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... The Aftermath
Shortly after Amaya had sent me packing for wielding a domineering dong, I decided to initiate a moratorium on sex and resolved to focus more upon my college studies. I implemented a monotonous study schedule at the fraternity house and avoided many of the social events that took place over a period of several weeks, effectively becoming a hermit. In attempts to reinvigorate me, Camel stopped by my bedroom one night while I was digesting a required reading article for one of my courses.

“Why you studying all the time, Keaton?” my alcoholic friend asked me as he intruded into my room.

“I don’t know,” I replied, looking up from my reading material. “Call me crazy but there’s something about paying thirty thousand dollars a year in tuition that keeps me motivated to earn credits. You know, getting a degree and all that shit. I figured that I should get something in return for my money instead of just a hangover.”

“Fuck that, man,” Camel said, closing my bedroom door behind him. “This is the time in your life when you’re supposed to be having fun.”

I gave Camel a probing look. “Yeah?” I asked. “Why can’t you have fun later? Like, after you graduate and get a job?”

“Everyone’s gonna get a job, man,” Camel said. He wandered over to my desk, sat down on the spare chair, and propped up his feet on the tabletop. “You worried about not getting a job or something?”

“I just don’t like school, dude,” I replied. “I want to get this shit over with as soon as possible.”

Camel pulled his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair. “I wish I was more like you,” he stated. “I just don’t care that much about anything.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” I commented. I gave Camel a laugh and then demonstrated some nonverbal communication that I was more interested in returning to my required reading than socializing with him at that particular moment.

“So why you gotta bullshit me?” Camel suddenly accused.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You don’t give a fuck about school no more than I do,” Camel asserted. “You’re just bummed out because that slant box girl dumped you.”

I sighed and reflected upon my memories of eating out Amaya’s delectable cooter. “She was the finest piece of ass that I ever had,” I stated in disappointment. “I don’t think I’ll get poontang as choice as her snatch ever again. Muff like that just doesn’t come along that often.”

“Fuck that, dude. How many times did you see her—like twice? I wouldn’t really count that as a girlfriend. That was pretty cold of her to diss you for having a big dick, though. You should have shot her yellow ass with my pellet gun when you had the chance.”

I contemplated over Camel’s words while nodding my head in agreement.

Camel stood up and stepped away from the table. “Well, hey, man, I’m gonna head out to the bars. I need to get drunk. Wanna come?”

“Dude, I need to get this shit read by tomorrow!”

“Come on, man, you’ll have plenty of time to read that garbage when we get back.”

“It’s already eight o’clock,” I pointed out.

“Come on,” he continued. “I can’t get drunk unless I have my designated driver with me.”

“Can’t you find another DD this time?”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Camel cajoled. “I know where this nice strip club is. There’s hot bitches in there—not the usual crack head hos. These chicks are college girls. I’ll buy you a lap dance or something and make you forget all about that Amaya bitch.”

“You know just how to cheer a brother up, don’t you?” I said, as I closed the binder that I was reading from and stood up from my study carrel. “I think I might be able to find some time to chauffeur your ass across town for the evening in exchange for some free titties. I’ll do anything for titties, you know. You don’t have to twist my arm.”

“Good,” Camel said. “I’m have to meet one of my old drinking buddies at the bar. His name is Killer. He owes me some money for some dank that I sold him awhile back. I think you’ll like him.”

Several minutes later, I was behind the wheel of Camel’s car, driving him to the local Arby’s for some quick dinner so that he wouldn’t end up drinking on an empty stomach. I pulled into the Arby’s drive-thru and was greeted by a lanky, pimple-faced teenager at the window. “What can I get for you, sir?” the youth asked.

Camel leaned over me from the passenger seat and said, “Yeah, give me one of your, uh, Grilled Chicken Bacon and Swiss Sandwiches.”

“Would you like a combo meal?”

Camel shook his head. “Nah, just give me the sandwich.”

“It will be right out.”

The adolescent employee closed the sliding window and disappeared inside the restaurant. While we were waiting for the sandwich, Camel shared with me some of the wisdom that he had acquired from being an undergraduate for six years. “You know, I think you’re better off without that Amaya hooker. Girls are nothing but a waste of time, man.”

“I don’t find anything wasteful about squirting my load inside some pussy,” I countered. “Unless some of my man mayonnaise dribbles out from a cream pie or something.”

“I’m not talking about sex, dude. I’m talking about all that relationship shit that you have to put up with in order to get laid on a regular basis. Having a girlfriend in college is like taking an extra twelve credits a semester. It’s just not worth it.”

