#SexWeek: Remember Kids, God’s Watching, And He’s Into It.

What's sex week without a little dirt?

Get RAMMED | Maddie Johnson, Evan O'Hara and Jen Clark | March 4, 2016

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Hello boys and girls! We asked, and you definitely answered. Fellow Rams; what’s your craziest, freakiest, best (and worst) hookup story? Did your boo fling from last spring go public with your freaky sex-capades? There’s only one way to find out. Did some guy you met in Howl also unexpectedly suck on your little pig toes? Babe, you’re not alone. Delve deep into our favorite submissions. The Rival wanted to know, and after all, what’s Sex Week without a little dirt?

“Hooked up in the press box of the Football Field at 2am last spring”

“My first hook up of freshmen year was with this senior who lived at Sandlot. I lived in Loschert so when I stepped into his air conditioned room I was so grateful that I slept with him”

While this story may seem a bit extreme at first, I invite you to dig deep into the annals of your brain and place yourself back into freshman year. What I remember is sweating a lot. All the time. If you had to go back and live in the swampy slums that are the Freshman dorms, you might consider swapping a romp for some cool solace.

“I had sex in exchange for Adderall.”

Happy Midterms!  

“There was a Blood Moon and I fucked a member of the women’s rugby team that I am on and nearly had a lesbian threesome.” 

“Fingered on the subway”

Talk about riding the D. I used to think that the worst thing to see on a subway was those dancing men who swing from the poles like aggressive strippers (I already have foreseen my death and I know it will be the result of getting roundhouse kicked by one of those guys). But hey, those rides from the Bronx to downtown are interminable, why not spice it up with some spontaneous public foreplay.

“Queens Court Chapel anal sex. I wish I was kidding.”

Jesus’s abs on the cross have always turned me on too, his last meal must’ve been pure protein.

“I had sex in the bathroom of the Bronx Beer Hall on a Saturday afternoon.”

I’ll have a large hard cider please.

“By myself, in my room, with my hand.”

 

What I like about this story is that it plays out like the final answer to a game of Clue (Colonel Mustard, in the kitchen, with the candlestick). It’s a little sad and a lot relatable. Who’s always there for you? Who never fails to get you off? Who don’t you have to spend $10 of drinks on? Your right hand man.

“My ex-bf in Finlay’s roommate hung a hammock from the stairs to the loft and we boned in it while it was swaying and almost broke the banister to the loft. Oh, we also boned in the Pugsley’s bathroom at 3am on a snow day.”

“Took off spanx in boys bathroom of South pre-hookup.”

“Ram Van”

If you’ve ever wondered on your commute if it’s possible, don’t worry, it’s been done. Now try not to think about the fact that you might be sitting on the same seat as the many young couples next time you’re stuck on the Major Deegan Expressway 🙂

“In the tunnels.”

Spooky. Was it with a ghost?

“I threw up on a guy’s dick then pretended it didn’t happen but he totally knew. He very much knew.”

Have always wondered if they can tell…

“Best way to get around security? Hook up with your RA.”

“In the middle of us hooking up he called me by his sisters name.”

Cersei? Jamie? The Lannisters will always pay their debts.

“One night went back with a guy and started hooking up. Was just making out and after a few minutes he decided to start moving down…to my feet. Turned out the guy had a toe fetish and liked sucking toes. New Nickname: toe boy”

This story has all of the elements of your classic drunk hook up. It acts as a friendly reminder that the man who charmed you in the darkness of Howl has more layers than just his major or the state he’s from. A fetish is best (and worst) as a surprise.  Buyer beware: you don’t know what those pearly whites are gonna give you until the lights are down low. Added bonus: nicknames.

“So a friend and I went to the Waka Flaka concert and were partying front row with Waka and his crew. One of the guys on stage reached into the audience and took my phone from my hand. He added his number and said “text me”. So of course I did. He said he was waka’s stylist and he invited my friend and I backstage to part with him and Waka. He wasn’t very attractive, but i am never one to turn down an opportunity.
The group invited us back to their hotel. At the hotel bar, the stylist told me his name was Lou Morgan. He then asked to see nudes of me on his phone. Not ready to fully commit, I asked to see his first. He opened up his vault and showed me video of a girl giving him head, both completely naked. The girl in the video then looked directly into the camera and revealed herself to be EMMA FUCKING ROBERTS. He scrolled to the next video and it was the same thing, different girl. This time the girl giving him head was my idol, Lindsay Lohan.
Waka then decided it was time for all of us to go up to the hotel room. I asked Lou how he met Lindsay Lohan and he confessed that he was the oldest son of Tracy Morgan and explained that was why he has so many awesome connections. YOLO was our sole argument for staying. In the hotel room things started to get little weird. It was 4/20 and we were with Waka Flaka so there was obviously plenty of weed on deck. Everyone was was smoking but Lou pulled me over and started making out with me. He slid his hand up my shorts and started fingering me in front of everyone, but I don’t think they noticed. I looked over at my friend and we simultaneously blurted out that we had to go. All the guys tried to convince us to stay but we both came up with a handful of excuses to why we had to leave: homework, church, etc.
Tracy Morgan’s son continued to text me and invite me out for several weeks, but I rarely responded. Eventually, all communication with him ceased. Then a couple months ago I decided to Google him. First thing that came up was “Tracy Morgan’s Son Impersonator.” I immediately opened up the link and learned that Tracy Morgan had recently released a public statement saying that Lou Morgan was not his son. This guy Lou had fooled a bunch of people, celebrities included, into thinking he was his son for money, connections and an overall easy lifestyle. The only thing that comforted me was that I was not the only one. I don’t know what’s funnier: hooking up with Tracy Morgan’s son, or Tracy Morgan’s son’s impersonator?”

You all have astounded and at sometimes impressed us. You dirty dogs got it off your chests. Feel better? Now you know that you’re really not that alone for all of your crazy antics.