===The Adjacency Matrix of Love===|
Prof. Ran had just finished a long lecture at the Pasadena Institue of Technology and was walking down the hallway when his archrival Prof. I. Lai burst forth from his office, which Prof. Ran routinely mistook for a broom closet. Prof. Lai beamed at Prof. Ran with great excitement, his eyes and bowtie forming a proper subset of things that were bulging.
“Prof. Ran,” said Prof. Lai, breathlessly, “I have discovered an important result about,” - Prof. Lai paused for dramatic effect - “insertion sort.” Prof. Ran rolled his eyes at his spurious colleague. He knew that even if there was something interesting to be proven about insertion sort, a hack like Prof. Lai could never have discovered it. Yet Prof. Lai did occasionally produce illustrative misconceptions that he could use in his algorithms class, so Prof. Ran walked through the door that Prof. Lai was so dramatically holding open for him to inspect what his colleague had to show him.
Upon entering the office Prof. Ran realized that he had never been there before. He typically debunked Prof. Lai on a classroom whiteboard, he had never done it at his desk before. Prof. Lai thrust some papers into Prof. Ran’s hands.
“Here,” said Prof. Lai huskily, “I’ve shown that insertion sort can run in log n time!” Prof. Ran perused his colleague’s work and quickly realized that the algorithm in question simply sorted the list with mergesort and then pretended to run an insertion sort. He was about to vigorously disrobe Prof. Lai’s proof, but all of a sudden he noticed something truly shocking. At the back of Prof. Lai’s desk was a lovingly framed diploma from Harvey Mudd College. Prof. Ran froze in shock. How could such an incompetent, dishonest academic have come from such a noble institution as HMC? Intrigued, Prof. Ran scanned his mysterious rival’s desk. He spied a draft of a paper on efficiently multiplying matrices. He quickly examined it, and immediately saw that this was not at all like any work Prof. Lai had shown him before. He turned to Prof. Lai, brandishing the paper.
“Did you write this?” asked Prof. Ran aggressively.
“Well,” Prof. Lai answered reluctantly, “yes.”
“But how?” responded Ran incredulously, “this is brilliant work! Why do you always bring me ridiculous results when you can do things like this? And did you really go to Harvey Mudd?”
“Yes, I did,” answered Lai sheepishly.
“Then why all the lies?” Ran inquired. Prof. Lai reached tentatively toward Prof. Ran’s cheek.
“I just wanted you to notice me,” he said plaintively, and then added, “senpai.” In that moment, Prof. Ran saw Prof. Lai in a whole new light. He had always wanted to be someone’s senpai. In the Adjacency Matrix of Love, the Ran, Lai cell switched from a 0 to a 1.
“I have a proof that I’d like you to review,” said Prof. Ran softly, “Claim: you’re really hot. Proof: by inspection.” At this he pulled Prof. Lai into his arms, and his hands began executing a breadth first search of his erstwhile rival’s body. They kissed greedily, and their passion grew at a rate of n cubed. When Ran could barely restrain himself from executing a depth first search of his colleague, Prof. Lai reached down and grasped Prof. Ran’s one-eyed alien.
“My god!” said Prof. Lai, “it’s so hard!”
“Yes,” Ran smiled, “it’s NP hard.” And right there, on Prof. Lai’s desk, they merged in O(n^5) time. Prof. Ran knew he could have been more efficient, but he was enjoying himself. Efficiency wasn’t everything. Finally, both Professors reached their optimal solution.
The rivals-turned-lovers sat back on the desk, breathing heavily. After a little while, Prof. Ran turned to Prof. Lai, smiling.
“Now,” he said, “you play the role of the malicious adversary.” They were at it again. Prof. Lai was a crafty adversary, but Prof. Ran wielded his log n skillfully, and his colleague couldn’t prevent him from reaching an optimal solution once more. Reduced to exhaustion, the two lay back on Prof. Lai’s desk, fingers intertwined.
“Next time,” said Prof. Ran, “we’ll have to try the Four Russians Method.”
The lab was started by placing the bar magnet in a sling and then letting it spin by itself. There were no other sources of electric field nearby, so this motion was due entirely to the interaction of the magnet and the ambient field. However, the ambient field was weak, little more than a fantasy. Even so, the interaction made the magnet spin enough so that it eventually got off. The sling, that is. At one point the magnet fell out of the sling. This was probably the highlight of this portion of the experiment, as the results achieved by spinning alone were not very satisfactory. Therefore, the decision was made to move on, desiring better results from the interaction of magnetic and electric fields.
