Lesbians lesbians lesbians. Oh, how I am lonely. There seem to be so many non-men-loving
non-men at UVM. This university seems to have eligible queers, on the prow for something, actually anything at all.
Yet, I am no better than a man. I take that back- I am better than a man, but if I ask you on a little date - a little night of romance and charm, I will take you to a “spot” I know, and it's literally just a picnic table behind a dumpster.
No for real, I’ve taken MULTIPLE people to this dumpster to show them my rolling skills, my sexy lesbian hands in action, my smooth pulls, and of course give them the comfort of my warm arms during brittle Vermont winters.
All that seduction with the swooning aroma of dorm room molded lasagna combined with used dental dams enveloping us. “If we’re lucky we will see a possum!” I say, as my unenthusiastic date rolls their eyes and asks to go to the grundle. I am a gentleman, so naturally, I ask to fuck in the gender-neutral (specifically on the second floor) bathroom after we wine and dine.
Somehow this one date didn’t leave, and we had a second. Eventually, they grew fond of me; we
had days watching movies in our rooms, we’d come back from going out and I even remember they fell in the hallway so I scooped them up with one arm. I laughed, we kissed, they gave me that look and we slow danced right then and there. I think I might have been wearing a tiara.
Chivalry is alive. I gave them their first snow angel, my neighbors fucking despised me, mostly they despised how we would passionately make out in the hallway nonstop and how we’d say goodbye seven times before we’d actually stop kissing. We only ever had sex in my bed. But have you ever had sex in that single stall? You know, the one with the removable shower head? They only have one, and it’s on the second floor, right across from room 227.
My other ex and I would have sex in there sometimes when the roommates were occupying our rooms. Have you ever had sex in your fucking shower shoes, with the largest display of dead pubes somehow scattered evenly across every single square inch of that god-forsaken bathroom? “Baby look into my eyes,” she demanded of me as I utilized my knees, squatting, balancing as I gave oral sex, trying my hardest, my damn hardest to not graze any part of my body to this athlete foot-infested bathroom floor.
Looking into her eyes would have been nice if there wasn’t blazing hot water shooting at my face at a full and ridiculously sharp capacity. It wasn’t feasible. And at that moment I wondered how I looked in my perched frog position, eyes squinting, trying to fuck. I remember the notification and who it was from that appeared on her phone as we put our half-wet clothes back on. Now I look back with a little laugh...
Does being in your late teens/twenties mean you are down? Someone told me that I seem like
someone who is really down, but I don’t think gross shower sex is really representative of how cool I am, but I replied, “I am when I am.” When I am down I am really down, dumpster date, kissing your crush in the hallway, literally sweeping them off their feet, gross shower sex you regret with the first woman to ever break your heart.
God that one night sucked, the pube shower sex night. Those other nights seemed a little too dreamy, but I was harshly reminded of the fluorescent lighting and tile flooring that surrounded me. But weren’t those Millis lesbian dates memorable, and weren’t they something! They were something for sure!