peter rice

One Spring Break, my friend Natalie Bank, invited me at the last minute to go to Daytona Beach with her and her boyfriend, Peter Rice. They had been together on and off and I kinda hated him. At least, I’m pretty sure I already hated him at this point. Regardless, by the end of the trip, I really hated him.

Because I was a last minute addition to this trip, I didn’t really have a place to stay. Natalie and Peter were sharing a room with Peter’s friend Andrew Calton, and Andrew’s new girlfriend, Jenny Grizzle, who I will have a great story about later. I ended up sleeping on the floor in the hallway leading to the bathroom of their tiny hotel room. It was terrific.

Natalie and I were in the height of our awesomeness: we were twenty and hot and at the beach. Life doesn’t really get any better than that. We also had a 2-gallon container of vodka cranberry, light on the cranberry. Natalie and I really did some damage on that jug o’ fun, and then went back to the hotel for some good old fashioned middle of the day napping.

A much more innocent version of what happened...

Peter, Natalie and I laid down on the bed, laughing and reminiscing about the morning’s debaucheries. After a while, in an awkward sequence of events that will forever be hazy either because of all the alcohol or because I’d like to forget it, I tumbled off the bed, not because I was drunk, but because I was pushed. As I start to get up, I hear Peter tell Natalie he will give her anything she wants. She tells him all she wants is some pork fried rice. After that trip, pork fried rice became our universal code for sex, as that is what Natalie and Peter started doing. With me staring at them less than three feet away. It was very uncomfortable.

After they were done, they both swore they thought I was asleep, even though we’d been talking moments before I was evicted from the bed. I guess we must have engaged in some post-coital vodka cran, because Peter continued to get drunker and drunker and drunker. We had never gotten along, we both hated each other – and I guess at this point Peter decided that we should be closer. He decided the best way to do this, was to try to get his dick in my mouth.

This story is all sorts of fucked up. I honestly, don’t know what prompted it, or how long it went on, but I remember with horror, Peter chasing me around that hotel room naked, trying to pin me down. He thought it was funny. I’m pretty sure Natalie told him to leave me alone, but he wouldn’t listen. I don’t know what horrified me more: having a flaccid penis in my face, or knowing that I had just seen said flaccid penis inside my friend.

It’s hard to say no to a friend request of someone who’s ball sack you’ve stared at while he sat on your arms. Yes, that’s right guys. In addition to being hand raped, I’ve come inches from being orally raped too. Does this shit happen to anyone else?

Peter Rice has just informed me that he would like everyone to know that on this specific occasion, he also vomited in the Atlantic Ocean and answered the door buck naked. So, there were other casualties that day besides me. And we also worked past our differences, and I adore him now. I left that part off the first entry.