All My Friends Say...

All My Friends Say



	Thomas Moore owned a bar in the city of Austin. It was a fairly small, but well-maintained establishment that many of the locals loved to visit. A honky-tonk worthy of the name, catering to the local taste in music, food, and drink.

	Though none of the locals managed to get to the 'Stumble Inn' during spring break. The influx of stressed college students packed practically every drinking establishment in the city. When comfortable local bars became loud, rowdy, seedy dens of hedonistic debauchery.

	The very last Sunday of Spring break Thomas woke up still drunk from the night before in a jail cell. His bladder could no longer take the strain of holding back a large amount of the processed alcohol he'd drank the night before, causing him to swing his legs off the cot and stumble across all the unconscious male bodies who appeared to be patrons from his bar last night.

	Though relieving his bladder would have to wait, as Winston Howell IV was lying with his head in the dry bowl of the toilet—his ex-wife's new billionaire boyfriend who was still in his junior year of college.

	Using his boot to nudge his head from the toilet to the floor—as gently as could be managed when drunk, controlling the urge to urinate, and simply not liking the fellow much—he began to the process of voiding his bladder. That warm fuzzy feeling emanating from deep in his loins very nearly the equal to orgasm in its relief.

	He chuckled as his stream hit already yellow water. Winston's head had been sitting in a pool of urine, the bowl not being as dry as he'd thought.

	Thomas was still very drunk from the night before and he knew it. Though he'd sobered up some, because he'd been unable to remember anything that had happened after the arrival of his ex-wife and her boyfriend. He'd had a couple shots of Cuervo….

	It's not like he was upset over the divorce. By the end it had been fairly amicable. When times were good with Carrie, they were great. But when they were bad, they were abhorrent. It's hard to kiss the lips—at night—that chew your ass out all day long. Though he'd started knocking back a few drinks to help him forget the good times they'd had. He missed those, but he knew to leave well enough alone and not pursue things any further. They just weren't good for each other.

	“Uh-oh...” Thomas said finally getting himself tucked away. Though in that dull, slow way that only a drunk can do, he began to examine his leg, the hair on his leg, and the fact that he wasn't wearing pants.

	“Guard! Where are my God damn pants!” He was in a drunk tank, and across the hall housed probably a Baker's dozen women. All last night's patrons as well. He didn't see his ex-wife, but he saw a rather curvy Satyros with her long red hair in an elaborate braid down her back. She was half dressed and cuddling with a lithe Kikimora whose hair was done in blonde and red highlights.

	Though when the two girls moved in tandem to get more comfortable in what was obviously their drunken haze, he saw that the Kiki had a rather prodigious posterior.

	He'd seen them come into the bar. He was sure he'd made the Satyros a White Russian. She'd raved over his mixing of the strange drink.

	Shaking away the drunken stupor he called out once more. “Where my God damn pants!”

	********

	Thomas followed behind the large black detective that they'd sent to collect him. His name was Earl. A man who sometimes frequented his bar when on the fritz with his wife. Time for interrogation or answers, he supposed.

	After getting his belt tightened on his pants the guard had gotten for him, Thomas checked his pockets. Wallet, cigarettes, butane jet-lighter, and the bar's VCR remote from the security camera in the bar. He'd only installed it so he could lower his insurance costs. Who robs a bar on 5th street in Austin? Too many people, foot traffic, cameras, police… it was a laundry list of reasons.

	Earl stopped by a coffee pot and made himself a small cup, going and pouring the remainder of the pot into a clay mug, leaving it black. He handed this to Thomas with a chuckle. “I'm only observing today. We've got a new detective—recently graduated youngster. I'm going to be letting him fly solo, only interfering if you try to kick his ass or something.”

	Taking the mug with a smile, Thomas shrugged taking a healthy pull of the Ambrosia 'de Folgers. “Cool. Don't remember shit, though. I take it a good time was had by someone.”

