Cloudy With a Chance Of Bullsh*t

Proluge

I think the only thing worse than the smell off the rowdy teenagers high and drunk, was the feel of the rowdy teenagers who were high and drunk.

And nothing got rid of the smell. I tried drinking, smoking, and hiding in the bathroom, but none of that helped. All I got in return was a foggy vision and accidentally walking in on a couple getting down and dirty in the bath tub.

Not a pretty image.

I was, indeed, a goody two shoes.

The only reason I was here was because Wendy, my formal best friend after tonight, told me she wanted to study with me while her parents where our of town. She did not tell me that she was going to have a party. With drugs. And alcohol.

Or that she spiked my drink of innocent soda.

Which was how I was in the very unique situation I was in now, which was one I had definitely never been in before.

I showed up to Wendy's house wearing the usual. A pair of skinny jeans and a floral, wavy top. My hair was down in its natural waves after she yanked it out of its messy pony tail and due to never having any pimples, my makeup was non existent. Not that I would have any, my mum was a total feminist/naturalist.

Once for my seventh birthday I got a top that said 'Eat Your Heart Out!'. My mum made me burn it in front of all my friends and their parents because, and I quote, "Lucy, that top influences compulsive eating!"

Therefor, I did not own any clothes half as slutty as the girls here, with their boobs hanging out of their tops and bums showing from under their belts.

Opps. I mean skirts.

And yet, despite my lack of sexiness and showing skin, I was the object of a hot guys eyesight.

I knew the guy. He was playing coy in the corner, and went by the name of Nathaniel Skies.

My mistake. Nathaniel Fricken-Hot-Manwhore-Player Skies.

After playing playboy over in the corner, he walked over to me and asked me two simple four worded questions. And me, being the first-time-but-involuntary drunk and high, I answered him.

"You got a boyfriend?"

"No."

"Do you wanna fuck?"

"Yes."

He smirked at me, and I attempted to flirtatiously smile back at him.

"Those are two very good answers."

"Those are two very good questions."

Next thing that my impaired brain could comprehend, he grabbed my hand, took me to a bedroom, and as promised, fucked me.

It wasn't romantic. It wasn't kissing until our lips were numb, lighted candles and roses. There was no declarations of love, or appreciation of each other's backed bodies.

There was moaning, and there was boredom.

He immediately started stripping off, and helped me take my clothes off, until I was in my underwear. I wore a miss matched pair of granny panties and an old, thin size c bra.

I, my dear friends, dress to impress.

He gave me a look, as if to ask if it was okay.

"You're obviously not gonna wine and dine me," I grumbled, "so let's just do it."

He frowned at my enthusiasm, and I did a quick reassessment of him shirtless.

He had a nice body, I will admit that. His v line was bold and predominant under his eight pack. Or is it a twelve pack? His hair was messy and brown, making his deep blue eyes could have a super power of their own.

We were laying down, him kissing my neck. He was obviously enjoying this more than me, with him moaning and saying 'oh yea!' every two seconds.

Then he went to un clasp my bra at the back.

"You ain't getting your grubby hands on my breasts!"

Apparently alcohol and weed makes me a female dog.

He groaned in frustration, then continued on with his job.

"Do ya have a condom?"

"Yes."

Liar.

He slid off my nannie panties, nearly ripping them in the process, and pulled his... Thing... Out of his pants, -would now be an inappropriate time do discuss my fear of penises?- and roughly shoved it into me.

I had to suppress screams of tourcher, it was so painful. He felt like sand paper rubbing against my insides. Eventually, the pain died down and I found the experience quite boring. So boring, I remembered that I forgot to do a load of washing before coming tonight. Then I thought of my mum. I know its bad, but I started doing times tables while I hunched and curved my back into him.

He finished it with a sly smile, one las hard thrust, and getting his clothes back on.

I remembered what Molly taught me. If you ever have a crap shag, at least let the guy think he was good.

"Well," I announced, putting my clothes on. I noticed this was the spear room which Wendy kept her spear underwear for me in, so I grabbed a lacy thong from the top of a draw and chucked it on. "I'm off to do a load of washing."

So much for letting him down easy.

A/N: HEY GUYS! I'm back!! Sorry for being gone for so long!!my cat is sitting in front of me so buyyyy!!