A: Artist Alex

With a different view of the world comes a different view in the sheets.

The History

Next, the person in the world that sees the world a little differently. Probably smokes weed on occasion—can paint the world in the brightest colors on the dreariest days.

Not everyone gets to experience this marvel, or not to the extreme that you’re about to hear about.

The two night extravaganza with Artist Alex.

I was at orientation for college and had to have a buddy system (per university rules). My buddy, not Alex, was a really genuine guy whose name escapes me. Alex was a friend that came out of the situation.

My buddy wanted to go to a college party because he had a friend on campus already. I walked about 3/4 of the way to the party before deciding that I wanted to just go back to the dorm room. I walked home, talking to my mom about the classes that I wanted to take, when a stranger was walking toward me. Being newly 18 and terrified, I froze.

It was Alex.

Alex walked with me back to the dorm room and we talked until almost one in the morning. About nothing. I said that I wanted to go to sleep and he willingly left.

What a nice guy.

After a horrible night of sleep, I registered for classes and talked with Alex.

I thought that was the end.

It was only the beginning (pardon the cliché).

The school year started and I found that I was friends with people who lived on Alex’s dorm floor.

What a beautiful discovery.

I flirted with Alex. Harmlessly, at first; joining friends in his suite to play Mario Kart, talking with him whenever he wasn’t kicking people’s asses in video games.

And then I found my attraction for Alex.

It hit like a ton of bricks and was the most bizarre attraction I had had for a human.

A dorm crush gone wrong.

Fast forward to September (not that far of a fast forward, but still). I had no desire to walk across campus back to my own dorm room.

Naturally, I slept in Alex’s bed.

And we made out. There may have been a handjob involved. I don’t remember a lot of that night.

The next night is what I do remember.

The Sex

Some theatre friends had invited me to an ABC party. ABC stands for "Anything But Clothes."

Remember that theatre party explanation? Crazy themes, crazy costumes, lots of booze? Same thing. Just people wrapped in Twister boards and other not-clothing items.

I constructed a top of ziplock bags and duct tape. I was going to make a yarn skirt but ran out of time. I threw on yoga capris and headed over to the dorm to walk over with other theatre people.

I made it up to Alex’s room when people started drinking. Since this was my freshman year at college, I didn’t drink.

Alex started playing Mario Kart with his friends. That’s when I had planned to leave for the party.

I went into Alex’s room to grab my things and make a phone call when I noticed his roommate was trying to sleep on his bed.

Crap.

What had he seen the night before? Did I know him? Was I going to make an idiot of myself possibly in front of this guy?

He saw everything, knew everything, and yes, I did make an ass of myself.

When I was going to head out, Alex stopped me. He wanted me to stay.

I hung out in his dorm room for a while (in my rather uncomfortable Zip-Tape top) until his friends left for the ABC party. By this point, it’s around midnight and I had class the next day.

We laid down in his twin bed and I fully intended to fall asleep, until I realized that I was not going to sleep in the ABC top I had been wearing.

“You can take it off if you want.”

I ripped my top off, quite literally, and was down to my neon purple bra and black capri leggings. He was in his shorts.

That’s where things start to get blurry.

I remember a lot of making out and roaming hands.

I remember a lot of giggling and a lot of random conversations between giggles.

“Do you guys need me to leave?”

The roommate.

“Well, K-Dawg, that’s only if you want to.”

“I can sleep out on the couch if you one of you guys can remember to wake me up. I have a class tomorrow at eight AM.”

“We can wake you up. Just tell us what time you want to be up.”

“Probably around 7:30 at the latest.”

“Or you can stay in here.”

Wait. What?

I’m all for being watched during sex; it adds a thrill and a person to critique, if you desire that.

“Why would I want to stay in here?”

“You may learn something,” I could feel Alex sliding his hand down my waist to go under my pants.

“I’ll just go on the sofa. Remember to get me up at 7:30.”

“You got it, K-Dawg.”

Alex’s hand was down my pants, his other pulled me closer.

He had a cheshire grin on his face.

There was a lot of pointless foreplay that led up to the sex. A lot of boob licking, dick-sucking, lack of female orgasm foreplay. Seeing that I’m used to that, it didn’t bother me.

What did bother me was the idea of his roommate hearing everything that was happening even though he was in the other room.

“Don’t worry about him,” as if Alex could read my mind, “He sleeps through anything.”

That’s when I let every reservation go and just went animalistic.

I pinned his arms above his head and bit his neck to leave the biggest hickeys that I could.

He responded with an ass slap and a fumbling for a condom.

He rolled it on over a rather long dick (which I realize I haven’t talked about much, but it doesn’t play a big role until now; also, not much in comparison to Brad, but I hadn’t met Brad at this point of the story so it was the biggest I’d been on) and lifted me up so that I would be riding his cock cowgirl style.

In the process of sliding down this mammoth penis, I had every thought under the sun. Would I be able to breathe when this was all the way in? How much plastic surgery would my pussy need to repair the damage? Why was I still sliding with no end in sight? Could he sense what I was thinking about his dick?

The cheshire grin crept across his face.

That’s when I finally hit his pelvis.

I slid up and down a bit to test the waters of my insides. What organ was going to get repeatedly stabbed in this endeavor?

He didn’t like this slow and easy shit (probably because I bit his neck). He started thrusting.

I was bouncing and taking a dick so far in my vagina, I thought it was going to come out of my mouth.

And it felt great.

We stayed like that for a while until he flipped me over on the bed. Staying inside me and keeping me cradled, he pile-drove my pussy and put my legs over his shoulders.

