BwogSex: When the Meek Inherit the Bedroom
Written by Bwog Staff
Spring is springing! It’s time to talk about sex. On this frenzied midterms Sunday, we’re bringing you the second installment of our new and improved BwogSex feature. What follows is not the introduction of a new columnist, but rather a top pick from one of the many submissions left in our anonymized dropbox. Remember to send in your own questions, anecdotes, and ideas to BwogSex (anonymously!), and see you in the Stacks!
That’s what’s supposed to happen in college right? You emerge from your chrysalis and sink your fingers into the awfully moist folds of a woman’s nether regions? That I’m calling it that is a sign of my predicament as I see it now, but back then, that’s what college was: when the meek inherit the bedroom.
She was extroverted, I was shy. But she had traveled the world, as had I. Looking back, it might have been her strong legs or her defined jawline that made me feel attracted to her. At the time, I knew I was just lonely.
It was the perfect opportunity. My four-year, sex-depriving girlfriend broke up with me right after I left for college. It was fine, at that point, because it wasn’t that we loved each other or that we had much sex (read: never. ever.); it was just the comfort of knowing someone well that kept us together. If it weren’t for college, I would have gone into a spiral of depression. But this was Carman.
The first time shouldn’t be hard for a guy. It’s instinct, what every pubescent boy discovers under the bedsheets. And that’s just backup: if your guy ever tells you he doesn’t watch porn, he’s lying.
And so it was, a month into this rebound relationship that we found ourselves on my meticulously-made blue college bed, my eyes looking deeply into hers and her hand wrapped tight around my engorged cock. Did I want sex? Definitely, yes. With her? Probably not, but she was available, and when she pulled out a condom and waggled her eyes suggestively, I knew she wanted me.
There she was, a split second later, all her clothes forgotten on my floor. Her soft, perfectly rounded breasts eyed me from the bed where she sat, her heels pressed together, twirling her panties around her finger. “Well?” she asked, as I fiddled with iTunes, desperately trying to find a playlist free of Rodgers and Hammerstein.
I sat down on the bed in front of her, not sure where to put my eyes. What do you look at when you’re 18 and there’s a completely naked woman on full display for you?
“You can’t fuck me while you’re wearing pants.” I didn’t have a choice as she tore my clothing off, and then pinned me down on the bed for inspection, waving the buckled end of my belt like a whip. The belt met my balls. Hard. Buckle end. It’s like the white light you see before you die, but minus the subsequent nothingness and plus a shitload of pain.
She seemed hardly concerned as my manhood made a full retreat. “But my old boyfriend used to like that!” Freak. Her tongue was already making its way up the inside of my leg.
When my usually impressive seven-and-a-half inches failed to recover, I knew it was time for the emergency plan. I had had so many hot friends at home who had no idea that my preferences had been sliding ever so slowly towards the party with the Y-chromosome. I thought about how Rob had walked around our hotel room naked after going for a run during a school trip. The way his smooth, half-moon ass cheeks sidled side by side as he padded around, searching for his phone to call his girlfriend. The way they were so perfectly muscular- just enough to give them a little part down the middle, but not so much that they looked like part of a medical diagram. “Dammit, I missed her call” he would say several times that trip, turning to face me, his gorgeous soft cock settled over his cleanly-shaven jewels. “I like to feel young down there,” he would tell me. “God, I’m tired.” And he would stretch his arms up over his head, giving me a full view as I pretended to read the free USA Today. He flopped down on the couch next to me and picked up the remote control. I mentally tied my hands behind my back. The feeling of his bare leg against mine, and the musky smell of his young athleticness overwhelmed me and the room started spinning.
“Well?” she asked, exasperated. Unpleasantly yanked out of my fantasy with beautiful Rob, I glanced down to see her holding her hair behind her head with one hand and holding my saliva-drenched organ with the other. “Did you like it?”
Women cannot give blowjobs. The most talented gift-givers are all of the gender that possess the tool you’re trying to work with.
“Yeah! Wow! You’re really great!” I lied, neglecting to mention that my penis was not a lollipop.
“Let me put this on you.” She tore the NYC Condom open after several unsuccessful tries with her teeth. She rolled it on, stroking my still-teenaged, woefully-unmuscled chest. It was very tight. Much like a good blowjob.
She picked me up and threw me out of the way and dove beneath the covers. “Do me. If you’re ready. If you want to.”
Who am I to say no to an invitation like that? I took my suffering cock in my right hand and positioned it near her sacred opening, the key to life, the promised land, I’d been told. And I shut my eyes and thought of that hotel room.
I went in. It wasn’t easy. Her eyes lit up as she gasped and stammered, “No, that’s right, just like that!” I pulled out and gritted my teeth before forcing myself back in, imagining it was not her substantial breast beneath my hand but the glutes of my unsuspecting friend. “Yes! Mmmmmm. You’re so big!” She grabbed my butt and tried to tear it off.
My manhood failed me. For the first and last time in my life, and for one reason only, one I wasn’t privy to at the time. “Why did you stop? You were filling me!” she exclaimed, trying to hold me down by my scrotum.
“I want to try this.” Anything, anything at all to keep me from having to enter her again. I put my head down between her bare, moist legs and tried not to inhale as I leaned forward with my tongue. Only a square centimeter must have made contact with her pink folds before I gagged and admitted defeat. Even Rob couldn’t save me.
She was quite comforting about it. “You were probably just nervous; it’s okay if you’re not ready. It’s your first time, after all.”
She fetched her clothes and dressed quickly while I hid under the covers, horrified. I felt a kiss on my head and she said, “I’ll see you later.”
I didn’t see much of her during finals, and we both went to our respective homes over winter break. A week into spring semester, she finally showed her face and broke up with me. I was okay with it though, because over break, I had discovered a new talent: giving blowjobs.