(The names in this story have been changed to protect their anonymity. The events depicted below took place during the zenith of my debauchery in my 20-something life.)
We take turns doing lines in the bathroom, and then I pour a little bit some saline spray- the stuff for your nose. Dopamine fueling our bodies and brains, we head out to the dance floor, but those two head outside for a cig and I stay inside, grooving as only the whitest men alive can.
I see a smokeshow dancing by herself so I head over to her and see what’s up. She tells me she’s 23 when we’re dancing. tan and a nice ass, tits, and a face one feels good looking at. I go in for a kiss, and we make out for a few minutes.
The dopamine overload feels like jumping into cold water that turns warm, unlike the steady pleasure-hum of the next closest thing–amphetamines. I grab her hand and begin to drag her to the bathroom.
“Let’s fuck in the bathroom,’ I offer. I give her a dumb “why-not?” shit-eating grin.
She gives me a reluctant look, and tells me she can’t. she’s a married mom and out with her friends. What a shame.
In retrospect, I should’ve tried harder to fuck her in the bathroom.
I go outside for another ciggy. Eric and Lauren are still smoking, so I join them without interrupting their conversation.. I don’t think E’s feeling it too much. No idea why, but I imagine he’s brooding over books and the other intellectual shit we talked about at her apartment. ‘Specially on coke, everything- most importantly of all, yourself- sounds more important than it’s in reality.
I grab Lauren’s hand and drag her to dance floor. We kiss and scoop an ass cheek. Now I know we’re gonna smash so I’m rallying up the troops to head back to her place.
We’re walking back. I grab a gatorade and swallow the blue viagra pill. I’m ripping through my boxers by the time we get back. We do another line and I take lauren to her room and rip her bra off and eat her panties in two.
There’s little foreplay on my part on the effort spectrum when we starting. I must’ve fucker her for 2 hours straight. Shit, I called for a couple water timeouts. Goddam ciggies.
At one point I try to stick it in her ass. It was moreso a whoopsie-daisy, a total accident, rather than some patriarchal power move reasserting white male hegemony. She yelps in equal measures of pain and pleasure, so naturally I’m apologetic for my intoxicated, inaccurate thrust. She demurs, “just lemme know next time before you do it”.
I just opt to hit it from the back but not in her ass. She probably had to poop because of the blow. I’m laughing to myself inside as I pump away.
I try to come on her face and she literally judo chops it away. That confirmed it for me; she never forgot the money-shot banter I had had with her and her friends the first time we met. My utter shamelessness must have been percolating in her subconscious since that day. I have a post-coital square and pass out.
I wake up, and can’t get out of there fast enough. (She wasn’t exactly a dime if you feel me. For the dudes out there that can relate, I would have no problem admitting we had hooked up but I definitely wasn’t expecting any fist bumps from the bros.) So I tell her goodbye with a kiss on the forehead; she says to call her later that week; and I dip out with Eric.
“That was one of the worst nights ever for me,” he says.
I’m laughing at how shameless and disgusting I am. What a champ, though. If I had been him, I would’ve left, but he took one for the team.
He tells me he just laid on the couch the whole night, coming down from the coke and listening to us smash. We grab some eggs and toast at the diner nearby. I’m just happy my dry streak is over, and as I later learned, found a cool girl to work into the rotation.