Old whores

I don't know how long old whores had been, but when I awoke and lifted my head, I banged old whores on the steering wheel of the Collins car. The pain was indescribable! When I got my bearings I realized that the car had been moved, and I didn't have the vaguest idea where I was. I checked the back seat, and Kelly was there, still passed out. A bolt of fear went through me, thinking that she might be dead. We were both a sorry sight, with vomit all over our front, and something else. As my memory of the party started coming back, I realized that some of those guys, perhaps all of them, had ejaculated all over us: our heads, our clothes, our faces. I wondered what else they'd done while we were unconscious. Fortunately for us, the idea of raping a male was relatively unheard of. Fag-bashing was a favorite sport then as old whores is now in some circles, but the sexual content was usually confined to receiving a blow job from the victim. It was almost as if the gay person's body, especially her genitals, were 'unclean,' and usually left alone. So old whores was with us. Our clothes had been untouched, except of course for the mess we'd made of them. Further checking revealed that I had wet my pants at some point, so I was truly a mess, and Kelly was no better. "Ohhh, geeesh!" Kelly moaned as she started to come to life, "Have I got a headache or what!" And then as she realized the state she was in, she exclaimed "Oh, my God!" And then she started looking around to get her bearings. "Where are we?" she asked when he'd got control of herself again. "I have no idea," I answered, "Somewhere in the country." "What time is it?" "Uhhh...