As the guys set up a table and chairs you slink back into an old recliner. If you’re lucky they will have their fun, you will get a unique night, and nothing bad will happen.
Before anything could happen though, there was a knock at the door—a pounding rather, followed by a loud belch. You felt the pit of your stomach drop out.
“Guys, Ror’ Ross says as he goes to answer the door. When he opens it you see Rory. Rory was the oldest of the group at 28. He was a big ginger rugby player and was somewhat of an amalgamation of everyone in the group. He was muscular, like your brother dean, but taller, at 6’2; he was as boisterous as Ross, and his wild orange hair and gigantic beard made him as wild as Spencer. Unfortunately though he was as open with his body and its grosser natures as Jack was. He was wearing his grass and mud stained rugby shirt and shorts—which seemed a size or two too small as his gut was hanging out and you could make out every curve of his bulbous ass.
“Hey fellas’ Big Ror’s here so the party can begin” He said, his voice deep and rocky. He held up a 30 pack of cheap beer. “And don’t worry guys,” he gave his gut a massive pat, a solid thud resounding about the room. “I loaded up on bar food before I came here so I won’t eat Dean’s kid brother” He laughed, as did the others. You just shuddered. Rory put his arms around Ross and gave him a big bear hug. “I might end up trashing your toilet though.”
Jack jumped up and pretended to punch Rory in the gut “Glad you could make it man. Come sit next to me at the table, that way no one will blame me for farting.” He said, and gave Rory’s ass a pat.
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