We’ve got a secret surprise hiding under our covers this year. The Hatchet will bring you two anonymous columnists-a guy and a girl-to report on sex at GW. This week features female Delilah, but stay tuned for our mysterious male.
Editor’s note: names have been changed to protect the naughty.
I have my favorites. There’s Beckham, Ballack and Heinze. They’re talented, thrilling, and their moves, physique and technique always keep me satisfied. Whether I am tired from a night out on the town, ready for a pick me up or just in the mood, these fine footballers are hot, horny and waiting to kick the ball deep into the net, even if Arsenal beat them in the playoffs. No, I am not fortunate enough to be any of their jersey shorts or their leading lady. I am fortunate though to have three, well priced brightly colored vibrators and a big imagination. If it weren’t for these hard erect pearl pink, bright purple and sky blue ribbed vibrating pieces of genital perfection, my real sex life would be a low scoring game. In the three years I have been equipped with my phallic silicone accessories, I found much like the case with my beloved European football teams, not everyone here in America is eager to embrace or follow them.
The first time “David Beckham” was dissed by an American was one night with my ex-hunk who we’ll call “Hercules” (if you saw his backside you would understand why he gets this nickname). Hercules had been away for several weeks so needless to say we made up for lost time. A while later, I was ready for another round and Hercules was out of lightning bolts, so I turned to the next best thing, one of my soccer stars. As I reached into my drawer to pull David Beckham out, Hercules let out a gasp like the one Lorena Bobbit’s husband must have made in the last moment that he still had his penis “What are you doing with that?” Hercules shrieked as I hit Beckham’s switch. Not knowing what to say and just aching for another orgasm I replied “I thought you might like to watch” and the truth was I really did. Besides, after all of the programming I had seen on “Cinemax” after midnight I couldn’t understand why a man wouldn’t want a view (which made me think that soft porn on late night TV is awfully misleading). Shortly after, Hercules and I fell asleep and David Beckham stayed on the bench.
The next day, I realized that Hercules wasn’t the only person who rejected one of my superstar players. David Beckham was a gift from my sorority sisters after a night of hard drinks, loud music and gag gifts. My big sis who I will call “Sweetie” made sure to spoil and make me blush with body oils, lube, a beer bong and David Beckham, (a sky blue eight inch waterproof vibrator). When I opened up my present and took Beckham out of the box my sorority sisters laughed and cheered, but to my surprise, Sweetie and the rest of the Greek honey pies yelled “You’re not actually going to use that?” and “That’s for decoration only!’ Strange enough most of them seemed to be quite uncomfortable with the idea that I was actually going to use the vibrator. I couldn’t believe it, here I was in a room with open minded adventurous women who squirmed with a hit of masturbation but squealed for another hit off the beer bong! What was wrong with this picture? Women have rocked the vote, rocked the job market yet somehow here in the year 2007 we still haven’t been okay with rockin’ our own poonanies!? Besides, between the “jerking off” and “choking the chicken” references that all of my male friends make, I figured by now we might be on even ground with this issue.
Today women are encouraged to pleasure themselves every place outside of their zippers. Yet, when it comes to unzipping and making our way “down South” I can’t help but think that we are still stuck waiting for Prince Charming to come, make us “come,” and give us a direction to follow. If we can rely on ourselves for almost anything we can certainly rely on ourselves for that extra little deed. There may be that Prince or that “Hercules” in your life but remember my friends whether you have a long rod or a something that likes a long rod in it, you should never have to deprive yourself of what you need because someone else has a problem with it. Relationships may come and go but the relationship that always sticks around is the one you have with yourself. As you may guess by now Hercules didn’t stay around much longer because if he truly was my hero, he wouldn’t mind that I could make myself happy with his lightening bolts and without them.
This article appeared in the August 30, 2007 issue of the Hatchet.