that; no wonder they were friends.
When Steven was comfortable enough, he invited Annica and myself to Jet Ski with his red-headed local Provost Marshal boyfriend. The boyfriend was not out and was very pissed off that Steven invited us; however, we went and had a blast. He was pleasant and seemingly had no problem showing affection around Annica and me, but weeks later, after much arguing, Steven confessed that it was the day their relationship went downhill.
“He is hiding, girl. I can’t be with a man who will make love to me at night and turn around and pretend he doesn’t know me in public. He’s just a ssscared little bitch is what he is” Then he asked who I was interested in, but I didn’t have a name to give him. Relationships with women were not my priority. Lynn knew of my bisexuality and always flirted, but there were too many boys on the weekends. Chasing women didn’t cross my mind and, besides, there wasn’t enough time outside of the one-night stand drama and screwing no-name privates.
Additionally, I had a steady something going with Franklin. He was my fuck buddy of seven months, and that’s literally all we did. He was twenty-five and nearly bald, weighing in at 140 pounds with three percent body fat. Hardly the guy anyone would suspect me of sleeping with, he was perfect.
We didn’t want anyone to know about our little setup, so we asked in code if the other wanted sex and tried to maintain secrecy. I’d walk to his room, where his roommate always answered the door in his tighty whities.
“Hey, is Franklin in? Could you ask him if he wants to play cards, please?” I’d peer into the room that they had painted a deep purple to see if he was, in fact, in. I could see his shirtless pink flesh sitting on his bed through the crack of the door in contrast to the purple paint. And that was it, the unbreakable code we made to boldly ask the other for sex—ingenious really. Sometimes we could yell it down the hallway through the loud music, and no one thought anything of it. Franklin didn’t even bother to get up from doing whatever he was doing on his bed.
He simply instructed his roommate. “Ask her if she wants me to bring my deck!” This was code for “do you have condoms or should I bring some?” We had it choreographed very well.
“Bring his deck; tell him I’ll be in my room and put some goddamn pants on.” I walked to my room, which was several doors down the hall, to wait for his knock in less than four minutes.
As soon as the door to my room shut behind him, we attacked each other as if we were lovers in an affair with limited time to share. The tension was high and no foreplay was needed; just take the clothes off, stick it in and pump, that’s the mission. It was always exciting and arousing to have desire like that, no matter where it came from, and the clothes never seemed to come off fast enough before he entered me. Sometimes he had the condom on already so it would be much less awkward.
He was a small man with a small penis. There is no polite way to put it, but he was my choice for a fuck buddy because a good poke before going to the club usually helped me leave the other boys alone. That’s also what it was, a poke. It took longer for us to rip each other’s clothes off than it did for him to orgasm. Poor Franklin was a two-pump chump; however, ladies and straight gentlemen, that’s what I liked about him. Our beneficial relationship worked because we gave each other what we needed, no strings attached. Get in, get out, and take the fucking deck with you when you leave.
Around the time of Franklin and his inability to last longer than three minutes, I was still bringing boys home on the weekends and crying about it to Annica. One particular weekend Annica gathered all of our friends up for a big night out, figuring the more people to socialize with, the less chances of a quick guilty hookup.
Everyone went and the plan to keep my vagina in my pants worked.
When Steven was comfortable enough, he invited Annica and myself to Jet Ski with his red-headed local Provost Marshal boyfriend. The boyfriend was not out and was very pissed off that Steven invited us; however, we went and had a blast. He was pleasant and seemingly had no problem showing affection around Annica and me, but weeks later, after much arguing, Steven confessed that it was the day their relationship went downhill.
“He is hiding, girl. I can’t be with a man who will make love to me at night and turn around and pretend he doesn’t know me in public. He’s just a ssscared little bitch is what he is” Then he asked who I was interested in, but I didn’t have a name to give him. Relationships with women were not my priority. Lynn knew of my bisexuality and always flirted, but there were too many boys on the weekends. Chasing women didn’t cross my mind and, besides, there wasn’t enough time outside of the one-night stand drama and screwing no-name privates.
Additionally, I had a steady something going with Franklin. He was my fuck buddy of seven months, and that’s literally all we did. He was twenty-five and nearly bald, weighing in at 140 pounds with three percent body fat. Hardly the guy anyone would suspect me of sleeping with, he was perfect.
We didn’t want anyone to know about our little setup, so we asked in code if the other wanted sex and tried to maintain secrecy. I’d walk to his room, where his roommate always answered the door in his tighty whities.
“Hey, is Franklin in? Could you ask him if he wants to play cards, please?” I’d peer into the room that they had painted a deep purple to see if he was, in fact, in. I could see his shirtless pink flesh sitting on his bed through the crack of the door in contrast to the purple paint. And that was it, the unbreakable code we made to boldly ask the other for sex—ingenious really. Sometimes we could yell it down the hallway through the loud music, and no one thought anything of it. Franklin didn’t even bother to get up from doing whatever he was doing on his bed.
He simply instructed his roommate. “Ask her if she wants me to bring my deck!” This was code for “do you have condoms or should I bring some?” We had it choreographed very well.
“Bring his deck; tell him I’ll be in my room and put some goddamn pants on.” I walked to my room, which was several doors down the hall, to wait for his knock in less than four minutes.
As soon as the door to my room shut behind him, we attacked each other as if we were lovers in an affair with limited time to share. The tension was high and no foreplay was needed; just take the clothes off, stick it in and pump, that’s the mission. It was always exciting and arousing to have desire like that, no matter where it came from, and the clothes never seemed to come off fast enough before he entered me. Sometimes he had the condom on already so it would be much less awkward.
He was a small man with a small penis. There is no polite way to put it, but he was my choice for a fuck buddy because a good poke before going to the club usually helped me leave the other boys alone. That’s also what it was, a poke. It took longer for us to rip each other’s clothes off than it did for him to orgasm. Poor Franklin was a two-pump chump; however, ladies and straight gentlemen, that’s what I liked about him. Our beneficial relationship worked because we gave each other what we needed, no strings attached. Get in, get out, and take the fucking deck with you when you leave.
Around the time of Franklin and his inability to last longer than three minutes, I was still bringing boys home on the weekends and crying about it to Annica. One particular weekend Annica gathered all of our friends up for a big night out, figuring the more people to socialize with, the less chances of a quick guilty hookup.
Everyone went and the plan to keep my vagina in my pants worked.
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