The Life of a College Cocktease: I Eat Blue Balls for Breakfast

I'm 5'3'', I weigh about 102.3 lbs, and I have titties that are so delicious you could get a cavity just from sucking on them – not that you ever will. I also have a  fucking perfect smile, whiter than white, and my tongue is so long I can eat myself out without even bending my neck. Basically, I'm like Gumby, except that I have a vagina that's tighter than a Ziploc bag. (Actually, I don't even think Gumby has a vagina, nor a weiner for that matter. LOL!) And oh yeah. I go to the University of I'm Never Gonna Tell You Because I'm So Hot You'd Probably Try To Track Me Down And Rape Me (not that I wouldn't do the same thing if I were in your shoes).  

As I've already mentioned, aside from being really hot, I'm also a cocktease. And I'm not just talking about a casual cocktease, the type of chick who will grind fuck you on the dance floor but refuse to come  back to your dorm room and rub it out. No, I'm talking about a major league cocktease, even bigger than Kelly Kapowski from Saved By The Bell – hence the title/ my motto, “I eat blue balls for breakfast.” On an average day during the school year, simply going to classes and walking around campus with my girls, I'll personally be responsible for somewhere between 70-89 boners. And guess how many of these boners I'll tend to? That's right, bitches – none! Fortunately, about 5% of those 70-89 boners will tend to themselves, as evidenced by the yogurty stains I see on boys' crotches as I walk past them.  

But to be honest with you, it's not like I don't occasionally get horny and dream about putting a Shaquille O'Neal sized weiner in my mouth. It's just that I've been a cocktease all my life, and I'm kinda accustomed to the lifestyle – knowing that boys are always scheming up ways to sleep with me, fantasizing about the colors of my thongs, and of course, slitting their wrists to prove they're worthy of five minutes of my attention. That last one can get pretty weird, I'll admit, like when a boy passes out and has to be taken to the hospital for a blood transfusion, but otherwise, it can really turn me on! LOL!  

I know a shit load of people think I'm vain or whatever, but most of those people are either just pissed because a) they're fat and have no chance of sleeping with me or b) they're female. Either way, I know that I'm fly as fuck, and that's all that matters. After all, I don't throw up three times a day for nothing :) 

And oh, for all those out there who are wondering how far I've actually gone with a boy, I think you'll be disappointed. Here are the three times I was closest to a serious sexual encounter, in no particular order.  

1. Sleepaway Camp. When I was twelve years old at sleepaway camp, the head counselor (a 45 year old man with a volleyball sized potbelly) ordered me to take a “supervised” shower. I never realized I had such a bad reputation for not showering at camp, but he said that if I didn't shower he would send me home early and that my parents would be very upset. However, when he took of his pants and tried to shampoo my hair with his wiener, I figured something was fishy and decided I was ready to leave camp. Plus, he refused to use conditioner.
2. Junior High School. During the winter of 7^th grade, our physical education class held a two week long tug-of-war tournament. After the first day of the tournament, my physical education teacher, Mr. Howie, told me I was bringing down my team and that I needed to come by his office for a personal tutorial. But when I arrived at his office, he didn't have any rope nearby. Instead, he pulled down his pants and told me to tug. I immediately screamed and ran out of the room. Needless to say, I failed PE that semester.
3. Sophomore Year of College. Last year, my best friend Carla and I were skinny dipping in the school's swimming pool after hours. Carla and I had known each other since Freshman year and were totally BFFs – until that totally weird night in the swimming pool. After an uneventful game of Marco Polo, she came up to me and unexpectedly kissed me on the neck. I asked her what the fuck she was doing, but before she could respond, I looked down to notice that my BFF had an outie instead of an innie - Carla, she later confessed via a post on my Facebook profile, was actually “Carlo,” a transfer student from Ecuador who'd been stalking me in drag for almost two years. I later learned that the skinny dipping was what foiled Carlo's true plans – all he ever wanted was one night of 69ing, ideally when I was so drunk that I'd dismiss his wiener as a really big vagina. 

So other than those three times, I've never really been close to anything sexually meaningful. Sure, I've heard that slutting it up can be pretty fun, but it's really not for me. I mean, first of all, I like that my vagina is tighter than a Ziploc bag – it looks  pretty! And second of all, I already masturbate six or seven times a day. I could probably cut this number down a little bit, but could a boy really provide me with the same satisfaction as my Q-tips?