Three words. Say them, and I’m yours.
Arguably the sexiest words I want breathlessly whispered in my ears. The only sentence I want my man to blow up my phone with.
Three words. 11 letters.
Sex. On. Campus.
Let’s just say, I got a bit carried away by Numero Uno on the list of 161 Things Every Cornellian Should Do, “Make the library into your bedroom and have sex in the stacks.” Instead of just making the library my bedroom and having sex in the stacks, I made this entire campus my bedroom and had sex, well, everywhere.
The first time I had sex on campus really opened up a can of worms for me. It was just too easy, and so damn good. I lost my “Sex On Campus” virginity late one sultry fall night. Venturing home from a date night in a tight black dress and heels, my man and decided to take detour and explore McGraw Hall. The lecture hall in McGraw quickly became the hottest place on campus.
In the big, dark lecture hall, we were feeling extra frisky, with a scandalous rush of adrenaline coursing through us. My man sat in the front row, and like the dirty little schoolgirl I am, I got down on my Ivy-educated knees and starting sucking his Bingalee Dingalee. Tearing off our clothes, he picked me up and carried me to the table in the front and center of the hall. Like a professor setting down his notes before lecture, he laid me out across the podium. There was something extra sexy about hiking my skirt up and wrapping my heels around his waist as he fucked me in front of the classroom. I couldn’t help but imagine that the lecture hall was filled, and all eyes were on us. Is this what Ezra Cornell would have wanted for me?
Regardless, after this first time, I was hooked. I became Ezra’s Horny Little Schoolgirl. Between classes, I cross my fingers that I’ll get a text, “meet me in XXX location in 15 minutes.” In my favorite single occupancy bathroom sexscapade, my man bent me over and we boned right in front of the mirror. It was a spectacular visual; I’m pretty hot in action. Watching him put his McGraw Tower into my Ezra’s Tunnel drove me wild. Ironically, I was holding onto a baby changing table as he railed me — which seemed to be the universe’s reminder that babies = yikes. The bathroom got steamy, and the mirror fogged. As he lifted me onto the sink, I reached my hand up behind me in a Titanic-like fashion and dragged a wet handprint down the mirror. When we finished together, it was like the Cherry Blossoms on Ho Plaza bursting in bloom. A sight to behold. Single occupancy bathroom sex became a dirty little secret we shared. I would go to my next class slightly flushed, slightly sweaty, and fully satisfied.
So the next time you sit in McGraw lecture hall, I want you to know, I probably had sex exactly where you are sitting. If it’s any consolation, that podium that your least professor is lecturing from ALSO saw action. Nowhere is safe. I am Goddess Horny, and I will have sex everywhere on campus where there is sex to be had. Do I feel guilty that I am dirtying up your oasis of learning with my fornication? Yes, slightly. Will I stop boning in every possible location at every possible moment? No, probably not.
Get while the gettin’s good.
Goddess Horny is a student at Cornell University. Her column, Sex in the Stacks, runs monthly.