Call Me Hoop by Drew Stepek

Author:Drew Stepek
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
Publisher: Nikki Noir
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

“I’m not so sure about this, Tailor,” Nicole slurred.

I think her name was Nicole. Maybe Naomi? Fuck if I remembered. Her name definitely started with an ‘N’. Or maybe it started with an ‘M’? To be honest, I was so piss drunk, I could barely remember how we met. All I knew was that she was my type of girl. Bit of a hog, but humble and innocent with great a pair of tits.

All the frat brothers were out enjoying Sunday Funday at the bars, and Nancy and I had started out in the downstairs Sigma Chapter Room, drinking and shooting the shit. She was an exceptional bore, yapping about true love, summer camp bullshit, and then… horses.

Fucking horses.

What dirt town was she from? I couldn’t tell from the high school crest on the sweater, but surely it was some nowhere-inbred southern place with only a handful of graduates in her class. Dirt people like her made me sad, and they always bored me. But girls like that were always the easiest to manipulate. Leaving their podunk shitholes for big-city college life; excited for opportunities and adventures.

Most of these hogs were virgins when they got to college. For a hot guy like me, president of a fraternity, to ask them to hang out their first week on campus… Well, you can’t put a price tag on that. Can you? It must have been like a peasant being invited to fucking Buckingham Palace. The only difference: I don’t think people regularly get their asses destroyed in the royal circle! Not by my cock anyway.

Melanie—or whatever the fuck her name was—at least had a cute face and rocking tits despite the baggy sweater she wore in a vain attempt to hide them. I convinced her to come back to Sigma the same night we’d met, despite her having classes early the next day. I knew that to be the case because she kept buzzing about it like a gnat while I was trying to fingerbang her.

Imagine going to class, am I right? I never went to class and my professors never failed me. They kept their jobs and I slid by with a “C” average. Only commoners had to go to class.

She had continued to blabber on about school, missing her family, and her continued obsession with fucking horses—all the talk about horses was making her look like a horse to me. And I just kept on nodding, throwing in and a few “mhms” to keep the bitch drinking. In the span of a couple hours, I’d downed about triple the number of beers she had; and she must have said quadruple the number of words I had. Fuckin’ blabber-mouth whores. If pussy wasn’t so good, I’d never put up with that shit.

When she started slurring so badly that she was saying “horsles,” I helped her upstairs to use the restroom and freshen up. When she stumbled out, I was right there to catch her and lead her back inside.

It was time to teach her how thoroughbred “horsles” were made.

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