The instance in which that robot band was finally right

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With my many orgasms I am only to trying to disrupt the phallogocentric structure. Oh, but my escapades have been great. Let me recount one of my tales.

It was a sultry Thursday evening, and the air smelled of … adventure. We were a wild and sexually rambunctious bunch of transvestite, non-binary, sexually experimental folks.

Our leader the beautiful Tanya in her lace bodice and fishnet stockings, lead our caravan to our destination of decadence. We lounged in the backseat passing a flask of cheap whiskey. Sitting in the parking lot, a girl with a ring around her nostril filled the large McDonald’s soda cups with gin and tonic. Using her Swiss Army Knife, she sliced the lemons which she miraculously pulled from her glove compartment and dropped them in. The drinks inside are too expensive for this band of misfits.

With a ticket, we got inside, and, let me tell you, it was enough to bring a tear to a godless faggot’s eye. Muscular men with thighs second only to Greek gods gyrated on stage in skin-tight red briefs. Asserting her dominion over the realm, a drag queen commanded the crowd to throw their hands up in the air. A bartender wearing only his Armani underwear served beers by having the revelers pull them from his locked thighs.

I was having a hard time getting into the mood. I danced with my comrades in a friendly fashion. I timidly grinded with my friend, a self-identified “quirky little Jew”. Then the inevitable happened.

A couple weeks beforehand, I was dumped by an asshole. We dated for a while, he told me he “cared about me”, you know the spiel. He’s a rich, privileged man-child whose parents own a condo in Maui. He had told me he was a sociopath, so I guess the joke’s on me.

I was sitting at my local hangout with a friend when I got the news. She got a text that he was “with a boy”, who, as you could guess, wasn’t me.

It was unsurprising that he would be lurking in a club with a sea of horny twinks. He shall now be known as the Spawn of the Original Darkness. Well, Spawny saw me with my friend, pointed us out to his friend and started laughing. I shrugged it off, bitches ain’t relevant. I started dancing with a beautiful girl with an exotic name. Spawny was skulking at the edge of my circle of misfits, obviously watching me. What happened next was serendipitous. I felt a hand caress my back and turned to look. It was Aaron, a nice enough man who usually watched the group from afar.

Taking the opportunity, he started grinding his ass against my pelvis. We danced for a while, riding the rhythm of the music. Periodically, he would unbutton my shirt until finally I succumbed and tied it around my waist. After five songs, I felt another pair of hands on my waist. I looked back and saw a man in a white shirt who I will call Rando. We all started dancing, with me in the middle. Then the words “She’s up all night for good fun / I’m up all night to get lucky” from Daft Punk filled my ears and the three of us skeazed out. I would lean back into Rando’s arms and press my lips against his while Aaron planted hickeys on my neck. Rando left after he yelled in my ear that “we should get out of here” and I kind of just stood there, disinterested.

Taking hold of his hand, I led Aaron through the mass of sweaty, grinding bodies. We were on the outer edge of the dance floor. Spawny happened to glance in our direction while Aaron twerked in front of me. It was at that moment that I started making out with him again and Spawny’s jaw dropped. At that moment, revenge was mine. For days afterwards, he would sneak jealous [or perhaps hurt] glances in my direction. Such are the rewards when you fall into  At least, in my case.

[Important note. After careful consideration, I have realized that Rando and Spawny were actually the same person, and I was just too fucked to realize, which really goes to show the kind of skeeziness I perform in the service of Satan. I have no regrets, but I am mindfucked.]

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