Life’s too short to have vanilla sex. Now, I like to live fast and hard, so maybe this mantra is just a reflection of my lifestyle, but I have a feeling that there are a lot of kinky souls relating to this right now. For me, it goes back to my first kiss. I was 18 (I know, so much for living fast and hard), but to be fair, having to handle two dominating parents and a course load full of APs on top of a myriad of extracurricular activities was a true cock-block. Anyways, I was 18, and after many summer evenings of eye-fucking a hot guy at my country club’s gym, he finally asked me out.
I licked my lips as a drop of sweet vodka dripped from my frosted martini glass. Gingerly, I set the glass down on the golden bar and looked at my friend, pursing my lips, anticipating her next comment. “Got one,” she whispered in delight, and her eyes casually surveyed the rest of the room. This is the sweet hunt you read about in the naughty sex section of Cosmopolitan articles: lusting for sugar daddies. We sipped our £40 martinis in London’s most notorious sugar daddy hunting ground waiting to fulfill our perverted, narcissistic fantasy.
In light of this week’s career fair, resumés have undoubtedly been on all our minds. And as we’ve all been updating our special skills sections, a lot of us are also probably wondering about the surefire ways to impress potential employers. I’m not sure I can help you much with that, but when it comes to impressing others, I have found that one of the best ways to do so is by getting down on your knees (and I don’t mean begging, because that’s just not sexy…in most cases). Seriously, knowing your way around a guy’s cock is a skill that’s in high demand and will never go out of style. Few things will make a guy go crazier than a pro taking care of his bad boy.
Yet, as our adventure progressed, I felt closer to my friend than ever before. We knew exactly what each other liked because we had spent years revealing our sexual experiences to one another, so it was easy for me to please her and to guide the guy to do the same.
It is a stereotype of male arousal that it tends to go one way or the other. That is to say, you’re either turned on or you’re not. While such platitudes are mostly true, they do overlook the realm of partial tumescence, the delightful stage in-between full erection and full flaccidity.
Yesterday my friend bought a dirty magazine from a gas station in Cortland. Smut, as my grandparents would have called it. Later, while poring over it in a semicircle of four or five rapt gentlemen, I caught a wave of nostalgia for the bygone days of print pornography. The magazine itself was printed on paper, of all things. There were no play or pause buttons or volume sliders, either.
Sexual fantasies. When a girl mentions this term, I assume most people imagine some steamy, hot bondage sex scene with lots of rope, blindfolds, and other sexy kinks. But to me, the term “sexual fantasy” means something else. It refers to my private, creepy, does-this-reflect-a-hidden-part-of-my-character thoughts when I’m touching myself, or sometimes even just daydreaming in a coffee shop after seeing a hot guy. Yeah, neurotic.
It’s 2 P.M. under the blistering West Coast sun. My friend and I are putting peach and baby pink lipstick on each other, our lashes are full, our teeth are flossed and our hair is big. We enter the DILFing complex that is … Home Depot. I know what you’re thinking: “you can’t be serious … you didn’t actually go into Home Depot to pick up hot Dads.” But, my friend, you underestimate the power of a virgin’s horniness. There’s something about older men, and I’m not talking late 20’s, but rather late 30’s and early 40’s that really turns me on.
College is fun, I can’t deny that. There’s booze, boys and rigor. But I also can’t deny that we’re in a bubble of our Ivy League hook up culture, and for the most part, going back home blows. Of course, there are the exceptions — kids that pretty much just resume partying back at home or in Cabo — but in my case in cookie-cutter suburbia, it’s pretty damn boring. There’s nothing to see, and no one to flirt with since they don’t have the “safety” of being a Cornell student.
There’s something oddly exciting about anonymity. Albeit it’s extraordinarily difficult to be completely anonymous, with IP addresses and all, the simple act of covering your face in the midst of a lewd act is enough to excite me all over. Yes, I’m talking about public, but not so public, masturbation. It all started quite early for me. My best friend Alyson and I were sexually adventurous and we would do anything for attention.