“So that’s why you don’t get any play, eh?”

Camel shook his head. “No. I just can’t get any because I’m a loser.”

Looking away from Camel, I noticed that the fast food employee had returned, carrying with him a small paper sack. “That will be two fifty-nine,” the teenager’s voice came from the opened drive-thru window.

Camel pulled out a folded coupon from his wallet and extended it over to me. I, in turn, handed the coupon to the worker. The young employee examined the coupon while wrinkling his face in confusion. “Um, this expired, like, three months ago,” he said.

“So?” Camel asked over the top of me.

“This coupon is no good, sir. I can’t accept it.” The worker handed the coupon back to me and I inadvertently placed it inside my shirt pocket.

Frustrated, Camel looked into his near empty wallet once more. “Motherfuck. How much did you say the sandwich was again?”

“Two fifty-nine.”

Camel withdrew two, single dollar bills from his wallet. “You got any cash on you, Keaton?” he asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders and replied, ”I don’t got a damn dime.”

“Alright, I’ll give you two bucks for the sandwich,” Camel bartered, extending his money to the young man.

“It’s two fifty-nine, sir.”

“You won’t take two bucks for it?”

The worker slowly shook his head.

“Well, what you gonna do, throw it away?”

“I... I don’t.... I don’t know....” the teenager stammered.

“Man, this is some bullshit!” Camel exclaimed. “Come on, Keaton. Let’s go!”

I offered the Arby’s worker an apologetic glance and then sped away down the street without the sandwich. Camel was determined to get drunk that night whether he ate dinner or not.

Succeeding a few minutes of Camel’s navigational directions, we made our way to a row of bars that were located along a single road in the center of a nearby town. We parked his car and proceeded to the front entrance of one of the louder saloons. After Camel’s baby face was carded at the door, we entered the bar and quickly found Killer. Moments later, Killer paid off his drug debt to Camel and they both began to drink quite heavily.

Despite the namesake of Camel’s friend, Killer appeared quite docile. He laughed a great deal and seemed devoid of any negative attitude. Camel seemed comfortable around him and the two of them consumed alcohol at length. As they did so, I sipped on a cup of free Coke and cruised the barflies for telephone numbers. About an hour or so into the bar excursion, Camel found me amongst the crowded barroom and helped himself to a seat at my table where I was sitting with a female prospect. Killer soon joined us as well, being entirely inebriated.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Killer slurred over to the barfly who was sitting beside me.

“Shelly, what’s yours?” the girl replied.

Killer stretched his neck out across the table toward my companion. “You wanna fuck?” he blatantly inquired.

“Eeew, no!” she said.

As my two compatriots were enjoying themselves with sneering laughter, my prospect immediately got up from our table and briskly walked away.

“You’re a real charmer, aren’t ya buddy?” I sarcastically said to Killer.

“Damn, Keaton!” Camel gasped, watching the girl as she strutted away. “That bitch was hotter than cum! She had great cans. Man, she had big blow job lips and everything.”

I sighed and took a healthy swig of my cola. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, assholes.”

“Man, I’d be all up in her, nuts deep, if I had the chance.”

I glared at Camel in contempt.

“Just think, Keaton,” Camel continued. “She’s probably got someone at home right now who’s tired of having sex with her. It’s a damn shame.” Camel stopped gawking at the female once she blended into the barroom crowd. He then slapped Killer in the shoulder and chastised him. “Dude, you just fucked up Keaton’s game. That girl was so hot, I’d let her take a wet shit on my back!”

“That’s pretty hot, dude,” Killer replied with a drunken chuckle.

“Speaking of taking a shit,” Camel said, “I really gotta go.”

I glanced back toward the restroom area of the bar and noticed a lengthy line of patrons who were waiting to use the bathroom facilities. “Good luck with that one,” I stated to Camel. “Maybe if you get in line right now you might be able to take a dump before midnight.”

“Fuck that,” Camel said, standing up from our table. I watched him as he marched straight into the women’s restroom with stoic gumption. Meanwhile, Killer stood and wandered back over to the bar. Seconds later, I witnessed a girl come running out of the women’s bathroom. She was clearly disturbed. I stayed put and finished sipping on my cup of soda while I waited for Camel to return.

“You have some serious nuts, man,” I said to Camel, once he resumed sitting in front of me. “I can’t believe you just strolled into the girls’ bathroom to pinch a loaf. I saw some chick come running out of there like you had assaulted her or something. What happened?”