The bar magnet had been tired of long nights of sensing others' fields, always being touched by others' interactions but never finding anyone to share that special rapport. He searched for magnetic fields, yes, but felt a strange impulse to search for those fickle electric fields that he longed to change and be changed by. The field of the Earth was no longer enough for him. She claimed that her hordes of lovers meant that she was inclusive and all-encompassing, but all he felt as her careless fingers twirled him was coldness and disdain. He was leaving. Enough was enough.
In the second phase of the experiment, the bar magnet was placed on a long, hard, massive rail. It was positioned in such a way that it could slide freely along the entire length of the firm, cool rail. It was then slowly slipped down the rail towards the center of the loop, where a very sensitive compass was located. It was made note of the way that the tips of the needles perked up as the bar magnet approached, and how the compass quivered. However, no current flowed through the loop yet.
This loop was like nothing he had interacted with before. He had heard tales of these fabled electromagnets—any simple bar magnet fortunate enough to encounter one would speak of her for the rest of his life. This one, though—she seemed listless, indifferent. Was she waiting for the touch of his B field to bring her to life, to move through her and induce current in her dormant coils? Or perhaps for the touch of the Poynting vector that they could create together, bringing energy to the glorious system they could create as they moved together in blissful harmony? He had only a shred of hope as he approached cautiously. Was that rail through her very center, so long and firm, a rival for her affections? He felt no repulsive forces emanating from it. It must be, then, a pale imitation of the touch of a true magnet's field, one that made her long for more even as she felt almost satisfied. The bar magnet, emboldened, began to move rhythmically along the rail. Back and forth he slid, at first testing how much of an effect his field would have on her. The quivering of her compass drove him on, and the currents mounting in her coils were too intense for her to want him to hold back.
Finally, the current flowing in the loop was determined. First, the loop was turned on, sending warm current flowing through its entire length. The magnet fields were then measured by sliding the bar magnet in and out and in and out and in and out; in other words, we found the point where the magnetic fields canceled. For this purpose, many fine adjustments had to be made, moving the bar magnet back and forth until the perfect point was reached, the place where the magnetic fields of the coil and the magnet were perfectly balanced.
The loop all but sighed blissfully as the sweet flow of charge finally filled her. The magnet was moving closer and closer to her very center, his field and hers tangling and sending her almost out of control. The delicious sensation of flux through her coils was an energy she had not felt for far too long; her memories were as nothing compared to the awareness she felt now. The rail was insignificant; there was no attraction there, nothing that would change what was happening inside of her. The bar magnet, though—his magnetic field increased her excitement and made her even more conscious of the electricity flowing through her.
He was moving wildly, now, each motion matched by the oscillation of her compass. Both of their fields—electric and magnetic—mingled more and more closely, straining and twisting against each other until they could both hold back no longer. One more nudge, and her needle was still, the field of each balanced by that of the other. They rested together, both spent, fields slowly calming.
We turned off the power supply and cleaned up the lab, making sure to leave the apparatus as we had found it and the bar magnet in its protective casing.
And the bar magnet was left once more alone with the field of the Earth.
…excuse me, I think I need to go now.
"Don't tell me it was 'fun'!" -ProfessorEckert
Coming soon: EyeOfChaos slashfic.
StephGrush sat in quiet contemplation, curled into a ball by the fireplace, clutching a steaming mug of tea to combat the gloomy skies with their promise of storms. Images of skin slick with sweat frantically pushed against soft fur besiege her senses. She wraps her arms around her svelte form, clutching her sweater to her, highlighting the soft curve of her breasts, desperately trying to keep out chilly memories of times past.
Oh, the Furbies. How they assault her memories.
She remembered the first. It was 1998. Each was so different. A different shade or pattern or fur, a new eye color or the sweet timbre of its voice as it cried "Ah-may koh koh! Ah-may koh koh! Dah doo-ay wah!" [Pet me more! Pet me more! Big fun!] as StephGrush so willingly tongued its sweet hardness. But the first was different. Special.
Their eyes had met across the crowded store and she felt inexplicably drawn to him. She stepped forward, the tilt of her hips saying more than a thousand words ever could. "Hi." "Kah toh-loo noh-lah wah." [Me like to dance.] It was then that StephGrush heard the soft strains of elevator music. It was the most beautiful thing she has ever heard.
