I always hated stereotypes. At least, that was my excuse for resenting anyone who assumed I was gay. A guy can be fabulous and into clothes and still be attracted to the opposite sex. And I have been attracted to girls as far back as I can remember--that's no bullshit. Girls love a guy they can go shopping with. "Metrosexual" was what they called me, and I was fine with that mantle. It meant they recognized my good taste, refined appearance, superior grooming, and upscale tastes. It was when people called me "gay" that I got frustrated. I'm not gay. Properly, I'm bi.
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Jocelyn was sitting on the couch in the living room watching the television and trying to relax. Today had been somewhat stressful with the first day of classes at the local university. There wasn't really anything on for her to watch and so she was growing more bored by the minute.
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Living with Paige was pure hell for Ally. Every moment she was around was like slow, agonizing torture which Ally often likened to having dull screws driven deep into her skull while having her heart ripped violently and awkwardly from her chest by hateful vultures. Well, maybe not that bad, but it definitely sucked in the worst possible way.
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I hate labels. I don't consider myself gay. Hell, I don't even think of myself as bi, either. Slightly bent? Straight with a slight curve? Fuck if I know because I love sex with women. Really, I do, except I've had a dick or two inside my mouth, too. So, what does that make me? Before Todd, I never thought much about it. Best to think of myself as a horny bastard and leave it at that.
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I felt a bit disoriented as I woke up. I was lying naked in a bed, with a sheet over me, but I couldn't see much further than the end of the mattress. I tried to gather my thoughts and remember how I'd gotten here, but I couldn't seem to concentrate. I thought I could see movement in the shadows around me, but I couldn't make out any shapes.
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"Ever feel like you're not really you? Like you're just an actor pretending to be somebody?"
That's exactly what I am right now - an actress stepping into costume. The same costume I wear every day. Mascara, blush, mini-skirts, tights, sleeveless blouses. I wished I had said that, but I just muttered "uh-huh" as if I were just placating her.
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After an adventurous freshman year of college that included my first lesbian experience, my first sexual experience with two guys at one time and several sessions of mutual masturbation with my roommate, I was determined to have as much fun during my sophomore year. After the first week of classes was over, my new roommate, Tara, and I decided Friday night was going to be a busy one.
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My name is Amy. My best friend is Dana. This is a story about a little dilemma the two of us had, and how we overcame it by being open-minded and unafraid.
Last year, Dana and I were roommates in our university dorm. We were first-year students and we shared our part of the floor with eight other girls.
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My first truly erotic encounter set a high standard for all that followed. I was eighteen years old, fresh-faced and pretty, if a little naive. I was ready to experience new things and break out of high school awkwardness. This was partly the reason why I quickly made my peace with having to share a bedroom with a stranger assigned by the college.
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"Now, let me get this straight so it doesn't happen again..."
I pressed the back of my hand across my roommate's forehead, frowning a little. His face, though a pale eggshell color only a few seconds ago, quickly came ablaze in a scarlet blush.
"You fainted during class because you had a bad night's sleep and missed breakfast," I assessed with an incredulous grimace, "yet you still want to become a paramedic too?"
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