the old people died, and the children moved away. Periodically, the youngest son of the deceased owners of the house came there with his girlfriend. As it turned out later, it was not one girl, but different ones, there were 3 of them in total. He brought them, then killed them, raped the corpses, and then buried them in the garden. When he was detained, there was an uproar throughout the village. The point is that it didn’t work out for him with living girls, so he decided to try sex with a corpse, and it worked. 1993

He was jailed for life.

I saw a seller jerking off to a tomato at the market… I came around the corner, the man did not immediately notice me, and when I arrived, he immediately threw the tomato back to the others. And then someone buys it… Since then I don’t go there at all and wash all the fruits, vegetables, berries that don’t even need to be washed with soap.

I work in an ambulance and it’s hard to surprise me. But this spring, a corpse was examined in a forest belt; the girl, apparently, was a suicide or mentally ill. At the end of February she left home, in April she thawed out in the forest, dressed in a light dress, sneakers and a Panama hat, with a sketchbook, several pencils and pens. The album contains two or three pages of drawings — snowdrifts, bare trees, a snow-covered field with a chain of footprints and a sunset. She went into the forest in winter with almost no clothes and painted snow until she froze to death.

My son (6 years old) walked into the kitchen with a light bulb in his mouth. My husband dropped a large mug of hot coffee on his foot out of laughter, and I jumped up from the loud blow and his scream and crashed my head into the shelf. As a result, the three of us sat in the emergency room: my husband with a suspected broken finger and a burn, me with a suspected concussion, and my son with a light bulb in his mouth. The doctor could barely keep from laughing.

At work, my bosses and employees (a small department, about twelve people) often accuse me of separating myself from the team: I don’t indulge in snacking, I don’t drink tea and coffee with them between breakfast, lunch and dinner, I don’t chip in on tea, cookies and candy. I make excuses for PP and stomach problems — which, in principle, is true. But in fact, there is another reason that I am silent about. I noticed that my boss never washes her hands after using the toilet: I often saw her leaving the stall and walking past me right on the way out while I was washing my hands. And then with these unwashed hands she puts cookies, gingerbreads, waffles and marmalades into a bowl, and everyone else eats it… Ugh...

My husband works at a school — not a teacher, but still. He got there through an acquaintance and somehow gained a foothold and moved up in career. He doesn’t get paid like crazy, pays for our apartment, knows how to do everything a man does around the house, doesn’t demand my money, etc. But I’m ashamed that he works in a woman’s environment. Plus he doesn’t drive and doesn’t want a car — is that a manly thing? I work as an administrator at a car dealership, there are only men here, for whom the car is a priority. Because of this, I feel like my husband is somehow unmanly.

I have ugly breasts. I am young, never had kids. They just grew up like that. I can't look at myself in the mirror. Even at home I wear a bra all day long because hang and it annoys me. When I stayed with the guys at night, at first I didn’t even take it off to sleep. My new boyfriend has never seen my breasts, although we have been together for quite a long time. I'm so tired. I’m saving for an operation, but money is tight right now. From the moment my breasts started growing, there wasn’t a single day when I didn’t feel complex. I know that the guy will accept anyone, but I can’t show him anyway. Because even I hate her myself. In fits of hysteria, thoughts came to cut everything off. So tired of crying over this. I can no longer listen to myself about self-acceptance. There was enough time to accept it. I couldn't.

My boyfriend’s penis is strongly curved in one direction, and it is precisely because of this and, probably, some feature of my anatomy that I do not experience any discomfort and no gag reflexes during a throat blowjob. I think we have found each other!

Men don't watch porn! Honestly, I'm 25+. There have already been a couple of times that I couldn’t finish with the girls. Yes, there was no special feeling or excitement, but the ladies looked very normal. I remember my first sex and my first girls — I could barely hold on with the joy of seeing a naked female body. Dick to the ceiling. Now, because of visual addiction, everything has become worse. Conducted an experiment. A couple of weeks without porn, a minimum of jerking off — everything returned to normal. Now even if it’s on fire, I’m afraid to jerk off!

Other Trash Stories

1. After the wedding, she went on her honeymoon to the Caribbean all by herself. The catch was that the groom had a severe allergy to the sun and couldn't be out in it.

2. The groom began his speech with these words: «To be honest, I didn't want to get married. But we’ve gathered here today for the sake of the bride—and the child she’s expecting with me.» They split up a year and three months later.

3. Instead of a male friend serving as the groom's best man, the groom chose a female friend. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, of course—but after she delivered her speech, everyone in the room realized she was in love with him.