	Earl nodded, opening the door to the interrogation room. “Yep. You.”

	Thomas laughed. “The more I drink….” He got a seat and commenced to waiting. Though after just a few minutes it was obvious that the young Detective was running late. “So, how's Juanita doing?”

	Earl smiled. “Good. Going to a counselor now. She's unhappy because the counselor isn't just agreeing with everything she says. Making her admit her faults, same as me. It's downright cathartic watching that woman admit when she's wrong.”

	Thomas lit a cigarette, despite the frown from Earl. “Dude. I'm going to smoke—I'm still very drunk. Just write me a ticket or something. And take the battery out of the smoke alarm before my hangover begins and my head starts to hurt. And it's hard for someone to dispute an Angel. They're….angelic, I guess. And more to the point she's a trained marriage counselor. She'll set you guys straight. Even came close to getting me and Carrie back together one time. Thank God I dodged that bullet.”

	Earl smiled. “That why you started drinking last night? Cause Carrie came in with her new boyfriend?”

	Thomas nodded. “Missing the good times. Needed to forget. I suppose—considering my situation—that I went overboard.”

	“And how,” Earl agreed finishing his coffee as he took the battery out of the smoke detector.

	Thomas looked over to the two-way mirror, examining himself. He was a man in his early thirties, well over six feet in height and built like a mountain—very sturdy. He was somewhat overweight, but he thought it tended to make him look a bit softer, easing the imposing presence that his size gave him. He had Green eyes and mostly brown hair. He wasn't the most handsome man, but he wasn't downright ugly. He could see the dark rings under his eyes from lack of sleep and too much booze, giving credit to his guess that his hangover would be prodigious.

	Though after some time, an officer named Carl brought in the two Mamono he'd seen in the other cell. Upon seeing him they began to smile and practically threw themselves on top of him,  both girls french kissing him at once.

	Thomas couldn't accurately describe how it felt to kiss two extremely passionate young women at the same time, as he was lost in the sensation of warm firm flesh and the soft slick tongues that were assaulting his mouth, melting his resistance faster than butter in a skillet. He felt the Satyros hands roaming across his chest and shoulders while the smaller feathered hands of the Kiki roamed MUCH lower, dipping below his belt line and teasing him through his boxers.

	He was unable to even think about pushing them away or breaking the kiss. It just felt so familiar to him, and he briefly had a flash of memory that this had happened before with far fewer clothes. In public.

	At Earl's rather pointed cough the girls pulled back, leaving Thomas gasping in an attempt to catch his breath. “So that's part of what happened last night...” He was speaking quietly to himself, and then he noted Carl had a black eye. “Jesus H.  Christ, Carl, you've got a black eye. Who gave you that? Nancy?”

	Carl laughed and pointed his finger at Thomas. “Evidently you knocked me and Jason completely out. Last thing I remember is trying to wrangle that redheaded firecracker you got there.”

	Thomas blushed. “Oh, shit. I'm sorry. Come by the bar and I'll make sure you drinks are free for a night or two.” He looked at the Satyros to his right and the Kiki with the cute colors to his left. “Uh...hi… I'm Thomas.”

	The Satyros smiled and poked the tip of his nose gently. “I know. You're our new boyfriend.”

	“Oh. That's right. Wait...what...” Thomas was interrupted by a young detective coming into the room. He still had the baby fat on his face and looked all of seventeen years old.

	He was accompanied by a couple men who carried in Thomas' old television set as well as his VCR that recorded the security camera.

	“I'm Detective McClane.” He looked at the papers in his hands. “Daisy Rosenbaum?”

	The Kiki tentatively raised her hand, the feathers around her wrist making a silky rustling sound as she shook nervously. Thomas found himself squeezing her closer to himself protectively. “T-that's me.”

	The young Detective nodded. “You're charged with one count of Battery and two counts of public exposure/indecency. Tracy Stills?” He looked at the Satyros who just smiled. “Charged with three counts of Battery and one count of public exposure/decency.”

