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I lost my virginity to him when I was nineteen. He was definitely a John Green type. It was how I imagine most young girls dream of losing it. We weren’t dating or anything like that, but after both of us had failed to lose it our freshman year of college, we decided to give it a go. His parents were away for the weekend, so I we had his house to ourselves. He made me dinner, we watched a romantic comedy (which I can’t seem to remember) on Netflix and then we had sex. It was awkward but delightfully sweet and a great introduction. The next morning he made me waffles. The sad part was that despite all the fun we had together, we never reconnected after that.
He was a transfer student that moved in across the hall from me our sophomore year. I instantly disliked him. He was arrogant, entitled, and wouldn’t shut up about himself. Then, three weeks into the semester, I found myself too drunk on a bean bag chair in his room. Despite his cold exterior, he was actually pretty nurturing. He gave me water, he rubbed my back and told me a beautiful story about his childhood before putting me to bed. A few nights later I ended up sleeping with him. It was intense and he fucked in a very deliberate manner. I enjoyed myself immensely. We slept together almost everyday for a few weeks and he would write me lovely letters. But then he started drinking a bit too much, which made him mean, so I stopped speaking to him. A definite 21st century Hemingway.
From the second I met him, I just knew I had to have him. He was tall, biracial, with bright chartreuse colored eyes and this deep raspy voice — I could listen to for hours, even when he was saying absolutely nothing important. I went for it in the most obvious desperate way, and he gladly accepted it. Like Jonathan Franzen, somes parts of him were incredible in many ways — he did things better than most men. But, like Franzen, the other parts were incredibly boring, filler really, and I just couldn’t get past it to move onto the next chapter with him.
I met him while visiting a friend at a nearby college. He was strange, but nice enough and there was something charming about him despite being a little garish. I could tell he loved women and everything about us. Within 45 minutes of knowing me he was going down on me in an empty common room of his dorm. He then described my vagina in detail and told me everything planned to do with it once he found his room key. He said some things that could only be matched by Henry Miller himself. It was too much for me, so I pretended I needed to check on something and I never came back. I regretted it a bit in the end.
My junior year after my abroad plans were ruined and I was stuck on campus while my friends were all around the globe, I met Clay. He was short, mean-looking and ugly, but he was funny and he somehow had this magnetic quality about him. Without any friends to steer me away from him, I ended up spending a good chunk of time with him and eventually we slept together after a night of debauchery. He was rather vuglar and although the sex couldn’t have lasted more than ninety seconds or three minutes if he was sober, it was still very satisfying. I later found out that he had written a short story about me in one of his seminar classes where he referred to me as an “exotic cunt” with thighs “he wished he could spank and nibble on”…I take it he also likened himself to Bukowski…
We met my senior year and have been together ever since. He’s fun, smart, and a quite eccentric. I absolutely adore him in every way. He’s got by far the most beautiful penis I’ve ever seen and spending these past few years with it has been a delight. Our sex life oscillates from sensual and romantic to kinky and Wilde. Nothing is simple with this man. There is nothing he won’t do and every fuck we have he puts on some sort of grandiose show. I’ve never felt more alive and excited than when I am with him. His only flaw is his uncontrollable narcissism that makes Dorian Gray seem as humble as Gandhi.
For Sam’s twenty fourth birthday he requested that we have a threesome with his surprise pre-selected partner. My immediate thought was “great, he’s bored with me and wants a new woman,” and I agreed only on the principle that I’d never say no to his sexual requests. Knowing no details about what was to happen later that week, I prepared myself for any possible type of girl to enter our bed. I figured she’d be the opposite of me as Sam seemed to always have a thing for stuff like that. In the end I was right, our third player was the complete opposite of me: a man. Miller is handsome, quiet, and very sensitive. He came pretty much as soon as things got started, but continued to join in on the fun in other ways. Miller has a sweetness and purity to him that can only be likened to the poetry of ee cummings. Sam and I have both been sleeping with Miller (together and individually) since the first night.