The Adventures of Dennis Part 3: Spring Break

The Adventures of Dennis Part 3: Spring Break

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica



Dennis hangs out on the beach and interacts with literature rather interestingly.



Dennis hangs out on the beach and interacts with literature rather interestingly.


Submitted: April 19, 2014

A A A | A A A


Submitted: April 19, 2014



Spring Break is, ideally, a gigantic powwow where a conglomeration of not-yet-adults bare their bodies and rub their skin together as it drips with clear ocean water like they are in a Gatorade commercial (and perhaps they are), while muffled hip hop surrounds their souls like a Stockholm Syndrome and colors flash in the sunlight that never goes away and beer cascades through the air in slow-motion.

 But that isn’t what my spring break was, exactly. By the time my bud Dirk and I arrived at the beach in Miami, large swaths of it was closed off, most people had packed up and left, and it was colder than you’d ever think. All because our college lets out for spring about a week and a half later than everywhere else. By the time we got to the beach, we just stood there, staring. Dirk said; “Let’s just go to the hotel.” We did, and we slept.

The next day was a little more interesting.

We stood in a tiki bar talking with two girls. One of them was Adrienne, who was a senior at Florida State University studying creative writing. The other was Anjali. She was doing an internship with a law firm down here in Miami. Her college was in California. She was originally from India, but she had no accent, so she must have moved here at a young age. She wore a blue blouse and bluer jeans, with a tear on one leg. Her hair was black enough to create dark contours against the tacky brown oak of the bar. Whenever a drink flashed in the light, her hair countered it.

I was playing it low-key. I started off with Adrienne, but Dirk consistently elbowed his way in there, and ultimately I just gave him the ground.

While I sipped my Jack and Coke (don’t even ask if they bother checking IDs in Florida), Anjali said to me; “So, like, do you get free passes to concerts and stuff.”

I’d told her I was a roadie for The Dave Matthews Band. She loved it. I’d guessed she would.

“No,” I said. “Not really. Dave and I don’t get along too great.”

“Why’s that?”

I sighed while I came up with something.

“Oh, you know, me and his daughter,” I said. “We may or may not have had something going on. It’s all good now and me and her are totally friends. It’s just, when her Dad found out, you know…”

Her eyes must have bugged out enough to stick to the ceiling.

“Oh my God,” she said. “You can’t be serious.”

I nodded.

“Let’s just say I keep a bat in my apartment.”

The more I told her about Dave Matthews being a deranged psycho, the closer she moved toward me. As soon as it got to the point where I ordered two more drinks, came back from the bar and slid my hand down her shoulder after handing her drink over, I could see the deal was sealed. At around this time, Dirk and Adrienne split. Dirk’s a pro.

Anjali and I sat on the steps outside the bar, passing a joint.

“I just, I can’t believe it,” she giggled. “My Mom would flip her shit if she knew I smoked pot. If she knew how many boyfriends I’ve already had and actually had…you know, relations with…she’d kill me.”

I took a puff and pushed back a strand of her hair. A tear was in her eye.

“You seem like such a special person,” I said. “An interesting woman, with such big ambitions. How could your Mom possibly not see that? Everything will work out fine.”

She kissed me and her breath smelled of alcohol and something like breath-spray.


Women’s lingerie kind of fascinates me. How do they manage it? I can imagine this silk or cotton thing pressing in to my skin, strapped on my chest all day, getting to be annoying as shit. That’s why, before I fucked Anjali that night, I instructed her, after pulling her panties down her slim dark legs with my teeth, to leave her bra on. I planned on removing it myself. She took her hands away from her back and scooped them under my head and pulled me up to her mouth. I ran my hand across her hairy mound and slid two fingers inside. She was already wet. She jerked her head away from mine as if totally surprised that any guy would finger her. Her wide-eyed expression—not far off from her Dave Matthews expression—compelled me to slide in a third finger. I swished my index finger far enough up the folds of her clit until I felt the ridged area near the back and it was like Columbus discovering America. I’m convinced that not all girls have a G-Spot. Anjali did. I stroked the ridge with my finger and she gripped the nape of my neck like she was holding on to a ship’s mast and moaned and panted as if it were a confession. I stroked until the ridge had swelled in to a blob pushing against my fingers. I pressed against it.

She bowed her head to my ear to tell me a secret. It was aaah aaaah! Aaaaaahhhh. She reached between her legs and grabbed the wrist of my hand and pulled my fingers away.