4. Right there at the wedding reception, the groom got into a fistfight with the bride's father. Both families had serious issues with alcohol, and the bride's father had long harbored a dislike for his future son-in-law. The bride tried to step in and break them up, only to catch an elbow right in the eye. They separated four months later. This all took place in Canada. For anyone wondering: the father-in-law won the fight.

5. At the wedding reception, all the guests—including the newlyweds' parents—were placing bets on how long the marriage would last. The groom's friend won the pool by predicting they’d make it exactly 14 months. And that’s exactly what happened. They had known each other since childhood, constantly breaking up and making up two or three times a year. Getting married at age 19—during the summer break between their freshman and sophomore years of college—was essentially a last-ditch attempt to keep their relationship alive. At least they didn't have time to have any kids.

6. A few years ago, I served as a groomsman at a wedding. At the rehearsal dinner, the bride's relatives treated the groom like dirt—humiliating him and subjecting him to constant mockery. Of course, he really should have stood up for himself, but he was just too mild-mannered guy. To make matters worse, the bride ditched the dinner to go get wasted with her girlfriends, while the groom wasn't even allowed to step out into the yard to chat with his own friends.

7. At my brother's wedding, the maid of honor gave a toast and confessed her love to him. Her husband walked over, picked her up, and carried her out of the room before she could embarrass him any further; three months later, they separated. My brother is happily married; they have been together for 20 years.

8. The groom took the silly cake-smashing tradition to the extreme. The bride offered him a bite of her piece, accidentally getting some on his nose and chin. In response, he shoved the cake into her face with all his might. Her face, hair, and dress were covered in cake, and her nose was bleeding. The bride was sobbing, while the groom couldn't care less.

9. I attended the wedding of a friend of my mother's. The bride got so drunk that she seemed to enjoy dancing with the best man more than with the groom. After the divorce, she dated that best man for a while.

10. The bride told her bridesmaids that she didn't actually want to get married. Yet, no one mentioned this to the groom before the wedding.

11. Some friends of mine were getting married. During the church ceremony, the groom burst out laughing when it came time to recite the vows of fidelity.

12. I was invited to the wedding of a family friend whom I had never met before. At the pre-wedding dinner, guests were smashing ceramic and porcelain figurines on the floor. Having just arrived in Germany, I was shocked by this, but my husband explained that it was a local tradition. I overheard the bride whisper to the groom, asking him to sweep up the mess. He made a half-hearted attempt with a broom, then walked off to join his friends. Most of the shards remained scattered across the floor. Throughout the next three days of wedding festivities, I don't recall seeing the bride and groom exchange a single word. They divorced a few years later.

13. In the middle of the wedding ceremony—just as the bride and groom were exchanging their vows—the groom’s phone rang. He actually answered it and started chatting away, completely interrupting the proceedings. I know for a fact that they are divorced now.

14. I’m a wedding photographer, and I’ve got plenty of stories like that. One time, a couple started arguing during the reception dinner; later, when they hit the dance floor, the argument escalated into a full-blown brawl. At another wedding, right at the very end as the guests were starting to head out, I saw the bride slip away to be alone with one of the groom’s friends. I happened to be walking down the hallway and, through a door that hadn't been shut quite tight, I saw them kissing. I also once worked alongside a videographer who had fitted the bride and groom with lavalier microphones. After a while, the videographer came up to me and said, «Listen to this.» I could hear the groom talking to one of the bridesmaids, trying to convince her that they needed to put an end to their affair. On another occasion, I was shooting a church wedding on the hottest day of the year. The heat got to the groom; he passed out cold and smashed his face badly against the stone steps. And then there was the time I was photographing a newlywed couple on a trampoline. As the groom was landing, the bride was bouncing up into the air. The groom landed right on the hem of her dress, and she popped right out of it—landing in nothing but her lingerie.

My girlfriend wanted 69. I asked what it was. She said, «Well, lie down and I'll show you.»

I lay down. She squatted over my face and accidentally farted. She said, «Oh, sorry,» stood up abruptly, then squatted again. Farted again.

Here I stood up myself and said:

No, I'm out, I don't need another 67.

A friend of mine is an equestrian. Yesterday, we got into a bit of an argument about sports. I told her that horseback riding doesn't actually build muscle. To prove my point, I decided to play the part of the horse. She climbed onto my back.

The following dialogue ensued:

Me: Come on, then—squeeze me with your legs.

Her: Maybe we shouldn't?

Me: What, too scared?

Anyway—long story short: I’m currently lying in the hospital with two broken ribs on my left side and one on my right. Never play «horsey» with an equestrian.

