SEX WARS
Today’s contributor proves that if you’re horny enough nothing is a mood killer.
It was a typical drunken night out at the raunchiest campus bar, when I literally stumbled upon a handsome army guy. Buff and gorgeous, tall and clean-shaven, the night seemed like it was going in a fairly good direction.
Five free drinks and four shots later, I found myself on the bus going home with said tall army guy. Half-conscious and both too drunk to function, there were several embarrassing attempts to wake him up before we had to get off the bus. We somehow managed to get up to my room. Minutes and sloppy drunken kisses later we were getting down to business and I was ready to go down on him, only to realize, “Wow, I’m too drunk to focus and I can’t really see very well.” I somehow managed to unzip his pants, regardless of my impaired eyesight I should have seen what was about to happen next coming.
Before I could even do anything more than touch his wonderful penis, I puked all over his junk. What should have been a mood killer somehow turned into a competition with my obnoxious neighbor who would try to compete with our glorious sex noises. The smell of vomit in the air was either masked with the musty scent of sex or we were honestly just too drunk and horny to notice.
My neighbor and I both had our beds up against the wall that separated our rooms. It turned out She had a ‘gentleman’ over that night as well and we were led into a friendly neighborhood sex brawl: who could be louder and go longer. The whole hall probably heard both of us having the time of our lives, but in the end, I won. I always win. There was never a sex competition ever again, I took her sexual silence as a sign of defeat, she knew she couldn’t get it in like I could.
