Reader’s note: This story is satirical in nature and published in a spoof issue.
It’s about time!
The Gelman Library has slowly but surely been updating its infrastructure for GW students. An effective new student liaison is partly responsible for the improvements that deserve our praise. Student outreach has never been better, and as a result, the library has become a better place to work and study.
Case in point – I’m typing this from a stall in the sixth floor men’s room. A few years ago that might have been unthinkable, with the GWireless system so sparse and unreliable. Now, with Gelman virtually blanketed with wireless access, my work doesn’t have to stop when I’m going about my business in the bathroom. The only thing distracting me is the enormous cock tickling my face.
Students, your voices have been heard! Finally, anonymous sex in public restrooms is no longer limited to the Marvin Center and Corcoran Hall. Thanks to snappy work by the student liaison, glory holes in Gelman are now a reality.
While this might have questionable effects on my school work, I’m not complaining. Sometimes it seems as if the best motivation is wrapping your mouth around the throbbing member of a total stranger. Once you’ve licked your lips clean, you can march back to that reading room and bang out that essay on Herman Melville’s “Billy Budd” with confidence. For a late-night fix, Starbucks isn’t the only part of the library open 24 hours.
The best part about glory holes is the way they offer complete anonymity. For all you know, you could be blowing your roommate, and I guarantee you it’ll be less awkward than the time you caught him whacking-off while watching “The Golden Girls.” You might be sticking it to your United States diplomatic history professor, but you can rest assured he won’t stick it to you on an exam – as long as you don’t forget why NSC-68 was significant.
What’s more is that you don’t have to be gay to enjoy the glories of a glory hole! Listen, I’m straighter than John Wayne. I have a girlfriend, whom I care about very much. Don’t get me wrong, she’s bangin’, and we fuck all the time. I’m talking all the fucking time. But sometimes, I want a little bit of what she can’t possibly give me, and that’s the turgid, purple veins of a big prick.
Fellas, if you haven’t tried it, you’re missing out. Don’t wait to let me convince you and go find out what some of the many other supple-tongued, eagerly-endowed gentlemen on this campus have to offer. Trust me – it’s all the same if you’re sticking your John Thomas through a bathroom wall. If you find your mouth on the other side of the equation, you’ll surely walk away with a newfound appreciation for what your girlfriend does. I might add that semen has the protein content of eggs with none of the cholesterol.
Now, I’m sure I’ll get letters from GW girls complaining about how “all the cute guys on this campus are either gay or taken.” It’s understandable that ladies might start feeling a little bit underappreciated as a bunch of fresh mouths pour across sexual boundaries like Mexicans into Arizona. But don’t worry – you’ll still be wanted! Just because I enjoy caressing a stiff dong every once in a while doesn’t make me gay. True, pillow-biters only make up around 15 percent of our student body. The other 85 percent of us still like to munch on a fur burger every once in a while.
You girls will, however, need to learn how to take constructive criticism when you’re going down town. In my years here, I’ve encountered maybe one female who really knew what she was doing when she was face to face with my cock and balls. Guys have a natural advantage: we have the tools, and we know what to do with them – or to them. So don’t feel bad if we start sharing our technique with you – you need it.
But please, keep it to the bathrooms. As much as I would love to get my knob gobbled on say, the National Mall, the law ain’t cool with that. As long as my unalienable right to anonymous gay sex in bathroom stalls is upheld, I’ll be a happy camper. Let’s keep up the good work behind closed bathroom doors. Pretty soon, Foggy Bottom will be as synonymous with blow jobs as it is the State Department.
-The author is a deceased canine.