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01-01-04 - -

If only every night I could kiss at a whim. I could just ask for what I want and others would provide. It’s nearly as easy to forsake loneliness as it to forsake sobriety. For a moment I felt happy to be single. I kissed four men, one woman – although the woman based on her volition, not mine, a girl named Anna. I asked everyone to grab my ass so I could give them a “one to five” rating. MC, my “hair twin”, and I guessed each others’ ancestries and spoke to each other in Scottish and Irish accents. I kissed Noah when the ball fell – which we barely caught between shows on cartoon network – and got drunker quicker than I’d meant to. There was no dancing, which I had hoped for, but to say that I flirted with people would be a grave understatement. My two party rules, “no sex” and “no nudity” were fulfilled almost all of that night, with the exception of strip poker, which I decided did not count. That was very anticlimactic, and also quite cold, which I hope attributes for what I saw that evening with Bob and Noah. Drunk that night, Noah asked me if we were going to “turn into the kind of friends that have sex”.

At one time we had “massage amoebas”, little circles of fondling, which led to a point where several girls were fighting to kiss Noah’s friend Harley (me too). Then, when Seth felt left out, I kissed him as well. Then Anna kissed me and told me she’s “always been bicurious.” Harrison and I complained we were the only ones there that were bisexual even when sober. My new friend for the evening, Harrison, is a huge clumsy bear of a guy, baby faced and bulkily distributed. He picked me up and swung me around like a little girl. He talked to me about girls, and boys, and sex, and flirted in the way of someone that is both honest and honestly drunk. Harr ended up inviting me to sleep with him, referring to himself as “the big warm wall”. Instead I spent the last hour of the night with Noah instead, who not only invited me first but had proved himself a friend by calling me recently. We spoke of first loves and favorite colors and rubbed each other’s backs in a way that seemed mostly platonic, before bed French kiss notwithstanding. It felt amazingly comfortable to feel myself drift off to sleep there – not the least bit alone.

When I finally woke up at eleven, Noah was gone, and I wanted to avenge my loss with Harrison. I snuck down to where he was sleeping and laid next to him, and he turned around and put his arms around me and curled us up together. I felt like a little doll or baby in his arms, one of which seemed half the length of my head, and made a fine pillow. I felt like chirping with joy, and when he began to wake up, he rolled me over a bit and kissed me, rubbed his nose against mine, gave me a puppy dog smile. Then, after a bit of kissing (the first bit that really got my attention) I heard that heavy breathing that I know so well. I began to slowly, subconsciously grind as I soaked through my clothes. Even then, before anything dirty was happening, I knew what would happen in my heart of hearts. I wanted him. He had some phone calls to make and several interruptions but eventually we were out and out fondling each other, completely naked in the common room with the doors shut. I was horny enough to look him in the eyes and say “GODDAMN, I want to fuck you.” He was unprepared, utterly unprepared, and I was almost afraid my horny body would take over and push me into unprotected sex against my will. Then all of a sudden, he had to go to work! Whoops! Harr asked me, “Did you seduce me, or did I seduce you?” I said the seduction was evenly split. I suppose a real seduction takes a good deal more effort. He asked for my number – I hope he uses it.



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