If these Vaginal Walls Could Talk …

I was laying in the Delta Kappa house the other Thursday night after another romp with my frat-with-benefits buddy Chad when I thought, “Madison, if only your vaginal walls could talk! What a pube-ridden yarn they’d weave!”

So it was right then and there, after getting another quick fingerblast in from Chad, that I decided to bring my CRAZY sex stories to you, the good students of DePaul. Now you all get to be a fly on my vaginal wall! Go Blue Demons!

I think that Salt-N-Pepa hit this nail right on the Glans Penis: Let’s talk about sex baby! If you’re a male between the ages of 17-28 on this campus, it is no secret to you that I like sex. A lot. I’m talking bend-me-over, turn-on-ESPN, let’s-get-your-buddy-Greg-in-on-this-action sex. I love getting fingerbanged, blasted, pounded, poached, scrambled and pretty much any other stage used in the preparation of eggs. (Intended!) And that’s healthy. I’m a healthy 21-year-old who is not afraid to admit that I love having sex, and lots of it, with as many white middleclass men as I possibly can.

So that’s why I was so mega-bummed (like, Econ 230 bummed) when I texted Jake, my off-again, get-on again hockey hunk last Thursday and he didn’t respond all night.

So why didn’t Jake text me back? I couldn’t help but wonder, maybe he found out about the time that I gave his roommate Matt an OTPHJ in the Taco Bell after the Fuzzy initiation sophomore year. Or maybe, I began to wonder, the previous week when I thought Jake and I were hooking up, it was really his frat brother Ryan, and you know, Jake really just wasn’t that in me. Either way, I knew that I needed to do more than just wonder. I needed to be the woman of action that I know how to be, usually after 13 Miller Lites and two Jagerbombs, or any combination thereof.

So right then and there, Thursday night, condoms and Plan B in hand in case I was feeling forgiving, I marched over to Jake’s dorm on the West Side of campus. And you know what, I was totally wrong! It turns out he would have totally texted me back, but he was just showing my friend Sarah what hockey calves can accomplish. He was super happy to see me and even invited me to join. (Thanks but no thanks! I only make out with Sarah at bars to get drinks, not because I get any actual pleasure out of it!) But at least I had my closure. He wasn’t TO’ed, he was just putting some P in Sarah’s V!

And then, just as I couldn’t help but wonder what Jake’s roommate Matt was up to, I got a pix message from my boys over at the Delta Kappa House. Granted, going in, I wasn’t sure which one I was going to wake up next to in the morning, but that’s really neither here nor at the DK House. But I guess that’s just what it means to be a liberated, sexually open co-ed willing to get fingerfucked by any white DePaul student between the ages of 17 and 28. But I’m willing to make an exception here or there. I’m talking to you, DePaul’s one black soccer player ;).