GimmickAccount
02-09-2005, 12:04 PM
So there was our hero, strewn across somebody else's bed, half-lit and half-nekkid, watching a brunette head make a slow and deliberate journey down his chest. Her fingers pryed open his jeans, but as quickly as it arose, the warm tingling in his crotch was supplanted by the erstwhile tingling of his spidey-senses. A mixture of danger, fear and recognition replaced pleasure: if he was not mistaken, those lips delicately encircling his member were the self-same lips described in some detail by his friend with the unlikely name of Sebastian. Heeding his suspicions, our hero realized he would escape from this encounter, at best, with a certain burning passion during urination. At worst, he too could become a bearer of the pustules-that-keep-on-giving.
Still young, still somewhat naive, our hero cast wildly about for a solution, his eyes darting across the foreign environs and bobbing head with a desperate glean. Suddenly it struck him--there, on the far side of the bed! Most of a handle of Jack Daniels stared back at him, promising solutions and more.
Throwing caution to the wind, our hero propped himself up on his elbows, and begin inching towards the bottle in some weird, inverted commando crawl. Startled, the bobbing head slackened its pace, finally stopping altogether to look inquiringly (pleadingly?) at our hero. Our hero persisted, however, and almost bashfully she followed after him, a slow relentless diagonal chase across the bed. He reached the bottle just in time. Flicking her chin-length hair back behind her ear, she recommenced her activity. Our hero pulled the bottle to his lips, aware that either of two likely outcomes could save him from this nightmare, if only he could consume enough. Blindly plugging away, our hero fought the building momentum between his legs...if he could...just...hold...out...a....little...longer.. ..drink...a...little...more...
We leave our hero locked in this frantic race against time, discuss.
Still young, still somewhat naive, our hero cast wildly about for a solution, his eyes darting across the foreign environs and bobbing head with a desperate glean. Suddenly it struck him--there, on the far side of the bed! Most of a handle of Jack Daniels stared back at him, promising solutions and more.
Throwing caution to the wind, our hero propped himself up on his elbows, and begin inching towards the bottle in some weird, inverted commando crawl. Startled, the bobbing head slackened its pace, finally stopping altogether to look inquiringly (pleadingly?) at our hero. Our hero persisted, however, and almost bashfully she followed after him, a slow relentless diagonal chase across the bed. He reached the bottle just in time. Flicking her chin-length hair back behind her ear, she recommenced her activity. Our hero pulled the bottle to his lips, aware that either of two likely outcomes could save him from this nightmare, if only he could consume enough. Blindly plugging away, our hero fought the building momentum between his legs...if he could...just...hold...out...a....little...longer.. ..drink...a...little...more...
We leave our hero locked in this frantic race against time, discuss.