Columns

Typical Fraternity/Sorority Sexual Interaction

After having attended a date function together (which you can read about here), a fraternity gentleman and a sorority lady head home to end their night. The following is the scenario in which…well, in which they do it. Their thoughts are in italics, and the conversation is in plain text.

Him: Okay, so I finally got her alone in my room for a vigorous makeout session, after what very well may have been the slowest pledge ride in history. That little pussy. Focus, Thomas, you’re not going to settle for blue balls tonight. Step one, complete, now it’s about time to let those pillow tits breathe a little bit. Operation: Bra Strap, complete.

Her: Omg, I have the libido of an under-sexed 12 year-old boy amidst a wet t-shirt contest right now. He’s such a good kisser! Geez! Fuck! OW! OWWWW! My heel curled under. I can’t reach him without the shoes though. Dilemma. To the bed we go?

Him: Broken ankles are not conducive to wild sex sessions. “Are you okay? You know, the best thing for that is probably to get it elevated ASAP. Maybe we should go up to my bed?” I’m fucking Casanova smooth right now, no way she’s gonna resist that.

Her: “Well if you insistttt.” If you can’t tell I want it by now, I feel sorry for you.

Him: Step 2, complete. Think it’s about time to get that dress off so I can play with those enormous bags of happiness. God damn they’re nice. Seriously, these are probably the best tits I’ve ever felt. It’s like I’m holding two fleshy rays of sunshine.

Her: Hmm, it seems as though I have a boob guy on my hands. Or a hand guy on my boobs. Can we focus our attention elsewhere maybe? My vagina would like to feel the love. And by love I mean some dexterous magic. Up to me. Why am I retarded? Why is unbuckling a belt literally the most impossible thing in the world for me? Omg, I’m taking too long. Please help me. But omg, it would be so embarrassing to need help. But really, help me. These pants aren’t coming off if I’m left to my own devices.

Him: Going right for my lower half without hesitation, I like where this is going. Seriously, how hard can a belt possibly be? It’s like she’s working on some mathematical theorem down there, you know what they say if you want something done right do it yourself. Officially naked. Your move, Amber.

Her: Ohh, I hate this part. Why do I even bother with the pre-blowie handy? You can’t get a good angle while you’re still making out…and I’m not gonna just like, awkwardly sit there and do it. My GOD I’m giving up on this in a second. As soon as his little buddy is in ready position, I’m quitting. I literally have no idea what I’m doing. A hand job is a man’s job I always say. Still, something feels wrong about just going for it.

Him: I feel like I’m under the 7th grade bleachers all over again. Sorry sweetheart, the only good handjobs I’ve ever gotten has been the intimate sessions with my right hand. Second best was with my left. I don’t know why girls even bother. “Hey, uh, why don’t you put your mouth into it a little bit?”

Her: ASSHOLE! I was GETTING there. Ok Amber. Bite the bullet. Well don’t bite it. Is he watching me? Ugh. Don’t watch me! Don’t look up. Just focus on what you’re doing.

Him: Ah, I don’t think there’s any feeling in the world better than a casual blowie. Damn, she’s fucking dedicated to the cause too, A+ effort Amber, I’ll need to remember this talent of yours. FUCKING RIGHT that’s the spot, if I can just grab her head and move it a little bit…Just a little encouragement.

Her: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING! TRYING TO KILL ME! If this guy doesn’t get his hand off of my head I’m going to vomit. Or bite his dick off. Whichever comes first. *Gags* I guess vomit is going to come first.

Him: “Are you okay?” Because that was fucking amazing and I’m not sure why you’re stopping. Gag reflexes. NS.

Her: “Yeah, I’m fine.” But you ruined it. I’m done with that. I wonder what the chances are I’ll get a turn. Slim, I’m guessing. This is what I get for not going first. Always go first. You need to get head to give head. I guess I really like him.

Him: No more head. FUCK. I’m just going to go in for the kill, maybe she’s too drunk to worry about all that “condom” nonsense. If I wanted to fuck a latex glove you wouldn’t have to be here for it.

Her: “Umm, do you, like…Have something?” Sorryyyyyyy. No glove, only like, 50% chance of love.

Him: Yes, I have a rock hard erection right now, and you have a vagina, why the fuck do we need to complicate it. Is it time to break out the “I’m allergic to latex” line? No way she would buy it. “Uh, sure, I think so let me go find one.” Wallet? Nope, poor preparation Thomas, you used your wallet condom on Little Miss Perky Handful last Monday night. Drawers? Not that one…Medicine cabinet? Yeah, probably in the medicine cabinet but might as well try one more time. “Hey, uh, I’m not sure where I put them…Aren’t you on birth control?”

Her: Yes. “No.”

