It's been a good night at Jimmies, you have scored and after a phat pizza base trip you are both heading back to your place.
Unfortunately you live in moatside (curtasy of Graham 'the wet' towel).
After assuring your pull that
you are not trying to mug them in the alleyway and wadeing through the trash of a tipped bin (so romantic) you head to get into your 'room' which is more like a fucking shoebox.
'mind the mould' you say in a sexy voice as you both climb over your pile of laundry as there is nowhere else to put it. You can see the disgust on their face.
Nevertheless you persist and
get into it. It's a bit of a squeeze in your hobbit sized bed and thus spend more time falling out onto the sticky floor that hasn't been cleaned (thanks to the uni cutting costs for some new bloody college).
It all ends in an orgasmic climax. Not from you, not from your pull, but instead you room dumps it's load that been building up in the walls on you. Drenching
everything in mouldy quagmire.
You pull quickly runs away.
Maybe you'll have more luck in Klute tomorrow. They are known to like it a bit more dirty