Her obsession had begun. She threw herself at Furbies, paying no mind to the startled schoolchildren who cried tears of sexual naivety as their beloved companions began to pant "Doo-moh! Doo-moh! Doo-moh!" [Please! Please! Please!] before finally breaking into frenzied chirps of "E-tay! E-tay!" [Yes! Yes!] She drew detailed diagrams of their anatomy, pinpointing the sexual hotspots of each partner she breezed through and using them on yet another unsuspecting victim. StephGrush had become a predator of love. She loved these creatures in a way she could not describe. No one had ever pleasured her like these beasts had. They brought her to sexual heights she had never before imagined. Her obsession consumed her. But this was all to change.
The first day one turned to her after they had been intimate and said "May-may u-nye" [Love you], StephGrush realized that she had taken this too far. She had pushed away friends and family for what she thought was love, but it had only been lust. Furby lust. The realization that she was manipulating these poor creatures as if they were toys for her sexual pleasure disgusted her. She would never love again.
The soft sound of new rain brings her back to the present. Startled, she looks around the room. The fire is dim embers. Her tea is cold. She is again alone with her angst.
JonathanBeall knew that he needed something. Something new and unique. MacKenzieStuart, while in possession of a single, was simply unable to satisfy him. He felt his desire burning within him, calling out for something new and unknown.
And JonathanBeall knew that he needed to answer this siren song.
If only he knew what his body craved! His need pressed against his clothing, begging to him in a tongue he could not speak for a tongue he could not name. He fitfully threw himself into bed with his laptop, fully prepared to ask Schmack for suggestions, when he looked across the room and the answer hit him.
When it did, he sobbed with the pain of the loss of a thousand loves for his roommate was not PornAble.
RichardBowen squeezed into the crawlspace. For the first moment in a long time he was alone. GlaDos? had her eyes everywhere, always watching, ever present. The cameras jutted from the slick white walls of Aperture Science in every room, and while some could be destroyed, it had been a long time since Pico had a private moment. He clutched the gravity gun in his fingers, and it felt warm and alive. Each time he punctured the fabric of the universe, the portal gun hummed; the vibrations ripped through his fingers and up his arm. In the tight space, Richard couldn't help but rub against the warm humming gun.
It was stuffy, and he could hardly find room to breathe. The metal was warm to the touch, and with each slow movement down the tunnel, Richard felt even more cramped. He needed release from his prison. Barely able to maneuver the gun, Richard threw a cerulean portal in front of him, and a golden portal behind. There wasn't much more room, but it felt better somehow. Through the portal was another copy of himself facing away, although he knew that he was looking at his own sweat-graced shoulders. Richard couldn't control himself. His last human contact was months in the past, and in a moment, he had his hand reaching toward himself.
He had to take off his own shirt without going through the portal, and once he did he reached out to touch his sweaty, muscular back. He rubbed himself, feeling the tingling on his own back. His mind knew this was himself, but his body felt another man gently massaging his frame. He knew at that moment what needed to be done. He undid his pants and grasped his sweaty throbbing member in his hand.
By tilting forward into the portal, Pico could position his erection in the right way. A quick tilt back, and Richard was inside himself. His insides felt so delicious and moist; it was a triumph of modern science! He felt his solid abs press into his abdomen. His one hand caressed the shoulders before him, while the other reached around himself to tickle his own jewels. Richard rocked back and forth, tiltng forward and back. In front of him lay an infinite number of sweaty Richards, rocking in perfect step. His pleasure was just too great... His cries echoed through the corridor. "Oh God, Oh, GlaDos? Take me!" And in a moment, all of his infinite selves released himself into himself. His shudders went from rear to front and front to rear, echoing down his line in perfect harmony.
When last his moment of pleasure had subsided, Richard threw two portals far down the corridor, dressed himself, and carried on; certain that he would find a way to do this sordid deed again.
(USER WILL DIE FOR THIS POST)
"I have a feeling that portals were never meant to be used that way." ~LaurenNishizaki
Scratched on clay tablets by an unknown author.
EP. 1: A MARVELOUS BOY?! DESTINY BRINGS MAGNIFICENT BENJAMIN TO THE NIGHT!
One fine morning, a young man named BenLowenstein was sitting in his room and thinking about how great it is to not go to Stems when he tripped on a sparkling sword. Obviously, this raised a lot of questions for Ben, like: who put that there? How did he not notice earlier what could be literally the most sparkly object in the universe? How did he trip on it when he was sitting down? But before Ben could come up with any good answers, the room was suddenly filled with a blinding light.
