Chapter 27

Percy

7:24 PM FRIDAY

So I’m in the back of a tuk tuk, bouncing up and down on the big, meaty cock of my on-again-off-again sugar daddy as we speed through the streets of Bangkok.

“Oh my god, I know,” I moan as my eyes go crossed. “Hemingway and Fitzgerald were super gay together—but F. Scott loved Zelda! What was he supposed to do?”

Silver Fox tries to say something back to me, but I just clap my hand over his pretty bearded mouth and keep driving his D deeper and deeper into my B-hole. He’s pretty much the size and thickness of a baseball bat, so I’m more than happy to feel him tossing it into my dugout, if you know what I mean.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Percy,” Sammi yells over to me as her tuk tuk pulls alongside ours. “Can you take it up the ass on your own time, please?!”

Sammi is being a total buzzkill right now. Like, snoooooore.

Luckily, she’s wedged between Liam and Becks as they try to make out across her lap while Mysti May flashes her tits at tourists from the front seat.

But surrounding Sammi with fun has totally not made her fun by osmosis. Like, honestly, I don’t even think she’s fucking drunk—boooooo.

“You’re going to get us arrested, Percy!” Sammi pleads over to me while our tuk tuks race onward, side-by-side.

“You’re gonna get us arrested!” I slur back at her, grinding ass down on Silver Fox’s man-meat until he’s balls-fuckin’-deep. “Wee-woo-wee-woo, it’s the fun police! Officer Sammi, can I see your badge?”

“I said one drink.” Sammi cradles her face in her hands while Liam and Becky tongue each other’s face-holes over her back. “One drink! Why couldn’t you guys respect that?”

“Probably for the same reason Percy couldn’t respect the no shoes, no shirt, no service policy at that expat bar.” Mysti May looks over her shoulder and sticks her tongue out at me.

I flip her off with both hands while I keep riding my silver stallion with my titties flopping in the Bangkok breeze.

“Probably for the same reason Mysti May sexually harassed that Thai massage lady,” Becky comes up from air mid-make-out sesh for just long enough to add.

“Probably for the same reason Becky gave me a hand job for poker chips,” Liam agrees before diving back in, tongue-first.

“You guys are killing me,” Sammi groans.

I mean, you know how it is, though, right? First, you’re just casually flashing your nips at your on-again-off-again sugar daddy so he can eat pad thai off your titties at an expat bar.

Then your maybe-gay BFF is misinterpreting the signals from a pretty Thai masseuse and you’re getting kicked out of a massage parlor.

Then your other BFF is making her husband spray his sexy British man-seed all over the green felt of a poker table.

And before you know it, you’re racing through the streets of Bangkok in the back of a tuk tuk with big, fat billionaire dick shoved up your ass while you and your gal pals head to a ladyboy bar.

Typical Friday night, right?

So, there I am, swallowing Silver Fox’s peen with my ass and riding it straight to anal O-Town when Sammi breaks out the big guns.

“One drink at this bar,” she says. “And then we’re going back to the Golden Gun to crash. Okay?”

“YES! YES! YES!” I scream, gripping the seat in front of me while Silver Fox grunts beneath me.

“What?” Sammi raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really? You mean it?”

I laugh, realizing the mix-up while Silver Fox pumps my ass full of cum.

“Oh my god, sorry,” I giggle. “I was coming. But like…ugh, fine Sammi. One drink, then we’ll head back.”

“Thank you,” Sammi says, slumping down in her seat. Probably to avoid getting involved in Liam and Becky’s makeout sesh as it gets even steamier.

“Yeah, can-do, Sams,” Becky agrees, not even taking her lips off of Liam’s as she answers this time.

“Do y’all think I could get that massage girl’s number?” Mysti May asks.

I roll my eyes as I dismount Silver Fox. “Myst, come on, I don’t think she was into you.”

“Ugh. Fine. But this bar had better be fun.” Mysti May tugs her shirt back down over her beauty queen tits. “I don’t know how I feel about this ladyboy business.”

“See, Sams? Settled.” As our tuk tuks roll up to the bar, I pull my skirt back down and straddle Silver Fox’s lap. “So, I’m super drunk right now, but I love you,” I tell him. “Totally call me tomorrow so you can remind me that all this really happened.”

“Promise you’ll answer your phone, then,” he says, dark eyes sparkling as he tugs me down into a passionate kiss.

