Or maybe they would keep them around, trade them like baseball cards with their drinking buddies, or shove them in a closet somewhere while they went out and found some new pieces of feminine action to stick their microscopic dicks into.Or maybe they would keep them around, trade them like baseball cards with their drinking buddies, or shove them in a closet somewhere while they went out and found some new pieces of feminine action to stick their microscopic dicks into. "It's amazing; If they're in different programs, they'll never meet", says one tall blonde fag with a dildo head preppy hairdo to his buddy. "Yeah", laughing, says the other, "it's really easy to have more than one GIRLFRIEND here!" "But I love you!", wailed the tall blonde, making a big scene in the Nat Sci building. The guy is looking around all nervous at the 50+ people walking by, giving the couple stares. "AND YOU AL- WAYS LOVE HER!". He calms her down, walks her out the building and then takes off at full speed, bermuda shorts flapping in the breeze! And she's chasing him, at full speed, until she hits a rock and winds up on the pavement with a mouthful of gravel, and hot wet tears of complete humiliation running down her cheeks. "Hot Wet and Salty!", the babes in the O-WEEK team shouted in unison, youthful lungs giving vent to sexual frustration; the itch between their pretty thighs telegraphing FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME in secret pheremonal codes to every (pseudo) guy in a five block radius. And then, there were the guys: O-WEEK instructors waiting for the chance to get these young babes - now so far from home - alone and drunk in a wonderful her-word-against-his setting for some real orientation into the life of a W______ chick. There were other guys too; young ones hoping to meet someone special, genuine Frosh; but what girl would choose that over the charisma and sheer charm of a knowledgeable instructor? Fuck you, she's thinkin' as she eyes these dweebs in purple shirts. |