Him: God dammit. Not trying to pay for the thing that rhymes with “schmasmortion.” As drunk as I am plus a condom means I’m gonna have to fucking work my ass off to finish. Now entering Ron Jeremy mode. “Oh, look, they were in the medicine cabinet the whole time! Didn’t even think to check there.” Sex with a condom is like riding in a submarine and saying you went swimming. Fucking shitfuck. Okay the dog has been muzzled, it’s time to get to work.

Her: Ah, omg here we go…ow. Ok, easy on insertion. Omg, ow. I hate the first 5 seconds of sex. First three thrusts are somehow always awkward. Ok, better. I hope my face didn’t just look retarded. It’s super possible I just grimaced.

Him: We have liftoff. She’s as tight as a Christmas Sweater from ‘95, I can deal with this. Still, this condom makes it feel like my dick is in a skintight spandex bodysuit. At least she’s on top, that’s the preferred scenario. She has a really weird sex face. But God damn a little aggressive gravity therapy does some good things for those funbags.

Her: Why is he just staring up at me like that? Omg, he thinks I’m ugly. He doesn’t even want to be doing this. I wish my bra were still on. I don’t like what’s going on with my boobs right now.

Him: We have an overuse of eye contact on the receiving team, 10-yard penalty, still First Down. Oh well, I really like what’s going on with her boobs right now, might as well be courteous and give them a twist or two.

Her: Omg, he thinks my boobs are weird too. I can’t handle this. I’m kissing him, I can’t stand being gawked at like this.

Him: Right for the kissing…God dammit that mouth was lathering up my shaft not ten minutes ago. I wonder how often saliva gets replaced. Please don’t taste like my dick. She is just going to fucking town, I wonder if she rides horses in her free time? She must. Definitely rides dick like an equestrian.

Her: Shit, I think I have to pee. Wait, no, I think that’s an orgasm!!!! Omg! YESSSS!!!! Thomas. DON’T. MOVE. Do not move, do not you dare do a fucking thing. Let me just keep doing what I’m doing. I think I’m gonna….

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

McCoy: “THOMAS! YOU GOT ANY FUCKING BEERS IN HERE?”

Her: FUCCKKKK YOUUUUU, GUYYYYY!!!!!

Him: “GOD DAMNIT FUCK OFF MCCOY! I’M KIND OF BUSY.” Fucking McCoy. “Hey, I’m sorry about that, are you okay? Flip over, I think it’s my turn.”

Her: Yeah, because why should I ever get to O. Guess I’ll just go kill myself now. “Haha, ok.” I hate verbalizing sex. “Now do this.” Fuck off. I’m pissed.

Him: Alright, Thomas, now you’re in the driver’s seat. Commence power thrusting. God damn, I’m a fucking champion right now, between the condom and the 0.26 BAC I’m commanding right now I could probably last all fucking night.

Her: I’m bored. I don’t feel like doing this anymore. It’s not going to happen for me tonight. “Are you close?” I hope he thinks I was trying to be sexy and doesn’t realize I just want to see how much longer until we’re done here.

Him: “I’m….getting…..there.” You know what would look good? Your legs around my neck. Yep, major fan of this. Think it may be time to speed up and flip the proverbial switch.

Her: Oh, I like this posish. Except for that I literally can’t do anything except take it. But that’s fine. He kind of knows what he’s doing I feel.

Him: “Almost….there.” Holy shit, here it comes. Haven’t had time jerk it in three whole days, I’m going be fucking spouting like a broken fire hydrant in a second.

Her: Me too maybe! Two almost O’s in one night! Wow! That’s almost like the real thing! Except not at all. Amber, stop thinking about it. GET OUT OF YOUR HEAD, IT’S GOING TO GO AWAY. Waiitt, nooooo, where’s it going! Come backkkk. Yup. And there it goes. Bye.

Him: Annnnnnnd BOOM goes the dynamite.

Her: Oh, he stopped moving. I guess that means this is over. Now I kind of wish it wasn’t.

Him: Fuck, that was fantastic. So what do we do now? Should I say something? I only need few minutes to re-assemble the troops if I want to take the more pleasurable route. Fuck, we’ve been lying here for like five minutes. This is awkward. Time for bed, I guess.

Her: Alright, this fake sleep, awkward cuddling shit is pointless. I know he’s up. “Sooooo……again?”

Him: Music to my ears. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a keeper.

Email this to a friend

hot piece of TSM

Hot Piece (@VeronicaGrandex) is a writer, editor and content manager for Grandex, Inc. After having spent her undergraduate years drinking $4 double LITs on a patio and drunk texting away potential suitors, she managed to graduate with an impressive GPA and an unimpressive engagement ring — so unimpressive, in fact, some might say it’s not there at all. Hot Piece has since been fulfilling her duties as “America’s big,” a title she gave to herself with the help of her giant ego. She has recently switched from vodka to wine on weekdays. Email her at veronica@grandex.co

98 Comments You must log in to comment, or create an account
Show Comments

For More Photos and Videos

Latest podcasts

Download Our App

Take TFM with you. Get

New Stories

Load More