	The young detective turned towards Thomas putting on what he must have thought was a stern expression, but caused Thomas to laugh so hard he nearly fell out of his seat in his advanced state of inebriation. “Thomas Moore, you're being charged with SEVEN counts of Battery, two counts of battery on a police offer, two counts of public exposure/decency, and one count of urinating in public.”

	Thomas fell out of his chair he was laughing so hard, much to the chagrin of the young detective. “Earl, what'd I try to write my name on?”

	Earl, who was attempting to look serious, and mostly succeeding despite the brevity of his friend. “Squad car.”

	“Mr. Moore, some of these are serious charges. You need to take this seriously.” The Detective sat down and began to hook up the television and VCR.

	Thomas suppressed a chortle. “Detective, I'm still VERY drunk. I'm sure that once I sober up I'll be sufficiently mortified by what I've done. Until then, though...” He trailed off, thanking God that the two police officers were on the other side of the interview table and couldn't see his lap. As it currently had two hands beneath his clothes pulling and teasing on his manhood. Keeping a straight face was tough. “Okay, I'm serious n-now.” The Kiki's feathers were tickling his balls, driving him crazy as both girls put their palms to each side of his shaft and began to slowly stroke in tandem.

	“Good. Now I've been told you don't recall the events of last night,” the young Detective said as if he didn't believe him. And Thomas could see how, he doubted the young man had ever had sex, much less been blackout drunk. “We liberated your security footage to help jog your memory.”

	Thomas was pretty sure they would have needed a warrant to remove his property from his bar. Fruit of the forbidden tree and all that, but he was a man that would admit to his wrongdoings. IF he'd done something bad, he'd at least own up to it. “Okay.” His arms were wrapped around the girls claiming to be his new girlfriends unable to prevent them from teasing him viciously in the company of no less than two professional members of the local constabulary.

	The offer turned on the video, showing a rather regular scene from Spring Break. Girls dancing on tables, people passed out, and Thomas standing right dead center at the bar doing shots of tequila. Not long after that the two girls currently assaulting him came up and a conversation began. Then shots were done. A lot of shots.

	“Daisy had never been drunk before. And so we started doing shots of Jose Cuervo.” The Satyros looked at him with big, wide bedroom eyes. “You went ten rounds and then some. Color me impressed.” Her hand wrapped around his shaft giving a playful squeeze.

	Daisy was blushing furiously, obviously used to be shy and reserved. Alcohol has a way of loosing one's inhibitions. It was then he noticed that on the tape she laid down on the bar and Tracy started doing body shots from her belly button. Then Tracy got on the bar and the bodyshots continued. Along with some dancing on the bar and the girls shedding their tops. They were wearing white schoolgirl blouses and plaid poodle skirts.

	Thomas nodded. Yep. He understood the WHY of his charges now. Loads of tequila and pretty girls paying attention to him. Which meant that any action that could possibly impress them became a VERY good idea. He bit the inside of his lip as the girls obviously became turned on at seeing their wanton behavior on screen while giving said object of wanton affection a hand job in front of two unaware police officers.

	He tightened his grip around their shoulders to deal with the feeling of their hands on him, which only made them that much more determined to please him, he supposed. They increased their pace, so he bit his lip harder.

	“Oooh! This is when Daisy has her ninth shot!” Tracy pointed out.

	Thomas looked at the screen, seeing the young Kiki girl throw back a shot. The film showed her face wearing that smile of inebriation that shows you're about as relaxed as you can get. The one where you have a bad idea that sound absolutely wonderful. She dropped to her knees in front of Thomas, fishing him out of his pants and swallowing him whole, much to the cheers of the crowd. She lost her shirt and her bra at the point as well. Tequila made her clothing fall off, evidently.

	With a sly look, Tracy took her hand away from his member, stretching her arms above her head. “I'm still sleepy,” she said lying her head in his lap.

