The Cloth and Chemical

You grab the cloth and clouds immediately disappear, leaving chemical bottle suspended in midair before it begins to plummet to the ground. With lightning fast reflexes you manage to catch the bottle and congratulate yourself on how amazing you are before reading the label. Chloroform. Well, you know what chloroform is for, you sick bastard. You've often fantasized about drugging a girl **** and having your way with her.

As you contemplate your sick fantasies, you hear someone not too far away whistling a little song. You notice a footpath a couple meters away, and decide to hide behind a tree and wait to see what happens, cloth and bottle in hand.

Not even a minute later you peek around the tree and recoil in shock at the sight. You know who that is. Brittany. Brittany Bar. You grew up with this girl. Public school and high school. You had the biggest crush on her. Petite, cute like you wouldn't believe. Watching her flower into an innocent young woman was one of your earliest masturbatory fantasies, and here she was, in the flesh, looking not a day older then the day she turned 18. You unconsciously flex the rope in your hands and collect your thoughts. This is Blowjob Master. Brittany is my challenge. The thought excites you like no other. Your childhood crush, here, for you to ****.

You open the bottle and empty a generous amount onto the cloth. You are committed, and not going to pass up an opportunity like this.

You gently put the bottle down right as she passes by your tree, not more then a meter away. You slip out and reach one arm around her waist, and the other smothers her mouth with the damp cloth. A few seconds of resistance fade away, and she falls limply into your arms. So easily.... You take this time to take a good look at her, after all it has been a few years. Her black hair still falls neatly to about shoulder length, and her nose ring is still as cute as ever. Her little halter top reveals her midriff and covers her small but amazingly perky tits, and her short cut off jeans leave little to the imagination. Ankle high socks and running shoes complete the outfit, and you wonder if she got dressed up just for you.

You are a sick fuck with a passed out 18 year old in your arms in a game called Blowjob Master. You run your hands all over her body, up her shirt, tweak her nipples, grab handfuls of her tight ass and then rub her face all over your crotch. The hardest decision you've had all day: Which hole to fuck?