distractions in writing class
So there’s this girl in my writing class.
And she’s fucking gorgeous.
And I don’t want to fuck her.
She’s a freshman, which kind of freaks me out. I mean, I worked with freshman during Orientation.
She looks like an honest to god porcelain doll. She had beautiful pale skin, cheeks that are pink and the softest looking, most kissable lips I have ever seen on a woman. Wide blue eyes. Long light brown hair. And her breasts are gorgeous. She wears these low cut, square neck, innocent looking lacy tops that just accentuate her breasts SO nicely. She looks so pure and innocent and it’s kind of eerie.
And I’ve no desire to fuck her. I can’t imagine her in any sexual context. Sir says, “It’s just because you’re not a GUY.” I don’t think so.
I want to protect her. She’s a FRESHMAN. College is going to change her and I want her to know she’s beautiful the way she is. I want to tell her things that she should know about the next few years. I want to hug her, not take her clothes off and fondle her.
I notice all these beautiful girls on campus and I can definitely imagine doing dirty, dirty things to them… but not to her.
It’s strange.
Since we’re on a school theme…
I am a College Democrat. I am an insane supporter of Obama. So is Sir. Both of us were obsessive checking our respective preferred politics websites ALL Folsom weekend. (fivethirtyeight.com for Sir and OhNoTheyDidn’t Political, pollster.com and politico for me.)
Sir also took it upon himself to force me to watch the debate naked, tied up and cringing the whole time. We were in our room at Folsom Fringe last friday. He had a few rules.
When one candidate said the other’s name, He would hurt me.
When someone said SARAH PALIN, He would hurt me A LOT. He would also hurt me on Biden, but not AS much.
He would pinch my inner thighs so hard I would be screaming and wailing behind the gag, flailing on the bed. He started cheating and would do it even when nothing was happening, just because He LOVED my reaction. He would spank me. Slap me. Pinch my nipples.
I’m cringing as to what would have happened if we were together for the vice presidental debate.
“I get to hurt you whenever Palin says ‘maverick’…” I would have probably ended up a sobbing heap on the mattress, considering Palin used “maverick” one hundred and four times…
