Jules, 20, Student
We met on the first day of college. You were living in my father’s old dorm room, on the 4th floor of the building. I was living on the upper third floor. One night you led our building on a night hike. I instantly fell for your manly voice and your shirt that said “L.A. Zoo Volunteer”—which you later told me wasn’t even yours but was a friend’s.
Just as I had hoped, soon we were “fuck buddies,” “friends with benefits,” “lovers,” or whatever else you want to call it. If it was a school night and we hadn’t had time to get the gym and needed to release a little stress and alotta hormones, we were only a few doors down from one another.
Everything seemed to be going on track until the night of the pink sock. Daniel was pretty worked up and asked me where he should, you know, release his load. I looked at him blankly and wrinkled my forehead. What type of a question was that?
“Do you have a sock?” he asked.
“A SOCK!?” I said.
I was mortified. I love some good ol’ fashioned dirty talkin’, but “Do you have a sock?” was about the least sexy thing he could have said.
Finally I said, “Fine, but I will only give you a pink one.”
And so I handed him a pink sock that my roommate had given me and he jacked off into it.
Daniel, at first I wanted my pink sock back, but on second thought, you keep it – forever.