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10
Percy
Saturday 11:23 Am
Shit. That all really fucking happened. I really fucking bumped uglies with some random guy last night.
I don’t even have any idea who he is. For the life of me, I can’t picture his face or remember anything about him other than riding his magnificent cock.
I can’t say I’m shocked I hit the rebound already. I did definitely break up with Anton last night, and I wouldn’t admit it if someone asked, but it kind of fucked with me.
I have some real feelings for my handsome Silver Fox, but I just cannot stand the thought of being tied down forever.I don’t know how to be someone’s wife.
I take a sip of my coffee, trying to concentrate to form a face on my mind.If I can remember what he looked like, surely I can find him somewhere in the city.
If we were all here, there’s got to be a good chance he’s still around today. At least I hope.
I swallow the hot liquid and sigh. We’d have to be pretty fucking lucky to find him though. It’s not exactly like we can just go around and ask.
Like, excuse me, have you seen a possibly attractive man with an unusually large cock around?
“Awfully quiet there, Perce. What’s up?” Mysti asks, a look of concern spread across her face.
“It’s this fucking mystery guy! I can still feel his cock inside me, but I can’t remember his face for the life of me.”
Everyone’s eyes grow wide.
Oops.
“Oh, right. So I just had this massive recollection of being here last night. So like, we drank that absinthe. When I started tripping, I got a little handsy with someone in this coffee shop, and we ended up fucking on the table.”
“Oh,” Becky interjects. “Well, that’s something. Was it light or dark out when we were here?”
“I have no fucking idea. I was seriously tripping hard; the sky could have been green for all I know.”
“Touché,” Sammi adds. “Well, at least that’s something. Maybe the more we think about the night and just go through it all, the more we’ll remember what happened.”
We all pause, silently trying our best to recall anything and everything we can from last night. Much to our dismay, we make no headway.
“Oh! I know! Check your pockets!” Becky shouts.
“Good call!” I reply.
We all fish through our pockets, turning the lining inside out and putting everything shy of pocket lint onto the table.
I pull just a handful of money, my earrings, and a bottle opener from my own pocket. When my hand rests on the table along with the others, I notice something really strange.
We all have the same stamp on our right hands. It’s a circle with some kind of tribal symbol.
I pass my finger over it. It doesn’t smear, but because it doesn’t hurt at all, I can be sure it’s not a fucking tattoo. Because that’s all any of us would need right now.
“Where is this from?” I ask. “Have any of you seen this symbol?”
“Nope. I have no idea.” Mysti responds.
“I think I might know!” Sammi chimes in.
Thank fucking God.
