"WHAT THE FUCK, MAY?! What the fuuuck?" It was one of the gay dudes—screaming, like a little bitch. Meanwhile, Eotigan's gang readdressed themselves fast. Inaia's thong vanished into his front pocket. Inaia's dress was somehow down before nobody could catch a glimpse of pussy.
Yet, two naked men—and their vibrant penises loomed in the penthouse.
"Shit." May the Eighth coughed. She managed to disappear off to a corner and reappear again in the same second with a river-wide blanket. She tossed it to the dudes.
Inaia, Kambili, and Thyra tried to divert their eyes to everywhere but the couch. They each had a withheld giggle struggling on their faces. Eotigan didn't give a damn. He was smirking openly. "I know you're fucking lying, what? Did we just stumble in on a secret fag?" He went on, regardless, doing a slow circle around the men who were both now struggling with the one blanket, "tell me, who paid for this shit?" He laughed. "You?"
