Between the Sheets

I’ve had ten sexual partners. And I’d like to think that with each, I’ve grown a little. So, here are the ten things I’ve learned about sex. Thanks, guys. lol. Have you read number 4 yet?

Edit from Aurora: I’ve moved! Cum visit me at Between My Sheets!

I love Halloween. Most years, I go all out - decorations, an elaborate costume, parties, themed snacks…you get the idea. When I look back on all of my Halloweens, however, one stands out in my mind in particular.

It was my sophomore or junior year in college, and our campus-owned townhouses were hosting “around the world”. In case you’ve never player, basically, every house or apartment in a complex creates a different mixed drink in huge quantities, and then everyone visits every other house and does a little tasty test using shot glasses. mmm. Now, in a less..erm…college…atmosphere, you can play around the world with finger foods instead. It’s a fun way to get to know your neighbors.

In any case, our campus police look the other way once a semester so we can play around the world. They basically patrol the parking lot and arrest anyone climbing into cars drunk and are readily available if there is a fight or health problem. But generally, they stay out of the complex and pretend that everyone is overage as long as every is cool about it. And usually people are. The whole campus in not invited. It is only for people in the townhouse complex, who are generally 21+ seniors anyway. You have to have a wristband or the organizers escort your underage ass to the parking lot, where the police deal with you. Each townhouse has four students living in it, so each that signs up to create a drink gets four wristbands.

I did not live in the townhouses…but that Halloween, I got really, really lucky. One of my best friends did, and her roommate was going home for the weekend. So, I got her wristband! Oh, it was sweet.

In any case, I got all dressed up (my boobs were hot that night), and started drinking. I met a LOT of single guys that night. I mean, it was a college social - basically, that is what it was - a mixer for singles. We all had too much to drink and too many hormones raging. A lot of people made mistakes that night. But perhaps none had a weirder sexual experience than I did.

Early in the night, I met these two guys who had lucked into wristbands in the same way I had - they were friends of people who had roommates going out of town. They were cute (dressed as a superhero and a ninja) and fun to talk to, but I moved on quickly. The night was young.

Toward the end of the night, though, I was tired and just wanted to go home with a cute guy on my arm. And there they were, sitting in my friend’s house, finishing off her hard lemonade. She was upstairs asleep already and upset over an ex-boyfriend, so I sat downstairs guarding her possessions drunkenly until the alcohol was gone. When one of her roommate got back, though, I decided that I was going home, and I was taking the superhero with me. The problem? He had agreed, that night to act as the ninja’s wingman.

Sigh.

He really did try to change my mind too. He was a good wingman. The problem was that I simply wasn’t interested in the ninja. They were both cute, but I was interested in the superhero. So, the compromised - they both walked me home. Then they both came in for a drink. Then…they both started kissing me.

Now, I’m no prude, but a mmf threesome does not interest me. At least, not spur of the moment like that. And not with my roommate in the next bedroom. So, I had to make a choice - do I play into their scenario and choose the ninja, or do I go with my gut and choose the superhero?

And the lesson I learned that night is that I should have said no to both of them.

Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I always go into any sexual encounter with the mindset that it will be more than a one-night stand. So, I went with my gut and politely sent the ninja packing. And you know what? The sex was horrible. My superhero was worried that his friend was upset at him the entire time. He barely got off before he was pulling his spandex pants back on and running after his friend. I was left yelling, meekly, “Call me!” like a sad teenager.

That’s the night I learned that the friendship bond between friends is stronger than pussy. Don’t get in the middle of a the wingman agreement. He won’t call you.