You! Slim, with the black hair We had the whole floor of the law library (now apparently being renovated) to ourselves. It was late at night, we were both stealing glances at each other. We got around to talking at last, and I asked you if you were going to be studying all night. "Oh yes, all night," you said, pausing to smile invitingly before you added, "At least, that's the plan..." There were plenty of empty, dark rooms, offering stupid amounts of fooling-around possibilities to us. But you ended up being too scared to go beyond anything but the blind under-the-table groping, constantly scanning the area as if some unseen (possibly Catholic?) authority figure was going to leap upon us--"Fornicators!"--and, I don't know, lock us in a frightening gun store bondage basement to be sodomized (which would seemingly contradict the whole Catholic impression I first had). Anyway, for some reason, the countless shadowed nooks and crannies we could have been cavorting in seemed less favorable to you than our table in the middle of the room, devoid of any cover whatsoever. Maybe you were afraid I would murder you or something? Whatever. The building closed. I left frustrated that we had come so close to a possibly fulfilling impromptu encounter.
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And you! Really hot blonde in the PCL lab that one night! We made out for a minute or two, I got handfuls of your great ass through your tights. We heard somebody coming around the corner, broke apart, waited for them to pass. After that you seemed to lose your nerve, even though we were literally standing right in front of an empty room no one had any reason to enter! You were convinced that somebody would walk in on us. So our encounter, which had only just been starting to get really hot, came to an abrupt and lame "separate-ways" ending. I went home that night with a seemingly permanent erection and masturbated in frustration and anger against God. Against all the world. It could have been so good.
And goddamn you, gorgeous short-haired brunette with the Death From Above 1979 tote bag and great taste in music who I ran into in the Union. The place was practically dead, and those bathroom stalls on the third floor are impossibly clean! I tried to explain this to you, but you, too, lacked the courage, convinced that we would be heard.
Please UT girls. I like private home-made sex as much as anybody, but these opportunities are rare goddamned semi-public-sex unicorns. They will not roam the halls of the retirement home you will eventually inhabit once your children have back-stabbed you and imprisoned you there. By then you will be drooling and possibly rambling about the time uncle Jo left all the cat food out and the cat ate too much of it and my it smelled awful in that house for days until the cat finally died and a wild "ky-oat" or summit dragged the carcass into the forest one night and oh are you my husband?
Just make this semester a little more exciting.
- Location: UT
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