“You’re going to make me cum if you keep doing that,” she whispered. She stepped backwards to her bed, eyes shut and half fell, half-lay down on her back. Her vagina glistened messy in the dark light, agape from the work of my fingers. I heard the sounds of a female moaning the next room over. I realized it was Adrienne. Dirk and Adrienne were at it.

“Oh God, I can hear them,” Anjali whispered with a grin, eyes still shut.

I took the condom out of my pocket and rolled it on. I stepped toward her.

“This is awkward,” she laughed, reaching out to me as I leaned in to her.

As I heard the springs of the bed in the next room creak and Adrienne’s noises, I thought, This is war, Dirk.

A few minutes later, I stared down at Anjali’s bra-enclosed tits. She wore a crimson red bra which was tight against the dark skin of her tits, probably a perfect D cup. I was inside her and holding her hip with one hand, but I barely focused on what my cock felt like in her pussy. I focused on how to get that bra off, what to do with it, and how to beat Dirk. Adrienne was loud as shit. Dirk himself was kind of loud. Anjali only sighed and breathed in and out, nervously enjoying herself. When I heard Dirk growl “Come on,” I knew he was talking more to me than to his dick.

I slid my hands under Anjali’s back. I knew she would let me do what I was going to do.  She arched upward. I felt around her skin until my fingers pinched the rough bulge of the clasp on her bra. I flicked my thumb against the  clasp—just as Dirk had shown me years before—and the hooks unfastened. I took one strap in one hand and she extended her arm to help me remove it. I yanked it off the other arm and held it off to the right like a trophy for a few moments while I kissed her and shifted forward so I moved deeper in to her and felt her legs curl around my waist.

I almost said something like “You can thank me later,” but that would have been so gay. I buried my face in between both her tits while I moved harder and she got a little louder. In the other room, it sounded like Dirk had gotten Adrienne to yell Daddy, so I knew I had to move. I slid the bra between our stomachs and curved it around where my groin met her’s. I stuffed it down on the sheets and the silk grazed her pussy. I maneuvered it right under my balls and when I felt it grazing my balls, I knew it would be tickling her. Anjali did not notice or care about any of this. She was busy tightening her arms around my back.

She began giggling, trembling upward from her legs with shivers. It was working. She opened her mouth wide and I stared straight down her mouth while she began screaming in excitement. I knew she wasn’t faking her orgasm by the way she jerked her head upward and opened her mouth wider, and even wider, in total silence, before curling in to a ball as she rubbed her face against my chest and said Oh God again and again between spasms and sighs. She bit my nipple. Someone banged on the wall. I wasn’t sure if it was Dirk telling me I’d won, or Adrienne. Our bodies had moved away from Anjali’s crumpled bra by this point, but I still pulled out of her while still shooting my load and smacked my condomed cock on her sheet and when I moved backwards I felt my balls and cock flutter against wrinkled, stringy silk; her bra. I lay my head on her chest and we were there for the next ten minutes, recuperating.

“I think,” she said after several minutes, “that my bra was really…tickling me.”

“Damn,” I said. “That’s what that was? I’m sorry, babe.”

“No,” she said, caressing my head. “It felt so, so good.”

I stood in her bathroom and flexed my muscles as I looked in her mirror.  Now at least my ribcage was no longer visible; I’d been eating more dining hall food at school. But my abs did jut out, if not quite enough. I backed up and flexed my legs. They were the strongest part of my body. My cock was sore and red, tired of my being inserted in to vaginas. I tore off some toilet paper and rubbed around it, threw it in the toilet, put on my boxers and passed out on the bed. Anjali sat on the edge of the bed, looking in the mirror, playing with her hair.

The next morning, I stayed with Anjali long enough to watch an episode of Mad Men. Jon Hamm cheated on his wife again and got drunk again and did his wide-jaw grin again. I couldn’t understand the appeal of the show, but Anjali was transfixed. She wore a shirt and her underwear. I placed a hand on her bare leg and moved it up to her thigh. She took this to mean I was a tender guy who wanted to get to know her better, and I let her.

I left the room, saying that yes, we would hang out again and took out my phone as soon as she closed the door and deleted her number. I saw two foreign girls in only their swimsuits and sunglasses, speaking in German, I think, and made eye contact with one of them. I went to my and Dirk’s double bedroom. He wasn’t there. I read some of Portnoy’s Complaint. I got some more rest.

“I bet you think you actually won that game,” Dirk said.

We sat on the beach, smoking cigarettes.

“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “I do.”

“Did you fuck her only once?”

