Justin, woke up at about
His mouth tasted like he had brushed his teeth with dogshit. There was a slight pain in the front of his head, and opening his eyes had made it worse.
Where the fuck was this, now? Alcohol marinated neurons began firing, more often than not exploding with the effort into small tactical nuclear weapons of throbbing ache. But he eventually determined, A this was not his room, B he had never been in this room before, C he was naked, D he hadn’t used dogshit on the toothbrush, maybe he brushed his teeth with a used tampon. Maybe both.
Licking the inside of his mouth, Justin tried to work some none mucus moisture into this mouth. He was alone, which was strange, not that he was alone, just that he was alone in someone else’s bed. But this was definitely a chick’s room. Smelled good, like a girl just out of the shower, all lotion and strange shampoos, with flowers and berries and shit in them. No man could produce that smell. Nope, there was just always that subtle hint of ballsack, no matter what one tried.
Luckily the hangover hadn’t impeded his cock from going rock hard first thing in the morning. This could get awkward quickly, but Justin didn’t hear anyone else, it looked to be a studio apartment, not many places to hide. Justin got out of the bed slowly, scratching his head, and absently running his hands through his hair.
His clothes were all neatly folded in a little pile a few feet away on a chair. That was odd. Justin got out of the bed, his boner slowly retreating, but giving a valiant effort to maintain its skyward salute.
The hard wood floor was warm, and recently waxed. Justin looked around, his clothes forgotten in the curiosity burning through his drug addled wits. There weren’t any pictures anywhere, no computer, no TV. Who was this girl?
Justin absently walked over to the chest of drawers and opened the top shelf. Well at least there was women’s underwear and bras. One more slash in the no and the maybe column of his mental chart documenting the on going tally of whether or not he fucked a dude last night. Nice stuff too, really girly, some work out shit…unitards…tights, whatever the fuck they were called. Bra was a descent size, as far as he could tell, all bras not tiny or ginormous all seemed the same size to him. He thought about sniffing a pair or two, he had never done that before, he wondered and then dismissed the idea. If those were some transsexuals panties he’d have to kill himself.
There was a descent stereo, nice component system, pretty top of the line. This girl was serious about listening to music. Justin turned on the receiver and pushed play on the cd player. “Since you’ve been gone” began to play and Justin turned the stereo off.
The kitchen area was clean, too clean, and bright too. The sky lights let in a shit ton of light and Justin shrank away from it like a vampire. He adjusted and opened the fridge, cold air blowing on his body. It felt good. What remained of his hard on quickly shrank away. His nut sack clenched against his ass hole.
No food, some bottled water, some broccoli, a few apples, a block of tofurkey, (fuck, that meant she was some kind of health psycho, there was no way they had sex, though a girl like this would not go home with him, not for sex at least, for what then?), and some prescription medicine. Justin tried to see what it was but his eyes could not focus sufficiently to read the tiny type, so he threw it back and closed the door.
He opened the freezer found a cup of frozen yogurt and—yes a bottle. A fucking bottle of (he almost threw up at the realization) mint schnopps. Sighing, Justin took the bottle and took a good pull off of it.
It tasted like mouth wash, but warmer, and he gagged a little.
No comments:
Post a Comment