Once in a blue moon, a woman will do something during fornication so unbelievable, so baffling, so mind-blowingly great that you can’t do anything but sit and marvel at her audacity and sexual prowess.
Maybe it’s the first time she goes for a little game of “testicular tongue tickle.” Maybe she says a little “How do you do?” and plays Mrs. Featherbottom to your poop chute in search of the P-spot. Maybe she chokes you with one hand, gives you a western grip handjob with the other, spits in your mouth and knees your gooch while making you recite the 13 original colonies in descending alphabetical order, and then – ONLY THEN – can you come. I don’t judge.
Whatever combination of pain, America, and erogenous zones gets you “there” is your business, or in my case, the whole Internet’s. If you read my last column, you may have gotten the impression that I’m some sort of low-life sex-fiend making improper use of the inebriated, insatiable, and extremely short-sighted population of women in the Greek community. That’s exactly what I am.
This particular story takes place early during my first semester as an active, a special period in any fraternity man’s life. Fresh from the shackles of pledgeship and proudly donning my letters, I like to think of it as if I was a lion released from the cage, ready to tear through second semester like an alcoholic whirlwind of debauchery and bodily fluids.
I was at one of the more popular bars on campus, and knocking back far more than my fair share of whiskey-waters, when one of my pledge brothers comes up with the shining idea to hit the dance floor. I’m a decent dancer – I once did a mean robot in a video that batted triple-digit “likes” on Facebook – but when it comes to “grinding” I quickly revert back to a 7th grade, quivering, Bambi of a boy, twitching and jerking my way to half-chub pre-cum embarrassment.
But fuck it, whiskey and my newly found confidence of being a fraternity man said I could pull it off. Before I knew it, I had landed a willing backside to shove my bits against. Little did I know, this was only the beginning.
Before long, she was putting my hands in all the places the good Lord said she shouldn’t, and I was preparing my closing line in order to rotate this party 90 degrees. She told me her roommate was out of town, and I gave a small, discreet fist-pump a la Peyton Manning finding out the grill had just been fired up.
We got to her room and I began a selfishly seductive, rapidly delicate routine of face-sucking and tit-grabbing foreplay and disrobing, condensing the sexual tension and lust romance in the air until things were at a prime peak for penetration. This process lasted anywhere from 15-45 seconds.
As I’m selfishly frat-hammering away at her sex hole missionary style, she draws me in and says, “I’m going to turn over.” Golden (or should I say “bronze”). I love doggy-style. But it turns out that’s not what she was going for. As I started to work with a renewed focus and intensity, I heard her say something that sounded like, “My ass.”
It wasn’t exactly clear to me what she was saying, given her position and my over-enthusiastic thrusts disrupting her speech, so I ran a quick pros and cons list in my head of what would happen if I “accidentally” ended up knocking on the back door.
-Anal sex is good, right?
-I’m only doing what she wants!
-One day I might be able to write about this on TFM.
-She kicks me out.
Once I realized there were no cons, I went for it. With bated breath I adjusted my target and went in for the kill, and it turns out I made the right decision. As I began reciting the original 13 colonies backwards in descending alphabetical order to myself, the mix of knowing I was committing a power move and the thrill of novelty brought me closer to climax. I’m a giver, so I decided to tell her when I was going to bust about thirty seconds in advance. so we could set up a clean landing zone somewhere on her back. What happened next is a bit of a blur.
As soon as I gave my fair warning, she moved forward, spun around, and within seconds had my dick planted firmly in her mouth, freshly picked from her back door. She worked it while I registered the situation. I’d heard of the fabled Ass-To-Mouth move, but never expected to be a part of one. I’m just too much of a pussy gentleman to ask. There was no stopping now, and as I was about to make my deposit, she made a withdrawal and I came on pretty much everything in sight, as far as she could tell. Coming down from the climax, I started to apologize and offered to get “a towel, or…uh…erm…something.” She stopped me and casually said, “Better on me than in me!”
Regardless of your opinion on spitters versus swallowers, I think we can all agree that a woman who let’s you paint a nine rope masterpiece on her visage is truly a lady to be revered.
I broke through many boundaries that night, literally and figuratively. I like to look at it as a microcosm of college life in general. You make some choices, while some choices are thrust upon you. One minute you’re having doggy-style anal sex, and the next you’ve gone ATM on someone you met two hours prior.
You find yourself in places you don’t expect, and you deal with things you didn’t think you ever would. Most of all, you lose innocence. But maybe that isn’t something to mourn, because at a certain point we all have to let go of our youthful ignorance and broaden our horizons, be it sexually, culturally, or intellectually. That night, I like to think I did all three while doing all three.