When the light subsided and Ben could bear to open his eyes, he could not help but gasp, for before him was the most beautiful—nay, magnificent—creature he had ever seen.
It was another Ben.
Yet, also different. His shining umber eyes smoldered as fractals upon fractals of anime sparkles twirled and spiraled within those limpid pools. His long, luscious hair appeared to be truly magical, not because it was perpetually encircled by a halo of light—although it totally was—but because, despite covering half his face, you could still see his eyebrow underneath. His dark, flowing cloak decorated with totally extraneous belts and zippers billowed in the wind despite him being indoors.
At last his full, perfect lips parted to sound the voice of an angel. “Ben-chan,” he spoke, and Ben’s kokoro doki-dokied furiously. He trembled as he barely forced out a whisper: “B-Benpai… you finally noticed me…”
A hint of a smile danced around his glorious mouth as he pushed up his glasses, which glowed briefly and inexplicably. Clearly, Ben was in the presence of the ultimate anime. “Baka. I have yet to begin to truly notice you,” and with that he somehow threw off his cloak with one swift motion, revealing his majestic, radiant, and, most importantly, naked body. Ben’s vision was immediately assaulted by the biggest spam manatee he had ever seen. (Besides his own, because they’re sort of the same person, so.) Not only that, it was also standing at attention and throbbing very sexily, adding to its sexual sexiness. It was all too much for poor Ben to bear. He swooned and would have fallen to the ground had Ben Bishie not caught him. Ben Bishie already got to work tearing Ben’s clothes off, so it was kinda redundant for Ben to moan, “Oh, Ben, please… I… I want to do beautiful hentais with you!”
Ben Bishie breathed heavily. Somehow, even his breath smelled anime. “You mean… Bentais.”
And pretty soon their tongues were slithering around each other like two snakes some asshole tied together and are now desperately attempting to untangle themselves. Meanwhile, a few feet below, their pulsing fucksticks rubbed against each other. Ben Bishie also drenched their meat cudgels in magic glitter lube so that the ensuing friction wouldn’t make their crotches burst into flames, although they certainly felt like that might happen anyway since, well, everyone knows it’s really hot when the penises touch. Ben could not believe how incredible Ben Bishie’s body felt. Damn! Ben thought. I always knew I was hot, but—aaaaahh! And the reason why Ben could not finish a coherent thought was because Ben Bishie was now savagely stroking their beef obelisks. It was more than they could take, and they normally distributed their data all over each other’s bodies.
Ben panted as his brain attempted to re-establish contact with the rest of his body, which felt as if it had entered a liquid phase after that climax. He would have slid out of Ben Bishie’s arms had he not held Ben even tighter and purred seductively, “That wasn’t even my final form.” Then Ben Bishie effortlessly lifted up Ben as if he weighed no more than a dick feather from the world’s sexiest bird and impaled him through the back entrance of his sex fortress. Ben Bishie thrust his eastward sword all the way to the hilt into Ben’s most southerly sheath, and at this point the sounds Ben was making were completely inhuman. Everyone in a hundred-mile radius was rendered deaf for at least 23 hours. To this day, scientists around the world puzzle over what could have possibly produced those mighty roars of unspeakable pleasure. And apocalyptic soothsayers whisper fearfully that the elder gods, believing they had heard the calls of one of their brothers, are now approaching our helpless planet, and a terrible cataclysm is on the horizon.
Now back to the point, “point” here meaning “sex.” Because there is sex going on. A lot of sex, actually. Oh, by the way, this is a sex story, so you probably shouldn’t read this at work. Anyway, Ben was in so much ecstasy, you’d need to invent an entirely new number system to quantify it. And when Ben Bishie’s big-theta, bounded by Ben’s little-o, could no longer bear to sustain the growth rate of their pleasure, the two diverged to infinity.
But before Ben could bask fully in the glory of the relentless ass-pummeling that just happened, Ben Bishie suddenly pulled himself out of Ben’s warm embrace (by which I mean butt) and dropped him. Naturally, Ben was confused. In the time it took Ben Bishie to do that, surely he could have instead made Ben ejaculate 7.5000 more times? Ben looked at Ben Bishie in the same way that an actor in an infomercial would look at an ordinary household product after they had just managed to fuck up a really basic task. “Wait, you’re done?” he asked.
