Teen School Sex Stories
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Teen School Sex Stories
My (So) Bad for March 10, 2008 By Audrey Fine PUBLISHED: Mar 10, 2008
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"One day I was at the bus stop alone with this supercute guy who I really liked. I thought that he hated me, but boy was I so wrong! Well, we were just standing there getting bored, and before I knew it, he kissed me! I was in total shock and couldn't move or talk until the bus came! That sure was a great way to start off the day!"
"So, there was this girl Emily in my freshman class who was SO conceited. Seriously, she worshipped the ground she walked on. I didn't like her because she's the school slut, but everyone else seemed to think she was so nice. Well, I recently found out that she was addicted to drugs and sex. I felt so bad for not liking her after that."
"I went to the movies with an old friend, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend's friend. I thought her BF was really hot, and he must have thought I was too because he kept staring at me. Before the movie her BF said he wanted to buy us popcorn, so I went with him. Right before we went back into the theater, we started making out! Right at that moment, my friend walked out the door and saw us. She was so mad and didn't speak to me EVER again. Perhaps we should've picked a more private place to make out!"
"My parents and sister were out of the house one night, so I invited over this boy I had a crush on to watch a movie. There happened to be a thunderstorm that night, so right in the middle of the movie the power went out. I got up to get a flashlight in my closet, and when I got back, I tripped over one of my (many) shoes and landed on the bed right next to him! So we start kissing, you know, just the innocent stuff, but it quickly got steamier! Before we knew it, we heard my sister's car in the driveway, so I had to put on my shirt and he had to get his shoes on and make it to the back door in lightning speed! It was so devious!"
"Once when my parents went away for the weekend, my older sister had to baby-sit. Well, in the middle of night I found her in the pool with her boyfriend making out. It was going pretty far when my parents walked through the door! They asked me where my sister was, and I pointed outside. My mom caught them in the pool, so they never let her baby-sit again!"
"One day I was at my friend's house riding on her sister's skateboard when I crashed into her sister's puzzle. We tried putting it back together but couldn't, so she decided to lie and tell her mom the cat did it. I was totally against it and wanted to tell the truth, but I knew it risked our friendship. So her mom and sister still think the darn cat did it!"
"One day at school my friends and I were playing around with a bottle of Victoria's Secret perfume spray during recess. A few of my friends had the bright idea that I go up and spray the perfume on my crush. Well, I did, but it went right into his eyes. Oh no!!! I could not believe it. He doesn't hate me, but he hasn't been paying much attention to me either — just in case I have another bottle of spray!"
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College always promises experiences to remember but sometimes these memories aren’t quite what we were hoping for. Freshman year coupled with communal bathrooms is a recipe for gross surprises and our writers got to experience them in full:
Oh gosh, I have been here for five years now and my fair share of dorm stories could probably create a small book.
My freshman year in college though, by far, exceeds almost any other year of insane stories.
In my freshman dorm, it was a wing of girls on the bottom floor and a wing of boys on the top floor. We all shared a community bathroom with six showers and five or six toilets (hard to remember after all this time ha). There was never really any problem with showers or toilets being occupied when you wanted to use them. There was, however, problems with them being destroyed or unavailable to use because people are crazy.
On several occasions, many of the toilets would have crap smeared ALL over the toilet, floor, and stall. Which one, resulted in fines; two, was foul? Who would be willing to shove their hand in poop to do that?; and three, resulted in limited bathroom usage.
One time I was taking a shower, curtain drawn and I had my towel hanging outside the shower – all clear indications I was using the shower and in it. This girl, who thankfully I never interacted with again, just walked up to the curtain and pulled it openly said something to me that I didn’t understand, stood there for a minute and then walked away. She wasn’t in a towel so I don’t think she mistakenly thought it was empty, she was fully clothed.