Camel took a tug on his beer bottle and nonchalantly stated, “I just told her that I was going to take a shit whether she was in there or not. She left.”

While talking to Camel, I noticed a dark-colored puddle of fluid come creeping across the wood-planked floor. The pool grew in volume beneath the feet of the myriad barroom guests who were walking about. I followed the source of the fluids upstream and noticed Killer standing at the bar with his crotch pressed up against the side paneling. He was seen with one hand on the bar clutching a beer bottle and his other hand on his penis, urinating behind the barstools while concealing himself. “Holy shit!” I said to Camel, calling his attention to his associate. “Your fuckin buddy is taking a piss on the bar!”

Hurriedly slamming down his bottle, Camel said, “He does this shit. Come on, it’s time to go!” Camel rushed up behind his friend and started talking into his ear while pushing him to leave the saloon. With moderate resistance, Killer managed to put his unit away, zip up his pants, and stagger out of the bar.

“What the hell are you doing, man?” Camel asked his friend once we relocated outside on the sidewalk. “You can’t be doing that shit in there. You’ll get us permanently kicked out. We won’t be able to go back!”

“What’s the big deal?” Killer slurred, waving his arms around as if he were trying to fly. “I had to... go to the... bathroom.”

“Yeah, man, but you can’t piss on the bar!” I informed him.

“Okay... then I’ll just go... over here,” Killer said, traipsing across the street to a nearby law firm office. He immediately pulled down his pants and began urinating on the front door to the building, chanting, “Piss on lawyers, man!”

While watching the public purging take place, I turned to Camel and said, “You’re friend is out of control. We need to get him out of here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Camel replied, running across the street after his associate.

We grappled Killer’s arms and managed to get him into the backseat of Camel’s car, destroying three, large, ornamental flower pots that were placed along the sidewalk during the ensuing struggle. Once secured in the backseat, I followed Camel’s verbal directions to take his intoxicated friend home.

“Hey, Camel,” Killer slurred from the backseat after we began driving. “I know this gr-eat bar... across town. They have all sorts of... hot bitches there, man. Is that... where we’re going?”

“No, Killer,” Camel replied in a highly annoyed tone. “We’re taking you the fuck home.”

“Well... I hope we get there... soon. Because... I gotta take a piss!”

I jerked my thumb back toward Killer and said to Camel, “What’s with this guy and pissing? Does he have some sort of prostate problem or what?”

“I don’t know, man,” Camel responded. “He gets this way pretty much every time we go out.” An unzipping sound was heard from the back seat. Camel quickly turned around and looked back at Killer. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing? Stop the car!”

Pulling the vehicle to the shoulder, I observed Camel jump out of his car and then quickly remove Killer from the backseat. Killer had his tallywacker exposed and was in mid-stream of clear amber fluid when Camel started yanking his body away from the car. “What the fuck you think you’re doing? You can’t piss in my car, god damn it! Fuck!”

“What’s... the big deal?” Killer stammered, struggling to stand.

“Put your shit away!” Camel commanded, pointing at Killer’s crotch. “Nobody wants to see that!” He walked back over to his car and popped his head inside. “Ah shit,” he stated, quickly withdrawing his head again. “You pissed all over my fuckin seat! God damn it!”

Killer staggered forward, attempting to hug Camel. His flaccid penis was still exposed. “Sorry... dude. I had to go.”

“Don’t touch me,” Camel said, pushing Killer away from him. “That’s it, we’re out of here. Find your own way home, pal. And don’t be calling me for any more weed either!”

“What... what do you mean?”

Camel slammed his car door shut and said to me, “Let’s go, Keaton. Fuck this dude!”

I hammered the accelerator and left Killer in the red glow of the tail lights, his pathetic peter still dangling out of his fly and his clothes soiled with urine. The stench inside the car was remarkable but I remained silent, as Camel was clearly aware of the foul scent.

“Sorry about all that,” Camel eventually stated, after we cleared another half a dozen miles down the highway.

“It’s cool, man,” I said. “I mean, he’s your friend and it’s your car. I’m just driving.”

“Yeah, but I really fucked up your night. I drug you along for all this.”

Nodding my head, I continued staring forward at the road in front of me. “You mentioned before we left the house that we were gonna swing by a strip club...”

“Oh, that’s right!” Camel stated. “Okay, take the first exit off the highway here. I’ll show you how to get there.”