I’ve been seeing a girl for a year now—she’s uglier than a nuclear war. She’s fully aware of how she looks and doesn’t try to act like a princess. But the sex? Every time feels like the last! It all started as «sex out of pity»—I was drunk after a company party and decided to «make a plain girl happy» (she actually has a pretty decent figure overall), and before I knew it, I was hooked! She gets incredibly turned on when, right in the middle of things—at her own request—I tell her which of our beautiful mutual acquaintances I’m imagining in her place. I don’t know what kind of masochism that is, but her moans drive me absolutely wild, so I’m in no rush to break things off with her...

A friend of mine did an internship at a psychiatric hospital; she basically worked there for a month. She told me a lot about the patients—she says most of them are just like little children and, generally speaking, harmless. But there were some truly vicious ones, too; they were kept in separate, solitary confinement units. She told me about one guy in particular: he was basically a vegetable, kept constantly sedated on heavy medication. The man was a cannibal; he had eaten both his mother-in-law and his wife. When he was declared legally insane and committed for treatment, they initially placed him in a general ward. During the night, he bit a chunk out of his roommate’s thigh and ate it raw—right up until the orderlies rushed in, subdued him, and tied him down.

I met a guy online—strictly for sex. He proposed a game: meeting up with a stranger in total darkness. I decided to take the risk and went for it. It turned out to be the best sex of my life. In the dark, nothing matters but pure sensation—there’s no analyzing personalities or getting hung up on superficial details. We made love with a total stranger—we didn't just *have sex*. We’ve been seeing each other for three months now, talking for hours on end, but we’re terrified of shattering our little world by stepping out into the light. I haven’t felt this good in ages, and I can tell that this isn’t just about sex anymore—it’s something much, much more...

And that’s just how you go through life: you go to work, you go shopping, you take your quiet walks—just living your ordinary life. And you have no idea that someone you know—a colleague, a neighbor, or maybe even a complete stranger—has wanted to rape you. Someone fantasizes about you, sitting there and suppressing their animal instincts—watching you, spying on you. Maybe I’m completely messed up, but that turns me the hell on.

I’ve been seeing a 43-year-old woman strictly for sex for a little while now. She’s divorced, beautiful, and curvy—so why not? I’ve never witnessed such love for my cock before. It’s not even love, really—it’s an obsession. I’ll show up at her place, and the first thing she does is grab for my dick. She doesn’t kiss *me*—she kisses *it*. She even goes to sleep with my cock in her hand. I get it—maybe she’s been starved for affection, or she just can’t get enough—that’s all understandable. But holy shit, I feel completely superfluous.

My daily schedule is such that I have to take my dog ​​out for her evening walk around midnight—right when the streets are full of rowdy, drunken hooligans. So, whenever we pass one of those groups, I say to my German Shepherd in a stern voice: «Easy, Rex—they're friendlies!» Everyone immediately steps aside respectfully, even though my dog’s real name is Fluffy — and she’s terrified of her own shadow.

When I was a child, my mother’s ex-husband—my biological father—used to physically abuse her. One night, I was so terrified that I climbed onto the windowsill and contemplated jumping out the window (we lived on the 9th floor). The next day, I told my brother what had happened (he hadn't been home that night), and he replied: «Well, if you *had* jumped, then they would have bought the computer just for *me*.»

I’m 20 years old now, but I still recall his words with tears in my eyes. That was the first time I truly learned the meaning of greed and cruelty.

I used to do nude modeling, and I don't regret a thing. But it really annoys me when people label it as pornography. I didn't sleep with anyone, I didn't stick anything anywhere—so why, years later, do people dig up these photos to post in sleazy online groups while clucking their tongues in judgment? Just enjoy the sight of the beautiful body I shared with you, and go to bed in silence.

I lost my wallet—it had a pretty large sum of cash in it, plus my debit card (which had just received my latest paycheck and bonus), and a credit card. I was left without a single penny; I live alone and have no one to borrow from, so I just sat there sobbing. Then, suddenly, my phone rang: some guy had found my wallet, looked up my name on the debit card to find me on social media, and got my phone number from there. I rushed out to meet him—and the guy turned out to be a total *Thug*: tracksuit, flat cap, dress shoes. He spoke exactly like one, too; if I’d run into a guy like that in a dark alley at night, I certainly wouldn't have been thrilled. But he simply handed over the wallet and said, «Hey, what the hell, man? Don't go losing this shit again.»

One time, my boyfriend had a little too much to drink at a party hosted by some mutual friends. I dragged him home, somehow managed to get his clothes off, and practically dropped him onto the bed on his back. I stripped down myself, lay down next to him, and fumed—I didn't want to sleep yet, as I’d been totally in the mood for some wild sex. Out of sheer frustration, I gave the big buzzkill a light kick—and suddenly, I saw it! A rock-hard erection! I was practically beside myself with joy! *Ahooooy!* I ended up getting my orgasm—and I didn't even wake my boyfriend up.

Other Trash Stories