Like most people, my freshman year in college was a blend of wonderful, awkward, and horrifying.

I was experiencing a transition, shedding my introverted former self and discovering my true personality… one that was unencumbered by all of the constricting social pressures of high school. It also didn’t hurt that I was three thousand miles from home.

I quickly settled in and found a good group of friends — mostly guys who lived on the same floor of my dorm. One Friday night, a few of us made our way to the courtyard, which was situated between my dorm and three others. I guess that’s called a quad? We were looking for a quiet place to smoke weed and drink a few Olde English 800s — you know, freshman shit. Well, this place was anything but quiet.

We had stumbled into the local meet market. This was the Friday night hookup spot. If you were looking to get some action, just troll the quad, find a suitable partner, create a flimsy excuse to get you both back to your dorm room, and blammo! — you’re fuckin’. Naturally, we all split up… like, immediately.

I walked a lap around the courtyard and bumped into a girl from one of my classes. Olivia was super hot. We had spoken only a few times in passing, but here she was… with me… at the hookup spot. I was so excited I didn’t even give her a proper hello.

“Hey, Olivia. Do you know anything about houseplants?” I asked.

“Houseplants?”

“Yeah. I just bought one, but it’s looking a little yellow.”

Yes, I’m an idiot. But it worked! We headed back to my room, made out a little in the elevator, made out a little more in the hallway, kept making out in the common room, and then headed for my room… which was locked, because my roommate was hooking up.

Fortunately, this minor setback didn’t slow us down. We just moved the party to the comfy couch in the common room. It was risky — anyone could have walked in — but it was awesome. She asked if I had a condom. Of course I did — it had embossed a ring into my wallet. I turned off the lights so we were under the cover of pitch darkness, put the condom on, and climbed on top of her. Olivia grabbed my dick and gently tried to guide it inside her. It didn’t fit.

As much as I would love to pretend my dick size isn’t slightly below average, it had nothing to do with me. She was really tight. Finally, after a few minutes of what felt like trying to push a hot dog through a wall, I managed to get the tip in. Olivia let out a little moan and pulled me closer. “Yeah, baby. Fuck me, baby,” she squealed. She started to get pretty wet, which made pushing the rest of my less-than-standard girth inside her much easier.

Sex with Olivia was wonderful. We connected rhythmically and our thrusts, bucks, humps, pushes, and pulls were all in sync. I was lost in the moment — deep, passionate kisses, her fingers in my mouth, mine in hers, and that tight, wet pussy that just gripped my dick. Her breathing got heavier and mine followed… neither one of us could hold back. I plunged my cock deep inside of her and we both came hard.

I gave her a long kiss, pulled out, removed my condom, and floundered about in the darkness looking for the bathroom. Olivia followed, resting her hand on my shoulder and following my lead.

The bathroom lights were jarring — super harsh fluorescent bulbs. I caught a glimpse of our reflection. A fucking murder scene! Olivia and I were covered in blood from nipples to knees, with spatters and smears on my chin, my shoulder, and in my mouth. I felt like I was going to pass out. Which one of us was bleeding? Was she hurt? Was I hurt? And was I going to get my security deposit back after whatever the fuck I just did to the couch?

“Is now a good time to tell you I was a virgin?” she asked.

Illustration By Jason Johnson