Here is a sneak preview of the Sex Issue, (in stands this week!) several scintillating stories from our always-sexy staffers. Enjoy!

 

A couple years ago, through a strange turn of events, I found myself driving through rust-colored canyons, through miles of cracked white earth that practically mirrored the sun, half asleep yet wired.  It had been three days and 2,000 miles since my best friend and I started our rushed road trip from Florida to Portland.  We were exhausted after quenching our thirst across the South. After driving all night to make it to happy hour on Bourbon Street, then sleeping in the car, then drinking ever more, we barely arrived in Death Valley on two feet on that fateful November evening.

Thankfully we were greeted by my friends, employees in the park, who welcomed us with open arms and open beers.  In the cool black night we sat at a picnic table and lit a fire in the pit, passing around a fifth of Jaeger between cans of Coors, smoking Cali spliffs, staring at the stars and singing songs.  Eventually time became irrelevant, as did the volume of booze we consumed, when out there in the middle of the desert something strange happened.  Maybe there was a strange wind in the air, maybe I was delirious from being car-bound for days, maybe (definitely) I was really fucking drunk, when I realized my arms were wrapped dangerously tight around one of my dear male friends.  We decided to go swimming because, hey, who doesn’t love water, and in the desert it was still warm at 3am.  After trekking a mile in the dark to the hotel pool, we climbed over the chain-link fence and stripped to the swimsuits.  I had to wonder what I’d gotten myself into as I looked him over.  He is covered in tattoos of various sizes, but one in particular sticks out.  Picture the famous Michelangelo painting of God reaching out to Adam. Got it?  Now replace them with Beavis and Butthead.

Yup.  Dude has Beavis and Butthead tattooed on his rib cage. Such is his charm.  You gotta know him.

So we jumped in the pool, splashed around, and one thing led to another.  So there we were, hooking up in a hotel pool in the middle of the desert, when I grab the back of his neck, only to find his crowning feature.

A rat tail. Turned dread.  Complete with a bead.

Giggity!

-Farrah Thunderbolt

 

 

I was the slutty girl in high school!!!! My boyfriend brought a condom to school, so we thought we would take life by the ball sack and do the nasty (safely) in the bathroom. For some reason we decided on the boys bathroom… BIG MISTAKE! Boys’ bathrooms are way grosser than girls’ bathrooms and guys are not as afraid as girls to take big, audible shits. So, we got in the bathroom right, and we get in the fuckin handicapped stall (score) right, and we totally start doing it!!! He’s sitting on the toilet while I straddle him, my jeans and undies hanging off one leg, wearing a single orange converse. I’m trying not to make any chick noises when a guy busts in the stall next to us and starts taking a big ol’ doody. Now, I should have been turned off by this point, but teenagers are not people, and don’t have feelings, so I was down to finish getting my fuck on, and that I did. Nothing else really happened – the guy left the bathroom, I put my shoe back on, and my boyfriend and I gleefully walked out to join our friends at lunch break. Years later, I told my friend Brandon this story and he swears he was the infamous stall shitter, but I think he just wants attention.

Also, My boyfriend and I like to whack each other off while watching Fear Factor. Nothing like a good orgasm while Joe Rogan screams “Eat that shit!!! Eat that fucking shit Tiffany!!!”

-Trish McNipz

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 21st, 2012 at 23:17 by Kellie B. and is filed under Miscellaneous. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.