Another time, my freshman year, I left the lobby to get something from my room and as soon as I walked into the wing I could hear someone having sex – LOUD. And I thought to myself well okay then, ya’ll are loud as hell but as I got closer to my room it got increasingly louder. It went quiet for a bit when I got to my room and I went in – no one there – and I grabbed my stuff and then realized I had to pee. I went into the bathroom, which is right across from my room and walked in on two people having sex on the COMMUNITY bathroom floor.
My freshman year of college I lived in suite-style dorms where I shared a room with one guy and a bathroom with another room of two people. This story is just one example of the shenanigans that went on in that dorm.
One day while I was doing homework, one of my suitemates barged into my room with a bunch of his buddies. They all had huge grins on their faces like they had just gotten into something. I suspiciously looked at my suitemate and then I saw that he was holding a very large dildo in his hand. This thing was a Caucasian monstrosity. It was very thicc and was complete with testicles, veins, and even a suction cup at its base. Before I can even ask “Why?” he tells me the dildo’s whole backstory.
Apparently, the room below us had a string hanging from its drop ceiling at the start of the year. When those people pulled the string, they found a note attached that said: “Check the other room to find Richard”. The people went over to the conjoined room, lifted one of the ceiling tiles, and out plopped Richard.
My suitemate somehow knew those people and had just stolen Richard from their room. Richard really became our mascot for the year. We’d do things, like stick him to pretty much any surface in the dorm using his suction cup or put him under the pillow of whomever, was expecting a lady-friend over that night. At Christmas time I actually used sparkly pipe cleaners to make tinsel and a star to turn him into our Christmas tree. It was an interesting time, to say the least. Richard is still the centerpiece of my old suitemate’s apartment today.
Coming to college, I knew that I would experience all sorts of weird things. Though, I never expected that I would be subjected to the stereotypical the “I caught my roommate masturbating” occurrence.
My weekly schedule was always pinned to my desk, allowing my roommate to know where I’d be and when I would not be in the dorm. Except for one day, I got out of class early and returned to my dorm. I unlocked the door in a loud manner to announce I was coming in, but the headphones must have been too loud. I proceeded to enter, only to find him on his laptop, pants to his knees and tissue at the ready. I threw my belongings down, trying to leave as soon as possible, but he insisted on having a conversation with me while blowing his nose with the tissue.
Everyone knows the worst part about being a freshman in college is the communal bathroom. At first, I thought this was just an exaggeration, it had been smooth sailing once you get past having zero privacy. That was until the fateful morning when I walked into the bathroom stall–my favorite bathroom stall–and saw a horror unfold. There was poop everywhere. It was on the back of the toilet, the toilet seat, the floor, the stall walls. Now, I thought this was a single occurrence; maybe someone just had a rough night. Nope! Every other Friday there was this murder in the stall. Fridays, coincidentally, when the janitorial staff would not be back on duty until two days later on Monday. Not only did I lose my favorite stall to the wreckage, but this person moved on to the shower stalls.
An entire side of showers would be off-limits thanks to this person’s -ahem- bowel movement on the floor. An entire floor of girls had to share two showers that weekend. This person then moved their games right to the middle of the bathroom where you could be brushing your teeth staring at someone’s digested breakfast. It was disgusting and an experience that truly bonded the floor of girls for life. Honestly, though, I hope whoever was the culprit is doing well and has curbed their appetite for public pooping.
When it comes to being a freshman in college, you will experience new things. For many people, this often comes with the fact that you have to use communal restrooms, as well as the fact most people have to share a room with a complete stranger. When I was coming to school, I was so excited to meet my roommate. I always pictured us as hanging out, and being pretty close. I found my roommate online, and it seemed like we had a lot in common but I soon found out that this wasn’t the case. We always seemed to be stepping on each other toes, and I realized that we had nothing in common.
