Dave jived alone amid the sea of party-goers, his red, Solo cup acting more like a beacon for “fuck me, I’m desperate,” than a tool for drinking, first invented eons ago. He was an average looking guy, but he had a member fit for a man two inches taller. Unfortunately he didn’t get laid much because he didn’t wave his penis around, and I’m sure if he had it would have been detrimental to the cause.
The party goers, or ‘party people’ if you’d rather, were wrapped up in their own diversions; wincing down drinks, practicing laughs, and making out, which made Dave’s dick really wet with pre-cum.
He had made a pact with himself that night to take action and become the man he’d always wanted to be – a man who was having sex with a beautiful woman.
In what Dave surely thought was kismet, a girl with lips like bee-stings and an ass like two bigger bee-stings, came next to him to pour a drink – A Goddess who could only be described in terms of the attractive female celebrity she most resembled: Olivia Munn.
He choked out, “You look really pretty-“
She walked away before he could even finish, causing his words to trail off like the string of pre-cum falling from his penis.
Defeated but undeterred, a state he knew well, he scanned the room with his lustful gaze.
From across the room he saw a gorgeous girl, all alone, nibbling on an olive. A green olive at that. The sexiest type of olive. He imagined her name was Olive, and decided to call her that regardless of her true name. Her beauty deserved a better description than naming her closest celebrity look-alike – her beauty deserved words such as “Yowza,” “Hot Mommy,” and “Awoogah!”
He looked down at his dark drink for the answers, but didn’t find them. He did find a piece of food floating in there, though. It was a Frito.
When Dave looked up, he saw Olive making a bee line straight for him. Before he could even inaccurately imagine what he would do to her, she grabbed him and whispered forcefully in his ear-
“Come with me to the bathroom.”
Just as quickly as she dragged him in tow, Dave did a little celebration dance and smelled his pubes with his hand. They smelled like pennies, but they’d be too far into it before she would notice.
Olive shoved Dave into the dark bathroom with the force of a low-speed Miata collision. Dave couldn’t see, but he could hear Olive shuffling around. He was too caught off-guard to make a move, but decided he should at least take his pants off. They were by his knees when-
The light flicked on.
Olive was taking a leisurely shit.
An orchestra of farts began, filling the air with tiny butterfly kisses from her butt. Dave stood completely still, frozen by lust and years of cultural training to suggest what was happening was wrong
Olive gingerly wiped herself, in a way that couldn’t possibly have cleaned her well, plucked her skirt up and left.
He never saw her again, and never technically made love to her, despite what he would tell his friends, old and new.
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