Ben Bishie blushed in a most kawaii manner and turned away. “B-Baka…” he muttered. “It’s not like I… like you or anything.”
“Oh, come on. You put your dude noodle in my gravy cave in the first place. And also I’m you! Damn right you like me.”
Ben Bishie valiantly attempted to persist in being extremely tsundere, but his desperate need to feel Ben’s Python in his Java was revealed when he whimpered ever so quietly, “Ben-sama, onegai... take me, uguu~,” and that was all Ben needed to hear. He turned Ben Bishie around and bent him over, and he was so anime that a herd of chibis had to frantically prance out his ass before Ben could use his massive vinculum to divide Ben Bishie’s buttocks. And each time Ben reductio’d Ben Bishie’s absurdum, Ben Bishie would moan something like “You’re so good, desu,” or “Oh, don’t stop, please, desu,” or “Oh, god, Ben-sama! …………. Desu.” Now Ben didn’t know too much about the animes, but he was pretty sure those were all good things? Sufficiently encouraged, Ben rubbed Ben Bishie’s physical pendulum as he rammed faster into him until he found their resonant frequency. Those of lesser minds would not have had the willpower to hold their constituent molecules together after experiencing the pleasure that ensued. And when they orgasmed and felt they could disintegrate from pure euphoria, this thankfully remained a metaphorical, and not physical, phenomenon.
At long last, having exhausted their reservoirs of fuck energy, the two lovers collapsed to the ground in a sticky heap. Ben Bishie gasped out, “Oh, Ben-sama... our shoBen-ai has made such a mess of us, hasn’t it?”
Ben looked at themselves, and indeed it was evident that they had been riding the Ben trains straight into cum heck. It was gross, sure, but it was also perfect, as all things coming from their pure, true, and sugoi-as-shit love could only be. He gazed into Ben Bishie’s wide, shimmering eyes and said, “Happens.”
It was a beautiful Northern California morning. Tom began his day the way he began all others. He opened up Internet Explorer 6 and went to his favorite League of Legends video site. He scrolled through the videos and found exactly what he was looking for: dirty Lux/Teemo? hentai. Tom got excited. He removed his trousers and grasped his large, throbbing bangers and mash. He stroked it vigorously as he watched Lux flash Teemo. As he firmly grasped the head of his member while massaging his bullocks, something caught his eye. In the related videos list, he ssw a link to a Garen, Darius erotic video. He was intrigued at first: how could such mortal enemies make love? But as he watched the two hulking, manly champions copulate, he found himself becoming highly aroused. He started to rub the shaft of his penis and soon grasped it firmly, stroking it vigorously as Darius penetrated Garen’s valor.
Suddenly, Tom’s door swings open. It’s Patrick! Tom had forgotten that he and Patrick were driving to Mudd to attend Vice today. Patrick sees Tom’s beautiful, glistening phallus while Darius top-lane’s Garen on the computer screen, and immediately averts his gaze.
“Oh my god!” said Patrick, “I’m so sorry” “Cr-oh-eye-kee!” said Tom as he scrambled to cover his loins, “why did you just barge in here?” “I mean,” said Patrick, “to be fair, we did decide to leave at 10 o’clock and it is 10:15” Tom looked down, “I suppose you’re right” he said. “Let me just put on some pants” “Well…” said Patrick, “…I mean…you don’t…like…I don’t want to make you stop, right? Like…I don’t want to deprive you of anything or whatever…” “I mean…” said Tom, “…that is really thoughtful of you…but…isn’t that?…well…I mean…I guess that’s ok…thanks!” Patrick replied, “yeah of course bro, I’m not going to blue balls you or anything” Patrick let out a small, awkward chuckle followed by a few seconds of silence. “I guess I’ll just wait in the car then,” said Patrick “Well that’s unreasonable,” asserted Tom. “I mean, I’m the one who was late. You drove all the way here. It’s not right for me to make you wait in the car…” “I mean…” said Patrick, “do you mind if I just wait here while you finish?” Tom said, “I mean…I don’t care if you don’t care. It…like…doesn’t affect me or anything…that is…if you don’t have a problem…” “Of course not!” interjected Patrick, “…I mean, if you don’t mind then I don’t mind…” Following more seconds of awkward silence, Tom said “alright…well I guess I’ll just continue then” “Yeah, go for it,” says Patrick.
