By Anneliese Hucal
My favorite part about summer vacation is the glisten of sweat and sand trailing down his stomach as we lay on the beach in Tahoe.
As my eyes caress his sun-kissed skin I take credit for the newly developed cleft between his hip and his stomach that can only be achieved through the number of aerobic workouts that we have been committing night after night. This mystery guy can be anyone, your brother, your coworker or even your boyfriend (but lets hope not).
No matter who the lucky winner of the sexual marathon jackpot is, they are bound to be written about, because, at the end of the day, that’s how I make a living. It sure beats waiting tables while I get my degree and it’s a hell of a lot more fun to brag about writing for five different websites than knowing how to make five different lattes. If you don’t agree, well you have no business reading this. Was that Rude? Boo-hoo. For those of you that are still with me, I love you dearly and one way to celebrate is to tell you a story about summer loving.
Tinder Ginger and the Orange Popsicle
It’s funny how bad jokes and great sex stories start the same way:
A girl walks into a bar. In this story, I am that girl trying to find the cute blonde guy who I matched with on Tinder. I scan the room for the hot surfer guy who shares my love of Robert Rodriguez films and notice a ginger waving frantically in my direction. I glance behind me, and realize that he is beckoning me over. Confused, I walk towards him and he grabs my hand before I can speak, telling me he is so happy to meet “the sex column girl” in real life. He hands me a whiskey and water and gushes, “I remember you said you liked these in your column about rimjobs!” “Fuck” I think to myself as I realize I am being fangirled by a guy who uses color filters.
I gulp down the drink and the room starts swimming. After three hours of him retelling me each of my columns, we are stumbling downtown towards his apartment. He opens the door to a marble kitchen and I blurt out something rude about how his Daddy must have a good job.
He laughs at me and I sit on the counter as he digs around in the freezer for something. I look around for a moment but snap back to reality as something cold touches my thigh. He is holding an orange popsicle and smiling at me. “Your favorite food right?”
I stare frozen as he puts his fingers between my thighs and shoves my lace panties to the side. He toys with my clit and kisses me hard while the popsicle starts to drip on my leg. I pull off his shirt and he rips my thong in half with his skilled hands. Suddenly, I feel a sharp sensation and realize that he has done the unthinkable. My vagina is screaming as it is overcome with cold sensations from the intruding popsicle.
He smiles and continues to kiss and bite me while his fingers roam my frosted lady-bits. His mouth starts to move south and he scoots me toward the edge of the counter. He licks the orange drips off of my thighs and I shiver in anticipation as he starts to go down on me. His carrot colored curls look strange between my thighs, but make the ultimate steering wheel as I grind into his face. I beg him to take away the popsicle and take me right there, but he refuses, saying it has to melt. Within ten minutes, I’m screaming and gasping for air as my entire body convulses.
Suddenly, the stick clatters on the tile floor and he comes up for air. I immediately faint. The next morning, I woke up in his bed and realized that I was going to be late for work. I slip on my dress and rush out the door, without saying goodbye. I get to work and my friend points out that I look like I fucked an Oompa Loompa because my entire thigh area is bright orange.
What is the moral of this story?
People’s words and behaviors leave impressions on you, whether good or bad. In the end, the most important part is that they make you think and you learn from them. I hope that all of my columns teach you something and I hope they inspire you to live life to the fullest this summer, because the next three months are the ultimate time for irresponsibility and adventure, and nothing is sexier than a good tan and a good time!
Anneliese Hucal studies public relations. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.