admin @ Mon, 2006-09-18 11:00
My name is Eve. I have blonde hair, green eyes and a red-hot libido. I also have dreams of becoming a novelist, unpaid credit card bills and a deep desire to somehow save the world through sex. Nice to meet you.
If you're reading this, we certainly have at least one thing in common: sex intrigues us. We think about sex a fair amount and we want to know more. The truth is, sex doesn't just intrigue me. I am addicted to thinking about sex - I'm a fantasy-aholic.
Every man I meet, I consider what it would be like to sleep with him. And college, with all its hormone-heavy hotties, is not good for my addiction. From that buff baseball player in my poli-sci discussion to Old Man Schenley, I cannot keep myself from picturing what it would be like to see his face contort with pleasure.
Certainly, some make me shudder from disgust rather than shiver in pleasure, but I still imagine sex with every male I encounter. It's become almost like second nature to me. For example, say I walk in to the first day of Chemistry lab and my instructor explains cell-bonding to me. This makes me wonder if he likes to wear his lab coat with nothing on underneath it and have me whisper balanced chemical equations in his ear. Or I go to my Victorian literature class and the professor begins lecturing on Dickens. You can only imagine what runs through my mind.
Initially, I was appalled at my own imagination. My habit is especially bad, because right now I'm dating a nice GW boy who has yet to even scratch the surface of my sexual appetite. What kind of girl imagines doing it standing up with the waiter at Bertucci's while her boyfriend is paying the check?
This is cache, read story here