Misadventures of a College Girl (Misadventures #9)(2)

“What Daddy doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Amen. So how did you lose your virginity?”

“Exactly the way a ‘nice girl’ is supposed to do it—with my high school boyfriend who loved and respected me.” She snickers. “And, oh my God, it was such a letdown! He was insanely hot, too, so I figured he’d rock my world. But nope. He was a total dud.”

My heart is racing. I’ve never had such a frank and open conversation about sex in my life. “What made him such a dud?”

Clarissa makes a comical face. “Well, first off, the boy wouldn’t have known a clitoris if it bit him on the ass.”

“Yet another interesting visual.”

We both giggle again.

“And second off…” She holds up her pinky suggestively, making me laugh for the hundredth time. “I mean, from my own experience and what my friends have told me, the first time pretty much sucks for most girls. It’s just too big a freak-out to have a dick inside you for the first time. So I guess I can’t blame my boyfriend too much for that first time not being spectacular. But it never got much better, even after two months. And you want to know the most aggravating part? My boyfriend kept going on and on about how ‘amaaaaazing’ sex was with me.” She rolls her eyes. “So glad he enjoyed it. Would have been nice if he’d noticed I was lying there counting the ceiling tiles. So, anyway, I eventually lost interest in him and we broke up.” Her face lights up. “And that’s when I finally discovered what it feels like to have fantastic sex.” She smiles devilishly. “I went to this party and wound up hooking up with this basketball player douchebag from my high school. A total womanizer. But every girl he’d slept with—and there were lots—said, ‘Yeah, he’s a douchebag, but I’d do him again in a heartbeat.’ So I figured I’d give him a whirl and see if my lack of Os with my boyfriend was a him thing or a me thing.”

I lean forward on my small bed, holding my breath with anticipation. “And?”

“And, holy shit, girl! It was a him thing! I had three orgasms with the douchebag our first time out! I hadn’t had one in two months with my boyfriend! Not one.” She sighs happily. “Man, that douchebag was good.”

I feel flushed. “Is sex that different depending on the guy?”

“Oh, honey. It’s the difference between an opera singer belting out Mozart and a tone-deaf dude singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to his sister.”

We both shriek with laughter.

“That’s the day I discovered all dicks and tongues and fingers are not created equal, my friend. Not. At. All.”

I fan myself. “Is it suddenly getting hot in here?”

Clarissa giggles. “So that’s why I say, if you’re truly thinking about losing your V card the way you’ve been telling me, then you should find yourself a de-virginizer who knows exactly what he’s doing. Nice boys with little to no experience need not apply, no matter how hot they might be.”

“But how on earth would I know in advance if a guy’s good at sex? It seems like a total crap shoot, especially at a school this big. There are over thirty thousand students at UCLA. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for the rumor mill regarding a particular guy.”

“Yeah, good point. It’s probably a lot easier to get intel on guys in high school.” She twists her mouth, seemingly deep in thought. “But I’d think you could drastically increase your odds of finding a guy who knows what he’s doing by looking for certain telltale signs.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for instance, if a guy’s a great kisser, he’ll likely be good at sex, too. Not guaranteed, but it’s a good start. Also, you should probably go against your usual instinct when scouting the guy. I’m assuming you’re the kind of girl who typically crushes on nice boys who are classic boyfriend material?”

I nod. She’s got me pegged.

“Okay, then look for guys you’d normally sprint away from at full speed—the ones who make it blatantly obvious they’re womanizers.”

“How do guys make it obvious they’re womanizers? Sorry, I’m lame.”

“They just do. When you see a guy like that, you’ll know it. They’ve got this swagger.”

I shudder with excitement. “Man, I really want to do this, Clarissa.”

“Then do it. No big whoop.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure, it is.”

I feel myself blushing. “I’m nervous I’ll be bad at it and embarrass myself.” I bite my lip, take a deep breath, and just spit it out. “I’ve never had an orgasm.”

Clarissa tilts her head to the side. “You mean never, ever? Or just with a guy while fooling around?”

My cheeks flash with color. “Never. I’ve tried to make it happen on my own, but…” I sigh. “I think I’m defective. Either that or I’m doing it wrong.”

Clarissa asks me a bunch of embarrassing questions, but based on the lack of judgment I’m seeing on her face, I feel emboldened to answer all of them with complete honesty.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Clarissa declares when I’m done telling her the details of my paltry solo efforts and the few make-out sessions I’ve had. “Everyone starts in your exact shoes at some point.”