I looked at him.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Did you have anybody knock on your wall yelling at you to keep it down?”

“No…” I said.

“Great, because I’d already fucked Adrienne once by the time you two got started, and during the second time we got shouted at. Dirk; 1. Dennis; 0. “

He took a long draw of his cigarette.

“Doing it once before is cheating,” I said. “And you know it.”

“I taught you the moan game, kid,” said Dirk. “Don’t tell me the rules. When I showed you, you’d gotten laid, what, once, two times?”

I said nothing.

“It hasn’t been too long since then,” Dirk said. “And I doubt you play it with your secret-frat buddies up at school.”

“That lasted about six weeks,” I said through clenched teeth.


“We have to figure out who to go for tonight,” I said.

Dirk stared at me.

“The same chicks,” he said.

“What? Dirk are you nuts?”

“No, but I have a couple swinging from my dick. Those same chicks need more of our attention. And they want it. Don’t be such a misogynistic ass, Dennis.”

He almost cracked up as he said this.

Dirk tossed his cigarette on to the sidewalk near the sand.

“Shit,” he said. “Smoking is bad for you.”


I wasn’t in to Dirk’s plan. So that night, I ignored him. I got trashed at a bar further downtown in Miami and hit on several groups of girls. None of them were interested. I vaguely remember some big dude stepping between me and some other chick and yelling in my face. I swung at him. He socked me in the face. I remember me throwing a chair. We were restrained by bouncers and I was thrown to the pavement. I woke up in our hotel room the next morning with a white hospital bracelet on my wrist and a bandage on my cheek. I didn’t recall anything.

Dirk was, once again, not there. I checked my phone and saw a ton of texts from Anjali. I only knew it was her because the first message said; “Hey this is Anjali.”

I drank coffee and rehearsed a plan. I would go to her room and we’d have a quick pity fuck. I wasn’t sure how functional my cock would be after the previous night, but I’d manage. I would make sure that she sucked my cock for at least five minutes. I don’t leave these situations without lips having been around my cock. I’d tell her I didn’t think she was my type, get dressed and go.

I arrived at her room and rang the bell. Nothing happened. I rang it again. I thought she probably wasn’t there, when she opened the door and stood there, once again wearing a t-shirt and her underwear. In the background, buck-naked: Dirk.

I couldn’t fucking believe it.

“Hi Dennis,” she said, matter of a fact.

“Hey…” I said. “What!?”

There was a pause.

“What,” she said, “is you’re a neglectful shit-brain. You promise me we’ll hang out again, and you don’t answer my texts. ‘It’s okay, Anjali, you’re such a special person. Your Mom just doesn’t realize it.’”

She pointed a finger at me.

“Bullshit. You just wanted to have sex with me. You’re the stereotypical guy, don’t you know that? Well, guess what? Two can play at the game you’re playing. How old are you, anyway?”

“Nineteen. What the fuck does that matter, you—“

She looked kind of surprised.

“Nineteen,” she said. “Well I don’t know how many women you play these games with, but I hope you get AIDS before your twenty-fifth birthday.”

“Thanks for granting me that six-year window,” I said as the door shut on me. I walked away. The door opened behind me and I heard Dirk call, “We’re still on buddy.”

At first, when Anjali had used the word game, I’d thought that Dirk had let her in on the moan game. But I realized she was more likely referring to me being a manipulative douche. But I now saw what Dirk meant when he’d said, “No. Those same chicks.”

I bought a coke from the machine downstairs. I took a long swig and thought of how two would, indeed, play at that game.


It took a lot of searching but I found Adrienne sitting on the beach, alone, talking on her cell phone. Freedom, by Jonathan Franzen lay beside her on a towel. I pretended not to notice her. I removed my shirt and went in the water. It was the second time I’d been in the water, and the first time I’d been in the water sober, and it was really, really cold. I dealt with it.

Finally, Adrienne finished her call and just blankly stared at me. I glanced at her out of my peripherals. After a minute of that, she called out, “Hey. You.”

It took longer to seduce Adrienne. Not to say she didn’t want it, just that she deliberately played harder to get. I didn’t give her any lines about Dave Matthews, because I knew she was smarter than that. By the time we sat on the patio at the bar, I’d realized I would just have to start insulting her for her to really want it. I made her recite one of her poems to me and told her it was garbage. When her hair fell in front of her face—she had long hair—she would constantly sweep it back, briskly, as if it were a fly. I told her that she looked much sexier as Cousin It. She thought that was hilarious.

