1. The Adventures of Dennis: Stains


    Date: 9/6/2015, Categories: College Sex, Author: Tomjones88, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    I. The Brownie At the end of the year parties at school, everybody gets their pick: either an attic in the woods, a dorm at school, or some sketchy basement. I was happy to choose the sketchy basement of my pal, John, and his girlfriend, Lisa. They had a nice house down the hill from campus. It was June—college for us lets out late—and it was about 95 degrees. The party was obviously going to be crazy. What I did first was drink five beers by myself in my dorm. I walked down to their house by myself singing something loudly. I wore my black tank top and khaki jeans. I flexed my arms as I walked and saw that, thankfully, two weeks of not going to the gym had not really decreased my muscles. I walked alone and sang and did not care about the occasional person giving me a funny look because I did not want to feel lonely. I was, after all, alone. Renee had decided to go to her friend’s film screening. I think she was mad at me at the time. When I got to the house I said hi to everybody fairly quickly and was immediately offered a pot brownie. I took it. The last time I’d eaten a pot brownie I’d hated it; I was sick and vomited. I was in a mood to take my chances again. I talked with John for a while about our Semiotics class and how glad we were to be done with it. I don’t think I came across as too wrecked, although maybe that was just me. I spotted a few girls dancing awkwardly in a group to Miley Cyrus. They cackled when one of them tripped. They were also munching on ...
    brownies. I wearily made my way towards them. The floor felt like velvet. I was walking on sparkling light. I leaned against the wall, throwing the rest of my brownie in the trashcan. I chose to just stare at the girl who had tripped. She was not one to quickly recover; she patted the hem of her skirt again and again, as if it could never be straight. Her fishnet stockings did actually look rumpled, but she wasn’t attending to them. They were tight on her skin to begin with. My cock stirred. “Careful there, looks like you might break your skirt,” I said. She stopped and looked at me. I felt like I was giving her a stone-faced expression and I probably was, because she didn’t scowl at me or tell me to fuck off. She just stared and cast her eyes down when I didn’t look away. Her hair was died a messy orange—you could still see her original brown hair color encroaching on her head—and she didn’t say much. Her skirt unfurled into a pointlessly gray silk design on her torso that sagged somewhat on her thin body and didn’t quite accentuate her tits. She wore a white belt that was too thick and looked like it would strangle her. Weird, weird fashion sense. She noticed me still staring at her and smiled and brushed her hair away. I yelled something back at John. The brownie had taken complete command of my mental headquarters and I felt like bliss. She looked over at me again, a little cock-eyed, but still, she smiled again. She whispered something to her friend and walked to me. “Hi, ...
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