the south rises again
So, on my recent spring break (Can I get a whoot! for a week of drinking, tanning and all around debauchery?), my roommates and I decided to road trip it down to South Carolina for a week of lounging on the beach and substance abuse. During the St. Patty’s Day parade in the small town (Can I get a whoot! for a day of green beer, Irish Car Bombs and all around debauchery?), my roomie Cate and I decided to hang out of our car window during a particularly bad stretch of traffic. I spy with my little eye a HOT ASS group of guys. We asked for their numbers, struggled to understand what the fuck they were saying with those accents, and finally took them down.
Two nights later, during a particularly boring spell in the trip, we decided to call up the boys and finally made plans to meet up with them later that night. After enlisting Krista as our DD, we made our way (in the pitch ass darkness) to their house. Fucking FINALLY! Guys that weren’t wearing skinny jeans, had never stepped foot in a Bloomingdale’s and didn’t pay more than I did for a haircut. There was one boy in particular, Beau, who really caught my eye. He was hot, wearing ridiculous Abercrombie cologne and was a master at beer pong. He was the one. His cute southern accent didn’t hurt matters either.
Beau and I got to talking and then he convinced me to let him give me a “tour of the house”, obviously code for “let’s fuck”. Kissing and being thrown around by someone twice my size was strangely exhilirating, especially considereding my recent history with girlier men. I was all about it. I wasn’t wearing the cutest underwear in the world though, and wasn’t too into the idea of having sex within hours of meeting this kid (I’m classy, you know), so after a few minutes of hardcore making out, I asked if he’d settle for a blow job. He, being male, accepted this negotiation. Several minutes later, and some hard work on my part (they don’t call it a JOB for nothing), matters were taken care of. Literally two seconds after my head was off his crotch, my roommate Cate walked into the room.
“Hey, we’re ready to head out? Are you pretty much set?”
“Haha, yeah.” I fixed my now lopsided hair and gave Beau one final kiss and wink before I headed out the door. On the car ride back, I had only one request of my now completely trashed and equally satisfied roommates.
“Hey, guys? Do you think we can stop by the supermarket to buy some Coke? I need to wash the taste of peen out of my mouth.”
to fuck or not to fuck? that is the question…
So, I must apologize for the delay in newer posts…I’ve been quite the busy bee lately, with much to update. There is one dilemma that has been weighing heavily on my mind and I’ve been itching to share–the one of the ambiguously gay hookup. I have this friend, Ian, who claims to be straight…yet insists on trying on high heels, kissing our mutual gay friend and says he would not mind fucking a guy when he’s drunk. Now, I’m an open minded gal, but even I have to question…what is this guy doing? Is he about the peen?
Now, I had ruled him completely out as a hookup option until a few weeks ago, when on just a regular Sunday night, a group of my friends were smoking and drinnking and the light, and suddenly I was inexplicably attracted to this fool…and he didn’t seem to think I was too bad either. Uh oh. This could only be solved by a gay conference. I pulled my friends Mauricio and Aaron to the side.
“What the FUCK is going on with you and Ian?”
“Um, I think I want to have sex with him.”
“Oh, well. Just making sure. Go for it.”
Ten minutes later, I was pulling Ian into Mauricio’s skanky bathroom and making out with him against a wall. Hmm. Ian is a good kisser. Almost too good. Kinda soft. Kinda like kissing a girl. It was about this time that I realized this was almost exactly like that one time I experimented with my friend Gina in the back of the bus in middle school. Fuck. Ian was awkwardly trying to stick his hand down my pants, then trynna cop a feel, just as if he had read it out of the “Straight Guy Guide Book”, you know, the one that says that you have to grab your crotch ten times in a conversation and grab a girls boobs ten seconds into a makeout sesh. It was almost too rehearsed.
Okay, Ian. We’re done here. I peeled myself off the bathroom wall just long enough to tell Ian we should get back to the burning joint and scampered out of the bathroom.
Now, two nights later, in a very randy and lonely night, I suddenly found myself, Blackberry in hand, sending a flirty message to Ian. And he responded accordingly. Siiiigh. I’m sooooo over sexual amibiguity.
In a conference with Aaron, he tells me that he does indeed think Ian is gay, but why not let him hit it. It wouldn’t mean anything to either of us, since we’re both about the cock, but why not pass the time together? Now, I’m conflicted: to fuck, or not to fuck?
