All the while, she fought with me over the blanket.I was breathing hard, both from the exertion and the understanding of what it was she really wanted... She wasn’t trying to hurt me, she wanted sex, I was sure of it, but I didn’t think she would appreciate me taking advantage of her current state of mind. “Jordan, let me up. You don’t want to do this, not really.”She sat up enough to look me in the eyes. Her hot breath washed over my face. “How do you know what I really want? You don’t even. (Although a third year pointed me at some sites later that year.) And my sexual experimentation began and ended with knowing that there was a lock on my room door, and no-one was going to find the porn mag down the back of my bed. I still felt guilty masturbating.Steve, a somewhat aging resist student, tried to take me under his wing, we'd played the odd game of pool during the first semester, I'd started to drink routinely, we played trivial pursuit in different people's rooms. I didn't want. More

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