You locked eyes with this molly-fueled minx from across the crowded tiki hut-themed beach bar deck. In a sea of nothing but neon “Party With Sluts” tank tops and throwback Karl Malone, Shawn Kemp, and “Big Country” Bryant Reeves jerseys, you’re easily the most dressed up dude at the joint in your fraternity letter-embroidered dry-fit polo. She appreciates your fashion sense of wearing sleeves, ventures over, and wants you to do a body shot off her tight stomach that she’s been dying to show off since signing up for Zumba class three months ago.
You hit it off and find out she’s recently single. Your mind does a Tiger-in-his-prime fist pump. This is going to be easier than taking candy from a diabetic baby. She takes you out to the dance floor and your hips gyrate together like you’re back in your high school’s gymnasium for the sophomore “Snow Ball” all over again. But rather than tucking your fully-torqued piece into your waistband, you own the half chub you got going on and grind it against her dumper — much to her delight. After shamelessly and aggressively shoving your tongues down each other’s throats in front of 3,000 spectators, she’s ready to plow. You go with her to bid farewell to her sorority sisters who give you the up and down before finally approving and telling you “she needs this” on your way out the door. It’s go time.
1. Porta Potty
Cons: Not conducive for claustrophobics. Pretty much everything else.
Most spring break bars don’t actually have bathrooms because a crowd similar to the population of Rhode Island is crammed into the glorified 20,000 square foot shanties and the wait for the women’s room would stretch to the city limits. Instead, they line a section with nothing but Mr. Johns to keep the flow of urination more fluid, giving ample opportunity for the sexually demented to snag a finger and go animalistic on one another.
You’re extremely limited in what you can pull off, as about half of the already compacted cube is a puke and piss-covered contamination zone. An STD-riddled Chernobyl. So unless you’re some type of pipe-laying, contortionist casanova, you’re going to be hitting it from behind the entire time. Good luck getting off, especially when you can actually taste the overpowering scent of a sewage-soaked taint. Not to mention, any girl that lets you raw dog her in a plastic feces filled container is probably not a girl you should be raw dogging to begin with.
2. The Beach
Pros: Optimal space. The sensual sound of waves crashing.
Cons: Sand. Being an unoriginal dick.
Similar to the effect salt has on a slug, a sandy vag will cause your rod to die a painful, undignified, and slow death. Imagine fucking the inside tube of a toilet paper roll, but if it was lined with copper wire and you used rubber cement as lube. That’s sex on the beach. I don’t care if you put a towel down or don’t lie on the ground at all, sand will drift through the wind and Houdini its way up her love canal. Like an abandoned orphan going on a wild goose chase to find his shithead parents years later, you’re only going to be left in disappointment when you spearfish in the Sahara.
3. Ocean Trampoline
Pros: Bounce. Childhood wonderment.
Cons: Bounce. Suppressed childhood memories.
Neither of you have apparently seen Jaws and decided to night swim out to this poon plundering playhouse. It brings you back, reminiscing about the time you impressed Mary Lou back in the sixth grade by landing a sick mctwist backflip and she rewarded you with your first ever handy. Ah, memories. Wait, there was something else with trampolines. What was that thing with Uncle Jack? Oh, God. No. That…that happened? It’s all coming back now.
Also, the bounce seems like it could give you some power thrust ability, but you’re essentially popping a kickflip with her body and if you don’t land it right your little skater will break in half.
4. Hot Tub
Pros: Saying you fucked in a hot tub.
Cons: Actually fucking in a hot tub. Urinary tract infection. Possibility of drowning.
Hot tub sex is a lot like zip-lining. It seems fun in theory and the initial rush is amusing, but after about thirty seconds you realize it’s actually fucking lame and your manhood is going to suffer as a result.
5. Hotel Room
Pros: Bed or couch is an actual option.
Cons: That bed or couch is already dripping in semen.
So you both have matching wristbands to the same Holiday Inn or you somehow snuck by the airtight Area 51-esque security. Congratulations. You now get the pleasure of tossing your down low in a room with one queen size bed and a couch shared amongst ten other people. Throwing that sock over the door handle isn’t going to stop your asshole friends from bursting in and screaming “Rodeo” as you ride that bucking bronco..