It’s five minutes after 10pm on Friday evening and you’re in the pub by the office. You’ve been here before. A colleague of yours is insisting on another round, because “you’ve made short work of that one.” He adjusts his fingers around an imaginary pint before tipping it into his open mouth, beckoning you to join him.
Do you do it?
For one thing, you’re not even sure of his name. You forgot it right after you were introduced on your first day, and to avoid any awkwardness you’ve since referred to him as ‘Man.’ “Hey Man”, “want another coffee Man?” "How was your weekend, Man?” You started this job three months ago.
You promised yourself a quiet one after last Friday, when you ended up chopping lines on a cracked iPhone screen at 4am. You were sitting on the backseat of a nightbus with ‘Man’. It felt as if you could’ve talked forever. Or collapsed dead, either would have been okay.
You decline ‘Man’s’ offer and head home. It’s been a while since you enjoyed a Friday in your own company. Maybe tonight is the night. It’s been in the box since you ordered it for a laugh a few weeks back. Fuck it. You rip it open and tentatively enter the first orifice. It feels pretty good. Unbelievably good, if you’re honest with yourself - which you rarely are. Now you’re really nailing it. You move from the mouth hole, to the vagina hole, to the anus hole, like some crazed deviant playing an incredibly perverted game of Whack-A-Mole.
Why are you doing this? Because you can, because a three-holed sex toy is a thing that actually exists and it’s called the 3Fap and it’s ready and waiting for your pathetic penis. Look, there’s even a VIDEO because the world is going straight to Hell. What the fuck. It’s all over. Permanent sadface.jpg :(((((((((((
You grip the three-holed sex toy as you brace for the finish. It’s kind of funny how it resembles R2-D2. Remember the Star Wars sheets you had as a kid? Your phone vibrates right as you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. She just texted you.
“I think we should see other people.”