Jill moaned but did not say anything. Jay humped her hard fifteen or twenty times and stopped again.

It was 1969 and Dana was a senior at UCLA. “My girlfriend and I were looking for a place to make ‘nookie’ since my roommate was in my room studying. It was a few days before classes started and the room next door to her room was still vacant, so we went in there and proceeded,” Dana explains. So, there was this girl Emily in my freshman class who was SO conceited. Seriously, she worshipped the ground she walked on. I didn't like her because she's the school slut, but everyone else seemed to think she was so nice. Well, I recently found out that she was addicted to drugs and sex. I felt so bad for not liking her after that."

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So despite the fact that I once thought that a 9-year-old sleeping with a parent was a terrible idea, I have to eat my words. I don’t know exactly how the Tuesday night sleepovers started, but it’s one I did kiss someone when I was 3 but I don’t think that counts (it was magical). It happened again when I was 13 with a disgusting boy at a party, it was like a washing machine and then I was gone with the wind (again, magical).’ I was 11 and I didn’t know what a period was. I cried because I thought I was dying and then thought I was pregnant. Cried to my mum and told her what happened. She hugged me, congratulated me on being a woman and then promptly called all the females in my family. When I came home from school that day, my brother had found out and was discovered sat on the bathroom floor crying whilst looking at pictures of me as a small child.’

Eliza recounts a story from her first year in college. “I was with my boyfriend in his dorm room. His roommate was away for the weekend (or so we thought). I’m under the covers giving him a blow job and having a good time. I don’t even hear the key turn in the door or anything— all of a sudden I just hear his roommate talking.” Take an informal poll of other parents, and you may discover that unique sleeping arrangements are not unusual. Several single, divorced mothers have confessed to me that they let their kids sleep with them. It’s

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can get quite creative. Yet one thing remains consistent: on Tuesday nights, my husband sleeps on the couch in the living room, and my 9-year-old daughter sleeps with me. of my favorite nights of the week. I work full time, and this is time I spend catching up with my daughter. We hop in bed, talk about our days, watch lousy TV and cuddle. At the end of the day, it’s about choices. I am going to blink twice, and my 9-year-old, who already practices rolling her eyes at me like a sassy-pants teenager, is going to have absolutely zero interest in I remember my first time because I was in the bath and the shower head ended up between my legs and was feeling quite nice. Got quite into it and then the shower head came off.’