Basically had to write in the style of our favorite author for english class.. mine = Chuck Palahniuk. Author or fight club, choke, survivor..ect.. the outcome... {title to be added later} The spirits were flowing free as the inane shit spewing from people’s mouths. No one was really listening anymore, just kinda nodding their heads loosely to the beat of their own drums, and checking out the prospective 3 minutes of pleasure around the room. Sure there were people hooking up who would not remember anything in the morning, other than the pain in their asses from a missed target the night before. Perhaps some would turn over and see what they really did last night. But no one was thinking about that right now. They just wanted to get fucked. No real love, no real emotion. Just the lure of possible naked flesh colliding together in a mixing of sweat and dirt.....assuming one could hold out long enough for that to happen. He mingled around the shifting maze of people, stopping to listen to various conversations around the room. Some were interesting but the majority would have made deaf people annoyed. Looking at his watch he realized that his girlfriend would be here soon. He smiled, looking forward to having someone he knew and loved close to him in this vast sea of teenage stupidity. He made his way towards the couch, hoping to get a moment of rest, and possibly a table to ditch his unopened Pabst, a courtesy beer for the hosts of the party. It made sense to him, the whole notion of the courtesy beer, but for some reason not to anyone else. It would be rude to drink nothing, a symbolic slap in the face of the hosts, but to drink too much would run the risk of acting like a complete horny fool. Besides, it was a beer that had since turned room temp, amplifying the fifty cent per can taste. No thanks, he’d pass any other drink offers. He sat down in the lazy boy, and closed his eyes, trying to will the growing headache out of his skull. He felt someone step in front of his seat, waiting there for his acknowledgement. He slowly opened his eyes and saw her unevenly looking at him, a drinker's smile glued on her face. For some reason she decided to speak Spanish, making everything from her mouth completely alien to his, and highly disgusting. Not that Spanish was an ugly language. Hell, he’d probably get off extra if she spoke just Spanish when fooling around. No, it was something else about her mouth. God her breath smelled. No matter how long it would be, he'd never get used to the smell of alcohol on someone's breath. She descended on him, mouth gaping open like a bullet wound, pushing him onto the bed. He was enjoying it too, aside from the taste in her mouth, but was a little confused about the bed. And when he decided to stand up. Ugh, the taste. She was drunk, he was sober. This was rape....technically. Never mind they had been dating for 4 month, but rape was still a possibility, not in the sense that it was an action to choose for the night, but more that he still had to be careful of how far things went. Slightly confused, he hadn't noticed she stopped kissing him, and was wasting her talents and skills taking off his pants with her teeth. But a second later he knew his pants and boxers were off, and something else was covering his special area, something much better than any of his pants, or silk boxers. Oh crap. Sexual relations were on. SHE was on. And he was DEFINITELY on, no matter how much his mind scream bloody hell, and that horrible music blaring far away. It wasn't everyday he got oral sex from her. In fact he never got oral sex from her. Sure they had seen each other collectively naked, and had fooled around, but when it came to her mouth and his Mr. Cyclops, it stopped. But it was happening now, and the vacuum in her mouth was slowly sucking out the last bit of rationally moral thinking, as well as the giant baseball bat slowly coming out of his penis. He suddenly fell off the bed. His body jerked awake in that odd sensation of falling, letting out a small squeak. Luckily everyone around him was too drunk to have noticed, cared, or remembered. Still, he mentally slapped himself for it. He hung out in that chair for an hour, two hours. Actually he wasn’t entirely sure what time it was or how long he had been there. His watched had died sometime in the last week, not completely sure when. Whatever though. One, eleven, time was all relative. Hell, its six pm somewhere in the world, right? But cheap watch aside, being stood up was never fun. His heart sank a little as the possibility. They hadn’t had much quality time together, alone or in public, and he was really looking forward to spending an evening with her. He hated large cramped places with lots of people, but somehow, she made things tolerable. And she wasn’t here, so he started feeling very anti-social. His interaction quota had been met, and it looked like she wasn’t coming tonight. He knew the drill though; tell the sober host to pass a message and go home to zone out at a computer assignment warning of the dangers of procrastinating that particular problem. He proceeded home, driving very carefully, paranoid that the one beer could still show up on tests despite that he had it over 2 hours ago. But it didn't matter once he pulled into the driveway and smashed into his roommate's bike. Just something else to deal with in the morning. He walked through the door, tossing his jacket into the corner, and walked into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. But he never got to the coffee, since he girlfriend, who had been waiting there for nearly 2 hours for him to show up as their original agreement, punched him in the ear. Once the blinding white light of pain lifted from his mind, he was able to notice she had been drinking. Not much, just a 40, a few shots, and all his name brand cola. She was laughing hysterically at him and his pain, then shifted to a serious face berating for forgetting to pick her up and forcing her to drink all his alcohol and name brand cola, then laughing hysterically again. To most people this kind of behavior would infuriate them, and they would kick her out of the house (after she sobered up of course), but he wasn't most people. He smiled inwardly a little, glad that he was still able to spend some time with her before the night ended. The homework could wait. He made and Irish car bomb and talked with her, just spending some nice quality time in between the drinking game they had started. Once the alcohol had disappeared down their throats, they just sat there entwined on each other awkwardly. He played with her hair, enjoying how it smelled so much like fruit, or a tropical rainfall. He was happy, he would admit that, in a moment of drunken vulnerability, even if she was drooling on his shirt. Damn he wished he had a camera, but he didn't want to disturb her. It was ok. No it wasn't. She looked up at him and giggled. She wasn't asleep, she was just drooling on him for fun. What a girl. His twisted internal smile faded when he noticed she was humping his leg, whining in a cute, sexy, and mildly disturbing voice for sex. Clearly this was a trap. But his rational thinking didn't hold up much to the mist of booze that had blanketed his eyes. In a flash they were stumbling upstairs, falling and grabbing at anything and anyone to keep their balance. The doors closed and the sock was stuck on the knob. He stared at her skin, slowly revealing itself as she got her sweater stuck around her head. It wasn't as smooth as he had thought it'd be, but she wasn't a porn star with touch up CG. She was still incredibly attractive, even with her ungraceful fall into the bed, struggling with the wool mask around her. He dashed over to make sure she was alright, and helped her get the sweater off of her head and from the earring it had gotten stuck to. He had waited for this moment for a long time, and his pants reflected that belief, slowly cutting off the circulation to some of the ugliest parts of the body to never see sunlight. Ten minutes later and 10 pounds of clothing off, they were naked and very ready, her more than him. He had no idea what to do, but was glad she was the aggressive one. As she dipped her head down on that ugly as sin body part, he suddenly had a panicked thought; if she was this aggressive with him, does that mean she's been this aggressive with other guys? She was his first everything, he not hers. That nearly killed his enthusiasm for this, if not for the odd feeling he was starting to receive. It wasn't HEAVENLY, but it wasn't horrible either. He looked down, seeing his sweet girlfriend voluntarily violate her mouth with him. Their eyes met and then he felt it. Apparently guys are really lazy and visual. In that moment of contact, the jolt he got was the best and worst thing he had ever had. That look in her eyes, nearly made him cry for happiness, but the damn bitch bit him! She giggled a little, sending a chill up his spine. She was one sexy woman and damn evil. It didn't take long for him to loose it. Of course this happened as she broke connect to shift her body, the first hit straight in her contacted eyes, causing her to roll on the floor in surprise. The second ended up hitting his face, and the rest just landed sporadically, staining anything and everything in the room. What a night. He was drunk and labeled with self love, and she on the floor with his lovelove dripping out of her eye. Yes, he probably blew his chance for anymore mouth fun with that.