As graduation crept up on me, I came to the realization that I hadn’t been as slutty as I could have been throughout my years in college. These are the years that you create the stories that will later be followed by, “Oh. It’s just something I did in college” as an excuse for your actions. I’ve never been Little Miss Committed Relationship, so there really is no excuse for me not to have let my freak flag fly every weekend. Sure, I absorbed unholy amounts of alcohol and currently hold the record for the most standards hearings within my sorority. And hell yeah, the majority of my stories are wild enough that my parents can never hear about them. Most of my college career has been done the way it should be according to movies like Animal House.
The only problem was that the inner trashy side of me was bubble-wrapped these past few years. I might be a notorious make-out whore, but that’s high school level. The game changed the second I was introduced to this sex commune they call college. While other girls wore skin-tight booty shorts and a barely-there tops, I always kept my clothes appropriately indecent when I went out. Exploring my town was exciting, but I never took a detour to Pound Town with a guy in public places. And I never let strangers pour shots on me just so they could lick it off like many of my fellow schoolmates did. My schoolwork has been completed and I built such an impressive alcohol tolerance that I believe it should be put on my résumé. However, this past week, I knew deep down in my little heart that still wasn’t enough. In order to graduate, I still needed to do one thing: act like a complete and total skank. So for a whole week I threw off my thong and my morals followed.
Not everything I did was necessarily slutty on its own, but combined throughout the week? I think I have been awarded a temporary reputation. I began the week as anyone would in this situation — by heading to the pool and letting guys shove their faces in my boobs as they poured Bud Light down my cleavage in an attempt to make my boobs a beer bong. This is otherwise referred to as a boob luge and has become quite popular among college students. My analysis? It was quite nice for a lover of attention such as myself. I liked it so nice I did it twice. And then, like 52 more times throughout the week. I tried it the other way — doing a boob luge off another girl — not as great.
I liked people using my body as a vehicle for alcohol so much that I decided to try out body shots. This, too, I loved. HaHaving a guy lick my legs, slurp vodka out of my bellybutton, and eat a lime out of my mouth was more fun than expected.
I’ve always been really into hitting up bars, so this past week, I made sure to let the bar-goers see more of me, you know, physically. I went shopping specifically for the purpose of finding clothes that were just a tiny bit too small that I could later rock out at the bars. Once there, I became very comfortable dancing on top of the bars, and accidentally on purpose let people get a peak of my lacy red bra.
So far? Not too slutty, but wait! I decided to step up my public sex game. It all began with a hand job under a table, and escalated to a blow job in front of the courthouse to full on sex in a bar bathroom. The week was so tedious, because I constantly had to find new places to do it. The three places I’m most proud of boning are the quad of my campus, my sorority house, and another sorority’s house. A major perk of graduating is that sneaking a guy into my sorority house isn’t as difficult anymore. What are they going to do? Kick me out of the sorority? Too late. We didn’t even have to break into the other sorority’s house. One of my friends who lives in the house was happy to help me accomplish my sex bucket list. It was a little awkward thinking about what would’ve happened if other girls in the house caught us, but the sex was worth it. There was a moment in the quad where my hookup was thrusting inside of me with his arms locked above my shoulders in a pushup position and eyes aglow with excitement, that an alarm went off and we had to call it quits. As he tucked away his penis behind his zipper, I finally felt complete. I had accomplished my mission as a college student. I was having heap loads of crazy sex and gave zero fucks about it.
The best thing to come out of my slut week is that I can now say I have no regrets about how I lived my college life. Seniors will last minute come up with an unrealistic bucket list and hate when they don’t accomplish it. I was one of these seniors. Except my last-minute bucket list was rather simple, so I went for it anyway. What I was really impressed with, though, was that I was never kicked out of a bar or club. All that nudity and nobody seemed to care. I guess that’s college in a nutshell..
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