	It must have seemed innocent, even a bit naive to the outside viewer. But her deft hands slid him from his pants and she likewise swallowed his cock whole. Rather than bob her head, she just allowed him passage into her throat and began to continually swallow, massaging him in a way that made him bite his tongue until he tasted blood. He couldn't moan or do anything else with everyone in the room. His face turned red from the embarrassment.

	The young Detective and Earl took it to be a sign of shame, though. The young detective giving him and admonishing glance. “I'd be embarrassed as well.”

	Despite himself, Thomas managed his best roguish grin. The kind he gave to rowdy drunks right before he tossed them out of his bar on their heads. He couldn't bring himself to speak, but he could at least show some form of defiance to the obvious virgin.

	Daisy, who was cupping his balls and rolling them around in a way that made his shoulder relax didn't have such a handicap. “Shut up, virgin.” The shy girl evidently had a mean streak when it came to a man she was interested in. Her feathers were tickling the base of his cock where Tracy's lips were firmly planted, causing Thomas to squeeze his hands into fists until his knuckles popped and turned white.

	Thomas saw himself throw his head back in obvious orgasmic bliss on the screen, watching the feathered girl milk him with her mouth as Tracy kissed him, assaulting him high and low. The crowd was cheering them on, looking to be shouting their encouragement. He could remember the warm and wet feel of Daisy's mouth and the tender exhilaration of Tracy's kiss. The wanton lust making him putty in their hands, much like it did at that moment. He could appreciate the symmetry of the situation, if not respect it. He saw his head loll on screen and knew that the version of him on screen was blowing into the sweet girl's mouth.

	Thomas saw on screen, his ex-wife, come up and begin to give them a piece of her mind. He hoped it was a very small piece, as the poor woman just didn't have much to spare. Billionaire boyfriend in tow also speaking and looking smug, as if they had the moral high ground.

	Thomas came when he saw his molesters attack them. Tracy swinging a big roundhouse right into his ex-wife' face, knocking her spinning to the ground to lie still. Tracy followed her to the ground, flipping her over and sitting on her chest berating the older female verbally.

	Daisy threw a one-two combo straight into Winston's perfect face, knocking him to the ground. Where she performed a flawless MMA mount and began to ground-pound the no longer smug billionaire.

	Tracy's throat was milking him for all he was worth. Thomas was barely able to keep quiet, his face red as a beet, his hands gripped Daisy and Tracy for all he was worth. He hoped he just looked apoplectic and not like he was getting off in the mouth of a girl ten years his junior in front of two police officers.

	Eventually, Tracy pulled herself off his cock and tucked it away after giving the tip a sweet and tender smooch. She was grinning up at him with her head laid in his lap, making his heart flutter a bit. Despite the age difference he was a man, and BOTH of these young women were very attractive and normally very out of his league.

	“Here's where it gets interesting,” the Young virgin said snidely. Thomas couldn't help but think of him as virgin now, as Daisy had so delicately put it.

	Two officers, Carl and Jason, ran into the bar now, having been informed of the fight. There were always members of the Austin police department patrolling 5th street during Spring Break.

	Thomas knew them personally. He made sure that officers drank cheaply at his place, making it far more secure than any video camera could. Someone who tried to rob his place would probably find themselves staring down the barrel of an off-duty police officer's gun.

	Carl and Jason ran up and immediately put the girls into holds to pull them off of their victims.

	Thomas was aghast as he saw himself on screen run over and knock Carl to the ground with an overhand right. Jason got his left elbow to the nose and hit the ground.

	It was here that things went a little crazy. Part of the bar had sided with the police, the other part had sided with Thomas and the girls. It became a haphazard brawl.

	Thomas was almost sick as he saw himself fighting on screen, taking hits with impunity as he doled out punches to anyone in range, fighting more off of drunken instinct than any semblance of form or plan.