I didn’t know I was that flexible.

And then, the next thing I knew, I was three feet off the ground.

He had stood up and wanted to have sex while standing up.

Now, I’m not a stick—I have some awesome curves to my body that make me not the easiest to lift. The fact that this human could lift me, hold me, and drill my pussy all at the same time is still one of the Seven Wonders of the World (just like the female orgasm).

We kept rolling in different positions. He bit my neck, I scratched his back. He finally laid me where my legs were hanging over the bed and my back was resting comfortably. He got down on his knees and pounded away until he finished.

Then he kissed me.

He was panting and smirking.

And that’s about when I blacked out from exhaustion and general pussy-pounding pleasure.

I never did orgasm that night, but looking back, I think I would have died if I did.

Or my pussy would have fallen off. I’m not entirely sure.

The next morning, I woke up to Alex passed out next to me and a door opening.

Crap. What time was it?

His roommate, K-Dawg, walked in.

And I was laying on my back with no bra on.

I rolled over as fast as I could and looked up at K-Dawg.

“Thanks for waking me up.”

I looked at the clock. 9:45. Well crap.

“I’m so sorry.”

K-Dawg chuckled, “It’s really okay. You sounded like you were having fun, anyway.”

Alex rolled to look at K-Dawg, “How was the couch?”

“How was three AM crazy sex?”

The sarcasm was laid on thick.

I reached to the floor to put on my bra. I wanted to get ready to leave. I even remembered to pack my toothbrush and toothpaste since I had planned to stay at the host of the ABC party’s house.

But I hadn’t packed a shirt.

I put my bra on and sat up. My abdominal muscles hurt, but it wasn’t too bad.

And then I tried to stand up.

And I fell to the floor.

K-Dawg just about lost it. “Can’t walk there, Sparky?”

I was paralyzed from too much dick slamming.

What a way to go.

Alex got out of bed and tried to help me up. I could stand with assistance but I looked like I had ridden a horse across the USA.

Part of that was true.

I eventually waddled to the bathroom in the suite and brushed my teeth. I still hadn’t figured out how I was going to ask for a shirt, but I needed to think one thing at a time.

I attempted to trek back to the room, but fell in the middle of the hallway.

Alex’s other two roommates opened their bedroom door to me army crawling.

“Dang, Alex. What’d you do to her?”

Typical.

I made it back to the room and sat on the floor.

“Can I borrow a shirt, Alex?”

“Yeah, let me find you one.”

I put on an old rock ‘n roll t-shirt that was thrown at me.

I had to make it to class and I couldn’t walk.

“Where are you heading?”

“Stevenson.”

“I’m heading over to the CVA. I can walk with you.”

I was carried half way to class because I couldn’t feel my legs.

And I was stared at throughout the class because I had deep, plum-colored hickeys all over my neck.

I felt like I had a trophy for “Best Time by an Amateur Slut.”

I even made up an acceptance speech, because who wants to learn about probability?

Here it is (to the best of my memory):

"I would like to applaud the other nominees for this specific category. Girl with dreadlocks, you really gave me a run for my money with those hand-cuff marks on your wrist that you claim are from your boyfriend but really look like you struggled during an arrest. And a special shoutout to pixie-haircut brunette who has hickeys from behind her ear to her cleavage line. You are the real MVP.

Among this competition, I am shocked to have won this award. I am glad that my sluttiness is appreciated and stared upon. I’m glad that I did not have to act like I could walk normal. It’s a pleasure to be among many amateur sluts who enjoy sex as much as I do.

Being pussy pummeled last night showed me a few things that I feel need to be shared with the general class. Be an animal, for starters. Don’t hold yourself back sexually because you are afraid someone can’t keep up with you or that you’ll scare them. If anything, they’ll learn that they like it rough, too. Make sure that you are happy, and if you aren’t, voice it. There’s nothing worse than having sex you aren’t enjoying. Am I right, people who have been in a sexless relationship for seven years?

And finally, and most importantly, work your way to being a professional. Even if you are just slutting it up in your relationship with your partner (and no one else...except for that one experimental threesome you both agreed to), be a professional.

Or sleep with all walking, breathing, consenting hard cocks. Be a professional at whatever you want to be.

And yes, boy who just saw my toothbrush and toothpaste in my backpack, I am well on my way to being a professional."

And then the music would start playing and I would be pulled off the stage because my speech was too long.

That was the last time I had really talked with Alex. We never did anything ever again because he started dating some girl (seems to be a trend). He’s single now, but isn’t worth the time. You’ll see what I mean in the closing message.

The Moral of This Story

Have a slutty one-night stand where you absolutely enjoy yourself and can be yourself sexually.

I was fortunate to have the experience after I had been having sex for a few years, so I knew what I liked.

And I felt safe being myself with him sexually.

It doesn’t mean you have to sleep with someone you just met and make an ass of yourself.

It can be with someone you’ve been with for a while. That’s really okay.

Because the worst thing that could happen is you walk like a cowboy into your math class and write a fake acceptance speech.

A Closing Message to Alex

Thank you for being the nice guy who let me be an animal in the sheets. You were the unexpected artist that flittered into my life and flittered right back out after I had learned my lesson.

I know you’re single now and smoking more weed than ever. Good for you and your horse penis.

And good for you for continuing to be an independent artist who is still trying to find a direction.

Even if that direction is through every woman’s vagina.

I have a lot of respect for you and know you’re going to be like Jack from the Titanic someday.

Actually. You kind of already are.

Find your Rose.

She’ll have nice tits, let you draw her, and you can fuck in a car.