The Harvard experience comes in many forms: someone might get a handjob at Mather Lather, someone else might just get to watch and jerk off, and someone else might just be the stupid freakin’ Crimson reporter who has to write about it.
“Is—Is that what you did it with?” I asked, motioning to a family sized bottle of lubricant on Daniel Reed ‘22’s desk.
He waited a moment before responding. “Yes,” he said, slowly, “But it’s empty.”
“Oh dear, I didn’t want you to—I mean—not here—” I responded immediately, slightly embarrassed.
“No–it’s, it’s actually ok.”