Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach... - 2.

I go to the hotel room and take a long nap, waking up a little before the agreed upon time with a monstrous hangover. It was blinding and head splitting, almost enough to have the entire evening called off had it not been for another industrious urban youth I found wandering around the seedy hotel parking lot as I sought an ice machine. mbe1-cokeOr better put he found me, asking me it I need anything for the evenings festivities. I buy a little more pot off him and some coke, feeling this headache was going to need more than a fist full of aspirin and a little of the hair of the dog. 

I return to my hotel room and do a little of the coke, the ashy white powder tasting like the entire Bolivian Army had stepped all over it before it reached my nostrils. But there was enough there to do the job, my headache cured and teeth grinding as I leave my hotel walking towards where Melissa and Ashley had arranged to meet with me. 

The streets thundered with the chatter of half cocked revelers and booming club music; the nightlife starting there roughly an hour before sunset. The previously bikini clad women had changed into evening wear, every woman seemingly trading their beach clothes for tight black dressed and revealing club attire (the same couldn't be said for the men, wandering around shirtless and in board shorts). Bright lights and carnival sounds created a surreal atmosphere, coked up eyes
feasting on the chaotic trails of screaming lights as I navigated through the sweaty throngs. 

I found the two women I had met earlier where they said they would be, chatting with some random boys over by some dimly lit porch bar. 

Melissa shouted when she saw me, pushing aside one of the smaller boys chatting her up to reach me; sticky arms from the humidity wrapping around my neck as she pulled close and kissed me. She's in a jean mini-skirt and a tight powder blue tank top, her ample breasts nearly bursting from the fabric. She pulls me into the group and I hold court, my mouth moving a million miles an hour as I dazzle with my charms and wit. It's not long before the males wander off, hooting after a group of unattached black girls who couldn't be bothered by their advances. 

The three of us hang out for a bit, noticing this was more a poorly chaperoned date than it was a hang; Ashley barely bothering to keep up with our chatter as she clicked away at her primitive cellphone. 

The same boys eventually return, waving over to Ashley.

"Well, it seems like Thom isn't going to rape you, Miss. He seems nice and fun and unless he has a twin he hasn't introduced us to yet, I'm gonna go off with Joe and Mikey and them." She said over her shoulder as she walked away from us. 

Melissa doesn't object to her ejection, seeming to be part of the plan as she waved her off and she scoots closer to me. I offer her a key bump, which she takes after a bit of coxing, and off our evening goes. 

The pair of us wander the glowing and thumping boardwalk of Myrtle arm in arm talking about nothing and everything at once. We eventually  go off to the beach to smoke a joint and do more coke (which, thanks to the sea breeze, I convince her we need to do by licking spots on our bodies and snorting it off the moist skin). I start to kiss along her neck, her skin salty from days of sea soaking. I feel her skin pimples raise under my touch, Sandy hands slowly running up under her shirt. She's a good egg, this Melissa, pausing our embrace long enough to take a fresh bump before diving back in headfirst. 

I feel her clumsy thick fingers work at my crotch, my zipper starting to pull down. I adjust to give her better access as I hear her phone ring. She ignores it the first time, busying herself with my member in her balmy, soft hands. But it rings again, Melissa taking her hand off me to find her phone in her purse. 


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