She Lost Her Virginity at Thirteen
Before You Fuck Me
She took his engorged penis and put it in her mouth.
She rolled her tongue round the head and sucked it.
After a while she stood up. “We don’t want you
blowing off now, do we?” She started to strip.
“There’s just one rule. I want to come at least
three times before you fuck me, all right? I want
you to lick and suck my cunt until the juices flow.
Fuck Me! I’m Coming!
We Live in Orgasm Times
“Fuck me, I’m coming,” echoed round the quad. It was clear. It was unmistakable. It was unavoidably audible. And timed perfectly to cause maximum shock value.
My teen-age daughter and I were on our sixth and final college campus tour. This one started innocently enough, passing venerable academic buildings, the majestic library, a state-of-the-art athletic facility. There was something so familiar, but that’s because this was my alma mater.
It felt good to be back after such a long absence. Now I remember: I had a really good time here. That included a certain amount of debauchery that goes with college. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna drop serious coin for my daughter to experience that.
On the other hand, being out from under her parents’ wing will be one of the most enriching growth opportunities of her life, not only to learn, but to meet all types of interesting and different people.
As joyful recollections danced in my head, our group of about 20 sixteen-year-olds and 30 parents was directed by our perky guide to the campus residence halls.
As a father, particularly of a daughter, I can only hope that she won’t be doing what I did, right here in these same residence halls, when the drinking age was still 18.
Then came the moment.
In what sounded almost like a public address announcement delivered by a male voice from a room nearby, broadcast to the surrounding vicinity: “fuck me, I’m coming!”
He wasn’t the kind of “interesting and different people” I had in mind.
To say that our group response was muted is an understatement. Although every single one of us heard it, silence prevailed as if trying to pretend it didn’t happen. Our tour guide’s reaction could best be described as mortified.
Awkward doesn’t do the scene justice; this was a conspiracy of awkwardness. Or, as a teenager might say, “ewwww.” Other than walking in on a couple of students actually having sex, what could be more uncomfortable than to hear someone loudly proclaim their orgasm?
I should have stayed quiet. But the former standup comedian in me instinctively took over, yelling back to the orgasmic shout-out as I would have to a heckler at a nightclub: “You’re always too soon.” The result was awkward on steroids.
Our tour guide led us inside the “co-ed” dorm, making sure to inform us that the bathrooms were not co-ed. Oh, what a relief.
I couldn’t help but notice that she later failed to point out the health center, where I recall that they dispensed birth control as readily as band-aids.
My kid loved the school.
I decided that our next tour will be women’s colleges.
