Sex & The University

In the first year of uni in UK, I stayed on campus. Unlike Brunei, pretty much all student accommodation there is co-ed (i.e. boys and girls live together) unless you specifically request to be in a separate all-boys/girls hostel. Now this is where I am supposed to say to you, "no, it did not result in as much sex as you would think." And I'd be lying.

ALL of my neighbours were having sex. ALL of them. I know this because the walls might as well have been paper for their ability to insulate noise. This is the blueprint of my block in our sexpus (it's a cleverly-made portmanteau of sex and campus. I'm so clever). Notice the detail on the clouds (because England is always fucking raining).



Hold your applause. I know my artistic skills are incredible. There's no need to... Oh, you shouldn't. The flowers are completely unnecessary, but a nice touch.

Of course this sexbours (another clever portmanteau) situation would've been a nightmare if I wasn't getting any. Fortunately for me, I was (at the time I was with my ex). So this didn't bother me too much. Except for the loud Asian (possibly Chinese) couple on the third floor (you can't see it in the blueprint because I'm lazy). Have you seen any porn that involves a Japanese woman? It's a little like that, with less bukkake and pixelated penises. Maybe there was. Who knows. I wasn't in the room watching.

That Asian woman moaned during sex like she was researching a doctorate degree in The Loud Faking Of Orgasms: A Study Into The Practice Of Ego-Inflation Of Men By Over-Enthusiastic Sex Reactions. Okay, that's not fair. She might just be a loud sex siren. I don't know, I didn't ask. But damn it, they did it at least five freaking times a day. It's like some kind of vulgar, blasphemous call to prayer.

Some of my flatmates actually even knocked on their door several times during one of their wild love-making sessions, asking them to keep it down. They'd bow their head apologetically, with a smirk on their faces, and as soon as the door is closed, they'd continue on their extremely noisy adventures into Orgasmland.

Before you say I'm just jealous because they were having their five-a-day portions of loud, passionate, steamy sex, it wasn't like I was on a dry spell. My ex was so sexually demanding at the time that I actually felt like I was being used as a sex object. For any other man, this would sound awesome. In fact, thinking about it now (especially since I'm on a dry spell right now), that does indeed sound awesome. But I'm a "let's cuddle after sex" guy who likes holding hands while walking on the beach making footprints in the sand. I told my ex that I felt like I wanted more in the relationship than just staying in bed all day waiting for my next erection so she could ride on it, and the next erection, and the next, and the next.

It's ironic then one of the reasons we broke up was that our sex had become boring and unexciting. From being two perfectly compatible sexual beings into being extremely awkward in bed together.

Oh wow, that ended on a sour note, didn't it?

Note: The censored porn is taken from the series Censored Porn by the artist Von Brandis.