The Laundry Room Incident

This is an old story, but I’ve just been re-playing it in my mind so I feel the need to document it. It stands as a testament to the phrase "desperate times call for desperate measures".

The one thing that was a blessing in disguise during my pledging period was that it was a dry program meaning no alcohol consumption without permission from my pledge master. I abided by the these rules cause I was an awesome pledge. I had to stay sober during our weekly open parties where the freshmen populace would pay a $5 admission, drink endless amounts of keg beer and ultimately end up having sloppy sex in a dorm bed that was constructed to fit Simon Birch. Being sober opened up my eyes to the debauchery that ensues one of these functions. No joke, I witnessed a guy bump into a girl, spill a little bit of his drink on her and then both of them spontaneously broke out into a make out session in the middle of the party for everyone to see and heckle. This is my campus and I love it.

My duty was manning the keg and ensuring that party go-ers would never see their cup empty, and I was good at it. One of the attendees to the party was a girl I hooked up with prior to pledging, but never got past second base with. We'll call her 'Glasses'. Needless to say, in my sober rationale it was my goal to quench her thirst first with alcohol then secondly my semen. You can say that I like to see a project fully followed through.

The night goes on, Glasses is getting drunker, and I’m sober as a Jehovah witness. The party eventually comes to an end and we're kicking people out, she pulls me aside and begs me to walk her back home. Unfortunately I was pledging and could not make such a journey since I was an indentured servant for my fraternity. She continues the persuasion piece but fails to sway me, because I was a good pledge. She gives up and leaves the party to probably fuck some other guy. Guess I can't win them all...or can I?

After cleaning up what was left of the party (namely empty cigarette packs, cups, maybe a fetus or two) our pledge masters reward me and my pledge brothers with alcohol. Each one of us is given a pitcher of booze and demanded that we must pound it. YES SIR! I am in no way good at chugging but just the smell of booze being in that pitcher made me want it more.

Now if the Spartans trained in alcohol consumption instead of battle, my tolerance would be considered that of King Leonidas. Given that I’ve been on a dry pledging program the past 4 weeks, my tolerance was of mere mortals. I went from 0-shitfaced in about 5 minutes. More alcohol is being forced down my throat and I do not try to put up a fight. It gets a little hazy from here but I stumble outside armed with my cell phone and a certain girl in mind.

When I came out of my black out state, I was making out with Glasses in a bed. But it wasn't her bed; in fact it wasn't even her room. Turns out she did not feel like walking back to her dorm and ended up at her friend’s room, whose actual roommate was out of town. I've been in a situation similar to this but that’s another story. So of course I go with the flow and whip out a condom from my back pocket, which I heard is sign language for "let’s fuck". Glasses have a moment of reflection and guilt and realize this isn’t her room and bed, but she suggests that we go to the laundry room across the hall. God, I love resourceful women.

So we enter the empty laundry room and go back at it. Before we go any further she must drain herself. So I’m down to my boxers in a laundry room still hammered about to fuck a girl, I’d say its a peachy situation, unfortunately the booze gods decided to use me as their jester that night.

Enter the spins. I start feeling woozy. The mass consumption of alcohol I faced about an hour prior did not agree with my body. I have the urge to puke. I try to fight it, but can't. I end up booting all over a wash basin in the laundry room. It was so gross that just the sight of it made me puke even more. I could kiss my sweet laundry room fuck goodbye.

Now, I highly doubt that vomit would be an aphrodisiac for Glasses so I scurry around the laundry room rinsing the basin of vomit smell. I find someone's laundry and proceed to wipe my mouth and face of vomit with their shirt. The abuse of other people's clothing must be necessary if it helps me get laid. I am trying my best to clean up the mess I made. This is me flipping the bird to the booze gods; they will not ruin my plan.

I managed to get everything clean, but the only problem was that my breath reeked of vomit. I had no cigs, no gum, and no hope. Then, I saw it, a red beacon on the floor by a washing machine. In my drunken and desperate state I saw no other option. The vomit taste had to go and this was the answer. So I picked up the container of TIDE and gargled about a half of cap full. I managed not to swallow it and washed out it with water. I felt like I just gave a blow job to snuggles the bear. I have stooped to a new low, but the rewards were worth it.

Glasses enters the laundry room without a clue as to what just took place. I smile and its business time. Thank god alcohol impairs the sense of taste. We fucked for about an hour in that laundry room. I got ballsy and turned on the dryer and sat her on top it while fucking her. It was epic sex. After we were done we returned to her friend's room and passed out.

The next day I was scared to smoke a cigarette considering I do not know how tobacco and nicotine react with laundry detergent. Thankfully nothing affected my health and all was well. I should really pitch my story to the advertising department at TIDE. They make a good product props to them.