SEASONS IN THE ABYSS
College Sex Disasters
ILLUSTRATIONS BY JESSICA PENFOLD
I NAILED MY STALKER
I was a bit spooked when in my first term of uni I started getting sexy notes posted through my halls of residence door. They said things like, “I saw you at the Get Up Kids show last Friday. I want you inside me.” It appeared there was a rather keen girl who shared my embarrassing interest in emo. Over the next few months, the notes got more regular, and more freaky – terrible emo lyrics juxtaposed with weird sex stuff she wanted to do to me. One time I found one posted through my bedroom window – I was thinking about speaking to the campus security. Plus, I’d had a tip-off from a friend at our neighbouring St. Thomas’ Halls that there was this ugly, psychotic little skater girl there who was obsessed with me.
At our college’s end of term party I lost the plot a bit. I’m not a big drinker, and had been dragged to the party against my will, so decided to get wasted. I started necking pints of Deadly Cobra (Snakebite and black with a double vodka) and by 10 PM I couldn’t remember my name. By 11 PM I was at the mercy of my loins, and found myself licking the fillings of the nearest female – with absolutely no idea what she looked like, or who she was.
By midnight I was back at hers, pummelling away at her troll-like frame. Come morning, I ascertained my whereabouts – St. Thomas’ Halls – before excitedly telling my companion about my St. Thomas stalker. Maybe she knew her? She didn’t say anything. When she got up to go to the toilet, I gazed across at her CD rack – Thursday, The Movielife, Saves The Day – uh oh, yes, I might’ve just impregnated my stalker. By the time she returned, I was running like the wind.
JAMIE HOLMES
RUPTURED BUM LOVE
I was one of the guys at uni whose standard dreams of a different girl every night were promptly shattered when I found myself settled down with a girlfriend, an eighth and a Curb Your Enthusiasm DVD within the first week. It could have been so much worse. She was the fittest girl I’d ever had the privilege of seeing naked, and she was more than happy to sit in, have sex, get stoned and skip lectures watching sitcoms. In fact, I’m missing her just recalling this.
One afternoon, our usual routine in full swing, idle telly-watching soon strayed into a bout of lazy sex. For some reason – I dunno, perhaps we swapped Curb for 24 that day – things started getting pretty dirty. We were doing it from behind, and having handed my first essay in that day, I thought I’d treat myself by sneaking it in her “special hole”. Now perhaps I’d been a bit overzealous in my entry, but before I knew it her body went completely limp and she slumped forward. As I’m sure you can imagine, I found this situation quite alarming. My heart was in my mouth and weird catholic-deviant-sex-killer guilt began bubbling in my throat. My state of panic intensified when I pulled my member out to find it soaked in blood, unleashing a torrent of red gloop from her bum as she just lay there totally motionless. It all got too much for me, and without thinking I dashed out into the corridor with my blood-caked willy in-hand in search of my friend who did medicine. Midway down the hall, I had second thoughts and opted to call up the NHS Direct helpine, worried I’d somehow ruptured her insides. Thankfully, while I was attempting to gabble some kind of explanation to the bemused guy on the phone, she came to. Despite her emaciated, bloody gloop-oozing state, she began to dazedly apologise and ask if I was OK.
Maybe we should have never broken up.
JOHN NORTH
HAMSTERDAM
I hate Amsterdam. I came to university a virgin and ended up getting into my first proper relationship midway through my first year. As he was the first guy I’d let have his wicked way with me, feelings were running strong. I was paranoid about him thinking I was this big virgin loser with barely a handjob to her name, so whatever he was up for I went with it. Lucky bastard. So we ended up trying pretty much everything. I just thought, why not? I’m an open-minded kind of girl.
A few months in, we decided to go on a romantic trip to Amsterdam and stay in a really nice apartment, the works. In my mind I had visions of candlelit dinners and canal-side walks by moonlight, but as soon as we got there it became apparent that he may as well have been going with the college rugby team. We headed to a sex show which was simultaneously the most awful and least erotic experience of my life. The next treat was a trip to a multi-level sex shop the size of a 24-hour Tesco where he bought Thai love beads “for me”. We got home and I begrudgingly gave them a whirl. They were OK but nothing worth writing home about. After we’d got past the formality of putting them inside me, he snatched them out of my hand, convinced they were meant to be amazing. Anyways, I shrugged, lubed him up and got to work. We started fucking with the beads wedged up his arse. Just before he came he yelled at me to pull them out. I yanked and the beads popped out. Regretfully, it wasn’t the only thing to emerge. Like a massive geyser, a huge stream of yellowy-brown, lube-laced shit come flying out, soaking our legs and the bed sheets.
It took us a few moments to realise what had happened. Then he suddenly snapped into consciousness and yanked the sheets off the bed in a shame-ridden sulk while I giggled in the hotel room, once my shins were rinsed of course. The whole incident served to make me realise I really wasn’t into the guy. I broke up with him while we were still over there.
JANE SMIDGE
RAINING BLOOD
I’d known this girl for a while. We weren’t great mates or anything, but we shared an interest in sitting around people’s houses getting wasted. One night after we’d been left alone together we ended up getting cosy and eventually started kissing. I didn’t even really fancy her, having been put off by her extremely hairy forearms (but as it turns out, strangely bald pubic regions. Go figure), but I was pretty bored and she had decent tits.
We were making out pretty intensely and everything seemed cool when all of sudden she bites down. Now we’re not talking a cheeky little nibble here either. Her tooth goes straight through my lip.
Reeling in shock, I pull back and splutter, “What the fuck are you doing?” To which she replies, “You love it!” Obviously assuming that because I was a complete wreck-head waster that automatically meant I was a total sadomasochist pervert too. I insisted quite firmly that I didn’t in fact love it in the slightest, to which she sighed and started going down on me. Everything was going fine until she raised her head up and again decided to sink her teeth into me. This time it was my solar plexus that was given her vampire treatment.
At the time I was pretty skinny, so this was no mean feat, but she managed to get a firm grip and something somewhere must have snapped. I looked down and couldn’t believe what I saw. I was gushing blood everywhere. A steady stream of blood poured all over both of us.
My reflex reaction was to let out a donkey kick, booting her right across the room. As she got to her feet there was a grim smile across her face. “Jesus,” I thought, “she loved it!” I’d unwittingly played into her trap. After that, there was no way I was risking further injury, so we opted to just get off our heads instead. Never again will I break with a tried and tested routine.
BEN JOHNSON
http://www.viceland.com/int/guide_student_uk08/htdocs/seasons_in_abyss.php?country=uk
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