I’m not a virgin. I dated a girl for almost a year near the end of high school, and we did start having sex near the end. It was wonderful in its own right, but we were both much less than experienced or talented, and only had sex a few times before we broke up and went our own ways. That was my only experience with anyone, and I’m now a sophomore in college.
My roommate Paul is the opposite. He was my roommate freshman year, too, and he became on of my only friends, as I’m rather shy and recluse. He’s a party animal, though, charismatic and attractive as all hell with sleek brown skin and rippling muscles, in contrast to my average face, dirty blond hair, and lanky physique. I’ve never asked about his ethnicity but I assume it’s varied. He gets laid all. The. Time. I try not to resent him for it, because he’s such an all around cool guy.
So it was that, a few weekends ago, I was listening to his latest conquest with only a modicum of seething envy. Apparently, he met a girl at a party, a self-avowed lesbian who, it turns out, was actually bisexual, and her girlfriend was too. The night ended with the three of them in a tangle of limbs, and him relaying me the tale the next morning.