A moot point.

A moot point is any aspect of an issue that is open to debate, dispute or doubt. However, since most people tend to veer away from conflict wherever possible, moot points tend not to get debated, disputed or doubts about them aired at all. This is sad because it stifles the free flow of social intercourse so necessary for establishing and sustaining healthy relationships. Such is the situation we have now between our boy and our girl. A perfectly rational question has been asked by the girl: "Where are you taking me?" No point is being made here, moot or otherwise, but it's precisely at this crucial point where their hitherto spontainious conversation breaks down in a pregnant pause that shows no sign of giving birth any time soon.

She looks at him, waiting for an answer; he looks at her expectant face and panics because he hadn't really got one. He hadn't thought it through. The simple and reasonable response of "where would you like to go?" never occurs to him because he's not remotely interested in where she'd like to go or what she'd like to do. The whole object of the exercise as far as our boy's concerned is to get at and enjoy her feminine body. Therefore, sex alone is driving his mental processes. He needs to get her alone. How the fuck is he going to do that with everyone milling about this venue being used for the graduation ceremony. Hey, that's it! Everybody's here so that means nobody's at . . .

"Actually, I need to pick up some more cash. Is it okay if we pop back to the students residential block so I can recharge my wallet?"

What our boy's just said is phrased as a question but it's actually a thinly veiled statement of intent against which any argument would generally be deemed unreasonable. Thus is the mootness of the point muted as our girl feels morally compelled to acquiesce to the boy's intention. 'Yes', (he thinks), 'she's actually going to come back to my room with me. Alone . . . to an empty building . . . to a room I can lock her in and also lock the rest of the world out. She'll let me fuck her, surely! After all the small talk and laughs are out the way, isn't that what we both want? Of course it is! She's probably gagging for it right now and I'm going to make fucking sure she gets it. I hope she's the adventurous yet complient sort who'll let me probe her every orifice until I settle on the one that give me most pleasure. I mean, since she's drunk so much of my liqueur, it's only fair that she should gulp my sperm down too.'

While these thoughts are coursing through our boy's fevered mind, our girl's mind is also turning things over.

'Aw! Look at him, the poor pet! I've got him all of a dither here and no mistake. He fancies me, that's obvious, and so he should after the effort I've made to look attractive. His eyes have been all over me since he first said hi. He's also been pouring drink into me all afternoon like it's going out of fashion and there's only one reason I know for a guy doing that, he wants to get inside my knickers. He's now saying we need to go back to his place so he can pick up more cash. BULLSHIT! He's paid for drinks with his card, thus no cash is needed. No, he wants to take me to his room and screw me. And look at me, I'm going to let him. I could say no; that I've got other plans or something, but the sad truth is, I really haven't anything better to do and I haven't had a decent shag in ages! Mind you, whether or not this guy's got a decent shag in him's a moot point. He's tall, dark, a bit drippy looking and thin as a rake. I just bet his penis is the strongest muscle in his entire body but that's only because he give it a thorough workout by hand every night. He's not used to girls, that's obvious. He's got clammy hands too. Do I really want my body mauled by such soggy mits? Well, truth to tell, I beginning to forget what it feels like to have a man's hands exploring me. I know dad's hands were doing it all the time when he was kissing me goodnight back home but that's our little father / daughter secret. It doesn't feel part of my normal sex-life at all, but then how could it when what's happening to me now is the nearest I've had to having a sex life for the last two years! What's leading me off down the street right now is a boy pretending to be a man and quite frankly, proving to be a tad unconvincing. He needs help. He needs calming down for a start. If he's looking for sex, he should be open and honest about it; but does he even know how to do that? He's so hapless, it's endearing. I'm finding his overly earnest expression curiously cute. The thing is, he needs seriously taking in hand, for his own sake as well as the sake of every other female he encounters over the remainder of his life. He needs to learn sexual etiquette. But who's going to teach him? Could I make him a project, I wonder? It might be fun at that, plus I'd have plenty of sex while I'm turning him from the immature, sneaky, manipulative deviant he currently is into the masterful lover I'd love him to be. Wow! Maybe it's the drink but right now, I'm finding this a very intriguing train of thought indeed. Woah! Here we are, students hall of residents. It's decision time girl: do we go in and find out what he's got or wait for Christmas with daddy? Uhuh! He's pulling me in. Guess that answers that then.