======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
Wow, he was right. This stuff is great, Steve thought to himself. The “he” he was referring to was the house chef, Rob, and the “stuff” was the coconut oil he was currently using as a lubricant as he slid Jill up and down his shaft. This idea surfaced in a conversation a couple weeks ago when Steve and Rob were discussing some cooking techniques and Steve mentioned coconut oil, and Rob said he doesn’t mind using it for cooking, but he said it made an even better lube.
“I can’t wait to try this with sex.”
So the next Friday night the house was having a party and Steve found Cindy, the girl he had been hooking up with for the past few weeks.
“I have a surprise for you tonight,” he whispers to her.
“Oh really?” Cindy says back. “Can a get a hint?”
After the party was winding down, Steve and Cindy made their way up to his room. As they were taking off their clothes, Steve reached over to the coconut oil, lathered some on his hand and rubbed it on his dick. As they were boning, Steve was sliding smoother than he could ever remember.
This is the best sex I’ve had in a while, he thought to himself. Based on Cindy’s shallow breathing and gasps he figured she must be loving it, too.
But then Cindy frantically begins hitting him. Steve looks up and sees that Cindy is bright red.
“Oh God!” He says. He immediately recognizes what is happening. Just a couple weeks ago, Allergy Pledge had a reaction when someone threw peanut butter on him during a lineup. He realized the same thing must be happening to Cindy, although he was clueless as to what was causing it.
She’s gonna die, he thinks. “C’mon, think, think,” he says to himself, completely oblivious to Cindy gesturing towards her handbag at the side of his bed. Then a vision of the scene from Space Jam where the Looney Tune paramedics pumped up the monster with a bike pump flashes into his head.
Still bare-assed, he sprints into the storage closet halfway down the hall and grabs the electric bike pump he had stolen from some GDI to inflate their footballs for an IM game a couple weeks ago. He also frantically begins calling Allergy Pledge, whom Steve hates and would never trust with anything important, but right now has no choice but to contact.
“Yes sir?” Allergy Pledge answers.
“Allergy Fuck! Get your sorry ass EpiPen to my room now.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“EpiPen. My room. Immediately.”
“Okay sir, but it doesn’t–”
Steve hung up before letting him finish. Steve makes it back to his room and sees Cindy laying face down, nearly motionless.
“Oh God, I might be too late.”
He rolls her over, turns on the pump, plugs her nose and puts the pump in her mouth. Cindy starts flailing and begins hitting him.
“What. The fuck. Are you doing?!” she says, half yelling, half hissing.
“Trying to save your life. I had to make sure you had air until I got an EpiPen.”
“I had one in my bag. That’s what I was trying to tell you but you ignored me.”
“Oh. At least you’re alive now.”
“You’re fucking retarded,” she replies. “I told you I’m allergic to nuts and you can’t eat any before sex.”
“But I didn’t. I haven’t had anything but beer and pizza.”
“Then how do you explain this?”
“I have no idea.”
Then Cindy catches an oily substance on Steve’s hand.
“What is that on your hand?”
“Coconut oil. I was using it for lube. Wasn’t it great?”
“COCONUT OIL! COCONUT!”
“Uh yea, why?”
“You idiot. That’s a nut!”
“What do you mean, I thought coconuts were, like, a fruit?”
“God damn you’re fucking retarded. At least the sex was actually good, except for the whole almost dying part. That was close to being the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Since I couldn’t breathe, it created a choke sex like scenario where–”
“Yea I know how choke works. But the orgasm part. I thought that was a myth. Don’t only guys cum?”
Cindy picked up the pump and threw it across the room at Steve, put on the rest of her clothes, and stormed out of his room. Just as she opened the door, Allergy Pledge showed up with the pen.
“Here you go, sir. But it doesn’t work for whiskey di–”
He stopped and clutched the side of his neck where his EpiPen was now dangling..