While the lucky among us are having either stressful finals sex, or fuck-it-I’m-graduating-and-I-ain’t-doing-it-a-virgin sex, our noble collegiate mascots have their own erotic story of deprivation and degradation to tell. An anonymous author shares the first part of this Bwog-exclusive series. There will be flirting, foreplay, sex, and hopefully playful “experimentation” between roommates. But before you send this link to the Fox News Jesus Brigade, rest assured that this story ultimately concerns innocent love, and is in the best of jest!
Roaree looked at his phone, hoping for a text message. Nothing showed up except the time: 9:47 on a Sunday night, and he was stuck in Butler. He had barely cracked open his copy of Pride and Prejudice and was already staring blankly at the pages. How was he supposed to focus on Elizabeth and Darcy when he was caught up in his own romantic troubles? He wistfully recalled lying in bed that morning, his claws caught in her luxurious fur, hoping for a morning repeat of last night’s performance… he quivered at the thought before reprimanding himself. “Focus,” he growled. “Studying is way more important than what happened last night. She probably doesn’t even remember your name. Let it go.” But as hard as he tried, Roaree couldn’t get the image of her beautiful brown eyes, half-closed in bliss as he stroked her from head to paw.
“What did you do last night, Mills?” Millie’s roommate squealed and playfully hit her with a pillow. She blushed and shook her head. “Nothing, it was nothing, really,” she mumbled. “Okay, fair enough – maybe I should be asking who you did instead of what! Don’t think I didn’t notice you loping down Broadway with someone last night. Who was he?” Millie paused. She normally wasn’t the type to lick and tell, but she couldn’t hold back much longer. “I don’t know. Roaree? Roaree Lion. He goes to Columbia.” Her roommate shrieked. “Roaree? Of course I know him, everyone does! He’s, like, a big deal. Super popular with the athletes, always hanging out around campus… I think he’s even done some modeling. What happened?” Millie sighed. She knew that this would happen. Hooking up with someone like Roaree was bound to be big campus gossip. And for good reason–Roaree was popular, smart, and, of course, very attractive. His college walk strut made Millie’s fur stand on end, and when he roared her name last night in bed she completely lost control. Never before had she felt so thoroughly overwhelmed, and yet comfortable, as a lion worked her over. Should she text him saying she had a good time? No, she told herself. She was just another Barnard freshbear who had been seduced by his thick mane and cocky attitude.
Monday passed slowly as both Roaree and Millie thought about the pleasure Saturday night had brought of them. Roaree couldn’t focus on Music Hum when all he wanted was to hear Millie’s soft, guttural grunts against his ear as he pushed himself deep inside of her warmth. Across the street, Millie ordered lunch from the Diana Center, but as she munched she realized she would much rather have a certain plump, throbbing feline appendage inside her mouth instead of a delicious flatbread pizza. As they ached for each other’s touch from opposite sides of Broadway, hope threatened to flutter away for both. Would Saturday’s sexcapade turn into something more substantial, something romantic and meaningful? Or were they fated to spend one passionate night together before parting for the rest of their undergraduate careers, never to cross pawpaths again, yet never to forget?