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I quote Eric Cartman, Patron Saint of the Fucking Douchebags… One from Joe, one from Tara, and the most recent one…from Kayla. Ted was aiming for Craig, who had teamed up with Kayla to take it in turns to bean our team from near the back of the gym. Craig hit Ted on the shoulder, leaving me as the last-man-standing. I was seeing stars dance in front of my eyes as my nose was filled with the metallic smell of blood. The words were still not very clear, but the image was: Brad and Joe were being held back, roaring at Craig who was holding up his hands innocently. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen again.” I slammed my locker shut and stalked out of the locker room, ablaze with anger. ” “Oh, please, you should see it on a bad day,” I smiled. He was probably preparing a dozen lines to get back in her good books. It didn’t help the food taste any better but it was something. I mean, he’s not the first guy I’ve kissed but…maybe I’m just inexperienced. Alan tried to buck his hips up to go in deeper but she held him down with her other hand and pulled her mouth off his cock.