Picture the following situation, if you will. On second thought, don't. I don't want anyone thinking about me naked.

When I was sixteen, I was in a relationship with a girl named Jennifer*, who really, really liked to have sex. I was required - and occasionally badgered - into having sex upwards of five times a day. Not that I minded, barring when I wanted to sleep. We had sex all over the house too. At every possible angle of her corner couch, the dining room, the bedroom, the kitchen, and that old necessity in a sexual relationship: the shower.

We'd had sex in the bathroom before, of course. We weren't practiced in the art, or anything, but it was a quiet room in which we could quickly accomplish the task. Additionally, you can turn on the water in either the tub or the sink, or both even, so that outsiders cannot hear you make too much noise (or so you're led to believe).

So this one day, we decide we want to fuck (it was never making love; gimme a break, we were both little teens), but Jennifer needed to shave off her pubic hair. Because there was no way I was putting my head between her legs when there's stubble. Hell, no. I digress, however. So, we hop in the shower, and before we get to any sexual activity, we both wash our hair, and after that, it begins. Kissing, groping, fingering, fondling, all that sort of stuff.

In the middle of actual sex, she wants to change positions, from sort of a standing, from-behind sort of position. I'm game, and she turns around. I move myself in order to enter her...and a foot slips. I begin to fall, and I reach for the shower's curtain rod.

Now, in any normal situation, the architecture of a bathroom would allow for a sturdy curtain rod, being secured by screws or a sliding, slotted sort of device. Not this shower. The only thing holding the curtain rod up was suction. Thus, it could handle the weight of a shower curtain, but not the failing balance of a 160 pound young man attempting to boff his girlfriend. So, the curtain rod pops out of place, smacking Jennifer in the head. I let go for some reason, and my arms flail about wildly, as I attempt to regain my balance. Luckily, I remain standing, saving me the additional embarassment of falling out of the shower, on my back, the only thing left standing being, well, you know.

This is a true story, I'll have you know.

* Name unchanged to offer no protection to her, cuz Jennifer was a rather strange girl.