When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Chad. Paul's dad's yacht was the best place we'd ever partied. Partly because it was large and luxurious with all the amenities we could think of. But mostly because Paul's dad kept it stocked with high-end liquor, and Paul kept it stocked with babes and roofies. And cocaine. I did a snort off some blonde who was nearly bouncing out of her bikini bra. That and the Macallan scotch had me high and happy. When Paul's brother, Ted, came up from the lower decks with a revolver, most of us were too drunk to even register there was a gun on deck. The blonde I was snorting coke off of just giggled and pointed. “He's got a big gun." “Not as big as mine, babe," I snickered, pulling her into my lap. “Let's play Russian roulette," Ted slurred, setting the revolver down on a table. “F*ck, I'm in