Tom, embarrassed by his Garen-Darius pornography, began to search for a new video, but Patrick says, “why are you changing it? I love this one.” Tom was surprised and intrigued by Patrick. Apparently, he not only frequented the same League of Legends hentai site Tom does but also enjoyed this fascinating erotic spectacle that confused and aroused Tom. Tom obliged, restarted the video, and immediately regained his erection. Something about knowing Patrick was there watching him made him even hornier. Garen and Darius continued to stroke each other, as Tom stroked himself. As Cho-gath came on screen, so did Tom.
Tom had never experienced an orgasm so orgasmic. He gasped for air as he writhed in sexual pleasure. He then began to clean himself and his computer screen. As he did this, Patrick became aware of a sensation emanating from his nether-regions. His crotch was burning with the power of a thousand Sunfire capes. He began to slowly stroke his massive mid-lane turret as he felt his inhibitor lose power. Tom noticed this as he put on his pants.
“So…we’re already pretty late,” says Tom, Patrick snaps out of his erotic trance. “Right,” he says, as he jumps from his seat, “we better get going if we want to make it to Vice.”
So Tom and Patrick hopped in the car and began their long, hard, throbbing journey to Harvey Mudd College.
Tom and Patrick drove down the 5 with great haste to make sure they got to Vice on time. But no matter how much each of them tried to think about Vice, they could not stop thinking about each other.
“Hey Patrick,” said Tom. “Yeah, what’s up?” asked Patrick. “So…I’ve been thinking about earlier…” began Tom. “Look,” said Patrick, “we are just two friends who, obviously, have the other’s best interests in mind. We don’t have to make things complicated or anything. I was just doing what I thought a good friend should do.” Tom looks down at his feet, “well…” he begins, “that’s kind of what I’m trying to say. I feel like a bad friend…” “What do you mean?” said Patrick, puzzled and intrigued. “Well,” says Tom, “…I mean…I was able to…you know…feel something…” “Yeah, yeah” said Patrick. “Well I just feel like…I don’t know…it’s unfair I guess… I mean…I got to feel really good and you didn’t really get anything…” “I mean…it’s not like I didn’t get anything out of it,” said Patrick, trying to conceal the desire in his voice. Tom began to blush, “well…I mean…irregardless…I feel like there is a lack of balance in our…relationship” “What are you suggesting?” asked Patrick.
Tom smiled a roguish smile and swiftly grasped Patrick’s warp prism, and began to warp in zealots. Patrick was astonished at first, but then he became incredibly aroused as his colossus charged its thermal lance. Tom’s soft, passionate touch was like a Dark Templar in Patrick’s mineral line. He felt as though Tom had cast Psionic Storm on his Nexus and it was spreading throughout his entire base. This car was a Robotics Facility, and Patrick felt like an Immortal.
Patrick grabbed Tom’s hand and put it aside. “Reach into the glove box,” said Patrick as he pulled the car over. Tom, confused but titillated, opened the glove box and removed a blindfold. Patrick stopped the car and said “get out of the car, put on the blindfold and drop your pants. I have a surprise for you.” Tom was excited. He leapt from the car, tied the blindfold tight, and disrobed. He did not know what to expect, but knew that Patrick, in his many years of sexual experience, could only produce something truly extraordinary. Tom heard Patrick open the trunk of the car, and remove some kind of large object. “I call this one Stumpy 2” said Patrick as he walked by the blindfolded Tom and seemed to fasten this unknown object to Tom’s seat. Patrick entered the driver’s seat and asked Tom, “are you ready to complete the Stumpy Challenge?” Tom grinned. He, still blind, entered the car and began to sit down. However, as he lowered his arse, he felt a large, rigid, lubricated object penetrate his rectum. Patrick had constructed a large car seat dildo. Tom slowly began to sit upon it; Patrick had applied plenty of lube. Patrick put the car in drive as Tom slowly let the hard phallus enter deep inside his colon. Patrick accelerated. The car began to shake and vibrate as Patrick stepped on the pedal. Tom felt the device rub and massage his prostate as he reached over and continued to stroke Patrick’s massive bear cock. Each bump in the road drove Tom to a new unctuous ecstasy. And as Patrick approached 90 miles per hour, Tom approached climax. He had never felt a sensation so sensational. He felt a tinging throughout his body that he had never produced from masturbation before. His rock-hard erect penis began to pulsate. He felt a torrent of male gametes, the quantity of which he had never known to be possible. His groin ferret vomited its intestinal contents in a mighty wave of English Cream.