We started making out on that patio. I massaged her bare legs, covered only at the top by cheap-looking green shorts and didn’t even try to resist fingering her in public. She let me slip two fingers under her shorts and panties and I located the folds of her vagina. She let me rub around the surface of her clit for a minute, before pulling my hand away and saying, “Okay, not here.”

She looked at me with her head tilted down, wondering if she should, in fact, take this guy upstairs.

“Do you ever do blow?” she asked.


“Cocaine…” she said in a lower voice.

I shrugged. “There’s a time and a place for everything.”


Up in her room, she lay the lines out on a makeup mirror. She snorted one, I snorted one. She did another, I did another. I had never done coke before, but I felt this jolt in my brain that said suddenly, everything I wanted to happen would happen. I already believe anything is possible; the obscene amount of sex I get at my age is a testament to that belief. But this tipped the scales; anything was now going to happen. No questions. Also, I felt like I’d drank five red bulls at once. That too.

She did one more line, I begged off. She sat back in her chair, her head tilted, looking at the ceiling and rubbing her nose.

She wheeled her head down so it was level and stared at me for some moments, studying my face.

“Just so you know,” she said, “I’m just having fun. This is a one-time thing. Okay?”

I didn’t bother to nod. I took her by the shoulders, hoisted her up and kissed her while backing her against the wall. I pulled off her shirt, yanked her shorts down and stuck my hand in her panties and inside her clit. I went in deep and found a fold of wetness and worked on that fold until it expanded and she stroked my cock and tilted her head back against the wall, exerting gasps and loud moans. They may have sounded louder because I was high, or she may have been more in to it because she was high. I pulled her panties down as I zoomed down to my knees and licked and fingered her pussy for several minutes, before realizing what I should do.

I backed her up to the bed and backed her down so she lay there. I went to the mirror with the coke, picked up the dollar bill she was using, scooped up about a line and took it to her, lying there and peering at me. I knelt down and dumped the coke on her stomach just above her pussy and with my fingers formed it in to a line. Some of it stuck to my fingers which were wet from being inside her and I just wiped it on her sheets.

“Dennis,” she said. “Oh my God. Seriously.”

I placed both my hands on her cheeks and bent over her so our noses were touching.

“You said you’re just having fun,” I said. “This is me just having fun. And I know you will like it.”

She nodded.

I kneeled down. Unlike Anjali, she was well shaven, with hardly even a shadow of hair visible. Her vagina was neat and tidy, small, obviously a tight fit. I leaned in, buried my tongue inside her and flicked it from side to side really quickly as I moved upward in an arch. My tongue left her clit and hit light prickles of shaved pubes and I inhaled as I moved my head up to the center of her chest and felt the coke zip in my nostrils. She yelped and her body spasmed. As soon as I was done, I rested my head on her chest for a few moments, but she sat up and shifted forward and next thing I knew her mouth was around my cock, furiously sucking it while her legs clamped around my legs as if I might escape. I nutted in her mouth in about three minutes and she tilted her head back, again, as if having done more coke, and swallowed three times. I stepped back and almost fell against her window. I felt so fucking good in that moment and shut my eyes. The next room over, I heard the door shut and Dirk and Anjali talking in whispers.

I began laughing. I heard her chuckle. I opened my eyes and burst out laughing and she burst out laughing also. Her cheeks were red and it looked almost as if she’d been crying. She sat up and looked down at her stomach, quickly, with an embarrassed grin, and back up at me with a grin that could not believed I had persuaded her in to this situation.

We just looked at each other. I could hear Dirk and Anjali getting busy already. Lots of sheet-rustling and Anjali’s soft, half-mouthed moans (she was probably just getting fingered at this point). Adrienne could, too, because she glanced over at the wall.

“Come over here,” she said, looking back at me.

I only realized then that I had another huge hard-on. I didn’t realize it was possible. But cocaine is a hell of a drug.

As I walked over, she took a pill out of her bedside table and popped it in to her mouth. Her eyes were red. That’s why it looked like she was crying.

“Don’t worry about a condom,” she whispered. (I wasn’t).

She turned over and got on her hands and knees.

I kneeled down and maneuvered my way in to her. I had to pull her butt downwards and she spread her legs out in more of a squat until I felt the prickles of her vag brush the head of my cock and found her clit with my fingers. I rubbed at her and she moaned and opened up. I slid my cock in and this time she was wet, holy fuck.

