Saturday Night at Harvard

**The Upfront DisclaimerDid you take Literature and Sexuality this past fall? Remember the creative thought paper assignment in which you could create your very own piece of fiction in the writing style of Chad Kultgen (never heard of him? Look him up. He’s awesome)? This is it. That is to say that it is absolutely not based on any particular person or circumstance. All similarities are accidental (and maybe hilarious).

Live from Harvard, it’s Saturday Night

By: A Harvard Gal

It’s only 10pm and the bitches across the hall are already sloppy. They’re shouting about some hot TF and kissing each other on the mouth just because they can. It kind of turns me on, actually. I’ll probably bang one (if not both) of them tonight. Their tits are pretty saggy and they’re running their mouths about yesterday’s physics midterm, but maybe after a couple of more rounds of pong, they’ll shut the hell up about their classes. The slightly overweight blonde bitch walks over to me and nearly sloshes her nasty mix of cheap vodka and diet coke on my crew team rugby shirt. She’s come way too close to assaulting a fine Brooks Brothers piece just now.

“Oops! At least I didn’t hit you! Um, so I’m Lacey. You live in Thayer, right? I think I’ve seen you in the common room or something.”

“No, I’m a senior in Quincy. My name is Tom.” Her tits wag back and forth as she nods her head up and down like I’m the most interesting person on the whole fucking planet.

“Oh wow! Maybe we’re in Chem section together? I feel like I’ve seen you before, right? You’re in Chem 20, right? That last lecture was like, so boring, right?”

I want this conversation to be over, now. Either we’re going to fuck in a couple of hours, or it’s time to cut my losses and find another bitch who talks less. Actually, I’d fuck Lacey and finish all over her Chem notes because honestly, I don’t give a shit if she passes next week’s midterm or not. I say something or other to her just because I have to, but my has shifted to the hot redhead that just walked in. She’s definitely in my section; I only know because I spend an hour every Tuesday wondering whether the carpet matches the drapes instead of listening to the TF. I don’t know her name because I don’t really care what it is. I’ve never fucked a ginger before, but I imagine it would be something like fucking a fox. They look pretty much the same and I’ve always gotten the impression that red-heads are extra fiery and spunky.

Fat blonde bitch senses my disinterest and tells me that she’s going to “check on a friend.” She’s probably here alone. I don’t give a shit that she’s about to just walk away (actually, it’s a sigh of relief), but I wish she would just say it. A Harvard girl will never tell you what she actually wants though, unless it’s an internship, that is. Half an hour later, I’m walking out of the party with ginger-fox with my hand on her ass, feeling for a panty line. There isn’t one. In another fifteen minutes, we’re back in my room she’s taken her shirt off. Her tits look good. Unlike a lot of girls here, she apparently cares what she looks like when she walks out of her dorm. I want to tell her to wear lower cut shirts to section but at this point, as long as I keep quiet, I’m in. She looks at me like she wants to fuck right now and opens her mouth.

“This isn’t going to turn into a relationship. I’m just looking for a good time tonight and possibly a study partner and review guide for our midterm.”

“Fine by me.”If nothing else, she’ll be a good story for post-practice boathouse talk tomorrow.

I can’t stop staring at her flaming red hair as I fuck her. I mean, redheaded-ness is a recessive phenotype, so I’m basically fucking a mutant. I consider spraying all over her head to put the fire out. I’m fucking her pretty hard, but she keeps trying to give me suggestions, like every other Harvard bitch who thinks she’s the smartest thing on this campus. After a good hour of pounding, I roll over on my side to recuperate as ginger-fox goes into the bathroom to wash her hair. I still don’t know what her name is. I still don’t care. Not to get all philosophical or anything, but I know that she’s just the same as any other female at this school: slightly above average attractiveness, visibly neurotic, and a self-serving, Bain or McKinsey aspiring bitch above all else.

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