Choose Your Own Nuthouse


Section 57

(Nick)


            You jump up and down like a schoolgirl at an N’Sync concert at the possibility of fucking a pop icon. Sadly, there are no pop icons here. No Britney or Christina or Jessica for you to take in as many sundry ways as your filthy little mind can conceive. Oh, no. Just pop culture icons.

            Still, you’re not one to quibble when it comes to nookie with nubile Nordic nymphs. So, you strip off your clothes like they were on fire and run manhood-first at a gaggle of blonde-haired bikini models. Of course, sans bikinis, they’re just hot blonde girls with gigantic racks. Then again, when has that sort of thing ever been a problem?

            Well, it becomes a problem now, because it seems that all the women are actually quite smart, and it’s difficult to convince a woman you want her for her mind when you’re sporting wood and getting drool on their nipples.

            So, because of your silly impetuousness, you’re left sitting alone in the woods while you hear naughty three-, four-, five-, and what sounds like an 18-way going on between pert-breasted young ladies without another man but you for miles around. Idiot.