Student finds solace in taboo sex practice on campus, takes unconventional approach to safe intimacy during COVID-19 pandemic.
Author: “The Holetariat”
“I’ll meet you on the third floor.”
I kept staring at this message that I didn’t quite recall sending to “David” as I paced back and forth on the Sunken Gardens. I felt butterflies in my stomach. Could this be real romance? Am I finally going to find my college boyfriend? I’m used to getting lots of attention on Grindr, after all, I’m a scorpio rising and a “Chromatica” gay. But something was missing. Even though I’m getting nut in my butt, I’m not getting any in my heart. I didn’t quite know what to expect from this mysterious man. As an older guy, David could have wanted anything from me. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t even convinced David was a real person — but rather that he was the fictional profile of a bored towney looking to score some freshman tail. Regardless, I had nothing better to do on a Friday night.
I felt butterflies in my stomach. Could this be real romance? Am I finally going to find my college boyfriend?
Enough dilly-dallying, I tell myself, it’s time to swipe my card and walk in. I make my way up the stairwell, not really knowing what to expect. At the landing, I see a tall guy — wavy blonde hair, brown eyes, and a deep voice, matching the photo that I saw on Grindr. What a relief. He motions for me to follow. Intrigued, I do so, all the way to the bathroom. Oh?
I wasn’t nervous. In fact, I prepared for any possibility. Water in, water out they say.
“It would be hotter if I took you through the stall,” he said to me. I could see his d–k pulsating through his jeans. How was I going to turn away now? Into the stall I went.
I entered the stall, disrobing myself, pressing my backside against the cold eggshell colored wall.
“Are you ready?” he said.
“Yes, just put it in,” I responded posthaste.
I had practiced and prepared myself for this — but nothing could have titillated my hole like the serpentine tongue that entered in me with such gusto. His tongue swirled around like it was his last meal on death row. Similarly to how I could feel myself opening and constricting with his movements, I felt my newfound feelings for “David” rushing up inside me, ready to explode. But I didn’t. Not yet, at least.
Satisfying the bestial hunger that he had, “David” asked if I was sufficiently prepared to take all of his might inside of me. After a thoroughly satisfying appetizer, I was ready for my main course. I exclaimed my approval. I’ve never fashioned myself a size-queen, but what I subsequently experienced definitely shattered my expectations. I felt like my a—s could be a new water ride at Busch Gardens after “David’s” primal levels of salivation.
Never did the walls of the stall feel colder than when “David’s” tongue pulled away from the entrance. Though he was in the stall over, it felt like his presence was worlds away.
“I’m trying to lay pipe,” he grumbled from across the universe.
“I had hoped you weren’t done with me yet,” I said.
He rammed it into me. Just like that, the eagle landed. My entrance thoroughly relaxed from the aforementioned foreplay, I had no problem taking it all in, inch by inch. Going through the motions of thrusting, “David” grunted my name under his breath, signalling his satisfaction. Feeling the pangs of passion, I couldn’t contain the shockwaves of pleasure from within.
With an immense rush I felt a momentous explosion, akin to a supernova. I clean myself up from that whole ordeal, having been filled with liquid anew. According to my Apple Watch’s activity tracker, 22 and a half minutes is my lucky number, but I’ll spare you the details of my heart rate tracker.
I raise this issue to you all today because I want us to ponder safe sex during an international pandemic. COVID-19 may be getting in the way of some people’s hookups, but not mine. Sex via glory hole is 100% safe, and the government of British Columbia actually recommended it to its citizens. The FDA, too, attests that there is no proof of COVID-19 transmission via food or consumption.
I raise this issue to you all today because I want us to ponder safe sex during an international pandemic.
The twamp in me wants to reference Shakespeare, so here I go. If you don’t trust government figures, what has Billy Shakes ever done to break your trust? In the year 1600, his play Midsummer Night’s Dream adapts a comedic version of the star-crossed love of Pyramus and Thisbe. They are separated by a wall but that does not get in the way of their everlasting desire. Whether this is fortunate or unfortunate, you can decide for yourself.
The man playing the wall holds up two fingers to signify that glorious hole. Pyramus cries, “And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,” and Thisbe announces that she kisses, “the wall’s hole, not your lips at all.”
Just as forbidden love does not stop Pyramus and Thisbe, a global pandemic will not stop my quest for love and satisfaction. Not only will it not stop me, and not only do I suggest that it not stop anyone else, but I also declare it as the only safe and moral method of lovemaking. Anyone who continues to randomly hook up with strange, beautifully crafted men with low hanging fruit without the protection that comes along with holes in bathroom stalls is incredibly irresponsible.
Just as forbidden love does not stop Pyramus and Thisbe, a global pandemic will not stop my quest for love and satisfaction.
If you cannot find a pre-made hole that suits your fancy, the tools are right there on Amazon.com to buy at affordable prices. They could even arrive within 24 hours, maybe within 72 hours if you are going through the College of William and Mary’s post office. What’s more irresponsible: defacing school bathrooms or contracting COVID-19?
For one, I wished that I had one of these devices during my time with David, so we could’ve held hands through that bespoken wall.
As I left the stall, I expected to see David in all of his rock-hard glory, but instead the only man that I could see was the mess reflected in the mirror. I was alone. But fulfilled. Though I’m not going to receive any post-coital cuddle time, I’m at ease knowing that I have been shepherded into this wayword world of bathroom gloryhole sex by the magnificient “David.”
I grabbed my phone and turned on my favorite Spotify playlist. “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” emanated throughout my ears, as I reconsidered my life and my emotional state. As they say in the hit NBC television show “The West Wing”: what’s next?
The Holetariat wants you to consider spicing up your love life with glory holes during this global pandemic, even if it ends in heartbreak.
Editor’s Note: The Flat Hat encourages its readers to practice safe sex during the COVID-19 pandemic, keeping in mind that sex via glory hole is not an automatic guarantee of safety despite the author’s positive commentary towards the practice. Obviously, wear a condom and a face mask if you intend to have sex via glory hole.