	The young Detective turned the television off, forgetting to unplug the VCR. “We're willing to drop SOME of the charges if you'll write out a confession.”

	Thomas understood exactly what needed to be done. He wasn't sure if it was good plan or not, as he'd just got off and was riding an excellent afterglow and was still quite drunk from the night before despite it being the middle of the afternoon. “Tell you what, if you'll let me confess to everything you've got me charged with, and let the girls off, I'll confess to everything. But my hangover is starting to kick in. I'd like a big cup of coffee. Could you go up to Captain Morse and ask him if he'll make it Irish for me?”

	The young detective grinned. “Very well. I'll be right back.” He got up and walked out of the door.

	Tracy had sat up in concern, looking perplexed. Daisy's face was almost the match for concern. Thomas leaned down to their height and they put their faces next to his. “I can get us out of this. But I need Earl not to be looking at me for about ten seconds.”

	Drunken stupor or not, this could work. He just needed a distraction. Though he wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea. Though he WAS sure going to jail for months was a bad idea. Decision made.

	Tracy smiled and gave Daisy a wink. The two girls stood up and moved over to the mirror, pretending to check their makeup—which was still flawless despite their ordeals. Mamono were magical and amazing like that. They appeared to be forming a plan, whispering to one-another along with a series of giggles. Or perhaps titters. Thomas was unsure of the laugh patterns of college girls, even when sober.

	Suddenly they turned around and exposed their breasts to Earl. Being a red-blooded American heterosexual male whose wife had cut him off for the past several weeks, Earl was enraptured by the DD's and C's in front of him.

	Thomas almost forgot his plan, as this was the first time he'd seen their breasts. He pulled the VCR remote from his back pocket, his pants having circumvented the chain of custody due to drunken events of the previous night, and pressed the button labeled: “Degauss”.

	VHS tapes were magnetic media. You could keep recording over a tape again and again, but eventually this would cause the quality of the recording to recede a little each time. Vhs was pretty much dead media, so Thomas had found a unique solution.

	Degaussers were basically electromagnets that would cause any image on a VHS tape to be erased. His model of VCR was actually from a recording studio that had upgraded it equipment. Meaning he could erase tapes completely and use them over and over, prolonging the life of the media until he absolutely had to upgrade to digital.

	Pressing the Degauss button caused power to be fed to two powerful electromagnets in the VCR, one above and one below the tape. It erased the entirely of the tape in about two seconds.

	When the Young Detective brought back his coffee, Thomas asked to see the tape once more. If he was going to jail, and he couldn't remember, he wanted to at least have a clear record of what he'd done.

	***********

	Walking out of the police station a free man, given he was still a little drunk, Thomas felt like he was walking atop the clouds. He had a pretty girl on each arm and he'd got to see a video of his ex and her new boy-toy getting their asses handed to them.

	All his friends did say that he got a little crazy when he drank.

	“Wanna get a drink,” Tracy asked coyly.

	“I own a bar. And my apartment is above the bar….” he said lamely. Going out to drink wasn't his thing.

	Daisy nibbled the flesh of his bicep playfully. “Good. Then we can stay in and get a drink.” She appeared to still be tipsy from what he'd discovered was her first time getting drunk. He wanted to get some food in her and see how red he could make her face without the alcohol loosening her up.

	Thomas was inwardly excited, but these girls were on Spring Break. They should probably be heading back to whatever state their school was in. “Don't you guys have to be back at school...”

	Tracy smiled. “Not until tomorrow. We go to the University of Texas, right here in Austin. I'm thinking that maybe the commute from a certain 5th street bar to the Campus sounds like a great idea. Always wanted to live off-campus.”

	Daisy smiled. “Mmm. I think we need to start out with a shower. And then get messy so we can take another. Together,” she added blushing coyly.

	Thomas made to reply, but fell into fits of laughter when he heard his ex-wife's cry of detestation. “Why do you smell like piss?”

	Poor Winston.