“Scout’s honor!” I say, and then I’m pulling my dress up as well as I hoof it out of the tuk tuk.

My boobs don’t like being caged again, but sometimes, you’ve just gotta put the titties away every now and then.

I’m just getting ready to push through the gang so I can get to the bar first and turn one drink into like, seven while Sammi isn’t looking…

But instead of being distracted by managing everyone’s inevitable alcohol poisoning, it looks like Sammi’s attentions are being held by something more sinister.

“Lock, mate, I know how it sounds,” the slimy voice of Eggbert Humphrey is oozing even over the dulcet tones of Thai Elvis crooning Viva Las Vegas on the jukebox. “But Sammi’s about to be my wife. You know how it is with women—unnnnng. Yeah, baby! Deeper! Deeper!—you’ve gotta get the ring on their finger, a baby in their belly, and then they’ll be too busy for things like science and research trips and complaining about being left at—unf! UNF!—at home.”

He hasn’t seen Sammi yet, poor bastard—but she sure as hell has seen him.

In fact, she’s seeing him right now—bent over a bar stool while a ladyboy in a Stedson hat and thigh-high cowboy boots takes him from behind, get along, little doggy-style.

“That’s fucked, is what that is, Eggsy.” Some big, broad-shouldered Chris Hemsworth-looking fuck is saying back to Sammi’s fiancé. “All this, really—it’s fucked. If you think Sammi will ever settle for that bullshit, you don’t know her at all. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell her you’re here getting your pipes cleaned by Ladyboy John Wayne here? No offense, ma’am.”

“None taken,” Ladyboy John Wayne says, not even missing a beat with her thrusting.

Eggs rolls his eyes, and I hear the sploogy noise of him removing a cock from his ass. “Don’t be dense, Lock. Sammi’s a smart girl, I’ll give her that. But a woman’s place is in the home. Everyone knows that. All of these silly little ambitions, saving the hammerhead and whatnot—they’ll disappear as soon as she says, ‘I do’ tomorrow. Just you watch.”

I’m fucking drunk, and I can’t even believe what I’m hearing. Or seeing.

And poor fuckin’ Sams. Sams is having to take all of this in completely sober.

But, wait—because that shit doesn’t end there.

Like a smarmy little monologuing villian, Eggs doesn’t seem to know when to stop. The little fucker has his head up his ass, and he’s still managing to shove his foot in his mouth.

“Which is why I want you, Lock, to take her place on this fucking research trip. I know, I know, it’s supposed to be our honeymoon…but Sammi’s a fucking buzzkill, mate. Just imagine—me, you, my research team…and this sexy sweetheart warming our bunks at night.”

“Hard pass, Eggs,” Lock says, shaking his head and pushing his beer aside. “This isn’t some boy’s club bullshit that you can pull over Sammi’s eyes when—”

That’s when it happens. Sammi’s eyes meet Sexier Chris Hemsworth’s, and the cockiest grin I’ve ever fucking seen spreads across his lips.

“Evening, Miss Brighton,” Lock says with a wink.

“Lock, don’t fuck with me like that,” Eggs says, getting on his knees, still totally fucking oblivious. “You and I both know my fiancee wouldn’t be caught dead in—”

“A place like this?” Sammi asks, cool as can be. “Evening, Mr. Williams, Mr. Humphrey. Fancy seeing you boys here.”

Eggs does the fastest one-eighty I’ve ever seen. He turns around so fast, he nearly gives himself whip-lash—and dick-lash, too, since he turns his head right into Ladyboy John Wayne’s massive schlong.

“S-Sammi,” Eggs gasps, taking the dick to the face like he was made for it and then promptly falling on his ass. “Wuh…what—”

“What am I doing here?” she asks, striding forward. “Could ask you the same question.”

Eggs looks to Ladyboy John Wayne for help, but Ladyboy John Wayne chooses that particular moment to mosey on out.

“What are you going to do n-now?” Eggs asks.

It’s a good thing he’s already got his pants around his ankles, because if I were him, I’d be pissing myself right now.

Sammi just cracks her knuckles and calls out for a bottle of tequila from the bar.

“You know me, Eggs, honey,” Sammi says darkly. Both of her hands are curled into fists, and right now I’m just wondering if it’s going to be a left hook or a right. “I’m such a buzzkill, remember? So, I think, right now…I’d like to have some fun.”