Editor’s Note: Here’s the second part of a user-submitted spring break tale. We left off with our man Yousah about to make contact with his girl. As always, if you have any rocking spring break stories (or stories of any kind) send them our way at mail@w2fy.com.
Now I’m a naturally courageous and confident guy. I’m damn good looking, athletically built, and absolutely narcissistic. There’s no reason why where anywhere I go, girls aren’t fawning all the hell over me. Getting to know this blonde haired bombshell wouldn’t be a problem.
“Excuse me,” I said as I approached the fair maiden and her guardian troll parents, “do you know what these FastPasses are about?”
Now I noticed the mother was gawking at a slip of paper in her hand, which, because I’m a fucking genius, I knew to be a FastPass. They let you skip lines and shit, but I figured I could parlay some sort of ignorance on the topic into a sloppy makeout with the daughter.
“No! Go away!” the ugly troll shouted, or at least I think she said something like that. I was overcome by the shriek of her voice to understand much. Luckily, the girl was nicer. She told her parents to hold on, and explained to me the fast pass system. As she stared lovingly at me while explaining the idea to me in third grade terms, I glanced at her fast pass. It was for Test Track, Epcot’s only good ride. I thanked her for her time, and walked away, not before smiling charmingly at both her, her mother, and father. They loved it.
My plan was simple–I would go to Test Track at the same time as the family and finagle my way into their car by making use of the single rider system. It worked perfectly. I’ll spare the details of how I charmed Kelly (that’s her name, by the way) and her family into inviting me to dinner with them, but I will tell you I did. How? Trade secret, but I’ll give you a hint: I’m the fucking man.
So we went to dinner at some shitty Greek/Mediterranean place on the Disney Boardwalk and I laid out all the stops. I was kinda drunk at this point from the four shots of shitty vodka I ripped on my way out, but I am an expert conversationalist. About midway through the course of dinner, I had convinced Kelly’s parents to let her go out with me Magic Kingdom in the “late hours” part of Disney that night. Nothing scandalous, just some good old fashioned Disney World fun. They ate it up. My date with destiny was set.
After dinner, Kelly went back to her room to change, and I went back to mine to get rip-roaringly drunk. We met at the boat to get over to Magic Kingdom, where I asked her if she wanted to drink. She said of course, and handed me a half full Sprite bottle which I heavily doused with vodka. Things were looking up.
We made it to Magic Kingdom without a hitch, and started doing all the stuff. Dumbo was tough on the stomach, and I nearly lost Kelly among the crowds of sweaty fat kids, but we eventually made it in front of the “It’s a Small World” ride. Now this is notorious for being boring, slow, and really dark. In other words, perfect for sexual deviance. As we loudly and publicly made out in line for the ride, I determined that now would be the time to “get freaky” in Disney. We boarded our love boat as I was fondling her boob, and our voyage began.
About two minutes into the ride I had my hand in her shirt and she was rubbing all over my cock. It was awesome. Two minutes and ten seconds into the ride I had a boner and she was massaging me like an expert Chinese masseuse. By the fifth minute of the ride I’m basically thinking to myself, I’m the fucking man. Now Kelly was a master of her craft, so I finished by the end of the ride, cumming all the fuck over my boxers.
We disembarked from our slippery sailboat and walked around the park a little more. I went to the nearest beer stand and bought us two beers. I swigged mine down, and I guess Kelly tried to do the same. Unfortunately, she was a girl and girls suck at drinking. She got about a third down when she had a little upchuck and the night’s calamari came flowing from her bountiful lips. At this point, I figured the night, like myself, had probably climaxed so I said “hey girl, we should go.” We left the park, I said “Welp, Kelly it’s been fun. Call me tomorrow.” gave her a fake phone number (cause who wants to hook up with a girl who barfed all over Disney World again) and peaced out. Didn’t see her again, but I can’t imagine her parents would have been too happy with me. That’s why you always use a fake identity.
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So that’s it. Is this story bullshit? Probably, but I thought it was entertaining. Sound off in the comments. As always, send your stories our way if you think they are worthy of being published. Check back tomorrow for a Vegas Spring Break shitstorm story. Peaceeeee.
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