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“M N O P”. You were drunk enough that you had to explicitly go through the alphabet letter by letter to figure out what the next drink should be. The goal was to go through the entire rum section of the student’s pub cocktail menu, in alphabetic order. Mojito before Piña Colada. Just because you’re having a bit of a dating dry spell doesn’t mean you can’t have a wet evening.

“Make that two” you hear from behind you. Clare walks up and takes the seat beside you. Great. Everyone knows about Clare the Campus slut, and now you are about to have a Mojito with her. You look around the pub, but no one is really paying attention to the two of you. More than a few engineering students have lost their virginity to her. It’s kind of weird for someone with her reputation of seeking out willing boys it took that long to get the scent of your pent up needs, but here you are.

On the other hand, no one is going to judge you for sitting with her. It’s her initiative, clearly, but that also frees your from the whole game of it. You relax a bit, empty out the last of Hemingway from the glass, and ask the question.

- Are you here for sex or what?
- Wow, not even hello first?
- I… I’m sorry…    Hello.
- Hi, are you up for some sex or what?

You can’t help yourself laughing. If not for the stigma, she would had been quite the catch. Great body, nice face, meticulous hair, makeup, clothes and accessories. She really makes an effort, carefully walking just up to the line between sexy and slutty. It’s hard to know what is and isn’t true with campus gossip, but the story is she had a big fallout with her boyfriend, what’s-his-name from the basket team, and out of spite started to fuck anyone who could hold an erection. And then just kept going.

- Should we wait for the mojitos?

I don’t know what I had expected, but her small student apartment is surprisingly neat and tidy. She excuses herself for “a few minutes” in the bathroom to get ready, and you sit down on her bed to wait. Last chance to change your mind. Some people saw you two leave together, but no one you know. It’s not like you’re with a prostitute. Not that that would be wrong either. Screw everyone else. She wants it. You want it.

You reach for your wallet to get a condom out, but freeze before your hand reach the pocket. You only have your credit card case with you. This was supposed to only be about the rum section, A to Z. Fuck! She must have condoms. She if anyone. You reach for the bed stand drawer and open it.

There, on top, is a bright pink, plastic looking vibrator. Of course. Why wouldn’t she have one? Somehow, perhaps it was the mojito, you decide to pick it up and turn it on. It’s inoffensive looking, resembling more a work of abstract art than a penis. You just want to hold it in your hand and imagine what it would feel like to use it.

The on button is small, but in a sense it works like a light switch. You flick it and your world changes completely. It’s like one of those earbuds that send audio through your bones. You can feel it vibrate in your hand, but your head fills with a choir of whispers. Some are pleading, some are teasing, some are demanding, but they all want the same thing, for the vibrator to go up your butt. It only takes seconds for you to concur.

It can’t happen soon enough. You kick off your shoes, frantically unbuttons your trousers and yank them down, all while holding the vibrator in a firm grip. Almost like an afterthought you spit on it. Nothing has ever gone the wrong way through your ass, so this is all new to you. Then you shove it in, as forcefully as you can. You have no idea how far up it goes, but the whisper swells into a cacophony of voices.

You are a slut.
You behave like a slut.
You think like a slut.
You dress like a slut.

Isn’t that the voice of what’s-his-name from the basket team? Clare’s old boyfriend?

She finds you naked and slowly gyrating on the bed, dick in one hand and slowly fucking yourself with the vibrator in the other. Shit! No sex tonight. Not with her at least. First time she ever touched it she was out for 20 hours. You moan and mumble incoherently. “slut needs dick deep” escapes your lips. She walks back to the bathroom to get dressed again. Your life is pretty much ruined, but at least she can help you with that. She knows about every dick on campus, gay, bi or otherwise.

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