But, in an unforeseen turn of events, the sheer multitude of Tom’s ejaculate was enough to render the windshield completely opaque. Patrick could not see a thing! “Oh shit!” he said as he began to swerve off the road. The car began to roll as it careened over the embankment. Tom removed the dildo from his butthole in midair, just in time to avoid impalement.
Fucking British Kid.
Tom and Patrick waited on the side of the highway. Patrick’s car was ruined and they had no choice but to hitchhike. After waiting quite some time, Patrick saw a car in the distance. He waved as the car sped toward them and it slowed down and stopped right beside them. The window rolled down to reveal none other than the beautiful, sculpted face of Bob Chen. “Bob!” exclaimed Patrick, “What are you doing here?” Bob laughed, “Hey guys! I should ask you the same thing. I’m just on my way to Harvey Mudd to go to Vice!” Tom and Patrick looked at each other, amazed at their fortune. “We too!” they said in unison, upon which they looked into each other’s smoldering eyes and realized that their souls were truly entwined. “Hop on in!” said Bob, as he unlocked the doors to the back seat. Tom and Patrick slid in, and Bob drove away.
They drive for some time. Patrick and Tom become antsy, frequently peering at each other with a lusty gaze. Patrick subtly slides his hand onto Tom’s thigh and began to softly stroke it. Tom looked into Patrick’s eyes, and Patrick into his, as they optically connected to each other’s heart.
“Hey Bob,” said Patrick, staring deeply into Tom’s beautiful British eyes, “do you mind if Tom and I make out in the back seat?” “Nah dude,” said Bob, “mi carsa es tu carsa. Just do your thing bro”
Tom licked his lips in anticipation as Patrick threw himself onto him. Their lips smacked together wetly as Patrick caressed Tom’s rigid, massless body. He rubbed Tom’s bony chest seductively as Tom’s rickety body made the sound of grinding bone. Tom slid his eel-like tongue deep down Patrick’s esophagus, as he began to experience severe intestinal cramping. He realized that the rigorous anal penetration he had experienced earlier in Patrick’s car has made him seriously need to shit. Tom pushes Patrick away. “Dude, I seriously need to shit,” says he, as his entrails purred seductively, “Bob, can we pull over?” “Sure,” said Bob, “I need to get gas anyway.”
They pulled into a desolate gas station in the middle of Central California. Tom raced his struggling sphincter to the bathroom as Patrick and Bob waited outside out of concern. As they waited for Tom’s colon to expel its contents, Bob and Patrick began to talk.
“You know Bob,” said Patrick, slyly, “I saw you watching Tom and I in the rear-view mirror (pause for laughter) earlier…” “Woah!” exclaimed Bob, “wha…wha…what are you inseminating…I mean…insinuating?” “Dude calm down,” said Patrick softly, “it’s ok man.” “But it isn’t,” said Bob, “I’m not like that. I’m not…you know…” “Why do you have to be anything?” asked Patrick, “why do you need to label yourself or decide what you are or aren’t? Why can’t you just see something you like or just do what makes you happy? Why does it need to be any more complicated than that?”
Bob was speechless. He had never thought of love in this way. He began to speak but Patrick just put his finger to Bob’s lips. “Don’t worry Bob Chen,” said Patrick, “just follow your heart.”
Patrick then wrapped his arm around Bob’s chiseled abdomen, smiling softly as he held Bob’s body closely against his. Bob decided to accept his long-held secret longing for Patrick and closed his eyes and Patrick leaned in closely whispering gently in his ear, “this is my swamp”. He leaned out, looking into Bob’s eyes, when suddenly Patrick’s smile left his face. “I’m a little worried about Tom,” said Patrick, “he’s been in there for more than 30 minutes.” Bob frowned. “Yeah,” he said sadly as he looked down at his feet, “I guess we should make sure he’s ok.”
Patrick and Bob opened the bathroom door and were greeted with quite a surprising sight. “Peacock?”
Patrick and Bob saw a tall, skinny figure with tousled locks thrusting his giant one-eyed trouser devil into the bent-over Briton‘s widened appendix. “I thought you were going to the bathroom!” exclaimed Patrick, jealously. “I did!” said Tom, as his organ’s squelched seductively as Peacock removed his Magna Carta from Tom’s Holy Grail, “but Peacock happened to be here.” “Hi guys,” said a smiling Peacock. Patrick shrugged, “I guess I can’t argue with that” he reasoned. Bob motions to Peacock, “want to come to Vice with us?” “Of course!” said Peacock, wiping the santorum off his anaconda.