I don’t like doggystyle that much, but that day, I didn’t care. I told her to hand me a pillow and she did. I propped my knees up on the pillow so I could get myself firmly situated to slide up and down (this was like rigging up a factory machine) and I moved up and down. Twice I slipped out. Twice she placed it back inside her. She wore her bra this entire time, a black as-night bra. I pushed myself as deep in to her as I could, which meant arching backwards while I slid in and out of her. I moved my hands from her ass cheeks up her sides until my fingers bumped in to her bra and I listened to her pant while I did this.

Female sex sounds were coming from both sides of the wall by now. But to my dismay, Anjali was louder. It was a no-brainer who was the more experienced of the two. Anjali probably came just from thinking about a cock being inside her; I definitely wasted my time with the bra thing, and probably wasted my time fucking her in the first place. Adrienne, on the other hand, was much better than Anjali. She knew how to work her ass; she slammed back and forth in to my groin and it didn’t hurt at all, but it did bring me closer to orgasm. She was a breathy fuck; I would blow my load and Anjali would still be having some kind of loud girl-becomes-a –woman moment in the other room, and the game would be up. Dirk, that goddam man-whore, would beat me to it again. Maybe it was something about him being a senior and me still being a freshman. Maybe I still wasn’t at his level. Maybe I’d never be at his level.

But then I remembered the knocking on the wall when Dirk was with Adrienne two nights before. And I saw clearly what path I had to take.

Adrienne was doing her pitiful whimpers with her head drooped all the way down so the locks of her hair fell backwards on to the sheets as if this the situation was giving her hair pause. If I did my geometry right, I figured she was staring barrel-down at my nuts. Good.

The cocaine was still active in my system. Good.

Freedom lay open on the floor beside her bed. Good.

Her pussy was slippery and warm around my cock. There is no better feeling.

The bed banged against the wall in the other room. I moved faster so the bed banged against the wall on our side.

Adrienne laughed at the breath-end of a moan and looked up at me sideways, saying with a toothy smile, “careful, careful…”

Anjali made some high-pitched fluttering sound in the other room that she’d never made with me. I started crying out in a high-pitched voice: Aaaah! Uuuuuh! Aaaaa! Dirk! Oh Dirk! Harder ! Aaaauuuuh!

Adrienne glanced sideways at me with an uncertain grin.

I made some more mock-Anjali noises. I heard them slow down and Dirk mutter something. I was making them uncomfortable. Good.

Needing to delay my very-near orgasm, I brought a hand down to my cock. I’ve found that holding a couple fingers against my cock will stall me from cumming. At least, I’d noticed it whenever I jerked off, and I hoped it would work during actual intercourse. I located the mast of my cock where it moved up and down and found that Adrienne’s pussy was only deceptively tight. At that point it was large enough for her folds to close around my two fingers. It made a watery sucking sound and Adrienne breathed faster in sync with her pussy opening and closing on my fingers. I banged the bed against the wall again. I made more Anjali sounds.

“Uuuuh Uuuuhhh Ooooooohhhhh!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. Adrienne said, “Dennis…” --and was too in-the-moment to complete the sentence. My last Anjali imitation dissolved in to a cackle as I released my fingers from her sea-monster pussy.

I was so completely in control of the situation, that I decided to make the orgasm I had as thrilling as possible. I hoisted Adrienne up by the waist and plopped my ass down on the sheets. It felt like my cock left her for a moment before being vacumed  back inside. I slipped my fingers back inside her, felt her lips grabbing at my fingers again, and released my cock.

It was pure cinema. Picture this in slow-motion: this naked chick, tits flopping against her chest, head cocked backwards with her mouth and eyes open with the expression you have when you’re not sure what will happen when you slide down this free-fall on a roller-coaster but you know it’s fun (I know she looked like this because my head was propped against her shoulder so I could looked at her face from the side while her shoulder bone flexed in to my chin and I considered sucking on her cheek that had one mole that must have made Adrienne insecure in miniature every time she was intimate with a guy, except for times like now when she was reaching the most intense part of said intimacy, and I instead enjoyed the expression I was bringing to her face and branded it in my memory) bouncing up and down on my lap as my cock slides out of her and I push myself forward on the bed just enough so that I shot off on to Adrienne’s tits and I hit her face and her head jerks down as she cries out in surprise. Back to normal speed. I gripped her bra strap with one hand and unfastened it and tore it off of her. I pushed her forward so my cock slid out from under her, brushing the prickles of her vagina just barely. I wheeled around and threw a shot on to Freedom (Jonathan Franzen is also the author of—SPLAT). I spun all the way around and got some on the cocaine and the mirror. As I did this, I heard Adrienne sit up and exclaim, “What the fuck?” And I heard a knock on the wall from the room behind us. An older male voice yelled, “Hey! Keep it down in there!”