Before we came to school, we planned our rooms together. She told me that she was really into decorating, and I was so excited to decorate our rooms together, but after about a week into school, I realized that I had the roommate from hell. She might have been the dirtiest person I have ever meet. She would always throw her clothes all over our room. She would invite all of her friends over and they would sit on my bed and my desk. After stepping on multiple acrylic nails that she ripped off and threw on our carpet, I thought I had experienced it all, unfortunately, it got worse. One day after a long day of classes, I came back to our room to eat some dinner. I went to go throw something in our garbage can to find a used (and full) condom just sitting there among one of my ramen noodle wrappers.
After about five minutes of gaging, and crying, I decided to have an uncomfortable talk with her. Nothing really seemed to change so I ended up making the decision to move out. Nothing could have prepared me for all of the crazy, and gross, things I have experienced as a freshman, but without all the crazy stories, freshman year would have been a dull one.
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“They’re making babies down there,” my brother told my mom after walking in on me and a friend fooling around. Little did I know that he was right. That was the day I conceived my first child. I was only 16.
My mother was blasting Al Green like she did every Sunday when she cleaned the house. “No, we weren’t,” I tried to assure her, but I doubt she believed me. I was usually pretty open about my sex life with her. She had known for quite some time that I was sexually active. I probably could’ve just told her the truth, like I had many times before, but this time was different from the rest. This time I did it in her house, and my heart was still racing from the excitement.
You’d think the experience of being a teen mom would make me want to keep all boys at least 10 feet away from my daughter, or at least ban boys from her room. Certainly, I don’t want her to go through what I did as a teen mom. I want her to wait until she’s ready to experience motherhood on her own terms, until she’s lived life for herself at least a little bit.
But I know that trying to keep teens from having sex is impossible. If they want to have sex, they’ll find a way. I know this because I remember being a teen. I remember a dark moonlit bedroom not being a requirement for fooling around. I remember taking advantage of my boyfriend’s parents being at work. I remember the sex in parked cars, the park and garages. And I remember not being the exception — almost all of my friends were having sex.
Banning boys from spending the night wouldn’t have prevented my teen pregnancy. It won’t protect my daughter either. Not from pregnancy, or the other potential consequences of unsafe sex. If my daughter were to engage in unsafe sex with a person of any gender, she could contract an STD or STI. It would be completely irresponsible of me to ignore the possibility that my daughter isn’t heterosexual. If I am worried about boys, I should be equally worried about girls. It’s either no one can spend the night, or everyone can.
That’s the logic I used when I asked my mother at 15 to have a good friend who happened to be male sleep over.
“You realize I could be sleeping with my girlfriends when they spend the night, right?” I remember asking her. I identified as bisexual at the time, and she knew it. But I could tell she had never even considered the possibility that my girlfriends were anything more than friends.
“Well, have you?” she asked. “No, never,” I responded. “Well, if he’s just a friend and you trust him, I’ll trust you.”
My mom trusted me. After that day, she often let me have boys spend the night. Every male friend I had knew what my bedroom looked like. And although it may seem counterintuitive, this is what she did right. She understood and listened. She never judged or punished me for being sexual. She believed me when I told her that a boy was just a friend and nothing sexual would happen if he spent the night. She created an environment where talking about sex was natural.
But despite her trust in me, she also failed me. She never talked to me about safe sex . I don’t know why. Perhaps she intended to but didn’t know how, or maybe she trusted I was getting accurate information somewhere else. She never once mentioned birth control or condoms; she just vaguely mentioned staying safe a few times.
And it’s not that I didn’t know birth control existed; I did. I just didn’t know how to ask for it. Every time I confessed my sexual activity to her, I hoped she would offer to get me the pill, buy me condoms and teach me about safe sex with both girls and boys. I wanted her to teach me how to be assertive and insist protection be used. But she never did.
I won’t fail my daughter the same way. She’ll have my trust and guidance. She already knows about my own experiences and that I could never be mad at her for being sexual. I’ll give her support and information. She can have boys and girls spend the night just like I did as a teen, but unlike me, she’ll have access to condoms, birth control and information about STIs and STDs. The conversation about sex will be ongoing and comprehensive.
I know I can’t stop her from having sex, but at least I can help her stay safe.
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