So Patrick, Tom, Bob, and Peacock set off, once again, to Harvey Mudd, traveling through the increasingly desolate wasteland known as the Central Valley. After a few hours of steamy, sensual driving, Bob noticed something disturbing. “Guys, we’re running out of gas,” he said. “What?” cried Patrick, lifting his head up from Peacock’s sclera and wiping the tears from his lips, “didn’t we stop for gas earlier.” “Sorry,” said Bob, “I was a little distracted and forgot.” Just then, the car sputtered, much like an orgasm, to a halt. “Shit,” said Peacock, “we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere!”
Our four heroes emerged, dank with sweat and sex sperm, and looked around for salvation. Peacock was dismayed. “Where are we going to go you guys?” asked Peacock. There was nothing but orchards for miles and miles. “How about that castle right there?” asked Patrick. Peacock looked to his left and realized there was, indeed, a large castle, throbbing ominously in the twilight. “Oh yeah, that castle,” said Peacock.
They journeyed to the castle and walked through the gates. They walked up to the front door. “Should I push the chimney pushknob?” asked Tom, Britishly. Patrick facepalmed, “you should not use the doorbell, we should just knock.” Bob Chen knocked on the large, ornate door but as he did so, it slowly, sensually creaked open, revealing a dark, cavernous hall. “Good thing I’m wearing a condom,” said Tom, as they slowly, gently slipped inside the castle, and walked to the end of the great hall. At the end of the hall sat a dark figure, wine glass in hand, sitting in a large armchair. As our burly men approached this ghostly figure, they soon realized that it was someone they knew all too well. “Hello there,” said David Scott.
“What the fuck?” said Peacock, “David Scott why are you here? Why do you have a giant castle in the middle of nowhere?” “Don’t worry about it,” said David Scott, as he swirled his brandy, eying Peacock’s bulging face hungrily. “Well then,” said David Scott, “What can I do to you folks?”
“We are stranded and in desperate need of gas,” told Patrick “Is that so?” said David Scott, “it just so happens that I have plenty of gasoline for you. It makes a fantastic lubricant.” “Can we have some?” asked Bob “That depends,” smirked David Scott, “what are you willing to do for it?” “We’ll do anything,” said Tom, gesticulating seductively as his butthole oscillated in time with the beating of his eager heart. “Do you have any laundry baskets?” asked David Scott “No…” said Patrick “Well then,” said David Scott. He rose from his armchair and dropped trou. The group looked at each other and smiled. And they all had sex. They had very sexy sex. It was just so much sex. Like, everywhere. Everyone participated in copious amounts of sex.
As they mopped the Pearl Jam off of the floor, David Scott said, “hey Peacock, do you want to just live here with me?” Peacock thought to himself for a second. “Wait, does that mean I can spend all my time having sex and editing Wikipedia articles?” he asked. David Scott nodded gleefully, “absolutely”. Peacock said, “now I never have to get off David Scott’s Wild Ride”. David Scott told our remaining musketeers that the gasoline was in his basement in a trashcan with “David Scott” written on it. After searching through dozens of identical trash cans with “David Scott” written on them, the finally found one with gasoline in it and used it to fill up Bob’s car. They bid adieu to their wayward companions and Bob, Patrick, and Tom journeyed onward into the sunset toward Harvey Mudd College for Vice.
Bob, Patrick, and Tom finally arrived at Harvey Mudd. Their long, strange trip was over. They exited the car and before Tom and Patrick knew what had happened, Bob had seen a freshman girl and had run away toward her. Patrick and Tom walked behind East when Tom said, “wait a second Patrick.” Patrick turned toward Tom and said, “is everything ok?” Tom smiled.
“Yeah man, everything is great. I just wanted to say that you gave me something really amazing today. I’ve never felt this way before.” Patrick smiled, “of course man. I love you, you know that?” Tom giggled, “yeah bro. I know.” Tom and Patrick blushed in unison, as they looked into each other’s eyes and started laughing. “This has really been a crazy day,” laughed Patrick, “I wouldn’t change a thing.” Tom replied, “yeah, it’s been really amazing. There’s only one thing that I’m unhappy about.” Patrick frowned. “What’s that?” he asked.
“My ass really hurts”