Mission accomplished.

I sat keeled over, staring down at my throbbing cock for what felt like an eternity, laughing. Laughing with the feeling of victory.

Adrienne was hitting my back and my face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She said. Despite the hitting, she sounded fairly composed.

“You know, it was okay to cum inside me,” she said, close to my ear. “And just as I was actually starting to enjoy it, you had to end like that? What kind of moron are you?”

I stood up fast. I turned around and grabbed her bra again. I ran out of the room, naked and laughing.

Dirk burst out of his room. He had somehow managed to put boxers on.

“I won, asshole!” I yelled at him. “I beat you!”

“You did not win, Dennis!” he said. “You fucking cheated and you know it! She’s the one whose supposed to moan, not you!”

“I don’t give a shit!” I said, running around in circle with Adrienne’s bra flapping in the air like a victory flag.

Both girls had come out in to the hall. They both stared at us. Both entirely naked, one with cum all over her.

“Oh. My. God,” said Anjali loudly. “Were you guys…playing some kind of game?”

“One of life’s great mysteries,” I heard Dirk say to her as I ran past them down the hall. He began running after me.

“Come back here, you fucking cheater!” Dirk yelled. “I am absolutely going to kick your ass.”

I heard the girls running, too. Adrienne exclaimed that she couldn’t believe it, she felt like she’d just fucked a twelve-year old. Both of them started yelling insults at me and Dirk. Things I can’t remember specifically. Essentially, there were two naked girls chasing Dirk and those same two naked girls and one guy with boxers on chasing me, also naked, holding a bra. I charged down the stairs and through the hotel lobby. The concierge on duty gaped at us and turned white. I bolted past the same German girls I’d seen the day before and they were startled.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I was running pretty fast and I burst in to the pool area. Nobody was there. Jumping sideways, I vaulted in to the pool.

Such cool, cleansing water. I floated there for a moment. The bra released from my fingers. I thought, What if I could just float in here forever? No more cares in the world, nobody to bother me? Wouldn’t that be excellent?

Human instinct, I guess, made me swim to the top. I suddenly felt exhausted. I felt Dirk’s large hands grip my shoulders and he pulled me over the marble lining and on to the rough granite of the floor beside the pool, where I passed out.


We rode the bus back to the airport. I wore a rumpled t-shirt. Dirk wore a red wife-beater.

I’d been pretty sick. I was worried that I somehow OD’d when I woke up back in our hotel room. Everything felt numb and fuzzy. Dirk gave me a glass of water, asked me if I was feeling better, and as soon as I was feeling better, he kicked my ass. I could tell he wasn’t actually mad at me anymore, though. He just wrestled me to the ground, pinned me there—Dirk is jacked, I never stood a chance—and told me I was completely crazy, I was even worse than he was at my age. We laughed about it. We compared notes. Apparently, Anjali was a squirter. She’d been sitting on his lap and started cumming on his leg and freaked out about it, had turned red and said, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I told him Adrienne’s pussy tasted like bad lemon juice and about doing the line of coke off her. We were buddies again.

On the bus back, breeze blew through the slightly cracked windows. Dirk snored. I stared out the window at the dull, rushing highway. I thought about what Anjali’s G-spot felt like and if she even knew she had one. I went to the claustrophobic bus bathroom and jerked off. I read more of Portnoy’s Complaint.

Checking my missed calls later one, I saw one from Samantha, a girl I was hooking up with in the weeks before coming out here. She’d made me promise, before I left, not to fuck any girls during our vacation and I’d promised and she didn’t need to know. It wasn’t like we were in a relationship.

The other missed call was a drunk dial from my Mom. I know because it came through at 2:30 in the morning. I am probably one of the few guys out there whose Mom drunk dials him. She’s been told to get her act together many times, but she keeps going back to the bottle. There was about a year there where it was okay, and she was sober, and she was much easier to talk to then. But now, we weren’t speaking again, and she was apparently living with her boyfriend in Kentucky in a trailer home.

I looked out the windshield and saw a small bird flying straight at us. It was about to smack in to the windshield. At the last second it veered away, flapping it’s wings very fast as if suddenly realizing, “Oh, shit!” I thought it was mad funny and cracked up. We still had five hours to go.

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