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.

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

At one point in my life, I lived with these two guys in a house on their campus. The situation was kind shady. Basically, I was getting kicked out of the place where I was supposed to live for the summer between school years at college, but my work had already been scheduled until the end of May. If I left while there was still days on my schedule, I wouldn’t get hired back…so I needed a place to stay, just for about three-four weeks. They went to a neighboring tech college and lived in a campus-owned townhouse. One of their roommates had recently graduated, so they had an extra bed for about a month. Perfect.

But I digress.

Life living with two boys was never dull. It was a little stinky, I’m not going to lie. However, the complex where they lived was like one big party, with nothing to really do but drink all night and sleep all day (while working occasionally of course). At a tech school, the girl-boy ratio is about 1 to 15, so things were looking good for me. I pretty much had my pick. Of course, my biggest admirer was the guy who had no two front teeth…but whatever. When the liquor was flowing, I didn’t have to look far to find someone who would buy me a drink.

One night, the guys next door decided to have a huge bash. I mean huge. We drank every night, but for this party, they were going to get a few kegs, as well as fill the washing machine with bottle of liquor on ice. By the end of the night, at least three or four of them were puking. There are pictures documenting that. Guys do all sorts of stupid shit when they’re drunk.

But on to my story. Sorry, I’m reliving old memories.

There was one guy at the party who was especially cute. I’ll withhold his name here, but let’s just call him K. About five minutes after I met K, I knew that I would be going home with him that night. We were awesome beer pong partners. He let me sip on his bottle of vodka. I sat on his lap and whispered drunken promises into his ear. While filling up my drinking, the only other girl at the party laughed and said that he had a California King bed in his house that he brought from home. I asked him if it was true, and he drunkenly smilled.

“Yeaaaaah…and it has mirrors above it…I just put them up…”

Um. Yeah. Mirrors above the bed. Riiiiiiight, I thought. I mean, it was campus housing - why would he go to the trouble

As the party was wrapping up, I asked if he’d walk me home. He said yes (I was living next door), but surprise, surprise - we just went to his house. He showed me to his room, and I sank into the red satin sheets (you can’t make this shit up) of his California King. I giggled. It was true. He had a huge fucking bed and there were mirrors above it. I heard him peeing in the bathroom, and I just cracked up, got naked, and slithered beneath the covers. I was drunk, he was worse, and this was going to be fun.

The lesson I learned that night is that you just aren’t supposed to be seen from some angles. Watching him on top of me was weird. I mean…weird. I watch porn occasionally, but being like, IN the porno is just downright strange. Plus, I wasn’t exactly getting a flattering angle. Then, he wanted me on top. I was self conscious because mirrors don’t lie. That lasted about five seconds. Finally, we settled on doggy…so neither of us could see the mirrors.

I’m secure with my body. I really am. But god, that was fucking weird.

Neither of us ever got off that night. He was too drunk to be good enough for me to get off and too drunk to get off himself. I curled up to go to sleep, and a few minutes later he goes “oh shit…” and runs out of bed. I fell asleep to him puking in the bathroom. Talk about a walk of shame when I woke up in the morning…

So, morale of the story - don’t put mirrors above your bed. If you really want to see yourself having sex, video tape it. But really - it’s just not a good idea.

Dear friend,

NO, I don’t want to make my penis bigger. I’m actually pretty fine with the size of my penis right now. That is to say, I don’t have one. What, does is look like I do? Maybe I shouldn’t wear my pants so baggy. Really though, have my d-cup girls now given you the hint that the only junk on my body is that which is in the trunk?

While we’re at it, my partner’s penis is fine too. Actually, how do you know that I even have a partner. What if I don’t? What if I just broke up with him like, yesterday? And you just reminded me of that. How do you feel now, asshole? Still want to make my penis bigger?

And you know what? If I did want to make my penis bigger, what makes you think I’d buy drugs from someone who spells it v!agra? Sure, that makes you sound like a reputable pharmacist. Or did you do that to look cool? Is that how the kids are spelling it these days? LOLROTFLMAO’ing. IMO. IDK. Let’s be BFFs while we’re at it.

I do want to thank you for alerting me about that lottery I won in Nigeria. I didn’t even know I had entered! What’s a BFF for, I guess? I can’t believe I won $10,000,000 (TEN MILLION DOLLARS). Maybe I can use that money to support your v!agra business. Who knows? I might even splurge for some c!alis.

Hugs and Kisses,
Rori

P.S. [email protected] just emailed me and there’s a problem with my PayPal account that I need to log in and fix immediately. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?

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

Ok, I know it’s November 2. This is IT about Halloween, I promise. Lol.

Get it? They’re boo-bees.

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