As the wreak of urea inside Camel’s car intensified, he quickly fed me directions toward an isolated strip club that was located far outside the city limits. Camel floated me several dollars before we entered the skank bar and he paid for my door fee upfront. Upon entry into the shady building, a burly bouncer gave to me a red ticket at the door. Not knowing what the ticket was used for, I stuffed it into my pocket and found a seat along pervert row. Although the establishment itself was rather seedy, the strippers inside were of refined quality. I was pleased to discover that many of the dancers were not much older than twenty-one.

Camel appeared right at home inside the shabby titty bar. He drank freely and offered generous tips to the dancers, carelessly giving away the money that Killer had earlier paid him off with. He spoke privately with some of the strippers and boisterously laughed while telling jokes with others. As he did so, I remained on pervert row, calmly donating singles to the exhibitionists on stage after they ran their fingers through my curly hair while giving me titty hugs.

Toward midnight, one of the dancers sat down on the stage with her back facing me. She then suddenly leaned backward, placed her mouth on my crotch, and flipped her legs up around my head. Immediately following this fantastic maneuver, I was pulled onto the stage by two different girls. They had me lie down on my back upon the elevated platform. While the crowd jaunted and jeered, Camel handed one of the strippers a five dollar bill. The exotic dancer folded the bill lengthwise and placed it down the bridge of my nose. She then straddled my face with her legs, squatted down, and pinched the five-spot from off my nose with her labia. The crowd erupted into an uproar of hoots and hollers.

Feeling somewhat out of place, I motioned to get up but was pushed to lie back down by the two strippers. After one of them assumed a sixty-nine position over the top of my sprawled out body, the second girl inched up behind her and penetrated her vagina with a strap-on dildo. This all took place within a few millimeters from my face. Ride for Five.

With the night drawing near to a close, the strip club deejay instructed everyone to find their red tickets that we were given upon admittance into the bar. He then called out a series of numbers which, much to my surprise, identically matched my own ticket number. I happily walked over to one of the large bouncers, carrying my red ticket in front of me like a prized trophy.

“Hey, man,” I said to the behemoth gentleman. “That deejay dude called out my ticket number. What did I win?”

The large man looked hard at me and said, “Give that ticket to any girl you want. She’ll know what to do with it.”

Grinning like I had just won the lottery, I scoured over the club for the best stripper that the place had to offer. My eyes landed upon a very pleasant-looking brunette who appeared to be fresh out of high school. I walked directly over to her and showed her my red ticket. Without saying a word, the dancer took my hand and led me away from the bar area and down a darkened hallway. She walked me into a separate room that contained nothing but a solitary chair, positioned dead center in the middle of the floor. The gorgeous hussy offered for me to sit. As soon as I had done so, the angelic girl stripped in front of me while performing hypnotizing moves with her curvaceous body. After she had become entirely naked, the young maiden straddled my lap and began to gyrate her hips into me as if she were rubbing out a stain on my pants with her tight ass.

Feeling the obvious bulge of my hefty manhood, the girl broke down to her knees and proceeded to cusp my glans with her mouth. Being unable to fit my stiff pole inside her mouth through my baggy pants, the sexy stripper proceeded to peel my chili instead. Then, without warning, she abruptly stopped and offered me a gaze that was reminiscent of the performers on stage when they had lifted their garter belts for a tip.

“I don’t have any money,” I bluntly told the dancer, raising up my empty palms in a helpless manner. I then searched through my pockets for any remaining singles that Camel had given to me and came across the expired Arby’s coupon that he had to tried to redeem earlier. I withdrew the coupon from my shirt pocket and extended it to the stripper. “You can have this! It’s worth a free Grilled Chicken Bacon and Swiss Sandwich at Arby’s.”

Seemingly offended by my suggestion, the stripper stood up from the floor and quickly started to get dressed. As she was hurriedly putting her clothes back on, I arose from the chair and presented her once more with the coupon. “What’s wrong? This has about a three-dollar value!”

The stripper squinted her eyes and glared at me. “You are such an asshole!” she said.

“What? You don’t like swine or something? I thought that everybody likes bacon!”

With an abrupt about-face, the young prostitute wheeled around and swiftly exited the isolated room. I followed behind her and strolled back out into the lobby area, finding Camel still sitting on pervert row near the stage. He was quite intoxicated at this point.

Camel and I left the seedy stripper establishment not too long after I had attempted to tip the dancer with the expired Arby’s coupon. With our nightly endeavors complete, I drove Camel’s drunk ass back to the fraternity house, where I resumed reading my study material for class. Henceforth, I used the winning red ticket as a bookmark for my textbook.
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